Prost is the German word for Cheers! My last post about Germany is a toast to all of the interesting and friendly people we encountered in Munich.
Front Desk Ladies
Typical Street Front in Munich
The amber skinned girl at the hotel’s front desk, and the way she said, “Tschüss,” an informal term that means bye. I love going to another country and listening to the natural way people speak a native language that on my tongue, dies a guttural death. The beautiful girl was also very kind when Super Husband and I sat down on the couch in the lobby and fell asleep while waiting for our room to be ready. I think I drooled a little.
Guten Morgan is a song when Mandy says it.
Mandy, my friend and waitperson at the hotel restaurant. She was so kind and helpful I asked if I could take her picture, and she said yes. I loved the way she sang, “guten morgan,” to us each day. Mandy made each morgan much more guten. (Sorry about the quality of the picture, Mandy. I’m still learning.)
The older gentlemen in that bar across the street. His eyebrows were German. Don’t make me explain, they just were. He had a true beer belly, and just enough English for us to communicate our order. He was jolly. I wanted to take him home with me.
The fellow that sold me my two German books. I can’t read them but I will love them forever, because of him. He gave me a free postcard. I wanted to give him a granddaughter- type hug, but I didn’t. I don’t think Germans are big on hugging.
Friends and Guides
Vi, David, and Aga. What wonderful folks!
David, Vi, and Aga. These are friends we made when on our tour of Neuschwanstein and Linderhof castles. When we went to lunch, we were serendipitously seated together and enjoyed one another’s company for the rest of the afternoon. David and Vi were about to end their work in Abu Dhabi, and wanted to take advantage of the proximity of European destinations. Aga, a business traveler from Poland, stayed an extra weekend to do some sightseeing. Aga was much younger than the rest of us, but politely walked up the steep incline to Neuschwanstein with us, listening to our huffing and puffing. I also appreciated her willingness to answer my meddlesome questions about what it’s like to live in Poland.
Steve, the guide I grilled for the entire train ride from Dachau to Munich. I don’t think answering my questions about his own life and interest in the topic was required, but he gladly shared that information with me. He also told me something interesting. When WWII ended, the bridge in the far background of this photo was the only thing standing. Well, the bridge, and a lone train track.
Train Station, downtown Munich
Juliet the bare.
Here is Juliet. I toast Juliet, because for I don’t know how long, young men take a picture of Juliet when they go to the Marienplatz in Munich. Guess where their hands go? I bet you can. At first, SH and I thought Juliet was a statue of the Virgin Mary. I can tolerate this behavior with a made up Shakespearean character. The mother of Christ would be a different story.
Munich.Let me stand here until I remember you. I’ll forget so that I may stay longer, remembering how I love your company.