Setmana Santa / Spring Break: Munich and Bavaria

Once the conferences were done, my real spring break started. I flew to Munich to meet my parents on their first European vacation. It was amusing/frustrating hearing them notice/complain about things I have grown accustomed to here: language barriers, smaller drinks (except for the 1 litre beers), slower service, paying for bathrooms, crunchy air-dried clothes, public transportation, street signs on buildings instead of on the corner, and of course, frequently getting lost. I have a feeling, though, that they will be back again.

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Munich was a fun beginning to our Germany/Austria/Spain/Andorra adventure. We walked around the town center with our South-African tour guide, saw the glockenspiel figures dance and joust, toured a royal palace, ate leberkäse sandwiches at the market (German meatloaf), and enjoyed giant pretzels, wiener schnitzel, bratwurst, sauerkraut and beer at the Hofbräuhaus as we listened to an oompa band and wondered at the locals’ Bavarian costumes. On our way out of Munich we visited the museum and memorials at Dachau, one of the first Nazi concentration camps.

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We continued our tour of Bavaria (Germany) and Tyrol (Austria) through the towns of Reutte, Füssen, visiting Mad King Ludwig’s castles (Königsschlösser… Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau) and his palace Linderhof. While dad marveled at the house-barns and massive wood piles in the little towns, mom enjoyed the Disneyland-inspiring fairytale castles and I played with the swans. One thing we realized, though, is that March isn't the best time for touring many of these sights, since the fountains and statues are still hibernating for the winter and the flowers haven't been planted yet. You can still enjoy the architecture, but things aren't in their full glory yet. Walking around Füssen one afternoon we bumped into a Franciscan monk who happened to speak Spanish (good thing, since we don’t speak German). He had lived in South America, where the locals called him Padre Pio (Spanish-speaking birds say “pio pio” instead of tweet or chirp). We finished Bavaria with a trip up to the top of the highest peak in Germany (but not Austria), called the Zugspitze. It was cold. Really cold.

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It was strange travelling in a car.