Look closely at this decorated May Pole, and instead of townspeople, merchants and animals, you see doctors, nurses and hospital beds.  This is in the courtyard of the Klinikum, where we all met for our outing to Starnberger See, a lake near Munich.  We bunched up into groups of 6, received a Metro ticket from Patricia and Isabel (the conference’s chief Go-To Organizers) and were off en masse to the S-bahn, via the U-bahn (the train systems) to the Starberger See, about 45 minutes or so outside of Munich. This was the place where lots of early nobles built their summer homes, and now, lots of noble scientists were going to go on a lake cruise for a few hours.

Dave shows us the sign.

We arrived a bit early, so we walked up and down the waterfront.  I liked the boathouses, in their shabby, painted finery.

Drinks were free on the boat, so the bar was immediately enveloped in a crush as tall glasses of Munich’s finest beers were poured. 

I waited for a while, got a ginger ale, planted myself on the lower deck (away from the crowds upstairs in the warming sun) and wrote in my journal, while watching the scenery and talking with Patricia and Isabel, the women who keep the conference machinery well-lubricated and running.

Sailboats running in some sort of regatta.

These Bavarian-style houses dotted the shores, interspersed with thick green forests.  Oktoberfest was right around the corner, the weather was warm for September, and the cold had not yet arrived to start the leaves turning colors.  Everyone was in a good mood.

At the southern tip of the 13-mile long lake is the town of Seeshaupt, complete with teenagers who like to moon tourist cruise boats (click to enlarge).  No, I didn’t realize this was what they were doing until later that night when I loaded up the photos into Dave’s computer and burst out laughing.  I apparently have some relatives who are fond of mooning others–I wonder if they’ve also been captured on film by unsuspecting tourists.

Looking out past the end of the boat, the Alps are a fuzzy blue ridge.  Apparently on some days, they are seen clearly.

On the eastern shore lies Schloss Ammerland, built in the late 1600s by King Ludwig I was bequeathed to a Franz von Pocci, a musician, author and poet.  Good deal for a poet.

Patricia, in the visor, is originally from America, but married a German and has lived her most of her adult life.  Patricia was the main organizer in the past, but has now turned the reins over to Isabel (in the foreground).  They are very interesting women, and I asked them many questions about what I had seen while in Munich. Given my fascination with the dirndl, I asked them if they had dirndls.  Oh no, they said, they are very expensive.  Most women do not have them.  I told them I had three.  Three?!?  I made them all, I said, and they are in three different sizes, dependent upon when I’d gotten the fabric.

The first one I made was from fabric brought to me by my sister Susan and her husband Tom when they were on a study-abroad program when they were young marrieds. This was taken in 1988, obviously Halloween.  When I made that one, I called up a return missionary from Germany who lived in our ward and asked him for translation.  I remember him struggling over the word for “bias binding,” which was probably not in the missionary discussions.

The second one I made after my honeymoon in Austria with Dave.  I looked, and I don’t have one of me standing up, so this will have to do.  The Austrian women in Salzburg wore theirs with a scarf that they tucked in the sides of the bodice.  I now wear the scarf loosely tied.

The third one I made while in Washington, DC, upon returning home from Munich in Fall 2004.  I struggled and struggled with the pattern directions which were all in German.  If only I’d looked in our Burda pattern books here in the States, I would have found one in English.  But it was done then.

As we approached Starnberg and the end of our 3-hour cruise, the sailboats unfurled their spinnaker sails, making for a colorful display.

The scientists had a chance to talk their science, settle questions, re-affirm friendships. Dave takes time with a colleague.

One last sight on shore: the commemorative cross for King Ludwig II.  One evening, he went for a walk with his physician  but later, both were found dead, floating in the water.  The physician had scratches on his face, and the mystery was never solved.  Every year fans of this king meet here on the anniversary of his death.  Ludwig himself said: “I wish to remain an everlasting mystery to myself and to others,” and apparently he has succeeded.

We land and walk around the lake to our restaurant.

Yep.  This way to Undosa Restaurant.

We ate in the main dining pavilion, which had a ceiling painted like we were outside in a tent, and had a stage at one end.  But no Bavarian tuba band showed up to serenade us.  We were at a table with several people from Japan, which made for interesting dining.  Items we looked at with curiousity, they happily tried.  Here’s the menu in German:

Translation: All You Can Eat Cholesterol, but Very Delicious!

This table was first, with a variety of salads, and pickled vegetables, and a big bowl of fresh green lettuce, and some other very tasty things that you will lead you to think about diets when you go home from Munich.

Close-up of the radishes.  They were enormous, crispy and not to spicy.  Very good.

The item in the lower right is some sort of small, thinly sliced bologna item–I’m sure it’s a wurst derivative, and the yellow dish was potato salad like you’ve never tasted before–very good.

In between the salad and the next course were these little glasses filled with gelatin-ified chunks of meat and sausage.  This was the item that most Americans passed over, but that the Japanese tried.

This meat tray took two people to carry it in. Mustards and sauces in the front, radishes in the back, sausage and etc. in the middle.  Quite a spread.

This was the fish course with salmon, smoked chunks of fish standing on cucumbers with tomatoes for hats, smoked fish in the center underneath the pineapple, and all decorated with citrus slices and some sort of dry white fish. The layout and the variety and the amounts were stunning.  This board must have been 3 to 4 feet long by about a foot-and-a-half to two feet wide.

Free drinks!  If you’d read my other posts, where I mention the cost of beverages in Munich, you can understand my excitement to get my bubbly apple juice for free.  This was very good.

We had these giant pretzels–I think they call them bretzels–and chunks of brown bread for our bread plate.  I LOVE those pretzels and had them as much as possible while in Munich.

So at this point, we are saying Uncle Uncle Uncle!! but keep eating because this course is the amazing combo of a semmelknodel and a kartoffelknodel and roast potatoes and slow-roasted pork and amazing red cabbage kraut, but if I could have wrapped it up in tin foil to go, I would have.

Patricia and Isabel had ordered a traditional Bavarian feast for us, and the quality of the food was topnotch.  We weren’t done though.

There was this–a Bavarian Cream with red currant jelly and red currant garnish.  I’ve never tasted anything so creamy and amazing–perhaps it’s the German version of a Creme Brule, but more amazing.  (Did I already say amazing?)  The serving size and the serving spoon were both miniaturized, for good reason, because there was more.

Apple strudel with vanilla sauce and a dessert kind of like a cinnamony saucy cut up bunch of pancakes.

What a repast! but we had to skip the last course of cheeses because we had to catch the train back to Munich.  So, regretfully we left this amazing dinner (many thanks to Isabel and Patricia) and made it to the train with 3 minutes to spare.

We probably should have walked home to Munich to walk off this meal, but it remains a delightful memory.

I awake to hear Dave practicing his talk in the bathroom–we’re all up early today.  He’s off by 7:30 a.m. and I see him at breakfast just as he’s leaving to go and load his presentation.  I hurry and eat and then I’m out by 8:10–probably the earliest yet.  That’s how it is on the last days of a trip–it’s rush rush to try and cram the sightseeing in.  I take the Bus 100 (I will be REALLY glad when they finish the streetcars, but then again, it doesn’t matter because I won’t be here) to the subway stop Odeonplatz.  Then catch the U3/U6 train to Karlsplatz, get off and grab the streetcar/tram 27 (Peturing–the trams are working up here) to Elizabethplatz.  I want to see my namesake plaza.

Okay.  Disappointment.  I see this lovely golden painted slide, a tiny playground, a teensy market where nothing is open.  That was a bust.

This young woman is getting ready for the day by slicing open the bretzels.  She’ll butter them, then put them back together and sell them for a snack.

Time to move on down the street.  I think I’d like to head over to the Siegestor next, whatever it is.

This is on the next corner.  Yes, it’s a shop that sells dirndls and traditional clothing, but they have mannequins atop the roof, as an advertisement. It’s interesting to walk down the streets here, as the buildings look so different to me.  I like the paint colors, the patterns, and the unique little touches that make this place so Munich-y, if there is such a word.

This doorway belongs to the building just above it.  Like any tourist, I snap a few photos of the doorways.

The decor just makes this one–elegant door, elegant gate, banana. . .

Beautiful plasterwork of a mother and a child.  If my crude reading of the sign on the gate outside says anything, this is a clinic for mothers.

So, I see the gate, which I think is one of the gates of the city.  It’s not. It’s the Siegestor, or Victory Gate.  According to Wikipedia: it is a “three-arched triumphal arch crowned with a statue of Bavaria with a lion-quadriga.”  Okay.  Then it dawns on my that I can see my favorite yellow church through the arch, and all of a sudden, I have my bearings.  The arch is in the middle of the street, so I dodge the traffic over to take a look at it.

Looking  up into the arch, with its coffered ceiling.

Requisite carving of someone getting creamed in battle.

It wasn’t until I got home that I was able to find out what the words meant.  Wikipedia again: “The gate was originally dedicated to the glory of the Bavarian army (dem bayerischen Heere zum Ruhme). Today the Siegestor is a monument and reminder to peace. After sustaining heavy damage in World War II, the gate was reconstructed and restored only partially. The inscription on the back side is by Wilhelm Hausenstein and reads Dem Sieg geweiht, vom Krieg zerstört, zum Frieden mahnend, which translates as “Dedicated to victory, destroyed by war, reminding of peace.”

It’s quiet, and I’m the only one there.

I head to the left, through the area around the university, finding more doors, more interesting sights on my way to the English Garden

It’s the symmetry and balance of this door–I’m sure it’s a type of architecture style that is quite well known, just not by me.

Snake Fountain in front of the optometry school.  Add this to the category of Fountains That Squirt Something.

Just before I entered the Englischer Garten (English Garden) was this lovely half-round building, with elegant plaster medallions.

The English Garden is a large park in Munich, larger than New York’s Central Park.  The name comes from the type of garden that it is: an English garden, with informal landscaping.  It’s an oasis in the city, but popular.

I made my way, via my tourist maps and an occasional posted map, to this: The Chiniesischer Turm, or Chinese Tower.

The staff was cleaning up from the night before, obviously, and I liked the approach: squeegee mops on the tables. At the base of the Chinese Tower is a huge beer garden that seats 7,000–Munich’s second largest.  I guess the largest is the Oktoberfest site.

I hop back on Bus 54, hoping it goes somewhere close to a subway.  I ask this lady for directions to the U-bahn, and they point me towards this tunnel.  It goes like this “Ooo-bahn?” and a shrug of the shoulders, my finger on a map of the underground system.  She gives me several sentences in German, nods her head and heads off.  I follow and the tunnel leads to the station.So, Ubahn to Odeonsplatz and U4/U5 to Karlsplatz.  As long as I don’t have to talk, I’ll can probably get there.

Below, the tile work in the Karlsplatz station.

I was heading for a five-story toy store in the Karlsplatz area, but it turned out to only have two stories, and I couldn’t justify the cost of buying something for the grandchildren after factoring in the conversion rate of the euro to the dollar.

I found the McDonald’s next door, with its Happy Meals.  Unfortunately, it was packed.

Through Karls Tor (Karls Gate–one of the existing gates of the city) again, up Neuhauser street, where I’m hoping to find lunch, see a few more sights.  Oh let’s be real.  I want to buy more chocolate to bring home AND sight-see.

This is Burgersaalkirke, and you walk up from the street level to reach this. It feels like a worship space, although first constructed as Citizen’s Hall.  Like just about everything else in this city, it was destroyed in the war (only the facade remained standing), and reconstructed.

This street has no cars, only pedestrian traffic and in between all the more modern buildings, you can find little gems like this one.

Lunch was basic–in the basement of Karstadt.  But up one level is the chocolate area–a huge “room” full of nothing but chocolate.  They take their chocolate seriously.

Maybe not only chocolate.  These were Schultüte or “first day of school” cones, that are filled with candies, little prizes and given to the children on their first day of school.  The KinderCone website explains: “When first graders in Germany and Austria set off on their first day of school, their families reward them with a large, colorful cone filled with  treats, school supplies and gifts.  For all the children who have eagerly awaited this moment since pre-school, the presentation of their very own Schultüte is a wonderful way to begin their year of first grade One.” She continues:

“It also brought back these youthful sentiments of pride and starting something that was almost bigger than oneself.  That part of growing up and realizing that a new chapter of childhood was about to begin stuck with me.  Like so many others I distinctly remember the contents of my Kindercone; the delicious chocolates bars (Kinder Chocolate as it was called), the amazingly yellow zippered pencil case, and my first fountain pen, manufactured by the German company Pelikan.  It was blue and silver on the top and I remember being so proud of my future assignment: First Grader, first writer and reader.  The ownership of a fountain pen really was the stepping point into adulthood, albeit far away on that morning in Frau Hauptmann’s classroom filled to the rim with 30 sweaty, anxious First Graders.”

A lovely tradition, I think.

Up the street was this dirndl with all the parts labeled and priced.

I’m determined to hit every church I can, for who knows when I’ll ever come back to Munich?  This one is St. Michael’s.

Outside was a political rally–where this young child bravely stood by the alligator that was crawline around.  I think it was remote controlled, but it was frightening at first.

The rally was for labor unions–for more reasonable vacation hours, more benefits, better pay.  I watched for a while and then was approached by a woman handing out pamphlets.  I asked her what it was about (she spoke English to me).  She explained, and I said, “Perhaps we need something like this in the United States.”
“But you have Mr. Obama!” she said.
I realized that her view of what our new President could do was so very different than what I thought he could do, given the constraints of a hostile political climate, the machinations of Congress, and generally how our system of laws was enacted.  It was an eye-opener to hear her talk, and others like her, who would engage me on this subject.  Everywhere I went it was so different than before.  Previously everyone wanted to know what I thought of President Bush, and most Europeans that I had talked to in the past had their own (not positive) views about him.  But now–every one seemed to be in sort of a congratulatory mood–you Americans pulled it off, they seemed to say.  You elected Barack Obama.  Because of this, I understood why he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.  He had changed the “climate”–America’s bravura and seemingly macho approach to the world was now more reasonable.

A flower stand in the street.

I’m getting tired now, and am looking to head back to the hotel for a break.  Down one street to see this lovely plasterwork facade, then a view (below) of the New Rathaus, elegant in the sunlight.

I retrace my steps (U-bahn to bus to hotel) and take a much needed short nap–long enough to refresh me so I can head out for one last touristy thing this day: Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, or the Bavarian National Museum.

I pay the entrance fee and they steer me downstairs to the Nativity Scenes and Creches.  I take their hint.  Many scenes are carved of wood, like this one.  Some are made of paper, others are dolls dressed in the style of the times.  The collection is enormous and dimly lit to preserve it, otherwise I’d have more photos.

The whole ground floor on this side appears to be nativity scene after nativity, but it different formats than the traditional small creche that we see in the States.  The one above was enormous, with a painted backdrop and molded stage.  Several nativities were life size, and others were very tiny.  One was made completely of paper–I’d say there were nearly a hundred different figurines in there–and others were minuscule, the figures no larger than a finger.

My favorite by far was one where Joseph was knocking at the inn door, the light falling in a soft wedge across the town square, illuminating Mary, who was sitting, waiting, hunched on the edge of the fountain.  I can see why the nobility liked having these in their homes–I could imagine Mary’s plight so much more clearly after looking at this scene.

From the museum website:

It’s in German-translated-into-English, if you’re wondering.  The German name for these is Krippen.  By the way, a traveling exhibit of this was heralded in the New York Times in 1908, so yes, they’ve been around a while.

I wandered through the rest of the museum, finally leaving when the screaming from a young child got to me.  This family–and I–were the only ones there, and I wondered why they let him scream and scream. They also were tourists, from India.  I did get to see this ethereal window, though.

I went to Kafer on my way home, in order to pick up a lime green shopping bag, and snapped a photo of these candies all lined up, with marshmellows all aligned below.  I wish I had lots more room in my suitcase!

Then Dave and I headed down to the reception for all the scientists at his meeting, and on the way, we passed by the advertisement for the movie “Up.”  We laughed that the main characters had the cookie hearts around their necks. The reception was held in the Deutsches Museum, in an upper room overlooking the main courtyard.   They served us drinks, and I enjoyed that apple cider drink again, while we waited for the German equivalent to the Secretary of State to arrive.

The room had busts of many favorite scientists around the room, with a caption identifying them.  For some reason, they were uplit in bright orange light, giving Einstein a spooky glow just in time for Halloween.  In a flurry, she arrived and we were distributed English tracts of her speech; she delivered it in  German.  After she spoke, they broke out the hor’douvres and desserts.  That was enough dinner for us, so we headed home.  I blogged some, answered email and was able to get to bed at a normal hour.  Yay!

On the last morning in Munich, for what I think will be forever, I pick up a few souvenirs.  First to Kafer to buy a cloth shopping bag, and an Oktoberfest mug, complete with a glass Christmas ornament in the shape of a pretzel.  I’d been wracking my brain about what little thing I could take home to the children and their families.  Everything is very expensive here when the conversion rate for the Euro is factored in, so I had finally decided on a little shopping bag and a chocolate bar from Karstadt Dept. Store.

In front they had this rack of purses–with leather circle adorning them like the spangles of a belly dancer.

Across from them was the Slice-N-Dice guy, selling cheap plastic mandolins.

Around the corner from there was this beautiful doorway, and further on was this Goth dirndl, all decked out in red with a huge skull on the apron (below).

This is best shot I could get of the dress (sorry), but I loved the studded leather chair in front.

I head home on the bus, and finally got a shot of the doctored-up poster of the two politicians who were running for some office in the city. Nice fangs, guys.

And since I think it’s the last time I’ll see this city, I start getting nostalgic, taking pictures of the ornate staircase. . .

. . . and the sweet little lights by all our doors, telling our room numbers.

And then Dave comes home and it’s time to head to town for a last Touristy Blitz.

We walk down from the UBahn stop, past two models posing for a televison ad for Oktoberfest.  They’re both wearing the traditional cookie, but with the web address of the TV station.

Good-looking Tourist by Ratskeller: Famous Place Listed in Guidebook

I show him Dallymer’s food emporium extra-ordinaire. This is Dave’s kind of shop, but like me, he realizes that we can’t bring it home, so we press on.  Actually, we press UP and head up into the tower of the New Rathaus.  Some of Dave’s shots are below.

I still like these multi-colored buildings, seen only from the tower.

And how could we leave without a photo of our favorite yellow church?  You can see up the avenue to the monument I was at yesterday, right beside (visually) the beige tower with the pointed roof.

Detail of the clock across from us on Peterskirche.

Looking down into Marienhof Plaza, with its clusters of blue umbrellas denoting a place to eat.

Eat?  That sounded good, so we made plans to wend our way down through the Rathaus like I did the other day, but the door was locked.  We ate in a little shop on Marienplatz, taking our food up the stairs, through their back door and out into the alley.  We sat on the side steps of a church, hoping it won’t rain. We scooted back into the rain shadow of the doorway and then we hoped it wouldn’t rain TOO much.

After lunch we went into this church, Peterskirche, and enjoyed the details of German craftmanship.

Saint Matthew, with his T-square

I know there’s a prohibition on touching this wood, but it looks so satiny, I almost can’t resist it.  (I resisted.)  But now I know why there’s so much of this carved wood for sale here.  I just want to take it home with me.

Out the side door and into the Viktualien Market, right next door.  It’s basically a large open square, with lots of tables and waitresses dressed up in dirndls, hurrying to deliver beer to thirsty customers.

On the other side are stalls of fruits, vegetables, and hand-made decorations for the home.

A view of the market and its maypole.

A local establishment at the edge of the market.  Great decorative work on this one.

This is the one I want to bring home.  I snap a picture to remember it.  Next stop: English Garden, so it’s walk, then tram then bus #54 to the Chinese Tower, so Dave can see it.

The beer garden is beginning to fill up with Munich-ens, ready to relax after a long day.  It is Friday, after all, and they are a social lot.

At the little restaurant aside the tower, there’s a private party. . . with a dirndl-clad waitress.  I tell you they’re all over the place.  I don’t know if it’s just because we’re very nearly at Oktoberfest time, or if this is just something the waitresses wear normally.

I’m always tempted by a large pretzel–these are nearly 12″ across.  I saw people carrying their steins of beer, with these bretzels looped over their arms.  But we’re headed for dinner after this, and I have to say no.  Regretfully.

My guidebook says this place has 7,000 seats, and that brass bands play in the Tower on the weekends, up on the second floor.  Regretfully (again), we won’t be here, as we leave early in the morning for home.  We board bus #54, getting off near the stop for the Metro and walking down this fine street, with ornate plasterwork, interesting people, and lovely doorways.

It’s pretty rare to get photos of me, as I’m usually shooting away from the other side of the lens, plus I have to remind Dave to take photos of me.  I do want proof that I was there in some fashion, although certainly at this point in the trip, not High Fashion.

This house looks like it is winking at us.

Our last meal at Kafer and the waiter is cranky.  We finally place our order (he was NOT helpful) and then a few of Dave’s colleagues join us for a quick meal as the Kafer patio closes at 8, and the shop isn’t kidding.  We stroll through Kafer one more time, see some bakery chefs begin work on a car cake.  We all decide to go to HofbrauKeller for some warm apple strudel with vanilla sauce (and for our friends, one last beer).

Bob, Dave, Matthew (grad student), Luoping and Martha

Bob takes the photo so I can be in it.

As we finish, we hear the rain come pouring down.  We all pause at the doorway, deciding what to do about the long walk back to our hotel.  Dave looks at me, and of course, we didn’t bring our umbrellas this time.  So, we make a run for it, sprinting through the downpour to our hotel.  An eventful finish to a great week in Munich.

Auf Wiedersehen, Munich!