One Way to Milan Part 1

I was quite lucky.   

The platform was empty except for the train conductor who waited patiently for my arrival.   He quickly glanced at my e-ticket and didn’t bother to view my VISA card to compare rightful identification.  Instead he whisked aboard as we had less than 3 minutes to leave for Milan.  Again, I bought a one-ticket and this time, I was going to the City of Fashion to meet up with a friend and some extended family members.
   

While I enjoyed my time in Munich, it was really time for me to change locations and all I wanted to do was absorb the culture of Italia for the 3rd time.

I searched for my reserved seat and to my surprize I realized that second class was quite empty. I walked down the tight corridors to find my post then grinned from ear-to-ear to find that my booth was completely empty.  At that point I hoped that I would just enjoy ride all by myself and undisturbed.  Quickly I sat back, put my feet up, flipped on my IPod and hoped to sleep during the 8 hour train ride.  

However, sleeping on a train, plane or automobile is a very difficult thing for me to accomplish.  I guess it’s primarily because I love watching the scenery fly past me. But, I knew the real reason why I wouldn’t get any sleep on this trip.  My mind kept saying this phrase over and over again.

“As soon as I arrive in Milan, I will have no place to go.” I said, while wishing to have made a plan.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find something” said my heart.

The train went through the Alps making stops to Innsbruck, Verona, Bolzano, Brecsia to name a few and the scenery was just fantastic.  I was so engrossed with the sheer beauty of the high Alps, the audio playing in my ears simply faded into the background.

Just after 9 pm I overheard that we had arrived in Milan. As soon as the train stopped, I grabbed my gear and jumped onto the platform.  Within moments I felt that something wasn’t right.

“NO this isn’t it. Get back on…get back on!” said my heart.

“Scusa…dimmi dove siamo?” I asked the train conductor.

“Milano Lambrate.” she said.”

Shit.

I jumped back on the train as quickly as possible.  Had I stayed in Lambrate, it would’ve spent 30 Euro on a taxi to the centre of Milan.

10 minutes later, we arrived at Milano Garibaldi and once again, it was just like my Florence experience all over again.

I literally had: no place to go, no map of the city BUT this time, I could speak a little Italian.  I asked a few people where I could find a hostel at this time of night and many of them told me that there are not too many hostels in Milan (believe it or not).  One person suggested for me to take the Metro into Milano Centrale where there are many cheap hotels in the area.  I took the suggestion to heart and found myself at my destination.   

To my utter dismay, it began to pour hard as walked I around looking for some options.  I kept asking my heart where to go?  

Instead my stomach piped up.  

“Dude…time to eat….you can ask questions later.” he roared.

The rain bombarded the city with heavy drops as my back pack began gain an extra 3 pounds of weight.  I was completely soaked after 10 minutes of walking the streets Milan and slowly I was becoming a little frustrated with my decision to not plan ahead.

I walked around one corner and found a small hole-in-the-wall Kebap Shop and well, the Doner sorta hit the spot, but let's just say I won't go back there again. 

Ever.

I tossed the rest of the dog food into the waste basket and pressed on with my search for a hotel.  By this point I didn't care where and how much...I just needed to get dry and that's when I came across this brilliant spot.

Oh my god!

continued.

Can't Get Away from...Dry-wall!

Ok.  There is no secret.  I am not a fan of Dry-wall.  In fact, it is probably the least interesting job I have ever had to do.  However, I am VERY grateful to have learned the skills from my father who is one of the most hardest working and is the most knowledgeable person on the planet.

Before I left for Europe, my father jokingly said.

"You know, they use Dry-wall in Germany." 

All I could do was just shudder at the very thought of me, picking up a putty knife and fill-in a couple holes in the wall.  And really, who would want to do such thing while vacationing?

Well, not even a week ago, my dear friend Betty decided to do a little renovating at her flat in Munich.  The job required some painting and...gulp "filling in some holes in the wall". 

I looked around her apartment and it was quite clear that her living-room needed some TLC; and that's when I noticed the 12 holes in the walls and ceiling.  

"Sigh..."

Nevertheless, a smile rolled out from my face and I happily participated in the action. 

After picking up some supplies from a hard-ware store Betty, Mishco and I began the reno.

Have a look!  :o)

Laughing at the fact that I can't run away from Dry-Wall.

Mischo was my "slave driver" I mean Boss.

Yup...this is a familiar look. Mud on the hands.

Betty hard at work! :o)

The square shelves waiting to be drilled into the wall.

Augustiner Beer...Give it a try!

Bierhalle with the Frauenkirch in the back

Augustiner Beer

I couldn’t help myself.  I had fallen prey to the golden suds which evidently summoned for my return to Munich.   After a 2 year absence, I found myself alone at the famous Augustiner Bierhalle just a stone’s throw away from the Frauenkirche Church.  

It was no accident, I was in the market to consume (in my opinion) the best beer created by the Germans.   The one particular beer I was looking for is called, Marzen (March) which contains the alcohol strength of 6% and is made especially for Oktoberfest.  According to many people in Munich, Marzen is by far the best beer one can drink during the 2 weeks of Oktoberfest.  However, because I arrived in Munich exactly 2 weeks after the massive party, I knew that finding this beer would be next to impossible.

Trying hard to contain my child-like emotions, I waited patiently for my server.  My lips were parched from de-hydration; a condition which only strikes when my breakfast contains only a strong espresso in the morning (something which is happening a little too often on this trip). To pass the time I began to munch on the very expensive pretzels which sat at the middle of the table. 

“Hallo!” Greeted the waiter.

“Hallo!  Uh…Oktoberfest Beer?”  I asked with a slight look of concern on my face.

“Yes, we still have it.”

A sigh of relief fell upon face followed by a huge bright smile. 

The Monks created Augustiner during the early 1300’s and according to the staff the very first beer was brewed at this particular spot.   The company has since moved their factory to the outskirts of Munich they but have managed to keep the Halle as watering hole/restaurant for Tourists and locals.  

Moments later, there stood the holy grail of all beers.  I hovered over the thick layer foam just inches from my salivating lips as I examined the tiny streams of bubbles running up to the surface.

Carefully, I lifted my 1 liter mug and took my very first swig.

It was heaven on earth all over again.

The beer with its’ smooth body and shimmering golden texture was like swallowing liquefied candy.  

Exactly how I remembered it!

If gold had a taste, it would taste like Marzen.

I nursed my beer to savor every potent drop, while sitting upon the long, harden wooden benches.  The comfort level of the benches was akin to those found at a church as my bony behind began to ache.  I clasped my stein with two hands and for a brief moment, I felt as though I was saying a prayer to the Monks responsible for this sweet liquid.  Out of sheer curiosity, I searched for the padded kneeler below the table.  Jokingly, I thought, perhaps the proper way to consume Augustiner is upon your knees; unlike within the tents of Oktoberfest the beer, is to be consumed while standing upon the benches, happily singing with your mates while participating in the drunken debauchery.

Not here.  

At the Bier Halle, you are to sit and chat loudly drinking and/or eating traditional German food consisting of mashed potatoes, pork and pretzels.

As the minutes past, my speed of consumption began to increase.  I realized that I was down to half a mug after sitting at the table for 7 minutes. I placed my mug down to pause for a brief moment.   My mind began to feel slightly un-balanced as the 6% welcomed me back to Munich.  I reciprocated with a sly grin while suspended with a sensation of euphoric bliss.  But, I began to think about my friends back home; wishing for them to accompany me for a Masse.   At that precise moment, I panned over to the empty table to the right of me.  3 years ago at that very table, I was coerced by an elderly gentleman to try snuff for the first time.  Blame it on the alcohol.  See video.

Less than 3 minutes later, I completed my liter of beer in what seemed to be a personal record.  I am not known to be a drinker, however the flavor of this beer is so brilliant and so incredibly addicting it is VERY hard to not consume at a fast pace.  While I could’ve ordered another, I just sat satisfied, knowing that I will drink another liter…er tomorrow.  

Should you find yourself participating at Oktoberfest or just visiting Munich, be sure to give this beer and/or any of their other products a try.

Augustiner Restaurant und Bierhalle 

Neuhauserstr. 27 - 80331

München

Tel. 089 - 23 183-257  

Fax 089 - 260 53 79

Steve Jobs Memorial in Munich

I wanted to share with you something which I found to be very cool. 


At the Apple Store in Munich, which is located near the Marienplatz, the employess of the Apple designed a special farewell to honor Steve Jobs.


The massive mosaic was made entirely out of sticky tabs and was on display for a couple of weeks. 


Many people left personal messages to honor one of the greatest visionaries of our day. 


Have a look.

.

Make it Turkish

There is no secret.  I am not much of a cook.  In fact, I know of a few recipes and among them pasta is something I thoroughly enjoy making and eating.  However, I came across one recipe which is very similar to pasta, but with a Turkish twist to it.  


This past week my dear friend Bettina has been teaching me new recipes to add to my very thin cook book. One night, I was intrigued and delighted when she suggested that we create a Turkish dish and I was more than happy to give it a try.


The recipe is ridiculously simple and extremely tasty, but there is one ingredient which is absolutely necessary to complete the dish: Turkish Yogurt.


I learned that yogurt is a very essential part of the Turkish cuisine and it is used with meats, fish, rice and of course vegetables.  The very thought of using yogurt with pasta made me think a little deeper as my mind and taste buds tried to imagine the over-all taste.  Then I was told to imagine garlic, mixed in with butter and chili flakes. Wow.

The mantl is very reminiscent of ravioli.  They are tiny folded triangles made from dough which contain minced meat in the center. 


Here are the ingredients to make Mantl.


Yogurt  1 Cup "Ganzi Yogurdu"
Garlic 2 cloves
Chili flakes "Kirmizi Pulbiber"
Mantl (pasta)






Directions:


Into a frying pan, add a half cup of butter, sprinkle some Chili flakes then add a pinch of salt. Keep the frying pan at a low heat until the butter turns a little brown. 


Boil some water and add the Mantl and wait until soft.
Using a separate bowl, add a cup of yogurt mixed in with 2 cloves of crushed garlic and stir.


Next.


With a sieve, drain the water out of the Mantl and place it onto your plate.  Now, take the yogurt and put a large helping on top of the mantl.




Take the chili butter and pour the contents on top of the yogurt.  




Ready to serve.




This meal was one of the best I have had in a long time.  There is a distinct zing you get when consuming the yogurt and the combination of garlic and chili flakes, really provides a delicious punch to the taste buds.

To add a little bonus, Bettina had some Turkish Beer chilling in the fridge to help wash down the delicious food.   We sat down and enjoyed our meals while listening to Turkish music which really made my Turkish experience authentic.

World's Most Amazing Photo!

Since I only have a day or so left here in Munich, I decided to fill up my SD card with some memories.  My goal was to check out a very interesting place in Munich where one can find surfers riding the waves of a canal.  


This canal runs though a very popular spot in Munich called English Garden.  This massive park is 3 kilometers wide and serves a very tranquil place to have a picnic take nap or sunbath nude. 


No really!  


I had seen these surfers in action a few times before and these die-hards (who should be living in Hawaii) are all very entertaining and they always draw a lot of spectators.

Upon arrival, 7 surfers in total were lined-up on the concrete embankment, waiting for their turn to hit, what's called a "standing wave". 


But, because of the canal's limited proximity of space, only one rider is to enter the water at a time.  The average riding time for each surfer is about 20 seconds before the surfers get swept away by the forceful water. 


I took out my camera and started to take some wide angle shots, then I realized that I needed to get a little closer to the surfers so that I could capture "the world's most amazing photo ever taken".

perhaps the 4th world's best picture!

Photo after photo I tirelessly snapped the trigger at least 70 times, and I still wasn't entirely satisfied with my grabs, except for maybe one  (which is really the 4th or 5th best photo the world has ever seen! Trust me! )


I then proceeded to get a little closer to the water and to the surfers (5 feet to be exact) and continued to grab photos.  


For some stupid, ridiculous reason, I actually thought out loud to have one of the surfers spray only a tiny little bit of water upon my lens to give my photo a "dramatic effect".  


Oh and God responded immediately... 


Whilst snapping my photo, Surfer Dude drenched me from head-to camera-to toe.


"GOD AM I...ENTERTAINING!" I said in my head, laughing hard.


Laughter erupted from both sides of the canal as I slowly stood up from my back-catcher's position, blushing and wishing for a change of clothes and a towel.  My new Nikon suffered it's first splash bath and I vigorously wiped down the water.   


"You are all wet!!!" said the smart-ass spectator beside me who felt it was necessary to point out the obvious.


"Meh...what am I going to do?" I said with some courage while smiling.  


I then searched through my photos to find out if in fact my photo was "the world's most amazing photo ever taken".


"Here's the photo."  I said to the smart-ass spectator.


He took a look and just shrugged his shoulders.  Beh, what does he know anyways.  


You tell me if this is the "the world's most amazing photo ever taken".

Just nano seconds before the water turned me into a blushing jack-ass.

I left after wiping down my camera and left the park premises laughing.  I opted not to go home but let the sun dry-off my clothes.  After about 30 minutes of walking the, my pants were dry as a bone and I sat down to have a MASSIVE pizza from L'Osteria.  As I ate, all I could think about was what happened earlier; and for some reason it felt good to laugh at myself! 


Moral of the story? 


Next time go back 20 feet and use LONGER lens!

Dachau

Dachau, Germany

I arrived in the mid-afternoon and hopped off 726 Dachau Bus to visit the famous concentration camp in Munich Germany.  Immediately, I could feel the dark energy emanating the surrounding camp ground as I stepped into the courtyard.  The warmth of the hot sun, couldn't outweigh the nervous chill which ran across my body.  Death was all around. 

The courtyard was large, and seemed endless. To right was the museum but I opted to have a look at the two remaining barracks which housed the prisoners on the left.

Inside, there was an acrid smell of dried wood which permeated the room and made me feel uncomfortable.  I could imagine the ghastly stench of disease and male sweat within the walls all 30 plus barracks, must’ve have been strong enough to kill a man. I paused a moment to rest my camera upon the dusty window sill next to me to jot down my thoughts.  In mid-sentence, I realized that I had been leaning haphazardly though, comfortably against the wall.  I stood at attention moments later out of due respect for the people who were literally crammed to all corners of the rooms.  How could I lean with such ease?  Instead, I stood motionless to absorb the past, and then allowed myself to emulate what those tortured souls may have felt long ago.

The feeling of terror and agony and the vision of being surrounded by walls and cramped people, punched my stomach, making me cringe with slight depression.  Nano-seconds later, and out of sheer anger, I wanted to set fire to the wooden bunk beds.  I wanted to cause an inferno to finally set-free of any of the negative emotions which still hangs in the atmosphere.

I could see the emaciated and weak prisoners, with wrinkled skin dangling from their bones.  At that physical state, was there any thought of rioting against their boorish, healthy oppressors?   Perhaps not, when one is so feeble and thinking only of nourishment…revolt is miles away.  Then I wondered if I was to be unwillingly thrown into room such as this, would I stand up and fight then die a quick death, or follow the herd towards severe depression and illness?

After taking a few photos, I walked to the museum and was greeted by the cold, grey walls, laden with its chalky, chipped plaster.  In the middle of each room, tidy banners stood tall describing the history of Dachau.  These banners displayed war propaganda, documentations and many faces of the dead.   I was soon to discover that many prominent, political figures were also victims of Dachau.  Status meant nothing to the Nazi regime.

Amongst the many photos, one stuck out the most.  After, the US gained control of Dachau, a photo featured a pair of American soldiers sifting through a pile of precious metals found at the camp.  The Nazi’s not only stripped their victims of their life’s worth, they also had the audacity to extract precious metals embedded within the prisoner’s teeth.  At that point, I left the building truly disgusted and I wanted to leave the camp ground for good, yet curiosity pushed me to continue on.

After a brief visit inside the museum, I was in search of the ‘main attraction’ which immediately made my stomach to churn.  To get there, I needed to walk the camp road which runs between where the barracks used to exist.  

What remained of the barracks were long, rectangular foundations covered with over-growth trying to bury the past.  Soon, I found myself walking towards the barbed wired fence and came upon sign entitled, Krematorium.  To my surprize, the building was squat in stature but the long chimney in the back made the crematorium look massive.  I walked up the wheelchair ramp towards the doors and instantly froze while examining the 4 ovens.  The heavy oven doors were wide open, offering a sordid welcome to the gates of hell.  As I stared down the barrel of the tomb shaped, shallow gateway I could see a thick layer of what I hope was dust inside.  Many visitors who were beside me staring at the ovens were wiping tear small tears from their cheeks.   

The room to the left was a holding cell for corpses waiting to be turned to ashes, but the next room over was the real eye opener.  I was told by a friend that Dachau didn’t use gas to execute prisoners, but she was so wrong.

Above the green door was a painted sign which read, ‘Brausbad’ (showers).  I guess the Nazi’s felt it was necessary to manipulate the doomed one last time.  The gas chamber was less than 6’3” in height and the evidence of the many false shower heads was inches from my face.  Just looking at the sprinkler heads was enough to make me gasp for air.


Hundreds were herded into the dank, dark, diminutive room at once.  I could only imagine the naked souls screaming in agony, suffocating on the poisoned air as the gas burned their lungs - then the imminent slapping sounds of skin hitting the brick floor, with others collapsing a slow death. There were air vents on the walls which were only installed to allow for the Zyklon B gas to quickly escape once the execution was carried out.

I knelt in a corner envisioning everything which at the point, I promptly left the camp ground wanting to destroy it all.

I took the bus back to the train station and then rolled into the heart of Munich.  Along the way, I had no choice but to reflect about what I’d just saw and learned.  Yet, I also found myself needing to re-balance my mind so I began to breathe deeply for a few minutes.  During my trip back to reality, I could only summarize my experience with this:

“To be a victim, executioner or to be the one to close the door of the flaming oven…God allowed for all of this to happen based upon free-will.  Yet, God has provided us with a message that mankind has the cranial capacity and the ability to learn from our past; and that change for a better life is only one decision away.  I understand why it is imperative to maintain the prison camp.  It provides blatant reminders and lessons which could change ones out-look in life or even perhaps, could save it.”

 Some 200,000 prisoners from 30 different countries perished at Dachau.