Part Un

First of all, for this blog I will do my very best to use proper grammar and spell things correctly, but knowing me that will not happen so please accept that I will be taking some creative licenses with words and slang so the language doesn’t get in the way of the tale, because yes it is a tale. Secondly I will do my best to make this at least pg-13, for any younger viewers but sometimes there is no better word to describe a situation then a good old fashion American cuss word, in this situation any number of Italian or English cuss words might also suffice.

This Tale as it will be told, begins with a heinous thirty seven hour transit, from Hartford, to Chicago, to a ten hour layover in Munich, then to Genova. However the real tale starts in Munich.

My ten hour layover in Munich stared with me dazed and walking through the airport to a counter to ask about subway tickets to the center of Munich, when the women in front of me passed out. Just plain slumped over onto the counter and slid to the ground. The dest worker and I shocked didn’t know what she was doing and after a second exchanged of im sure were nothing less than Oscar winning looks, we both ran to help this lady up, I shouted something incoherent, my version of help except maybe in a german accent(I was very very tired), the desk working grabbed a chair and some water from behind the counter. The women was fine, she drank some water and a doctor was called, and I was ushered without a word into the next line, welcome to Munich.

After a forty minute ride to Munich center I came from the subway upon a tour from the Wombats Youth Hostel. It was a group of Austrain’s, Brit’s and American’s, which was lead by probably the only black, bisexual, Peruvian tour guide in Munich, who else would you rather have as a tour guide?

I learned three major things about Munich from this tour:

1. They love Catholicism
2. They love beer
3. They love pork
(the tour guide said if you remember anything from this tour remember these things, I did)

Other than that we saw pretty churches, beer halls and drinking yards, the hall and street where Hitler’s first rebellion was and learned that almost the whole of Munich except for two churches and two statues was destroyed during WW2. Everything else that appeared old and ancient was built in the last sixty years, I was a little sad it wasn’t as old as I had believed, but we can thank Hitler for that. The tour guide gave us lots of great information but between it being a bit freezing and my overall sleep deprivation this was what I can recall. After coffee with some Ausie’s and our tour guide, he invited us all to his favorite local beer hall. I was in beer heaven tasting some of the best German beers I have ever had, all local brews with lots of sss’s, and bbb’s and fff’s in the names(I will dig up the names for you brew lovers). I realized I had to fly out soon so I bid farewell to my new foreign friends and our wonderful flamboyant Peruvian tour guide and wandered back to the airport for a blurry eyed trip to Genoa.

End part Un.