Pia hat uns besucht

Weisswurst Früstück

Pia came and stayed for the weekend.  What a wonderful thing for her to do.  She had to fly to London to work in the London office and decided to finish her trip with us in München.  We were very excited to see her as she was our first international visitor.  She arrived Friday night and we caught the train out to the airport to meet her, having first prepared her room and made sure the fridge was well stocked with Chardonnay.

To welcome her to München we decided to treat her to a Weisswurst Früstück.  This is the quintessential Munich breakfast and consists of Weisswurst, Bretzeln all washed down with a big glass of Weissbier.  A great way to start the day.  We then decided to go for a walk.  The weather was fantastic for the days leading up to Pia's arrival and shit house for the time she was here, so instead of seeing München under clear blue skies she saw it under grey clouds with rain. None the less we did manage to enjoy a brief moment of sunshine in the Englisch Garten over some beers.  I was keen to show Pia München's primo break but unfortunately the surf wasn't up that day and she had make do with her imagination and my vivid descriptions of monster standing waves with wicked tubes.

Next stop was the Altstadt where we wandered around taking in the sights and sampling Kustenbraten in the Victualin Markt followed by coffee and cake in Dalmyr.  Dalmyr is like the Boatshed back home only more upmarket.  By the time the cake was settling we were all ready for home.  We had a brief respite from eating before heading out for an early dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner from where we live.  The highlight of the meal was when our waiter, who had been surly to us all evening, emptied a whole bowl of mussels down the back of one of the diners pants.  We left the restaurant and caught the U-Bahn to Olympia Platz.  We had tickets to see Jamiraquoi and they were playing at the Olypiahalle.  We soon joined the throng of people making their way inside.  Once settled in our seats I went and bought a round of biers. That's right, this is Germany the country where you can get arrested for NOT drinking at public venues.   The cover band were playing original 80s music, if that makes sense.  They were called Penguin Prison and they sounded like a mix of Thompson Twins, Spandau Ballet and, dare I say it, Madonna.  Keep an eye out for them, they could be destined for mediocrity.

The Germans really dig their concerts.  When Jamiroquai started playing almost every one stood up and danced.  Grooving in front of their seats.  Which leads me to the next observation.

Picture a man, mid forties, a belly, slightly balding, wearing bifocals complete with string around his neck, his keys conveniently yet securely clipped to his faded denims via a quick release key holder.  He is alone in the crowd and he is, with out doubt, the biggest Jamiroquai fan in the universe.  On the outside he may look like an advertisement for contraception but when that funky rhythm starts to play he has no other choice but to stand up and shake his thing.  There is no stopping the unstoppable funk machine, except the need to occasionally disappear to the bar to refuel his dance engine.  And he is in the seat next to mine.  My view of the concert was interspersed with a flailing arm punching the air and the occasional shower of sweat.  It was only after the concert had finished did Annika reveal that there were spare seats next to her and that I could have given the funk machine the room he obviously craved.

The next morning had us breaking our fast at Cafe Schwabing.  [Breakfast is an interesting word.  It is more commonly a noun however it can be a verb and I believe it maybe the only trennbare verb in the English language (please correct me if I am wrong).  The German language has loads of trennbare verbs.  They were introduced in WW I to confuse the English.]  After a seemingly brief pause we went over to Melanie's flat for coffee and cake.  The Germans love their coffee and cake. Before too long we were making our farewells and heading out into the cold wet day to go to the Augustine Bier Haus for a typical Bayerisch Sunday meal.  The Augustine is a great venue.  The Hofbräuhaus maybe more famous in München but it is jam packed with Japanese and American tourists being fleeced while they mistakenly believe they are experiencing a traditional Bayerisch Pub.  The Augustine on the other hand is jam packed with Bayerns sitting at long wooden tables drinking fine bier and eating dead animals by the bucket load.  There was even an ompah band a few lederhosen to be seen.

That pretty much sums up Pia's gastronomic whirlwind tour of München.  It was really lovely to see her and I enjoyed hearing a familiar accent for a while.