Travel lesson learned: Count the wars you’ve won, not the battles.
Mom and I, already exhausted and sucking on the last of our energy, boarded the train and prepared for the long journey from Florence to Munich. We met some interesting people… To say the least. The guy that sat next to me for the majority of the ride was from Switzerland. Quiet, but intelligent and overall good company. The man next to Mom? Different story. At one point he actually said the words “snake penis.” Out loud. To us. What? This man was a talker. He was on our train for maybe 2 hours and I think he was silent for MAYBE 5 minutes total. He was like an Italian Engergizer Bunny full of inappropriate comments, yabbering in my ear when all I wanted to do was sleep. Finally, he got off, taking my new Swiss friend with him. After that, I finally found some peace and quiet and passed out.
We pulled into Munich Central Station, which proved to be like an Ogilvie on steroids. Clean, efficient, and delicious-smelling, the only thing it lacked was- dundundunnnn- free wifi. I am entirely aware of how pathetic it sounds when I make wifi sound like such a big deal. But imagine not having any way to contact anything. No way to get directions, to contact our hosts, nothing. And since we were going to arrive at our hotel a little later than expected, I felt obligated to email them. Frustrated, sleepy Andi is NOT a fun person, and frustrated, sleep Gwen is equally as terrible. Word to the wise, don’t put us together when we are both frustrated and sleepy. Bad, bad idea.
So we gave up on our quest for free wifi and went to get our rental car. Here’s where stuff gets rough. We can’t find our car. And by this, I mean that it wasn’t outside the first door that we opened. I, at this point, was calm, cool, and collected while my mom started to lose it a bit. Then, we walked out a new door, pressed the unlock button, and watched lights flash directly in front of us. But the car that was flashing was maybe 6 feet long. Imagine a Mini Cooper. This car is what a Mini Cooper would poop out. Two seats and barely enough room for our bags, we both looked at each other, then hesitantly looked around, sure that someone else must be searching for their car as well. Convinced that this wasn’t really our car, we slowly approached it. I’m not kidding or exaggerating when I say that neither of us could figure out how to work the damn thing, and it wasn’t long before my mom was saying how she just wanted to go home, and I started to cry. I know how silly that sounds and how pathetic this mental image is, and I accept that. But I had put hundreds of hours into planning this trip, and honestly just felt terrible that things seemed to be going so poorly. My poor, tired brain couldn’t handle it and there is no shame in saying that I think, in the middle of a German parking garage, my brain broke.
But, ten minutes later, my broken brain saw the humor in the situation and we were both laughing until we couldn’t breathe. We were literally driving a glorified go kart. When I say “tiny”, I want you to imagine a small car, and then divide it in half. That’s what we were shoved in. On the autobahn. Pushing the pedal to the medal, we reached almost 100mph! Of course, BMWs and Porches were flying by like we were standing still, but I was just impressed that our little buggy hadn’t fallen apart once we hit 60mph.
So we drove. And drove. Almost 2 and a half hours to our hotel, which was, in fact, a castle built in the 1200s. Mom said she wanted a castle, so I booked Burg Colmberg for 3 nights! WRONG. As beautiful as it was, staying 2+ hours out of Munich, in a castle full of people that barely spoke English, and again without wifi for 3 nights was not my brightest idea. Sharing a creaky, terribly uncomfortable, small bed, I went to bed feeling absolutely terrible about my planning abilities. A trip that I had intended to be wonderful for my mom was so far failing. Miserably. She was ready to go home, and I could tell. So the next morning, we checked out and drove our little Flinstone’s car, in the pouring rain, back to Munich. Checking into a hotel and returning our car, I was still pretty upset. We had basically wasted a day in Munich thanks to my brilliant plan, and at this point I was ready to take a nap, if for no other reason than just to finally relax. My mom had a different idea and off to the Beer Gardens we went.
This place was amazing. At least one or two hundred people sitting outside, drinking liters of beer and eating German food all while listening to traditional Bavarian music played live on a stage near us. We got ribs, pork, dumplings, and Radlers and didn’t feel the least bit bad about our feast, as we had hardly eaten all day. I was still in quite an attributed funk, even though I hate to admit it. Mom, on the other hand, took 2 sips of her beer and was good as new! Having only finished half of our plate of ribs, she turned around and offered the remaining half to three old men seated behind us. Happily, they took it and went about their merry way as we did the same. But then, not 3 minutes later, they invited us over to sit with them! My mom happily agreed and I rolled my eyes. If any of you know my mom, you know that she could make friends with a rock, where I, on the other hand, am the opposite. But, I sat down, thinking to myself that I needed a few more liters of beer to be able to handle this. WRONG. These guys were so incredibly interesting. The one who spoke the best English and stayed the longest with us, Lutz, was awesome. (He habitually licked his fingers and twirled his mustache. Further proving that he is the most interesting man in the world.) He and his other friend had been sitting at the same exact table, every day, for fifty years. How astounding is that?!?! Lutz and I chatted for several hours about his fishing, his past occupations, his family and mine. He enjoyed practicing his English and whenever he was at a loss for a word, he’d walk me through it and as soon as I guessed correctly (my favorite charade/word was “fishbowl”) he would throw up his beer in the most exaggerated fashion, wave his free hand, and scream “CHEERS!” By the end of the night, he was telling me that I could be his daughter, and I was thinking of what an incredibly awesome grandfather he would make. We were soon joined by another American traveler from Madison, Stewart. As a teacher in the States, Stewart had the summers off and was an avid traveler. Full of amazing stories of Machu Picchu, Prague, etc., he sat with us for several hours, too. So one liter went down, then another, as we all carried on individual conversations, peppered with the occasional, collective, “CHEERS!” We got Stewart’s name, and Lutz’s name, address, and telephone numbers and made plans to have dinner again tomorrow.
And so, while I lost the battle of the rental car and the castle/hotel, in the end, I think I, along with my newfound friends, won the war.
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