High End 2015: A Part-Timer Wanders Munich

I speak German kind of like Dana Carvey speaks Schwarzenegger. It’s not exactly … correct. There’s this whole “lack of semantic content” problem, you see. That said, I’ve very enthusiastic.

Happily for me, Bavarians are as well.

What they’re not, however, is particularly specific. Taxi stands that are “on the other side” (of a building, road, whatever) are in fact about 1/2 mile away. Signs pointing out bathrooms don’t necessarily correlate with actual bathrooms. It’s just a sign that points to another sign that points to the path that eventually leads to … another sign. It’s like a Treasure Hunt. Fun, fun!

Another curious (related) fact — Bavarians love signs. They’re cryptic. They’re cute. They’re everywhere. I’m pretty convinced they mean absolutely nothing.

Anyway, when I was told that the BMW Museum, a must-see stop on my pre-High End experience in Munich, was “over there” and easily within walking distance, I must have given the impression of physical fitness. I’m not sure how. But nonetheless, I was encouraged to hoof it from my hotel. Yes, on foot. After all, I imagine now, reasoning backwards, it was a lovely not-rainy spring day.

And it was. Lovely that is.

As for me, I was 10 feet tall and filled with sand. The phrase “jet lagged” is really not adequate to describe how “thick” I’d been since I’d stepped off the plane at München airport.

It was about the 1 mile mark on my bold 10am journey that I, gamely attempting to fight through to the ever-so-distant evening when I could plant my face into a pillow and achieve a coma, arrived at the conclusion that something, perhaps, was amiss.

My problems were multi-fold. The first, not surprisingly, is that I’m an idiot. I didn’t adequately research … well … anything. I just sorta showed up. I was told about the various things to do “in the area” and semi-randomly picked out the BMW Museum as something that might be interesting to my likely-to-be-sleep-befuddled head. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noted that the distance from my hotel to the museum was over 2 miles. Not a horrible stretch, by any means, certainly do-able, but not exactly one I would normally have attempted willy-nilly. I mean, not without planning. Not without an intermission, say.

My second problem was “internet access”. I have become dependent on high-bandwidth connectivity. This is not surprising, perhaps, except to me when suddenly not having it made the lack rather glaring. But … it’s not like Munich isn’t wired to the gills. It is. It’s just that I have a US-based phone. I did make the call to AT&T and paid the exorbitant one-month-long “program” fee to include international rates for the duration of my trip. My phone worked. My data access on my iPhone was intact. It was just way more expensive. So, I was attempting to not use it. Like some kind of shaking-hand junkie, I was nervously not-checking my phone, weather conditions, or … Google Maps.

I gave in at some point (with altogether disconcerting rush of pleasure — I’m such an addict). Discovered my error (wow, that is far away) and quickly found an intermediary cafe. Reaching that cafe, enjoying a shady seat that overlooked a park, while sipping from a monstrously huge bowl of coffee. Things became much more tractable. Colors seeped back into the world.

I might have smiled. I’m pretty sure it was not allowed, this being Germany and all, yet I did it anyway. Yes, it was shaping up to be a damn fine European day.

For the record, the BMW Museum is interesting. If you’re a petrol-head (that’s the Euro-term for “car enthusiast”, apparently). I’m not, not exactly, but I certainly do love me some BMW. Seems, however, that my taste in BMW tends to run to “vintage”, but that’s quite alright. I really do not need another car right now. I’ve enclosed a few pics.

More kaffee, a tasty treat, and some toys for the kids later, I decided to not risk what looked like “arriving weather” and hooked a taxi back to the M.O.C. to see what I could find. More on that next.