We made a slow start, with breakfast in Terminal 1, in a sort of Bavarian tavern, the waiters in blue checked shirts and Lederhosen. Other people were ordering beers and sausages. Buying single tickets for the S-Bahn was a mistake. We could have saved about €34 had we realised that we could buy Tageskarten for the whole network. I should have done more research.
|Gemeindeverwaltung at Ismaning|
|Covered bridge over the Seebach|
and church, Ismaning
|Hotel Frey, Ismaning|
|Rotkäppchen (Little Red Riding Hood) at the Weihnachtsdorf|
Friday, some of this written on the train to Starnberg
This was supposed to have been our free day in Stockholm --- postponed indefinitely!
Chris was worried by a message from one of his colleagues recommending that we fly to Timisoara by Air Berlin instead of Lufthansa. Following up this suggestion meant a long morning at the airport with a horrid breakfast at Surf and Turf, because I couldn't face yet more bacon. Then we took a long walk down conveyor belts and up escalators through Terminal 1 to the Air Berlin ticket desk. We'd have to fly via Rome and Budapest, they said, by Air Italia, and the journey to Timisoara would take 26 hours. Since Lufthansa flights were still promised for the next day Chris at last decided to "take our chances" and stick to Plan A, which I'd been advising all along.
|At Starnberg, by the lake|
So finally we left the airport on the S8 train again, changing beyond the city centre at Pasing so that we could catch a connecting train to Starnberg; I wanted Chris to see the Starnberger See. Well, we did see it, but not the view of the snowy Alps that start to rise at the southern end. It was too cloudy. Chilly, too, but we soon found an ideal spot for lunch at the Maharaja, a Bengali restaurant that served good, hot food. Through its windows we could see another restaurant across the road, in a nineteenth century house with a haiku-like poem on its wall:
Am stillen See
Sitz' ich und starre
In ein gespiegeltes Paradies.
Full of energy after the curries, we decided to climb the hill to St. Josef's church beside the town's castle, up many stone steps. It was worth it; this part of town was very peaceful with another view of the lake. Beside the church, not open, was a walled Schloßgarten with an attractive layout. We came down some other flights of steps back to the high street, with luxuries for sale. A lovely grey Dirndl for nearly €1000 caught my eye. We bought postcards and lingered by the lake near the pleasure boats docked for winter and the locked up boathouses, then caught the train back to the city.
The city was packed, this being the official opening of Munich's central Christkindlmarkt, with amplified speeches and music. Fighting our way down the Kaufingerstraße was rather exhausting, so we had a hot drink and a slice of cake in a very narrow coffee bar before moving on to marginally quieter streets. We came across the Isartor and the famous Münchener Hofbräuhaus that I'd described over a microphone to the diplomat guests at our "Oktoberfest" in Ottawa, after singing the song about it. Too crowded for us! I have a habit of making off down side streets and into courtyards when in a place I don't know so well. It leads to discoveries like the Theatinerhof where we had supper, at the quiet and elegant Café-Arzmiller. No crowds there. Chris had their thick pea soup; I had the lentil soup. After that we found a branch of Hugendubel, where I bought a German novel.
Back at the airport hotel we both had a swim: a lovely way to end the day.