Venice has that smell unique to cities below sea level. I wouldn’t say sewage, exactly. But certainly organic.
On the Ponte di Rialto
It was so sunny and warm, we got Kea a bonnet. A tasty, tasty bonnet.
Kes and sleepy girl in front of the Palazzo Ducale
Yes, that says 7,864 meters. Long tunnel.
Lunch in Kranjska Gora, Slovenia
Kranjska Gora’s church, with the Alps behind it
Overall, I really enjoyed our time in Munich. The city was clean, prosperous and very easy to navigate. The people were welcoming and friendly, although I suspect that had something to do with the adorable baby I had strapped to my person most of the time. Almost everyone we encountered spoke flawless English. Once, when I exited the subway train with what must have been a confused expression on my face, a woman stopped to ask me where I was going and directed me to the correct exit.
The drive to Vienna was very scenic, even from the Autobahn. We passed through rolling hills bursting with autumnal oranges, yellows and reds. Little red-roofed villages centered around onion-domed churches. Of course, Kes loved driving without speed limits in the new 135i.
We stayed at the Imperial Riding School in Vienna, which is exactly as luxurious as it sounds. The first night we ventured out to a restaurant called Zum Finsteren Stern. It was a challenge to find but well worth it – it was the best food I’ve had during the trip. I had a little mushroom quiche appetizer and a lamb shoulder with peppers and almonds for an entrée. Truly excellent. Unfortunately, Kea was not to be mollified with a cozy sleeping spot. Her loud exclamations were quite distracting in the intimate dining room, so Kes and I took turns taking her outside while the other ate. Not exactly ideal, but we were both too tired for conversation anyway.
The second day in Vienna, we headed over to Stephansplatz, the heart of the city and the location of a huge cathedral, one of the tallest in the world. Architecturally, Vienna is one of my favorite cities in Europe. Buildings such the Opera House are elaborate and highly baroque. Every lamppost is an opportunity for gilded cherubs. Culturally, the city feels the pull of both Bavaria and Eastern Europe. In the pale October sun, Vienna was romantic and melancholy to me.
Kes and Kea in front of the cathedral in Vienna
I have read that Munich is experiencing a cultural and culinary awakening; stepping out from the shadow of hipper-than-thou Berlin. Munich has been considered the more conservative German city, possibly due to proximate Italy’s Catholic influence. But now contemporary, experimental restaurants are turning Munich’s stogy reputation on end. There are even several vegetarian places sprouting up.
We were careful to avoid such establishments. The DMTF dinner was at Ratskeller, a cavernous restaurant under the Rathaus (which means city hall – I must admit I find it funny the city hall is called “Rat House” but I assume rat doesn’t mean scaly-tailed rodent in German). I knew my arteries were in for some hardening when I saw the pretzel accompaniment – a condiment comprised of what looked like bacon, butter and lard. Dinner was a heaping portion duck and dumplings. The beer was excellent, but I was surprised by the limited choices. There was light beer and dark beer. I went with the light.
The best part of the evening was the band, a traditional three-piece group. There was yodeling.
On our last night in Munich we selected a similar restaurant, the Hofbräuhaus. I learned from Latifa that Hofbräuhaus just means brewery, but I like to think we went to the Hofbräuhaus in Munich. It was established in 1598, when the Duke of Bavaria was dissatisfied with the locally available beer. Kes learned that one does not eat the casings of weisswurst although no one has been able to provide a reasonable explanation of why not. We’ve decided Kea is our little weisswurst.
Kea and I got our culture on at the Pinakothek museums (Old and Modern, New is closed Tuesdays). We saw paintings by El Greco, Raphael, Da Vinci, Rubens and my favorite, the Obviously Crazy Hieronymus Bosch. Kea was quite the aficionado – cooing her appreciation for the more vividly-colored works by Dürer and emitting a loud, guard-perturbing shriek of distaste upon viewing a particularly overwrought depiction of the crucifixion. When we came to a painting of the Madonna and Child, she even mimicked the baby Christ’s hand gesture – two fingers pointing to heaven. We also saw room after room of Dutch still life paintings, with figs and dead parakeets (perhaps symbolizing Dutch supremacy over the heathen colonies?) a-plenty.
We stopped by the gift shop on the way out and I picked up a print of a Dürer hare for Kea’s room. Getting a print of a work by Bosch seemed like a Bad Parenting Move.
Next, we wandered through the Pinakothek Moderne. The building itself was inspiring; stark and clean with an atrium that reminded me of one of my all-time favorite buildings, the Pantheon. The works of art were a little less inspirational to me, perhaps because I failed to understand the message of a moving platform displaying various sneakers.
I was sorry to miss the Pinakothek Neue – this is where works by Van Gough and his contemporaries are shown. Perhaps we’ll go back tomorrow.