It’s Munich. Beer was drunk.
After posting yesterday’s blog I discovered Lichtenstein is actually spelt Liechtenstein. Cheers for the spoll chock Matthew.
We were up at the crack of noon and started planning our exploration of Munich. Which basically meant booking a walking tour. On Sunday. We still haven’t recovered from Krakow last week so decided to have a leisurely relaxing day.
First port of call was a pub. I don’t recall what the name of the pub was, I just remember we were sat outside with fourteen lady-boys from Llanbradach. I know there was fourteen of them because that’s how big their round was. I know they were lady-boys from Llanbradach because that’s what their flag said. They were in good spirits and reasonably well behaved, but that didn’t stop the waitress begging them to keep the noise down. A couple sat at a table nearby kept giving them dirty looks. It was just what we needed though, kick-starting our trip. As Bing used to sing, It’s beginning to feel a lot like Wales Away.
The kick-start was also aided by two stiens of German Beer. I have a golden rule, I never eat more than I can lift. These beers almost broke that rule, I was struggling to lift them to my mouth. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
For the next round we opted for a dark beer, in the hope that it might be like Leffe Braun. It wasn’t. But it was quite tasty. We also ordered vegan currywurst. We ordered one between us because we weren’t that hungry, but the waitress took pity on us and gave us two anyway.
Currywurst is simply a German sausage with curry flavour ketchup. It was invented in 1949 in Berlin by Herta Huewer. It’s so popular there is a currywurst museum and it is estimated that 800 million currywurst are eaten in Germany every year, 70 million in Berlin alone. Not sure how many of them are vegan though.
Eventually the Llanbradach Lady-boys moved on and it felt like we had gone deaf. The other couple breathed a sigh of relief.
Just like Russ Abbott, we love an atmosphere, so finished our pints – although as pointed out by the Llanbradach weights and measures expert, there are 568ml in an imperial pint, and these glasses are only 500ml – and moved on.
We walked through Marienplatz, the main square of old Munich which has been a market place since 1158 of the ano dominis. The square is dominated by the ‘New Town Hall’. I’m not sure when something ceases to be ‘new’, but having been built in 1874, I would argue it’s had it’s money’s worth out of the tag.
Just around the corner we found the Bargoed Lady-boys hanging around outside the Hofbrauhaus an Platz, a huge three-storey building originally built in 1589 and was home to a brewery. When the brewery moved out in 1897, it was remodeled as a beer hall.
In 1920 Hitler made a speech there and launched the Nazi Party (boooo).
Munich pubs have many connections with the rise of the Nazis. On 8th November 1923 Hitler’s Nazis marched on the Burgerbraukeller, where the president of Bavaria was making a speech. Hitler waltzed in, fired a shot into the air, and declared that he had taken over the country. What has become known as the Beer Hall Putsch was ultimately a failure though, cos the next day the police whooped the Nazis asses. As I am sure you will be aware, he did eventually become Deutshland’s Billy Big Bollocks (hisssss).
Ironically, after the defeat of Hitler and the Nazis (yeahhhh), the Burgerbraukeller became a social club for American troops stationed in Germany. It was eventually demolished in 1976 to build a Lidl* (*I might have made that up)
But anyway, we went into the Hofbrauhaus and found ourselves a table. Its a big old pub that plays heavily on it’s heritage (as an ancient pub, rather than Hitler’s local). Waiting staff wear traditional gear, there’s an ‘oompah’ band in the corner and the default drinking vessel is a stien.
It’s not long before we are joined by the Wonky crew we went to Poland with last week, shortly followed by the Caerphilly Massive. Much beer was consumed and my pecs started to bulge from all the stien lifting.
Eventually we got chucked out. Not for poor behaviour, but because someone had reserved the table from 6:30 of the PMs. Yes, that’s right, we are three sheets to the wind and the afternoon is only just turning into evening.
We congaed our way past the band and out into the market. Our expanded possee wandered with no real clue where we were going, stopping only to buy hats.
We spotted a door with the word ‘bar’ above it, so walked through it.
We had to descend over eight-thousand steps to get to the cellar bar, only to discover there was a lift we could have used.
Beers were ordered, followed by Jagerbombs. Bob Hoskins started doing slight of hand tricks with beer mats that Dynamo would have been proud of. Much Stien Sally looked on rolling her eyes, having seen it a thousand times before.
More beers were ordered. Eventually we are evicted again because our table had been reserved. Turns out they don’t need towels when at home.
When we finally emerged out of the subterranean disco pub, we decided we had achieved our aim. We were as relaxed as nutes. So we called an Uber. The fun wasn’t quite over though, the cab that picked us up had an epic soundsystem with illuminated woofers and shit between the seats, belting out Lionel Rich Tea at full blast.
Once back to base we popped into the bar for a nightcap before finally getting all responsible and going to bed.
Big day tomorrow. Match day.