Crossing the Wall

Ah Berlin.

I wish I would have had more time in Berlin.

Once again I booked a hostel for two nights.  Mostly because both days I was in Berlin I would be meeting up with different friends, and I thought it unfair to request a host and not spend any time with them.
I dropped my stuff at the hostel, and raced back to the train station to meet Diahann.

Diahann was in the one class I had in Maastricht that actually had Dutch students in it.  Typically all the Erasmus students that didn't speak Dutch had their class together and spoke English.
But this was Advanced Cognitive Neuroscience, and we didn't have enough Erasmus students stupid enough to take such a course.  I was told it was the hardest course offered in the Faculty of Neuroscience/Psychology.

I would be surprised if there was a tougher undergraduate course.

I don't think I've ever studied that intensely for a course.  I'd never had a biologically based psychology course before then, which already set me behind.  The one class I skipped for traveling turned out to be about the basal ganglia.  Arguably the most ridiculously complicated brain system.  Everyone hated that lesson.  When talking with previous classmates, we still joke about the basal ganglia.

Anyways,  Diahann  isn't exactly Dutch.  She's from Curacao, a former Dutch colony. (part of the ABC islands, along with Aruba and Bon Aire) So she spoke Dutch and English, along with her native language Papiamentu (I think).

I will never get sick of reunions from Maastricht.

We picked back up right where we left off.

With a bottle of champagne and some cheap beers.

One of the things I like about Germany, is how integrated alcohol is in the culture.  Its treated as any other food or drink, not like in the States where I think we treat alcohol like a dangerous object that must be restricted and controlled because the people can't handle such a volatile substance. 

We popped the champagne right in front of the train station and headed towards Parliament (Reichstag) , passing it back and forth as we crossed busy streets.

At the Parliament building has a beautiful glass globe that visitors can enter, provided that they submit their passports several days in advance for screening.  So I made do with ogling from afar.

Down a main pedestrian street (flanked by automobile lanes), we passed under the famous Brandenburg Gate.  The gate used to be one of several entry points into the city, but now just stands as an archway.  Napoleon had stolen the statue of the horse drawn chariot on top, but it was later returned to its proper place.  The Brandenburg gate played a big part in the fall of the Berlin wall, as it was on the border of eastern and western Germany.  Typically the gate was closed to citizens of the communist east side, unless they somehow managed to obtain the extremely rare visa.  Once protests began to form on the west side, the gate was closed completely.  Many easterners died attempting to cross the wall, and Berlin honors them once a year at the anniversary of the fall. In speeches given by both Kennedy and Reagan, they refer to the opening of the Brandenburg Gate as the symbolic fall of the wall.  The actual fall of the physical wall is considered to have occurred on November 9th 1989.

I can remember the toaster we had when I was a kid said "Made in W. Germany".

Shortly after we crossed under the Brandenburg gate, we ran out of champagne.  All we had were a few beers and no bottle opener.

No matter.  I showed  Diahann  how we do it in 'murica.  By slamming it on the side of a trashcan as to "brush" off the cap.




Where more appropriate to finish one's beer, than the lawn of Berliner Dom.  A.k.a. the Berlin Cathedral.  Quite an impressive specimen of a cathedral I will say.  Modern Berlin is sometimes referred to as the "Atheist Capital of the World".  Over 60% of the city's inhabitants claim no religious affiliation.  Nonetheless, there is a wide range of religions represented in Berlin, including Protestand, Roman Catholic, Muslim, and even Jewish.

Speaking of which, when asked what I wanted to see in Berlin, I had only one request for  Diahann .

Please, for the love of cheese, no more holocaust history.

In no way did I want to ignore the ugly parts of history, but I also didn't want all my experiences of Germany to be anchored to 1940's flashbacks.  I gave my moments of silence in Auschwitz and Birkenau.  Now show me what Berlin has grown into since then.

Diahann sighed in relief at this request.

Time for another beer.

This was a slightly less successful bottle-opening, as the concrete actually shattered the top of the bottle, rather than grazing off the cap.

But we were beyond caring at this point.

Next stop was the Wall.

Or rather what was left of the Wall.  The sliver of masonry was rather disappointing.  But in retrospect, I don't see how I logically could have expected anything more.  I dutifully chewed a fresh piece of bubblegum and stuck it to the disgusting collage before me.  Why? That's just what you do, so  Diahann  informed me.

That night we ended up at the Sony Center, a sort of shopping area in a huge enclosed courtyard.  There we had dinner, including spaetzle.  Spaetzle literally means little sparrow, and is a thicker egg noodle with a mushier texture.  Don't let mushy discourage you though.  It was pretty tasty, even in a simple butter sauce.  Afterwards we caught a showing of The Avengers, which to my relief, was not dubbed.  We then said our goodbyes, and I returned to my hostel (where I shared a room with 11 other coed occupants).

The coed nature of the hostel room made for an interesting morning.  Luckily I was up early enough that most of the males were still drooling on their pillows, as opposed to being alert and aware of my outfit changing.

I could have cared less though.  Nothing was going to rain on my parade today.  Because today, I was meeting up with Carla.

Carla was in all but one of my Maastricht classes (all except the Neuroscience one).  We'd save each other seats in the lecture hall, where she would make sure I stayed awake for the actual lecture.  She'd lend me lunch money when my stupid American cards refused to work in the machines.  The bulk of our time together existed over two lit cigarettes and two cups of Douwe Egberts coffee.  Where I think we actually started becoming friends, sprouted from a mutual dislike that occurred in our Body and Behavior class.

There were exactly five of us students in that class. There was Carla, Oliwia (whom you'll hear about later), Karolina (who will also be mentioned later), and a less than agreeable blonde who shall remain unnamed.  The less than agreeable blonde happened to be from Germany as well.  She also happened to think that she was the fountain of all knowledge and an expert on everything.  An air she carried out in the most contemptible way.  The blonde had a habit of rudely correcting Carla's English and being extra critical of her fellow countrywoman.

So I made it a habit of correcting the blonde's English.  Quite extensively, as there was ample opportunity to do so.  Guessing by the looks from our tutor (who was also German, but with quite perfect English), he also found this deserving and amusing.

Anyways.

Back to Berliner Hauptbahnhof I went.  I was ever so excited to finally see Carla again, and the two of us just decided to take the day easy.  She had a mission for some new shoes, and I could have cared less what the agenda was.  Most of the day was spent talking and catching up.  Carla had since graduated from her German university and gotten a big girl job.  Though perhaps not the job she wanted.  From what I understood, her job included distributing welfare checks and making sure the recipients were actually in need of  said checks.  Apparently the job was quite a roller coaster of satisfied and dissatisfied people.  As one could imagine.  The most surprising news, I thought, was that her new boyfriend is actually from New Jersey.  He speaks German, the language they most often communicate in.  However, Carla mentioned that she had him speak English to her a few days before I arrived, just so she could get back into practice.  I'm quite familiar with the sensation of losing your grasp on a language over time (Exhibit A: French).  I will say though, Carla's English is much better than she gives herself credit for, and I also give her partial responsibility for German-English being one of my favorite flavors of my language.

It was a successful day of shoe shopping, even though Carla starting feeling a bit ill towards the end.  It wasn't pleasant saying goodbye to her again. I'd really missed her sharp wit and sense of humor.  Never did I imagine I would make such strong connections with people I only spent 4 months with.  Then again, this trip has shocked me even more with the strong connections I have made over just a few days.

Every day makes it harder and harder to leave, even though I have an entire month left.

Next stop: Maastricht

My second home.

Danke Shoen Berlin,
Tegs

Prague.

Nancy was such a liar.

Prague was fabulous.

AND cheap.

There's a reason this post is simply named Prague.  'nuff said.

This city, I opted to get a hostel.  I'd thoroughly enjoyed couch surfing, but I needed a break.  I needed one city where I could come and go whenever I wanted, go to bed whenever I wanted, and just generally be alone for a bit.  Yes i'm traveling alone, but besides the trains, I'm never really alone.  I'm always accountable to someone or obligated to be somewhere at a certain time. 

Besides. Prague was dirt cheap.  Three nights for thirty USD? That's cheap even by hostel standards, and Sir Toby's hostel was one of my favorite hostels so far.  Six bed female with our own bathroom and showers.  Plus there was a patio garden and a bar/restaurant/kitchen in the basement.  I found it by the recommendation of the young German guy from the couch surfing meeting.

Upon my arrival I bought a three day public transpiration pass for 310 Czech Koruny (20 Koruny equals 1$).  Meaning I could take any bus, tram, or metro.  Quite the bargain compared to, well, anywhere.  In London, 12£ would buy me just a day pass for the tube (maybe the buses too I'm not sure).

The hostel was conveniently right next to a bus stop.  I arrived in the late afternoon, so I headed directly up to Prague castle, hoping it would be much less crowded at that hour. 

I wish I had more to say about Prague, but its main beauty is all in its architecture and layout I've the Vltava river.  It has to be seen in person.  Pictures don't quite capture it all. 

The castle was enormous with beautiful gothic gargoyles and arches.  Walking just around the castle gave a great view of the eastern bank of the city.  By the time I made my way down the hill it was quite dark.  I had no intention to learn my way around the city at that hour (as with directions I tend to learn through my numerous mistakes and miscalculations).  So I found a bus back to the hostel, and called it a night.

In the morning, I went directly to the old town center, aptly called the Old Town Square.  There was the national theater as well as the famous Prague Orloj.

The Orloj is an astronomical clock made in the 1400's.  It is the third oldest astronomical clock in existence and the only one that's still operational.  The main dial tells the current zodiac sign, and every hour there is a display of four figures.  The four figures were meant to represent what were considered the "evils"of the time.  The first figure is Vanity, a man looking at himself in the mirror.  The second figure is Greed, a Jew holding a bag of gold.  The third is Death, who chimes the bell on the hour.  The fourth is a Turk, representing pleasure and entertainment.

Tourists are known to lose their wallets one minute to the hour.

I took a very long walk south through the city along the Vltava river.  The bank is a very nice paved bike/pedestrian way that leads up yet another hill.  This gave a view of the west bank, including tiny Prague castle in the far distance.  At the summit there was also an old cemetery with several famous Czechs, none of whom I had heard of. 

I had to rush from this view a little as I had a Skype date.  This wasn't a habit of mine throughout the trip.  Not that I didn't want to keep up with friends and family, but between finding internet and finding appropriate times when your six hours away, its a pain, and I don't want to spend my limited time here talking to a monitor.  However, life was still happening in Ohio, and I had roommate and living situations to take care of.

After a productive chat, I took a bus half way up the old town to an old church on the south bank of the river (if your wondering how the city has a bank in all four cardinal directions, the Vltava is L shaped).  There I had one ticket to see the Prague Symphony Orchestra.

I was the only patron under forty.

Not to mention the only one in jeans.

I have no idea what opera they performed, but it was entirely in German.  Which hopefully meant I want the only one that didn't understand what was going on.  The 15 person choir stood behind the orchestra, while one lady and two gentlemen stood up front, singing the main roles.

It was beautiful to hear, especially when the full choir joined in. The church had great acoustics.  I can appreciate classical music, definitely, but it had been a long, long day by that point.

45 minutes in, I simply could not keep my eyes open.  I felt terribly rude, but I was not the only one judging by the bobbing heads in front of me.

I left at the intermission, not wanting to be a bad audience.  In my defense I didn't leave to go party, I really went back to the hostel and directly to bed.

The next day I took a bus to the south end of the city and started to work my way up from there.

I visited the botanical gardens first.  I've never had much luck with plants myself, but I've always had a thing for greenhouses.  This one had ponds, streams, and a full aviary arsenal of exotic parrots.  On the other end they kept a greenhouse desert with cacti and the like.

I crossed the Vltava and made my way up to the thing I'd been saving for last.

The Lennon wall.

The small bit of wall had started out on the late 80's as a place where students would write about social and political complaints (it was under communist rule at the time).  It led to quite the feud between the youth and the police.  Even when authorities would repaint the wall, the next day it would be chock full of poems, flowers, and peace signs.  The movement was labeled Lennonism (an ironic twist on leninism).  Apparently there was once a portrait of him on the wall, and there probably is again every few weeks, but the wall is constantly changing.  Even while I was there, I saw several people with paint markers (all I had was my measly marker).

Mostly written were Beatles/Lennon lyrics, messages of love to John, messages of general peace and love, and of course the usual "we were here"stuff.

It was one of the most memorable things I've seen yet, and I wish I could visit it every week to see its metamorphosis.

When you exit the courtyard of the wall, you pass a particularly interesting fence along the same theme.  Couples in love
write their names or initials on padlocks and clip them to the fence to remain there for, well, they hope for forever.  I've heard of this being done before, especially on bridges.  Many times authorities will cut the locks off, once again to find the fences dripping with locks just days later.  I thought it was beautiful.  And really, you can't run out of fence, because you can just clip one padlock onto another.  Very deep if you think about it symbolically.

I really felt lighter the rest of the day.

Which was good, because I had a mission.

Shoes.

It was time to finally day farewell to my trusty boots that had done me so well (until the Venice Flood of O-twelve).  So I headed to to enormous pedestrian shopping street, Na Prîkopê.  There you could find ANYTHING.  Most of the shops were a little more on the high end, but there were numerous shopping centers where you could find the typical mall-type stores.

You might think shoe shopping isn't such a big thing, but when you live on your feet, there are many variables to consider.  An uncomfortable shoe could cripple my trip, figuratively and literally. 

Despite the surmounting odds, I accomplished my mission in approximately three hours.

By that time it was nightfall again.

Prague is known for its stellar night life, but alone, I didn't care to check it out.  Its a general misunderstanding that a girl alone in a bar wants to be hit on.  Not always easily explainable in a second language either.

So I opted for a movie.

What I didn't think about, was how late the movie would let out.

Just past midnight, the regular bus schedule stops, and the less frequent night bus schedule starts. Meaning I had to wait forty minutes for the bus.

Now Prague was still very much alive in the area I was in, but I suspected it wasn't quite so busy in the region between where I was and where I wanted to go.  I could have made the walk in twenty minutes but opted not to.  Perhaps movies and television blow the situation out of proportion, but I've always associated the bad side of Prague with illegal sex industries. 

After spending half an hour next to a homeless man incessantly counting his change (there were other people around too), the bus finally arrived.

The next day meant Berlin, which meant more familiar faces.

Na Shledanou Prague
Tegs

Short Stop

Nuremberg was my wiggle room city.

I had managed to fit in a one day visit on my way to Prague from Munich, but if any plans throughout the trip had gone wrong, I would have taken the day from Nuremberg and just skipped the city entirely.

I'm glad I didn't have to though.

I spent less than twenty four hours there, but it was worth it just to see a quieter side if Germany.

My host Basti picked me up from the train station and took me on a power tour of Nuremberg.

I had planned for the city simply to see the Nazi party rally grounds that I had heard about from my dad and step mother's travels through the city.

Hitler, for reasons I'm not quite sure of, favored Nuremberg particularly.  There he had many plans for Nazi related buildings and structures, hardly any of which were ever finished.

The Nazi Congress hall had actually been completed and stood next to the stadium where you've see Hitler make many of his speeches in history class.  In the 90's, Nuremberg kept the original building, but added some more modern architecture to turn it into a museum.  The museum's permanent exhibition "Fascination and Terror" explores the events behind the Nazi's rise to power, and the ways in which they rallied the people together through, well, fascination and terror.  It also had exhibits on the Nuremberg Laws, and of course the more infamous Nuremberg Trials.

Unfortunately for me, I arrived one hour too late to be able to enter the museum.  I should have really liked to have seen the contents of the museum.

The stadium however is outside and generally always open.  Although, visitors are warned to enter at their own risk.  The stadium is in extreme disrepair.  You could see where chunks of concrete had already been replaced, but you could also see how much work still needed to be done.  Basti said the city was torn between spending loads of money to fix a historical site (that they are perhaps not so proud of), or just tear it down.  I could not form an opinion on this issue either way. Both sides have their own merit.

It was obvious where Hitler stood, although the architecture definitely wasn't what it once was. 

Not by accident.

After the war, the Americans blew up anything they could.  There was once archways lining behind the main balcony pulpit.  Not anymore.  Where Hitler once stood, was no more than a square chunk of concrete.  Railings were added to prevent tourists from falling off, I presumed.

Just on the other side of the stadium was the finished, but unused, parade parkway, Große Straße (pronounced gross strass)  It was an extremely long and wide paved road that had originally held connections with Nuremberg in medieval times.  It was intended to be paraded down by the Nazi army.  Although, it was never used due to the outbreak of WWII.

Now they liked to use it for drag racing.

We headed up into Nuremberg's old town, which was built around a quiet little river.  At the summit of the town, was Nuremberg castle, which was pretty well preserved considering it was built 700 years ago.

That night we attended my second ever couch surfing meeting.  Apparently attendance was always hit or miss.  I happened to be there on one of those miss days.  There was myself and Basti, an elderly man and woman that I believe were just friends, a German guy, a Turkish guy, and then the Czech -possibly the most annoying human being I've encountered thus far in my almost 23 years of existence.

Now I don't remember his name, something typically Czech I think, so I'm going to refer to him as Nancy.

Nancy knew everything about Europe.  He didn't have opinions about anything, because his opinion was fact.

It started out with Nancy telling me not to go to Prague because it wasn't really Czech and therefore wasn't that great. He maintained that it was outrageously expensive (which I would find out quite the opposite).  I said I was sorry to hear he didn't like Prague because I had only heard great things about the city.  When I said (to Basti who had asked) that I would go there by train.  Nancy's petticoats got all twisted and he adamantly insisted that I MUST take a bus instead.  To which he went on and on about Deutchbahn train company, and how Prague wasn't worth the trip anyways.  He thought I should visit his home town.  A proper Czech municipality.

Nancy eventually turned the conversation to WWII.  Why on EARTH you would do that IN Nuremberg with FIVE Germans present (two of which were definitely alive and could remember it).  He went on and on about how Warsaw fought and they have their pride.  The young German guy was arguing with Nancy on details of the military strategies.  But Nancy, with his bonnet now completely askew, was getting all worked up about Czech pride.  They wished they would have tonight back etc etc.  To which I inserted, "But then you wouldn't have beautiful Prague!".  He was not amused.

Basti let me fire away for another ten minutes or so, then we headed home.  He had to work the next day, and I had to go prove myself right about Prague.

Güte Nacht Nuremberg
Tegs

White Out

Munich is the land of white.

And I mean this in a non racial way (although it does mostly apply).

What I really mean, is their specialties.

White beer. White sausage.

To say they are only Munich specialties, is a little misleading.  They are really the traditional food and drink of Bavaria, which is a region in the south of Germany.  Bavarians consider themselves different from the rest of Germany, and the rest of Germany agrees.  I guess you could perhaps compare it to the Midwest and the South in the states.  We stereotype the South to be less intelligent, they stereotype us as the cold northerners.

Something like that.

Munich is also the location of the world famous Oktoberfest.  While Oktoberfest is months away, I still came at a lucky weekend were I got to experience a few different festivals.

My host(s) were Julian.  I say maybe plural because they are both on couch surfing, but only one Julian technically invited me.  Ah yes, they are both named Julian.  For confusion's sake my host will be refereed to simply as Julian, and his roommate will be little Julian (he was a smidge shorter).

When I arrived in Munich, I checked my bag into a locker at the station, and went to meet the Julians and company at a beer tasting festival.  This was my first stroke of luck to come during a beer tasting, which was rather uncommon there.  In Bavaria, they make only Weissbier, meaning white beer (pronounced vice-beer).  Legally Weissbier, or wheat beer, must be made a particular way, with only certain ingredients.  Its more or less been made the exact same way for quite a long time.

At this tasting, you got four tickets for four glasses of more or less whatever you wanted to try.  They had a version of our Kentucky Bourbon Barrel that I really enjoyed, as well as another that roasted the malt prior to brewing.  It wasn't easy to find my usual preferred dark beer.  To say these lighter colored beers were light though, would be seriously false.  Don't let the color fool you.

We spent quite a few hours at the tasting, then it was back to the station to grab my bag and on to the Julians' flat. 

By this time in the trip, I had gotten used to stairs, but Julian lived on the fifth floor.  He offered to carry my backpack on the way up.  This is the one time I didn't refuse.

Throughout my time in Munich, every time we returned to the flat, my heart sank a little, knowing I had five flights of stairs before I could sit down.

That night we went to a club/pub where an electronic German rock group was playing.  I never caught their name, but the singer reminded me of Cassandra from Wayne's World.  It was tolerable to listen to but not necessarily enjoyable.

When the band stopped, Julian and company decided to invite the party back to their apartment. 

I mostly stayed quiet, as the more people drink, the more they forget I need to be spoken to in English.  I mostly just watched a group of guys test their way through the Julians' whiskey collection.  They had over ten different types of whiskey on a shelf, and each guy that wanted to try some gave a little money for a glass to taste.  I thought that was sort of neat.

The next day, Julian took me around Munich.  The main square of Munich, Marienplatz, has a very large "cuckoo"clock that has a merry-go-round of human figures at 11am every day.  The technical term is glockenspiel, and there are actually two merry-go-rounds that tell two different stories.  One being the marriage of a duke, the other being a traditional dance that supposedly eradicated the plague from the city.  The traditional dance, Schäfflerstanz , can still be seen performed every seven years at Fasching festival.  We didn't make it in time to watch the glockenspiel, Julian said it was mostly disappointing anyways.

We then visited the Frauenkirche cathedral.  It sports the famous two towers with bronze domes that have become one of the symbols of Munich.  Within the church, about
five meters from the front entrance, is the devil's footprint, otherwise known as Teufelsschritt.

Supposedly the devil came to see the ridiculous church without any windows.  See, when you first walk into the church, due to the architecture, you cannot see the windows until you move about a foot post the devil's footprint.  The devil then saw the light and was either burnt a bit or stomped his foot in anger, depends on whom you ask.  The origin of the footprint may be unknown, but what is known is that the devil wears approximately a US womens size 10.

We rounded out the old town and headed to the Deutches Museum, the worlds largest science and technology museum.  They had every thing from planes, to automobiles, to space gadgets, to ceramics, to musical instruments, to windmills, to steel lathes, to even a live reproduction of Tesla's experiment.  We spent about three hours there, and I could have spent another two more at least. 

That night, Julian and I convinced little Julian to procrastinate on his paper due the next day, and join us to the Oktoberfest grounds.  There happened to be a festival that weekend, something like our county fairs without the livestock.  The Julian's referred to it as the "poor man's" Oktoberfest, as it was held in the very same location.

There they convinced me to ride the ferris wheel at sunset to get a good view of the city.  To me, ferris wheels are among the more terrifying carnival rides.  It turned out to be worth it for the beautiful view however.  From up top, they could also describe to me how it would look during Oktoberfest.

During Oktoberfest, about five to six million people flock to the city for 16 days of unrivaled beer drinking.  There are typically 14 large biergartens, which are enormous tents packed full of picnic tables with kitchens and of course barrels upon barrels of beer.  Not to mention 20 smaller biergartens.  They only serve Weissbier, and they only serve it by the liter.

There happened to be one small (the Julians seemed to think it was small) biergarten at the festival, so we checked it out.

What an experience.

There were people everywhere, crammed into these picnic tables, drinking liters of beer, eating half chickens.  A good portion of the people were in their traditional lederhosen or bar maid like dresses.  At Oktoberfest, pretty much everyone dresses up (most men own at least one nice pair of lederhosen.  There was a live band playing traditional Bavarian music, with the occasional Queen or AC/DC tossed in.  Some people stood on the benches the whole time, but when the song was good enough, most of the tent was dancing on their tables.  About ever fourth song they'd play the short jingle Prost!, prost being the equivalent to cheers.

What blew my minds the most, was the waitresses.  Not big bosomed, blonde braided young German women.  These were forty-something beasts of women capable of carrying ten to twelve liters of beer at one time.  I'm talking arms bigger than my legs.  I DARE someone to try to drink and ditch.  I would say you might get a mug over the head, but they'd thought of that already. 

All mugs have a "safety"feature.  If you try to beat someone over the head with one, it will break off at the handle, as to prevent there from being a second blow.

I wonder how many Oktoberfests and concussions they went through before introducing that design.

Injuries are commonplace at Oktoberfest, not a complete surprise there.  Mostly in the form of falling off tables or stumbling into something solid.  Apparently nurses and doctors can make six months worth of wages in just those 16 days.

After one liter of beer, I was ready to go to bed.  Just the one beer got me warm and fuzzy, I could only imagine a day full of one after another.  Julian said it was easy to spot the first timers.

The next day before I left for Nuremberg, I had one thing left to try.

The white sausage.

Julian and I walked to the butcher shop, grabbed four little white sausage links and two pretzels.  The white sausages are made fresh from pork, and are to be eaten the same day they are made.  To cook them, all you do is boil them for 15 mins or so.  Then, you cut the casing lengthwise and pop out the sausage.  Serve with sweet mustard and Weissbier.  If your a hardcore traditionalist, you'll have the beer at breakfast, because you're supposed to eat the sausages before noon, as they are at their freshest. 

I said goodbye to Julian (little Julian had left me a farewell note before he left early that morning), and I hopped on a train for Nuremberg.

Prost Munich
Tegs