I refuse to start another entry with "we awoke" because that is sort of a given, isn't it? But yes, it was early. Learning from our (many) mistakes two days ago, we took the chance with the phone system and tried calling our first choice for a room in Munich while we waited for our train out of Füssen. As luck would have it[78], we not only got through to Munich, but we got a room with a shower[79] at Hotel Uzelmann, only 10 minutes from the Oktoberfest grounds and the train station, and for only 135 DM (~$85, not too bad). Judging by all the "belegt"[80] signs we saw in all the hotels when we got there, including our hotel, I truly think it was the last bed available. But our hostess, who only spoke German, was so friendly and understanding that she acted like we were the only people to stay in her hotel for years!
After we settled in, we took the free S-bahn[81] out to Dachau. Despite its horrible image, it was a rather pleasant town. Doug was starting to feel a bit feverish when we first got there, however, so we walked into the town, past all kinds of interesting fountains, and found him a coffee shop. Luckily there was a supermarket next door, so we weren't forced to eat the shop's expensive sandwiches. Ah, the power of coffee. He felt good enough afterwards to trek on, but not before we discovered at a gas station with one of those "D" stickers for my car. Score!
Dachau is the home of the first Nazi Concentration Camp, which has now become a free museum for anybody who wants to learn, feel, and regret. From the town of Dachau we took an extremely crowded tram to the camp, amazed to see a rather large group of young people whom we could follow, presumably German high school kids here on a self-guided fieldtrip or to broaden their understanding of history and humanity. Unfortunately, not everybody who pilgrims here does so with an open mind--the American walking next to us struck up a conversation with us, whereas Doug commented solemnly, "It goes to show you what the human race is capable of!" The young man's defensive response was, "No, it goes to show you of what the Germans are capable of!" I surely hope that experiencing the camp widened his mind a little.
There are no real words to describe what it feels like to visit such a place. We first watched the horrifying English documentary, which sickens beyond any horror movie simply because those piles of twisted, bony corpses are REAL. Then there is a gallery of photographs and artifacts documenting the events that led up to the camp's creation and eventual liberation: a giant wall with the names of all the camps, numerous pillars with the names of each country who had inhabitants there, the prisoners' uniforms[82], propaganda posters defending the Nazi rule, lists of the fatalities[83], and actual photographs of Hitler himself. I was struck on how different he looked than I had remembered--so forced, so false, that I actually felt more pity for him than hate.
We then wandered slowly through the rest of the camp, past the row of trees planted by the recently freed inmates--which now tower above the many foundations that once held barracks of unreal crowdedness and vile unsanitation. Two of these barracks were rebuilt to represent these unbearable living conditions[84]. Doug was appalled that the crowded and horribly uncomfortable wooden beds there would occasionally be torn apart by intoxicated SS guards, who demanded that the prisoners put them back together in one hour or there would be hell to pay. The 30' grassy border that wrapped around the entire camp was forbidden--any person stepping onto it would be shot without warning, even though a ditch of live wire and a huge barbed wire fence lie beyond it. The only entrance, a menacing iron gate with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" instilled a false hope of "Work Makes Liberty"; it should have read more appropriately, "Abandon All Hope."
There were memorials on the other end of the camp--one for the Russians killed, one for the priests who spoke out against Nazism, and of course one for the Jews. Poor Doug couldn't contain himself after that, and burst into tears. There were also two churches, one which was selling books in what I thought to be a very tacky manner, and the other which used no 90o angles inside except one; their intention was, since the Nazi's used as many sharp, harsh 90o angles as possible to threaten and inflict fear, they wanted to keep only one reminder of the horrible events here. Hopefully this, and the very nature of keeping Dachau open as a "museum", inspire the only phrase which we saw posted:
Never Again!
Well, after that experience, we took a short rest in our hotel and decided we needed a drink more than ever. Finally, Oktoberfest, which we had heard so much about and basically planned our trip around, would finally be here! Oompah bands and buxomy waitress swilling 10 gallon-mugs of beer and pretzels the size on New Hampshire. Bring it on!
As we walked to the Therienwiese fairgrounds, we heard not oompah bands but rock and roll blasting. Hmm, huge carnival rides--wow, can that 5-story King Kong really be a temporary ride? This is not what I expected to be at Oktoberfest. The "carousel bar", maybe, but $4-a-ride tilt-a-whirls and rap, no. Well, maybe it will be better in the beer tents.
Once we got inside the beer tents[85], we were amazed. I mean, I expected them to be crowded, but the rudeness completely blew us away. There was no place to sit, and even when we found a small place, the people next to it wouldn't let us sit there. The waitresses were no help, in fact, they literally shoved us out of the way. And there was no oompah band bellowing German waltzes--instead, Ozzy Osbourne!?!? That's it, we're outta here!
It took as at least twice as long to get out as it did to get in, partially because it was now about 7 pm--prime Oktoberfest time--and partially because we were going against the flow. The waitresses, as I told you before, were the worst. But equally as annoying would be the people who would stop dead in their tracks in the middle of the aisle to stare at one of those 3-story-tall rides. With each passing moment, we made ourselves more into servants...of insanity![86]
Finally out of the mass of bodies and drunken stupor that is
Oktoberfest, we decided to go into the older part of town, in search of a beer
hall[87]. We looked in good ole' Rick
Steves' book and tried (and tried, and tried) to find the perfect place. The
first one looked totally dead, the second was for the "ritzy locals", and then
finally found Mathäuser's...but this looks rather strange. This
appeared pretty dead, although it was the best we'd seen so far. Then a man
looked at us and signaled for us to follow him. We did, and then we walked
through the kitchen, up some stairs, and then, much like walking out into the
sunlight after being underground for 12 years, into a party! There was
our oompah band, with the locals singing along, swilling their 1 liter steins
of beer in their large hands, and, yes, pretzels you can walk through. We made
it!
Our waiter, who amazingly looked like a twin of Doug's dad[88], gave us a menu, but told us there was only one type of beer--Löwenbräu-- and only two sizes: large and even larger. We ordered some Wurst and one of those large pretzels ($3) and guzzled the last of our Deutche Marks away as we listened to the band and watched a hilarious mime comedian/magician/balloon maker. Now, of course, this was not your average balloon-animal maker. Instead of cuddly teddy bears or pretty flowers, this man made, for one of the male audience members, a male member. Anatomically correct[89], with balls and a head and everything. A real sense of humor. In fact, as Doug went up to give the comedian a little bit of change[90], the guy feigned anger and gave Doug a yellow and red card and pointed him to the door. We cracked up on that one. Course, we'd crack up about anything after a liter or two of strong German beer.
In fact, that beer gave me courage I didn't know I had. I saw a woman go up to Mr. Penis man and take his picture with his exposed member balloon. Doug coerced me to do the same and, as I did, he whacked away at it for me. SAD! I died of embarrassment. But the worst part was that later on, he came up and gave his "ball-oon" to me. Doug started fooling around with it and accidentally untwisted the balls, and the guy grabbed his crotch and winced in pain. Oh well, it was funny at the time.
We stumbled home, somehow finding our wonderful bed to literally crash in. Ah, but what a perfect send-off from Germany that night was! Auf Weidersehen, Deutchland. Wir werden nach Ihnen bald wieder bekommen! [91]
On to PART II, AUSTRIA