by David McGuffin
I learned to ride the subway in Munich. Thirty years ago, I was teaching band at the local junior high school, and one summer, I gathered up six students and headed off to Europe. That was not my first trip to Europe, but Bavaria and Munich were new destinations for me. Previously, I’d traveled to rural destinations in the Swiss Alps, French villages, and the big three Italian destinations of Venice, Florence, and Rome. None of which required me to use public transportation to get around.
Arriving in Munich, our group did the usual tourist sightseeing activities. Our guide took us to see the historic town center, the Glockenspiel, Residence, and Nymphenburg Palace. Then, we were left to explore on our own for a few hours. I decided to buy a public transit day pass, which provided access to city buses, trams, and subways. In Munich, the U-Bahn and S-Bahn are primarily underground trains that run through the city center and into the suburbs. Being from a small town in Florida, I’d never had the opportunity to venture down into the depths of the underground tunnels and zip from one neighborhood to the other. It was fascinating to me to think about all the work that went into digging the tunnels, laying the track, and mapping out the underground routes.
First, I had to learn how the underground system worked. With the help of a map of the underground system, I determined my final destination and the direction of travel. Each train was color-coded and numbered, such as Blue U4. With this knowledge and an overground city map, I’d decided where I wanted to go and how to get there underground. I made a good many mistakes, sometimes riding the right train in the wrong direction or riding the wrong train in the right direction.
I recalled reading about the September 1972 Munich Summer Olympics and the terrorist massacre. And although we were now 20 years beyond the event, the massacre and the unique Olympic pavilions still drew sightseers. So, off I went on the U-Bahn to Olympic Park. As I emerged from the underground, I found myself not in the busy city center but in an urban park, lush and green, with the acrylic glass-paneled Olympic stadium gleaming in the distance. Although I didn’t have time for a proper tour, I did manage to wander into both the large track and field stadium and the swimming pavilion. While exploring, I came across a group of German public works employees, apparently on their lunch break, sitting under the trees, eating sausages and bread, and drinking lots of Hofbräu beer. To this day, I still don’t know how one can go back to work after a beer or two during lunch.
Back on the underground, I headed toward the city but decided to hop off at the Theresienwiese, the site of the famed Octoberfest. I was disappointed when I emerged from the underground only to find an empty 100-acre limestone parking lot with not a beer festival tent in sight. Later, I found out the place was empty except during the spring fair, the Christmas fair, and the Octoberfest celebration in September and early October. Disappointed, I headed back to the U-Bahn entrance but was distracted by the beautiful St. Paul’s Church, its red steeple, and bells tolling the noon hour.
While returning to the town center of Marienplatz, I decided to exit the underground and try my luck on the tram. These streetcar-like trams run on tracks, primarily in the streets, throughout Munich’s neighborhoods. I headed in the direction of the University and English Gardens.
Somewhere, I’d read about a swiftly running stream where surfers gathered to ride the one wave created by a waterfall in the river. I decided to rent a bike and take in some of this 900-acre city park. It didn’t take long to find it! There was a big crowd of onlookers cheering on a slew of “surfers.” There was a system; the surfers qued on the riverbank. When one surfer fell or dipped out of the wave, the next hopped in, making an endless surfing show.
Soon, I was pedaling through the park on an easy path between the forest and the stream. All of a sudden, I was stunned and almost ran into a tree! There, right in front of me, was a man and his son (I assume) playing Frisbee. They were both completely naked, running and flopping around with vigor, leaping and dashing to catch the Frisbee. Looking around, I noticed I was the only one around who was clothed. Men, women, boys, and girls, all in their birthday suits, were perfectly happy to soak up the sun, picnic, play, and enjoy life on that grass meadow by the stream. Later, I learned that many Germans, including those from Munich, are not shy about their bodies. Although one is required to wear clothing on the trams, it’s perfectly fine to bare it all in the English Gardens!
Since I wasn’t prepared to join them and take a dip in the stream, I turned in my bike and took the U-Bahn one last trip to Marienplatz, the center of the old town. From there, I wandered a few blocks over to the Hofbraühaüs, the world-famous beer hall. Walking in the front door, I was immediately enveloped by oom-pap music, thousands of voices, and a sauna-like damp heat, all mixed with the underlying, slightly pleasant smell of yeast and hops.
This place was huge! There were several hundred long plank tables, each about 30 feet in length, filled, thigh to thigh, with people eating and drinking. There are no saved seats here… find a space and settle in! Soon, a waiter came by to take my order and bring me a liter-sized mug filled with frothy Hofbraü beer. Bratwurst and sauerkraut followed, accompanied by a big dollop of spicy brown mustard.
In Munich that day, I learned to make the most of what I had and turn it into an adventure. A subway pass, bike rental, and curiosity taught me a lot about exploring Europe. Now, even after scores of visits to Munich, I always seek out a new adventure, but none will ever top that first thirty-something years ago.
