Where Is Joey Today?

The Real Disney Castle

King Ludvig's Neuschwanstein is roughly 2 hours by S-Bahn from Munich. Once in Fussen it is roughly 15 minutes to the foothills where it is a 30 minute walk to the entrance. What an incredible location. During the height of Winter it was amazing, during the Summer and Spring it must be beyond words.

On the train to Fussen I met an American girl that was also doing the backpack bit. She is the first person I met who did not want to be in her own photos. Paulette and I walked up to the castle. One of the most beautiful strolls I have ever taken (were talking Bergen, Norway in May caliber)

I think this is the 5th snow fall of my life so that was cool, and it surrounded the top of the castle in a foggy, snowy mist. Very cool! Across from the entrance was a bridge (called Mary's bridge?) which you can walk across during the summer. The castle inside was very impressive as well but they did not allow photography. One area even had a manmade cave! Really bizarre!

We left and headed back to Munich where we parted ways. I went back to the hostel and planned out my trip to Aying, called home and left to enjoy the Hofbrehaus.

It's a Small World After All

When I walked in to the Hofbrauhaus (around 11 at night) I stood behind a brass band playing traditional Bavarian songs such as "Sweet Sue". After 15 minutes of that I went for a table (they won't serve you standing up) and found one emptying out. Who do I see, but Fabio and (uff, sorry in advance on the spelling) Merina, a Brazilian couple that shared a hostel room with me in Florence. Traveling is not just weird it is abso-lutely bizarre. If you said, go to the Hofbrahaus, at this time, on this day, there will be two people you know there, there is no guarantee of finding them. I got to have a more traditional hofbrahaus "light" beer before heading to an Ayinger oriented bar where I inflicted the majesty of Celebrator doppelbock on those two with great success. Oh and just to make you all jealous, yeah, it was on tap baby!

Tomorrowland

My plans for the next morning consisted of going to Aying (a small town outside of Munich) and touring the brewery. First though I had to arrange my travel to Madrid/Salamanca. When I went from Barcelona to Milan it was about 10 hours. So I figure from Munich it must be roughly the same (within 4 hours). That is what you get for assuming stuff in Europe. Turned out every trip was 24 hours or more (one said 18 but I forgot the details).

So at this point those discount European airlines are sounding good. Problem is that none fly out of Munich for a cheap price or if they do it require a change over in Phnomh Penh. So train it is. 35 hours via Paris, where there is a layover of 8 hours.

Gives me a chance to see Paris, and another chance at the country which isn't exactly on my shortlist of friendly nations.

For now, Aying, a sleepy German town that brews the world's best dark (lager) beer. The website states that reservations are required but I couldn't figure out how to do it. But surely saying how wonderful the beer is and that I am like a pilgrim who has arrived at my zymurgical Bethlehem would be enough to squeeze me in?

The S-Bahn, the local commuter train, has several options to get to Aying. One had a stop just before Aying. Naturally, I thought that meant it was the last stop, so I wanted to wait for the one that went to the end of the line. Being the foreigner I relied on the insistance of 3 people (independent, well 2 together and 1 other man) that this was the right train. Lesson 39, go with your Gute-instinct. That is exactly what happened. But, because I don't speak German, I stayed on and was the only one left. Well, the train then detached and went the other way, so I am stuck on the train and the push button is not working to let me off. SchieBe. Can you imagine if that was the last train that night!?!?! Fortunately, a new conductor got on, took me to the next station and told me where to go.

On board that train, I met a Swedish woman who was living in Munich but wanted to go for a walk out in the snow covered country. She speaks German better than the locals :-P which came in handy in trying to find the brewery. It was closed unfortunately. However, the connected hotel did serve the beer and sell 5 packs (the 6th spot at a nice glass). A perfect souvenir for me, and for my new family in Salamanca. This turned out to be rather interesting later...
So I told them about my unhealthy obsession and undying love for their beer which worked in my favor as they tried to give me every free thing they had with the logo on it. Ausgezeichnet!

Snow White

I left and walked along until I met an old German man. He looked at my beer, then at me and rattled something off. Ich nicht sprechen Deutsch! More rattling. Turned out the Swedish lady saw me in the distance struggling so she came up and translated. He wanted to know if I was going to a restaurant with the beer. Umm.. okay. Also, where did I get the beer? The whole time staring at my two souvenir 6 packs. He told us there was a nice place that serves the Ayinger and the train was nearby, 1km outside of town. Cool, the walk begins. It too was closed and the train station did not look like it had much activity (25 minutes no train). Look to the right, that was the view from the trainstation! This was the anti-Hofbrauhaus, so untouristy it was amazing.

Walked back again. Met the same weird German guy. I asked if he spoke English. Nope. Spanish. Nope. Norwegian...maybe? Could it be? An opportunity where I must speak it out of necessity rather than as a quick laugh where the Norwegian on the receiving end laughs uncomfortably in a mad dash to return to English? Well, no but apparently he was in Norway and it had something to do with 46. Maybe for 46 years, when he was 46 or in '46 (doing God knows what). I only understood Oslo, Narvik and Trondheim. We walked back into town and I met an American born kid who has lived in Germany since he was 3. He helped me translate. Turned out there was a misunderstanding, he thought I wanted to go to the post office. If the post office dispenses beer that maybe the greatest city EVER!

Back in town I made a mad dash to the Hofbrauhaus to buy a 1 liter mug (Oktoberfest style, the first picture in my last blog) for 8 Euros. With literally minutes left, I walked to the train station, made my 35 hour reservation, got my bag and brought it back. German trains don't mess around and you seldom get even a 5 minute reprieve. So I hopped on board and headed to Paris. Where I could only hope there was a locker because as Dad said...

"Walking around Paris with a couple of six packs...Cuh-Lass!"

One last view of Munich...

--Joey