wingpig

By wingpig

we are not worthy

This marvellously tall wooden gentleman was one of the many fine trees dignifying the gardens of the Schloss Nymphenburg at the top left of Munich. Amongst the other attractions there are masses of gardens, some paintings of alleged beauties (some of whom are actually quite attractive given that old paintings of alleged pretty people are a little bit moosey sometimes), some nice big chandeliers (already done this week so avoided), some fancy wall-coverings and a huge mass of old carriages pimped to the old-fashioned max with golden cherubs and bare-chested ladies playing trumpets. Quite what the bespoilerèd Clio drivers of today or that Westwood bloke who encourages them would make of them I have no idea.

We're supposed to be heading off to get some food (hopefully involving some more vegetable matter than the past few days) so I'll need to dash but shall hopefully expand this later.


The next day:
Hmmm. The target restaurant at least offered salad (albeit featuring inedible sweetcorn) and did fresh sauerkraut rather than stuff which tasted as if it had been lurking in a deep, dark cave full of vinegar since the dawn of time. I still feel as if I'm going to have to have an entire week of nothing but vegetables to recover when I get home. Good décor, though. Nice and bricky though the shape of the walls and hardness of the surfaces meant that I could hear everything the bloke on the table opposite was saying as if he was right beside my ear. Thankfully I couldn't understand a word he was saying as the party appeared to be from somewhere around Texas.

Sunday is Gallery Day seeing as most if not all of them are free. Hopefully most if not all of them will be not too busy; I don't think getting there for the opening time will make the slightest bit of difference in a place where the train station was heaving at half past six in the morning on a Sunday. There is also the question of which gallery café to visit: the guide book merely mentions one as being "architecturally interesting" but doesn't say anything useful such as "spurns Illy and Alfredo in favour of Lavazza" or "does proper chocolate muffins unlike German Starbuckses with their weird dollops of stuff in the middle".

I really ought to mention the hotel at some point: we're in the Elefant Hotel Creatif on Lämmerstraße as it was nice and web-cheap. Clean, cheap, free internet, adequate breakfast in its favour. Against is the fagsmell in our non-smoking room und kein waßer heiß in Zimmer neununddreißig wo schläft meine shwester. Still, it's only fifty metres from the Hauptbahnhof so any complaints are outweighed by the centrality.

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