Munich, Day 2 - May 20, 2007

Breakfast in our hotel room this morning. We slept well, with a little help from our pharmaceutical friends, and woke in reasonable time, but felt inclined to laze around for a while. I managed to get online and post my blog, plus pictures, so I felt accomplished. Then we ventured out to view the town.

First thing was to master the tram system,



which proved remarkably easy. A short walk through the train station—a notably clean and well organized affair. Looking at the destinations of the sleek machines in orderly line-up at the platforms, Ellie began to dream of trips to Paris, Venice, Rome… Emerging at the far side, we found the tram stop that we'd been told would take us out to the fabulous, 17th century Schloss Nymphenburg and its surrounding park. Take a look:



We found a long elegant approach to the sumptuous palace, along waterways graced with dozens of swans and well-stocked with fish.





Armed with tickets to both the palace and the park, we decided on the latter first, and took a long walk through the formal gardens to where they gave way to natural forests,



lakes and meadows, dotted here and there with little “burgs”—a “pagoda” designed in Chinese style; a hunting lodge complete with chapel, one of the first, apparently, to be designed specifically as a “ruin”; a summery bathhouse with a huge, sunken indoor swimming pool dating from the eighteenth century; a lovely single-story lodge with richly baroque décor;





and a carriage house with huge, elaborately gilded carriages and sleds for the aristocratic family who once owned and lived in this extraordinary estate. It was when we reached the carriage house with its extravagant display of ostentatious transportation--not to mention the porcelain collection, upstairs--that I began to wonder: who did these people think they were? I like to think I would have been among the revolutionaries!

Sated with glorious excess, we returned, via tram again, to the city center, where we walked from the Karolinenplatz with its dark obelisk to the Koenigsplatz,



a formal, neoclassical civic center whose vast open plazas and temple-like buildings evidently appealed to Hitler’s sense of pomp: it was here that the Nazi movement first took root and power. We passed an archeological site



where the basement of the “Brown House,” the Nazi party headquarters, was revealed, along with posters reminding the contemporary citizens of Munich that they still have some catching up to do with Berlin in un-burying the too easily forgotten past. Ellie and I recalled our visit to the Terror Museum there, in Berlin, where they had dug out the old Gestapo headquarters from the rubble of World War II to act as a museum and a memorial to those who were imprisoned and tortured there.

Right on the corner of the Koenigsplatz, we came to the museum we had been looking for—the Lehnbachhaus, former residence of the artist Franz von Lehnbach, now the repository of a stunning collection of art from the Blaue Reiter group from the early twentieth century: Wassily Kandinsky, Franz Marc, Paul Klee, Jawlensky, and many others whose names are less well known. As always, I was humbled to find outstanding paintings by artists whose names I did not even know. The small museum—a comfortable size to visit in a couple of hours and come away enriched—was also astounding in the adventurousness of its installation design. (I liked particulary the neon work of a contemporary artist on the facade of the building:



the words in blue neon--if you enlarge the image by clicking on it--read "You can imagine the opposite.") The floor of the Jawlensky room, for example, was slathered in neon rainbow colors echoing the colors he favored in his work



which reached up the walls and playfully splashed over a mock painting, complete with mock descriptive label attached to the wall. Elsewhere, in other galleries, the walls were brilliant pink, blue, green, and even a camouflage pattern of black and white.

Besides the Blaue Reiter collection, we found an interesting contemporary wing, with works by Warhol, Joseph Beuys, Gerhard Richter and other luminaries, along with some interesting work by newer artists like Erwin Wurm, whose playful constructions using common articles of clothing are always surprising and delightful. We were the last ones out of the museum at six, and spent a few more minutes



in the delightful, still sunlit garden that surrounds it. Then a long walk down broad, tree-lined avenues to the Alte Stadt, the old city—now much reconstructed,



following the destruction of World War II—and spent a couple of hours wandering the streets.



We sat down for dinner in a noisy Munich beer hall filled with raucous football fans—celebrating some event of which we seemed to be the only ones uninformed. Good, simple fare: tasty Wiener sausages accompanied by a sweet-and-sour cabbage salad and a German potato salad; and a quick stop for gelato on the way back to our hotel.

From Regensburg, Germany - May 22, 2007

(A note: I’ve discovered that online time on board is intermittent at best, and costs about $30 an hour! At first it seemed like a lost cause, since I’m too cheap to pay that kind of rate. Further inquiry revealed that the hour could be pro-rated, five minutes here, ten minutes there over the course of the cruise, so I might well spring for that. Posting pictures, though, does take me time, so you might not see too many, if at all, for the next few days. Posting in the right place takes even longer, so I'll have to make do. Please exercise your usual patience. More to come…)

First, back to Munich, early morning. Ellie woke late, after a long time finding it hard to get to sleep last night. I woke early. 5AM. It’s not hard for me to get to sleep, but very hard to sleep much past 5 or 5:30—even, it seems, with the time change. I got up, did my half-hour's meditation, and downloaded yesterday’s pictures to the laptop. Then started on the text of the blog entry for Saturday. Then went back to bed and tried to sleep some more. No luck. Then read a bit of “The Teachings of the Buddha.” Then gave that up and got up again and found the hotel’s connection to the Internet, got online, and posted the blog. This took quite a while because there were so many pictures I wanted to upload, and I’m not too skilled at the process yet. Then I waited for Ellie to wake up.

We had a pleasant buffet breakfast down in the hotel restaurant, and returned to our room to repack everything ready for our half-past-noon departure from the train station across the street. What a chore! Ever notice that the suitcases seem to get smaller every day when you’re traveling? How does that happen—especially if you’re not buying anything in particular. Ah well, we finally got everything stuffed back into the bags and had time to spare to watch a few minutes of a fascinating television report on Scientology from the BBC.

An easy walk across the street to catch our train, which left the station precisely, to the minute, on time. Scary. Wasn’t it Adolf Eichmann who made sure the trains ran on time? And unkind thought. But five minutes later, we were passing merrily through Dachau… Hmmm. And here I am now on board a comfortable train, riding through a landscape of exquisite rural green fields, woods, and hedgerows, and bringing the text of the blog up to date while I have the chance.

We completed our train journey without incident at Nuremberg station, and were about to search amongst our papers for the address for the place to meet our cruise boat when we were accosted by a pleasant young man who had noticed the red “Viking Cruise” tags on our baggage. We thought he might be a fellow traveler, but no, he turned out to be none other than the cruise manager, Frank, himself on business in town, who made things easy for us in finding the address and a taxi to take us there.



We were soon on board and duly registered, and over a buffet lunch met up with a couple from Arizona who recommended a visit to the Documentation Center of the Nazi Party Rally Grounds: it was here that Hitler staged his now infamous pre-war national rallies, to summon the sinews of all good Germans to support his odious cause. A taxi brought us there, and we were astounded by the sight of the immense stadium building



which would have dwarfed the Coliseum in ancient Rome if it had ever been completed. It wasn't. Proportionate to Hitler's demented ego, the massive ruin survived him, having never once been put to use.

The Documentation Center was, as promised, a detailed and painstaking documentation of the intended role of this architectural relic, and of the city of Nuremberg in promoting the Nazi agenda through its annual rallies. The permanent exhibition is aptly named “Fascination and Terror”, though it’s hard, these days, to understand the “fascination” of the shrill rants of that loathsome little man with the absurd moustache. To watch the story of the spell he cast on countless numbers of his fellow citizens in order to lead them into war and genocide is to be puzzled, all over again, by the perversity of human nature. Most pleasing was to see the numbers of German museum visitors and the seriousness with which they gave their attention to this dark episode in their past.

The center was well worth the visit, then. Perhaps the best view came at the end of the carefully planned museum tour, where the visitor is led out onto a cantilevered platform, reaching out over a corner of what was to have been the vast amphitheater, where the multitudes were to gather to salute the Fuehrer and venerate the Vaterland…

Such grandiosity! As Byron wrote, “Look on these works, ye mighty, and despair.” “Ozymandias.” Did I get the quote right? Pretty close I think.

Back to the boat for a quick shower—it’s unbelievably warm here for this time of year, and the shower was a necessity—and off to the general assembly of our fellow passengers where our own leaders gave forth about the details of our cruise, including our friend the cruise manager, Frank. Then a good, four-course dinner in the spacious dining room at the stern of the boat and, afterwards, a quick tour of the boat in the gathering dusk, and a brisk walk along the bank of the canal which will lead us, soon, into the Danube.

An early bed tonight, as soon as I have finished and saved this entry.


MONDAY

Another short night of sleep for me. It must be the time change. I woke at half past three and managed only to doze until 5:30, when I climbed up to the upper deck for my half-hour’s meditation. I guess one of the benefits of the practice is that I don’t lie there and fret too much when I can’t sleep. Instead of “tossing and turning,” I watch the breath. If I manage to do it right…

A good buffet breakfast in the dining room, just the two of us at a small table at the back. Very pleasant. Then back to the cabin for a shower and change ready for the 8:30 departure, on three buses, for a tour of Nuremberg.. The tour took us first to where we went yesterday, the Nazi rally area where we saw, this time, not only the coliseum-like structure with the newly-added Documentation Center, but also the vast Zeppelin Field where the great marches took place and where Hitler strutted his stuff before the adoring masses. You could almost hear the roar of ten thousand ghosts.





The tour led us on, actually driving into that vast, unfinished stadium we viewed yesterday from above, and then into the city of Nuremberg, where we learned a great deal about the history from our able tour guide. An important part of that history, of course, is its role as host to the trials of the WWII Nazi war criminals, and the prison where the most prominent among them were executed. It was here that Hermann Goering escaped the hangman’s noose by poisoning himself three hours before he was due to make his final appearance on the scaffold. We made a stop at that famous courthouse,



and afterwards drove past the site of the executions. A little ghoulish, perhaps, but a healthy reminder of the history. And a challenging thought for Buddhists: is it justifiable for us, as a society, to do away with such monsters as Hitler and Goering? Is it perhaps even necessary, to purge the world of their presence?

We drove on. Passing by the medieval gates and moats that once protected the city, we stopped in the shadow of the ancient wall and de-bused for a tour of the castle, with its great view down over the panorama of city roofs.



Our walking tour took us down to one of the landmarks of the city, the Golden Founatin,



now no longer a fountain but a delight of gilded fantasy. From there, we were free to wander through the market place and the old town for an hour before returning on the buses to our boat. The ship set sail, if that’s the right term for what is basically an elaborate canal barge, while we ate our lunch, and is now proceeding through a series of locks in the direction of Regensburg.

This afternoon we watched the dramatic process of raising the twenty thousand ton boat a matter of some eighty feet to reach the higher stretch of canal above.





Later, we hear, the locks will lead us in the opposite direction, downhill—the waterman’s way to cross a mountain. For me, now , a good snooze to catch up on last night, and to escape the heat. It has been unusually hot for this time of year all day, as indeed it was yesterday. Global warming, I guess.

Post-snooze: a great nap—an hour’s good sleep, and I woke feeling much refreshed. Went up to the top deck around five o’clock and was grateful to find the it has cooled considerably. Sitting at the ship’s bow, I caught a pleasant breeze off the water as we moved gently along between the banks of the canal,



and enjoyed the gorgeous view: green rolling hills and farmlands, groves of trees and the occasional neat little village, small groups of houses and farm buildings and churches topped by spires or those Bavarian onion domes. Couldn’t stop taking pictures of this wonderfully picturesque landscape.

I took a shower and changed in time for the official greeting ceremony in the lounge, with free (!) champagne. (They really get you on the incidentals here!) There was a brief welcoming speech in German from our Captain, translated by our friend Frank, the cruise manager who had by happy chance met us at the train station, followed by introductions to the other department heads, including our executive chef.

Then it was time for the “Captain’s Dinner”—a five-course affair which started with a cold hors d’oeuvre and led through consomme and a hot hors d’oeuvre to the entree (I chose the veal, Ellie had fish) and a good dessert. Altogether, an excellent meal.

We took a moonlight stroll on the lower deck and stayed around for a short while to watch the evening’s entertainment—a glass-blowing demonstration which proved to be a good deal more entertaining than we might have thought. The glass-blower was extraordinarily adept and easy with his craft, and his patter was consistently cheery and interesting. His father, from whom he evidently learned his skill, goes across to the US frequently to pass on his skills at the Dale Chihuly school in the state of Washington. Despite the interest, though, we did not manage to hold out to the end, but chose instead to retire to our cabin for a reasonably early bed at 10:30PM.