Munich, a beautiful city with a shameful past

Yesterday was our fourth day in Munich, with one more day to go. In fact, there’s only one more day left until we leave Europe, but more of that later.  Munich is such a great city, and we have had a wonderful time. Although the city looks very old in places, most of it was flattened in the allied bombing raids of 1944-45, and so much of what you see is reconstruction. Apparently after the work, the people of Munich decided to rebuild their city to its former glory, rather than go for a more contemporary style, and we’re glad they did.

The Rathaus, which is a bit like city-hall. Some of it was destroyed in the war and rebuilt since.

Munich has many parks and gardens, but the gold medal garden must go to the English Garten, with an area of almost four square kilometres. It is massive and when we were there on Saturday, with the sun warming the city to a balmy 27 degrees, it appears half of Munich was there also. Very popular in the gardens are the numerous biergartens, where you can buy several litres of beer and a meal to wash it down with. Seriously, not even Darwin comes close to this place for the consumption of the golden ale, and people drink it a litre at a time. Not wanting to appear aloof, we decided to do as the locals and ordered our own litre of lager, which accompanied our sausage, potato and a giant pretzel. I had no idea Alison could drink that much (even the locals were impressed).

The biergarten in the English Garden. It got far busier than this a little later. You can buy a range of meals to wash down your beer with.

The English Garden with thousands of people enjoying the sun, some of them nude, which is very much tolerated in Germany.

This was Alison's fifth litre of lager. The locals were so impressed they wanted her autograph. Shortly after this she removed her top and started dancing on the tables - I left around then.

Two days ago we took the train to the Nazi concentration camp at Dachau. Dachau was one of the largest camps operated by the SS, and the only camp to operate for the full duration of the war. Having taught this part of modern German history for many years, I was quite familiar with the role of concentration camps in the Nazi regime’s reign of terror, yet nothing really prepares you for the reality of the camp. In fact, not even a visit to one really allows this. We were two people amongst a sea of tourists, all intent on capturing the superficial reality on their iPhones and S9s, many actually taking selfies in front of the very furnaces used to cremate those lucky enough to have died rather than endure the unendurable. The physical environs of the camp, as shockingly depressing as they are, cannot really ever adequately convey a sense of the raw inhumanity which took place within the camp’s walls. As a privileged and wealthy tourist, how can I ever hope to comprehend the systematic and institutionalised brutality of one histories most feared regime. It is all the more poignant, as Munich was the spiritual heart of Hitler and his movement. He lived in Bavaria and Munich was always where he received his greatest support. I have visited the Holocaust Museum in Sydney many times, and it is not until you actually talk with survivors of this terror that you get some sense of what it must have been like. Even so, some things are beyond the comprehension of onlookers.

The front gates at Dachau, through which all inmates would have marched, with its infamous and cynical slogan, "work sets you free".

Although the dormitories were removed in the 1960s, walking down this lovely boulevard of trees belies the horrors which took place behind them.

The crematorium, which houses the furnaces and the gas chambers. The furnaces were used every day, but the gas chambers were never used. Why, we don't know.

Yesterday, in what was one of the highlights of all our overseas trips hitherto, we took the train to Germany’s highest peak, the Zugspitze, high in the Bavarian Alps. At 2962 metres, it is almost 700 metres higher than our own highest. Nothing really prepares you for the view from the top which on a clear today, such as today, you can see over four hundred peaks in four countries. The mountain itself is right on the border with Austria, so you can easily walk between the two borders at will. We ascended the mountain by Europe’s tallest cable car and descended it by cog-railway. I have always loved the Australian Alps, but I’m still to get my breathe back after what we experienced yesterday.

Germany is such a lovely and lush country. Our trip on the train yesterday took us right past rural scenes right out of The Sound of Music. Rotund looking cows with bells around their necks, grass so lush farmers can cut it for hay every few weeks, and paddocks complete with timber sheds used to house the stock in winter time. We couldn’t help in our minds compare it to the brown, grassless paddocks back home.

That's me standing on the top of Germany, or it might be Austria; the border was in a corridor joining the two.

 

The Zugspitze, German't highest peak. I think I'll let the photos do the talking.

One of the rapidly receding glaciers, the direct result of global warming.

As I said, we leave Munich tomorrow and prepare to fly home to Australia three weeks ahead of our plan. I was quite unwell on the flight over and by the time we got to Hungary I was very weak with a dizzy head, and a severe bout of IBS, perhaps brought on by travel anxiety. I spent a lot of the first few days sleeping for hours at a time. Faced with almost six weeks of travel, and a short window in which we could cancel some accommodation without loss, I made the decision to return early. As it turns out, five Imodium tablets per day has finally slowed the embarrassing need to frequent the toilet and I am now feeling much better. However, with flights changed it is not possible to continue on. Nevertheless, Alison and I have had a wonderful two weeks, so much so it seems like we’ve been here a month. It has made me realise that I have some issues with travel anxiety that I need to address for next time, and we both hope there will be a next time.