My posts are completely out of order at this point. Here are the places I’ve visited in order: Reykjavik, Oslo, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Istanbul, Athens, Barcelona, Vienna, Salzburg, Munich, Interlaken, Bern, Milan, Venice, Florence, Siena, Rome, Privas, Paris, London, Edinburgh, Amsterdam, Dublin, Killarney, Galway, London and back to Reykjavik. (Bonus: New York City!)
I did not see this painting. I do not care.
People warned me about it. They said it was a pitfall of traveling so long. Culture-it-is. When you simply can’t stand to see another painting, courtyard or cathedral.
I swore I wouldn’t get it. I thought those who got it had less cultural stamina. I mean, I was a card carrying member of the Denver Art Museum. I dedicated my entire month of August to culture. I may be the least outdoorsy person in the entire state of Colorado, but my culture stamina is equivalent to a triathlete.
But by the time Munich rolls around, I don’t want to see a painting. Any kind. I don’t care how famous the painting is. I totally skipped Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss in Vienna. I even skip Neuschwanstein Castle in Munich. Meh.
My first part of the trip was very planned out. I knew the top sights. And I saw them. By the time
I would use this car to pick up men. Bond Boys, specifically.
Munich rolls around, I have thrown out my guidebook because it was dead weight. By Munich, I have mastered a better technique. I find someone with an agenda and let them stress the details.
After a walking tour, I end up tacking onto an Australian named Manning to the BMW Museum. And with two Koreans with the best names of all time – Commodore and Henne. I may just change my name to Commodore. Commodore Elinor Ellis.
I like cars. I’ve seen Fast & The Furious 1, 2 and 3. I still one day would like to own Dylan McKay’s 1961 Porsche 356 Speedster. But I drive a Civic that I couldn’t care less about. In fact, my sister calls it “the Terminator” because every time she sees me it is missing a piece.
So I’m surprised with what total abandon I love a museum dedicated to cars that I would probably destroy with my indelicate driving hands. It was honestly one of my favorite days in Europe. Context is everything in travel. I would recommend the BMW Museum to anyone who visits Munich. But if I wasn’t suffering from an extreme case of Culture-it-is while in the company of three really fun guys, I doubt it would have been such an adventure.
I also had one of the worst colds of my life but am presented with the modern-day miracle that is the German pharmacy. I tell them I have a cold, and they hand me a box. With all instructions and ingredients in Germany. It is really scary to not know that. I mean really, you have no idea if you can drink or not in one of the European capitals of beer. But I handed it to an Australian and medical school, and he gave me the medical go-ahead. This despite German cold medicine being chock full of Codeine.
The best part of Munich is that a central part of this city is bratwursts and beer. It’s like my two favorite components of sporting events, but I don’t even have to watch any sports to get them. Munich is a miraculous city. Beer, Brats and BMWs.
