On the train to Munich, I met a
woman named Bari. She was Indian by birth but grew up in Germany and had lived there most of
her life. I told her about the Eurotrip I was on and that this was my first
time visiting Munich. I asked her what I should see
during my stay, and she suggested that I tour the loop of streets that circle the city center.
Then she offered to show me Munich herself and gave me her email address.
When we got to Munich she helped me find my hostel on the map, I promised to
email her, and we said goodbye.
After a short walk I found my Munich
hostel to be almost as cool as the Caledonian Backpackers Hostel in Edinburgh.
It was a little too chic for my taste but had a decidedly more interesting name
– Wombats City – I think because there are a lot of Aussie backpackers in
Europe. The first floor had two common spaces, a lounge complete with
modern-style chairs and palm trees; and a pub with plenty of seating and a pool
table.
After I checked in, I was about to go upstairs
to my room when, peering into the lounge room, my eyes
fell upon a familiar face. It was Gayle, from my program in Alicante. I went to
say hi and found that she was Skyping her dad. So I sat down and began to write a preliminary version of what had just happened to me in Switzerland. When
she got off the computer, I told her my story and about the rest of my travels.
She said she was leaving the next morning for Alicante, then the US. We had hardly
talked for ten minutes when she said she was going to bed, and I never saw her
again.
Then I Skyped my friend Ivan from
back home. We caught up and I told him I was going to see the Red Hot Chili
Peppers the next night. He was envious. After that I
hung up the laptop, put my bags in my room, and left the hostel for a mid-nacht stroll.
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| Paul Bünjan? |
I went around only a fraction of the
downtown loop that Bari had recommended, but it was enough to see some
interesting things. The first was a kebob shop, which I investigated to the satisfaction of my belly. On this night in this part of town, there were surprisingly few people out. There seemed little to do but lots to see. There weren’t many stores but next I came
across a Paul Bunyon-sized sculpture that seems to represent some historical
figure from Munich or perhaps just a well-dressed imperial era German man.
By far the most interesting site I
stumbled upon was a shrine to Michael Jackson. Apparently
Michael is very popular is Europe, and five months after his death, people in
Munich were still enthusiastically celebrating his life. The shrine, which was
set up over this statue’s dedication, was complete with uplifting quotes by
Michael and (English) words of remembrance from his fans, as well as many
pictures and candles. Simply fascinating. I stood by and contemplated the
Michael shrine for several minutes, as I couldn’t stop ‘til I’d gotten enough.
Once I’d had enough, I walked back to Wombat City and went to bed.
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| Legends Never Die – R.I.P. Jacko |
When I woke the next morning, I was
surprised to find it was in fact not morning but 1:00 pm. Rather than make the most of my afternoon, I
simply stopped out for a sandwich and coffee, then returned to the hostel and
wrote the “Edinburgh” entry for this very blog, which would prove to be the
last entry on Honoldblog before the 2013 revival. There was simply too much to do in each city, and I had to sleep each time I was in transit.
I emailed Bari about meeting up on one of my
nights in Munich then walked a few block to the train station, where I found
out I wouldn’t be able to catch a train until 6 am the morning after the night I intended to leave. Thus I
would have to forego a planned stop in Cannes, France, where I was going to
stay with a couple my mom and I met in Florence – Sandy and… jeez I forget the
guy’s name. We’ll call him Frenchy. (If you reread the guest entry my momma
wrote, you’ll recall how a series of coincidences involving Italian art and
food led us to become friends with Sandy and Frenchy.) Anyway Cannes, on
France’s southern shore, would have been a nice stop on the way from Munich and
Barcelona. (Sandy, if you're reading this, rain check.)I had been awaiting this night for over three months by the time I was part of the massive queue extending through Munich’s Olympiapark, standing in line to see the show that night with my new pal, Johannes. (I regrettably have no pictures of the guy. I swear he's real though!)
When we got inside the venue, there
was music playing already, which turned out to be the mediocre opening band
from Los Angeles called Fools Gold. It
was better than nothing, but these guys didn’t have half the talent, variety,
or stage presence that the main event was about to display, even without John Frusciante on guitar. When
they got off the stage, Johannes and I got a couple beers and found better
seats to watch the Red Hots. We waited
until the band walked out and the crowd erupted.
They started the show with "Monarchy of Roses," the first
song off their new album and a great way to
open. The
song changes texture, from disorderly and dark to steady and bright, giving the
Peppers the perfect platform to launch things off with a ton of energy and
enthusiasm. It pumped up the crowd.
They went on to play an incredible
set that included many songs I didn’t expect. Fourteen of the nineteen songs came from the album By The Way (2002) or earlier. To my delight, the album most represented by the set
list was Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1991),
with six songs. They played only “Dani
California” from Stadium Arcadium
(2006) and four songs from their new album, I’m
With You (2011).
Of the highlights there was “If You
Have to Ask”, one of the band’s funkiest jams and the first tune they played
from Blood Sugar, which got me into a
groove I couldn't shake no matter how hard I shook. Another was “Me and My Friends”, a hard rock
throwback from the band's younger days. They
also played their classic funk-punk cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”
and of course all their most popular songs, like “Can’t Stop”, “Scar Tissue”,
“Under the Bridge”, “Californication”, and “By the Way." Some other key parts of the performance were
Flea’s insane bass solos and the many funky jams they played to introduce
songs.
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| Red Hot Chili Peppers – 12/05/11 – Olympiahalle, Munich |
(The following paragraph reads like an
RHCP fan forum, so unless you're into that kinda thing, I won’t be
offended if you skim over.) The question on everybody’s mind: How does the new
guitarist Josh Klinghoffer compare to his predecessor, the long-trusted John
Frusciante? First of all, Klinghoffer did a great job and the show wouldn’t
have been the same without him. His
style is different from Frusciante’s, much more vigorous, approaching the
guitar as a sort of sophisticated noise machine, using different distortion
effects, and slamming a lot of notes. On
the other hand, John plays the guitar like it’s an extension of his soul,
taking care of every note as if it were is child. This effect was especially
missed on numbers such as “Under the Bridge” and “Californication” where the guitar
part is written as a song from John’s heart. This is not to say Josh can’t play
those parts well and with precision, it’s just that the way he delivers
the music is different, less soulful and bluesy. I actually wish that they had
played more songs from I’m With You
because Klinghoffer helped write them and his style presented itself best on
those performances. Also the sound guy should have given him more volume, since
his guitar was slightly drowned out by the bass and drums. So of course I would rather have seen RHCP in their prime with John, but I'm definitely not gonna say no to them just because they have a new guitarist. Josh put on a good show.
The concert ended with Chad Smith
throwing his drumsticks into the audience and walking off the stage, at which
point Johannes and I made a b-line to the exit and tried to beat the crowd to
the subway. We made the second train to
Munich’s central station where we said goodnight to each other. It was great getting to know the guy on such
an incredible occasion, and we vowed to be in touch if either one of us is ever
in the other’s corner of the world. (You better not have visited New York City without
telling me, Johannes!) The night was a total success.
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| München Christkindlmarkt |
I slept until 1 pm again the next
day, but I didn’t waste my
afternoon in the Wombats City Hostel this time. Instead I decided to take a walk around the city and wind up at the Christkindlmarkt in
Munich’s central Marienplatz, the city’s biggest plaza. This Christmas market
was exceptionally bigger than the one in Freiburg and included a life size
nativity scene. The rest was your typical, yet awesome, Christkindlmarkt
offerings, like bratwurst, schnitzel with noodle, crystal ornaments, and any
number of heart warming artisan items. I pretty much just walked around for a
while and soaked in the Christkindlmarkt atmosphere. I was to meet Bari here at 5 pm, next to the wishing well.
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| Bright Church |
At 4:55, I stood by the well waiting
for Bari. By 5:00, she hadn’t shown up. Five minutes later, the impatient
Millennial devil on my right shoulder told me She’s not showing up and you should just continue your walk around the
city. However, the patient, more old school angel on my left shoulder
insisted that I wait just a little longer. She showed up at 5:10 and apologized
for being late, but it was no problem of course.
She showed me around Marienplatz and
some other plazas around town, some German stores, and two churches. The first church was brightly lit with white walls and gold accents. The second was dimly lit, with
no sunlight to shine through the stained glass, only a few low
lights and the candles on the alter. And few people were there. Bari and I stood in the front entrance way for a few minutes,
conversing in whispers, until she said it was time to continue through the
city.
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| Odeonsplatz, Munich |
Next Stop: Odeonsplatz, a large plaza near the center of Munich that points toward a large structure of three arches, resembling a stage. Bari told me that during the third Reich, Hitler stood on that stage and addressed the people of Germany. In fact, Nazi Germany's annual memorial parade began in Odeonsplatz each of those years. Pretty Scary!
We then went to a mall where we
found a place called Vapiano, an Italian restaurant by the food if not by the
atmosphere. It was a pretty big place with the same new-and-clean look as Wombat City, two stories, and a lot of tables. There, we got appetizers and then split a pizza, which was amazing. The crust
was half-way a flatbread and the ingredients were super fresh. We both stuffed
ourselves to the brim, so we sat there for a while before getting up and
continuing on our adventure.
Around 9:00 we got to our next and
last stop, appropriately called the Café Good Night. It was your typical independent coffee
shop, not too crowded at the late hour. We both ordered drinks and sat down. I’m
pretty sure I got a caffeinated coffee, since my train was scheduled to leave
at 6 am and I wouldn’t dare go to sleep and chance missing it. Bari and I sat
there talking for an hour or so before she walked me back to my hostel. We got a picture together, hugged, and said Auf Wiedersehen.
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| Bari and me! |
I went back inside my hostel facing
the dilemma of how I was going to spend the next six hours boarding time at the train station. So I went up to my room where I struck up a conversation
with several roommates from Portugal. Their group was sitting on the floor in a
circle, drinking beers, and after ten minutes of talking with them, two agreed
to go down to the hostel bar with me. We sat down at one table, but quickly
became involved in the conversation of the adjacent table and moved to join
them. I will quote my notes (written the next day) which describe them as “some
crazy people: friends of Ryan McGrath, guy who saw the Chili Peppers and
thanked me, weird French guy, Swedish guy.” I don’t remember what I did to earn
the thanks of the guy who saw the Chili Peppers, but it was definitely a good
conversation. Ryan McGrath was a friend of mine from my program in Alicante,
and his friends were American exchange students as well, studying elsewhere in
Germany. To picture how weird
the French guy was, I can only embellish my memory with imagination.
I remember the Swedish lad well
though. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, wore a pink hat, and simply
oozed Swedish stereotypes. He's the pink hat guy in this picture. After an hour at
the bar, he and I
agreed to go out on the town. It was almost 1:00 in the
morning. He knew the town much better than I (as informative as Bari’s tour
was, it didn’t include any clubs), so he took me to a strange bar lit with deep
red lights that stood by itself in a quiet part of town. It wasn’t quiet inside
the club though. There was house music vibrating the walls, and plenty of
people though it wasn’t quite packed. To get inside, we had to walk through a
porch, which had it’s own small bar and was space-heated transparent plastic
curtains. After a quick run through of the club’s blood red interior, the porch
is where we spent most of the night. Lucky for me, the default language here was English, and we mingled
with a group of people as strange as the ones from the hostel bar. I won’t
describe them with words but simply offer the picture of them. To quote my notes again, “It was kinda weird but pretty fun.”
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| "Kinda weird but pretty fun." |
It must have been around 3:30 in the
morning when Mr. Sweden and I left and went back to the hostel. The scene there
was expectedly dead, and like so many momentary travel friends, we parted ways
and wished one another good luck. I went upstairs to my room and quietly packed
my backpack while travelers around me slept. I went down to the lobby and sat
down for a while, then checked out and walked two blocks to the train station.
My train arrived a little before 5:00, and I slept, awaiting a layover day in
Strasbourg, the capital of France's Alsace region.
