"Let's get the hell out of Munich."

The adventure begins at about 9:30 am yesterday morning (Saturday Okt. 31, Halloween):

After only sleeping for about 3 hours (I've been having trouble getting enough sleep at nights), I wake up with a tremendous headache and the faint sensation that I should feel panicked because I haven't packed for this week vacation yet. That and the feeling that some animal has used my mouth as a toilet. Nothing Crest couldn't solve.

So, I wake up and shower and start throwing every possible thing I could conceive as being needed into my small luggage case, as well as trying to remember when I ate a large meal last (because my eating habits haven't been so great either lately). I have until about 3 pm to get things settled because I wanted some time at the train station to assure that everything would be peachy keen before our 3:46 departure for Munich. So, 2:50 pm comes around and the first snafu of our trip has begun: usually the buses aren't too croweded on the weekends. Apparently, an exception is made on holidays. I had completely forgotten about Halloween. So, between the two of us (me and a friend from the program are traveling together) with 5 bags altogether, we had to squeeze onto the bus. I'm still optimistic.

Upon walking from Albertstrasse (the main bus stop) to the Hauptbahnhof (the main train station), we arrive with plenty of time to spare. We buy a Bayern ticket that assures us for the low, low price of 28 Euro, we are guaranteed safe passage on any transport vehicle in Bayern (Bavaria). I take some money out of the ATM (Automatgeld) and make the sorry mistake of buying a fish sandwich instead of my standard pretzel at the bakery. We take our luggage, get onto landing 4, and wait patiently for our train. Usually, arriving to the platform early means you'll usually find a good seat. Not the case. Halloween has every form of transportation we've planned on using packed. I spent the first hour and a half to Munich sitting in a fold-down seat in the middle of an aisle in front of the wildly popular WC (Water closet = restroom). For the last hour, we move into one of the larger hallways and end up standing. Again, in front of an equally popular WC. Scale of my optimism: 8.2 out of 10.

We hop off the train and head off to the Reisezentrum (Travel center) to obtain a Munich train schedule (in the event anything goes wrong) and to see if maybe we can find a map, because we still have a concert to get to in Munich before running off and having wild adventures in Vienna, Austria. We find a place to store our luggage and I change my shoes to a pair of heels so I'll look presentable. We had two tickets to see a performance of Handel's Wassermusick and I was pretty excited. Just a note of warning: if you ever Google "Munich Opera House schedule" and are given a schedule, make sure it's at the Munich Opera House. Both of the performances we were scheduled to see were at the Nymphenburg Palace. Optimism has decreased to about 6 out of 10.

We buy a 30 cent map and ask for directions from the tourist center. We find the tram to Schloss Nymphenburg easily enough and my optimism soars to about 8 again. I'm feeling confident even after trying to find the palace while it was dark. I'm sure it's gorgeous during the day, but during night it's a little scary. There's water everywhere and it looks like a large amount of private property. We're walking along the sidewalk next to the creek (or whatever it was) that, apparently, leads into a VERY large pond. We were walking and laughing and my friend was taking pictures... and we were about two steps away from walking into the pond. There were no railings and our sidewalk had eneded. My friend only noticed it ended because she had looked up from her camera. I had been paying little attention. Despite an almost watery plunge and a 15 minute walk to the front entrance (it's a very large palace), my optimism is at a 9. We've made it to checkpoint 1 on the leg of our week journey.

We walk in, get our tickets and I order a refreshing Apfelschorle (carbonated apple juice. Don't knock it until you've tried it). We stand around for a while, surrounded by people talking (whom I cannot understand at all, because it's all German) and they finally allow admittance into the concert. I'm excited. We walk up and I proudly present my ticket. One of the doormen looks at me with a disgusted look on his face and begins to harrass me in German (in the nicest way possible). I caught the phrase "Garderobe" and "grosse tasche." Basically, I had to check in my "large bag" into the jacket closet. This is nothing new; it's happened before. Until I had to pay 2 Euro for some woman to give me a piece of paper with a number on it and she uses a clothespin to attach a piece of paper with a corresponding number. I'm a little disgruntled so my optimism is about at 8 out of 10.

We find our seats, which are only ten feet away from the stage and I'm pretty excited, despite the lack of a program. We watch the program for an hour and, after that one hour, everyone takes a big bow and they begin walking off stage. They even take the fortepiano away (for the longest time we were stumped as to what the actual identity of the instrument was; my friend thought it was a glockenspiel, but I was certain that was more like a xylophone. A quick look at Wikipedia cleared up the confusion).

So, we think, "Not too bad." A nice concert, even if it was only an hour, but I didn't know how these things worked in Germany. I was just happy to have gone. So, we begin leaving, walking down the same path we had came down from when we realize everyone is still in the reception hall, eating snacks and whatnot. Surely, it was over. They had made it seem so final and there was no mention of an intermission. There was even a ticket option for dinner so maybe they were staying for dinner. We kept debating this amongst ourselves until we got back to the tram. We decided if the fortepiano (we were calling it the Glockenspiel, for lack of a better word) away, then it was over. We'll never know. My optimism was a steady 8.5 out of 10.

We arrive back to the Hauptbahnhof and decide we need food after a nice cultural experience. Of course, McDonald's is the obvious choice. Happily eating my Euro McChicken, an order of "grosser Pommes" (large fries), and a "kleiner schoko-shake" (small chocolate shake), I was in good spirits. I hardly eat at McDonald's in the states, but you'll be surprised at how good it tastes when it's familiar. I bought a Happy Meal in Regensburg and, after sticking my head into the box to smell the contents, proclaimed that, "It smells like America in a box." I never once ate in a McDonald's in Mexico, but I have no qualms eating it here when my alternative options more than likely included some pork based product. No, I haven't been able to eat pork. I've asked people for small bites of bratwurst and schnitzel, but all have been a little gross. I stick with the chicken/turkey alternatives. Optimism is now at about 9.

We have to stand around and wait for at least 2 hours for the train. During this time, my optimism gradually plummets to 6 out of 10. I was cold and I hadn't slept well the night before; I was ready to crash and we had regular seats on a night train (no sleeper coach). I bought a book (besides the two others I had brought along with me to read) and decided that our train was coming up, so we decided to haul our luggage out of storage. We do so and my friend goes to buy a bottle of water before the trip. I buy another bottle of Apfelschorle since the glass I'd had at the concert was pretty good.

Our train arrives and I'm a little hesitant. Here in Europe, you get to know the trains and what sets them apart country to country. The train that had pulled up was definitely not German. I was a little hesitant. I look at the destination board and see it's final destination is Budapest. Hmm. We get on the train and hope for the best. I read for the first hour and passed out until our transfer in Austria. Not the best sleep I've ever gotten but everyone was quiet. Optimism was still at a 6 at the transfer station because I was clod and tired and having to haul my luggage.

Our transfer train comes and it's empty. I silently thank God that the last hour of our journey is a little more pleasant than the first six. We ride the train all the way to the Wien Westbahnhof and, using the directions the hostel gave me, we found our way easily to our place. Excited at the prospect of sleeping in a bed, I was feeling pretty good about this trip. Until there was no one at the reception desk. Confused we go back outside and ring the bell. Inside a woman begins to yell at us in German. Apparently the reception would not open until 7:30 am. It was only 7 am, so we decided it wasn't so bad.

Then, a young man walks in and goes behind the reception desk and asks if he could help us. Well, thank heavens.

"We need to check-in," I said.
He looks at me, confused. "Check-in doesn't begin until at least 2 pm."
I look back at him as if he's just spoken Czech to me. I turn to my friend. "What did he say?"
"He said we can't check in until 2 pm."

We've just spent the last six hours in the commons louge where the only lighting is multi-colored neon lights. I kept racking my brain, knowing I had thought check-in was good for any time. Upon discovering I had WiFi acces in our room, I checked out our hostel reservation and there it was: "No curfew. 24 hour access and check in."

So despite that being the low point of our trip so far, we're here and in one piece. We're about 20-30 minutes away from the city center (via bus) but we're on top of a hill here with a great view of the city.

So, let's hope this is the worst part of the trip.

Cheers.