Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Germany, but if you have then you are probably looking at this picture and drooling all over your keyboard. Even with my bloated beer belly after this weekend at Springfest, I could still put back a few Lowenbrau steins and a pretzel as big as my head. I might have to start shopping in the plus-sized section, but who cares. I am American, after all–and that’s why we invented Wal-Mart.
So this weekend started out much like any other. After 3 weekends in a row of getting pissed on by the thunderstorm gods in the Amalfi Coast, I begged my boss to let me go to Munich, Germany for the last weekend of Springfest, and luckily she took pity on me and let me jump on the bus for the 8 hour ride to the land of lederhosen. Best decision of my life. Why, you may ask? Let me explain something to you less-traveled folks:
MUNICH. IS. FUCKING. AWESOME.
Putting aside the obvious flaws (aka World War II), Munich is by far one of the coolest cities I’ve been to in Europe. There are parks EVERYWHERE, with lots of trees, big wide bicycle paths, clean rivers and lakes that flow directly from glaciers, and of course a nude sunbather or two (seriously, English Garden? Nobody needs that many tanned genitals in a public space). The center of Munich is compact, i.e easily walkable for us lazy types, and we even went on a bike tour of the center–props to Frankie’s Bike Tours for taking 30 American college students on bikes around Munich and not leaving our asses in the woods somewhere–after which we stopped in the English Garden at the Chinese Tower for a beer and some delicious German noms. I even got a little bit of culture in during the weekend by visiting Dachau, which was very humbling and eye-opening.
Now let’s get to the best part of Munich–the Springfest. Gigantic glasses of amber-colored deliciousness that give you enough strength to dance your ass off on top of the wooden tables that pack the insides of the beer tents. Thousands and thousands of people were rocking out to live-music in the Augustiner tent, screaming along to senseless German songs. Even walking through the tables, the floor was pounding with the force of everyone dancing.
By the time the tents closed at 11pm, I was sweating so much that I looked like a greasier version of Donald Trump. I then had to round up 30 drunk students and put them on a bus so we could take them back to our hotel in the middle of BFE (butt fricking Egypt). Good times. After 3 days of stupidly large drinks, I’d had enough fun in Munich to tide me over until Oktoberfest begins in September. So for now I’ll say auf wiedersen to you, Munchen. I’ll be back soon.
The Florence Diaries 