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.

Abendessen in dem Park

It was such as nice afternoon that we decided to take a bottle of wine, some cheese and sausage into the park and enjoy the last of the afternoon's sunshine.  I think we may have started a trend.  I could read the faces of the various people that we passed on the way to our bench.  We received many approving smiles and I feel that most were thinking that it was a truely good idea and wondering why they had not thought of it themselves.  A glorious afternoon sitting in the sun enjoying a glass of a fine Californian Zinfandel

Schloss Kufstein mit Freunden

The town of Kufstein viewed from the Schloss

Soledad is my class mate and she is from Argentina.  Her boyfriend, Christoph is Deutsch and they live just around the corner.  Today they invited us to come with them on a short trip to Schloss Kufstein.  They have a car.  Having friends with their own car is a good thing.  I had forgotten just how much freedom the common old auto-mobile can give a person.  München is a great city but sometimes it is really nice to head further a field.

Sole and Christoph picked us up at the leisurely time of 11am and we headed into the Alps.  Christoph took us the scenic route out of München, hampered by weekend traffic and some major road works.  However it wasn't too long before we were screaming down the E45 heading to Austria.  The E45 is road I have travelled many times now as it leads to Austria and Italy.

The day was schön.  Schön is the third most important word in the German vocabulary, coming third to genau and gerne.  I don't know what any of them mean but you can hold a whole conversation with any German national with just these three words.  If a random German stranger engages you in conversation and you want to annoy them just nod and say genau at any opportunity.  When they finally finish look them in the eye, shrug and say "Ich spreche kein Deutsch" and walk away.

In the grounds researching the history

Any way we found das Schloss in the centre of town right where it was meant to be.  It was an interesting old building with the usual defensive measures.  I was struck by how long the entrance way was.  Until recently there was only one way into the castle and this was by a long covered path that zig zagged up the cliffs.  Every 10m there was a spot where heavy timbers could be dropped into slots carved into the walls thus forming an impromptu wall. The other thing of note was the well had a winch that was operated by a running wheel.  Just like the ones used by hamsters looking to shed those unwanted kilos only much bigger. Big enough for a couple of blokes to stand in and operate.

Es regnet

It has rained today for the first time since we moved here.  In fact it has rained the whole day with what can only be described as English rain.  That steady persistent, just a bit stronger than drizzle, type rain.  At least the sunset was nice.

The view from the western side of our apartment

I went to the doctor again today because I was woken up last night with gout.  It has been over 4 weeks now since it started.  The first two weeks were pretty bad but then it started to come good and I could walk without too much pain.  However the joint still remained swollen and slightly painful to touch.  Last night it flared up again and today I was forced back in to limping around like a cripple.

I saw a different Doctor this time and she didn't mess around.  She took some blood gave me an injection in the arse and prescribed some strong anti inflammatory drugs.  The whole process was quite entertaining because her English was not so good and my Deutsch was woeful.  I am not fussed by the sight of blood as long as it is not my own and ever since I had an episode with a person that couldn't quite get the needle into my vein no matter how many times she tried,  I now prefer to be horizontal when my blood is being extracted.  The conversation that accompanied that particular instance went along the lines of.  "Whoops missed it. I'll try again.  Nope not that time either.  Hang on I think I've got it.  Oh no!"  "What?" I enquired.  "The vein has collapsed"  At this point my consciousness said "Bugger this for a game of soldiers" and stepped outside for a breather.  I came to with this particular angel of mercy slapping my face trying to bring me round.

The tour de München

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück liebe mich

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

The right place at the right time, although the sign ruins it

Cultural experience Nº4 with my German class was a walking tour through München.  Sounds good but there is a problem.  The guide only speaks Deutsch.  It is a testimony to the effectiveness of the language school that Soledad, class mate and new friend, and I could actually understand the gist of what was being said.  I have to admit that it took a lot of concentration and sometimes I would prefer just to look around rather than follow what was being said.  All in all the tour was good and I went to a few places that I had not yet seen.

The highlight of the day was the late lunch I had after the tour.  A few days earlier Annika had introduced me to Krustenbraten at a particular stand in the Victualien Markets.  Krustenbraten is a slice of pork, with some crackling in a bread roll.  So what! I hear the cry go out across Australia, Tis nothing but a roast pork roll.  To which I reply You poor misguided fools.  When it comes to roasting pork the Germans have got world beat, even the Chinese with their roast pork belly must bow their heads in collective shame.  Krustenbraten is a 1 to 1.5 cm slice of lean pork, seasoned to perfection, roasted till it falls apart at the slightest hint of mastication, topped with perfectly salted crackling, not too hard but with enough crunch to savour it's texture; all sandwiched in a crisp white Brotchen.  That is all I am going to say about Krustenbraten.

Cafe Schwabing

There is a café close to where we live that I particularly like.  It is in danger of becoming our Harvest Road substitute.  The food is good and the coffee is good by German standards.  We have been there for breakfast on a number of Sundays and I have had lunch there with my class mates a few times too.  This photo shows a typical breakfast.  Annika as the healthier option. I choose spiegeleir mit bratkartoffeln because it reminds me of the corned beef hash served at Blue Waters Cafe in Cott.  I wonder if I can convince them to put fresh sweet corn in it.

A favourite moment

Sometimes I lose track of why I write these entries.  They are meant to be a record of things that are important to Annika and I, not just things that may present well to another reader.

Tonight we went to yoga only to find that it was closed due to Fasching.  Annika was really disappointed as she had been looking forward to it, I was more pragmatic about it.  It was a lovely evening and we strolled up the street looking in windows (shop windows not the windows of peoples apartments).  On the spur of the moment we decided to have a drink in small Italian bar/restaurant.  I don't know why but it was the perfect thing to do.  We shared some red wine and then because we were enjoying it so much we ordered a plate of antipasto.  The restaurant was perfect, I have tried to find another word but this one fits too well.  We will go back for a meal one day.