The Missing Pieces

“So now it is time to disassemble the parts of the jigsaw puzzle or to piece another one together, for I find that, having come to the end of my story, my life is just beginning.” ~Conrad Veidt

April 7, 2013

In the end, I did oversleep and missed church. Even the five minutes of bells calling the town to 8:00 mass didn’t wake me up.

After showering, I went downstairs for breakfast. Lizzy was already back from church. I felt better about missing service since Matt was still asleep. She said it had been in German but she gathered it was the Doubting Thomas story. That’s what the gospel was on at my church back home so we decided it was a safe bet.

Matt came down as we were eating Cheerios and joined us from breakfast. When we finished eating, I went upstairs to pack my things and get ready to head into town. Our plan was to do a world wind tour of Munich so they could show me the connection between Bavarian history, and the history of the Czech Republic.

Our first stop however was at the train station to buy my ticket back to Prague. We parked the car at a nearby hotel and rode the metro into the main train station. Since Matt spoke German, he was able to ask for a student discount for me. I hadn’t thought to do so for the train ride out here, but it turned out to be almost 20 euros cheaper.

We then caught the metro into the historic heart of Munich. After stopping at a small café to use the restroom—and I bought a soft pretzel—we started the tour. Walking into the center, we walked right under the Propylaeum Arch that Hitler had constructed when he took power.

“Alright,” Matt said, “check this out.”

In the courtyard beyond the arch were two museums, containing art and artifacts from the various nations that the Nazi’s had invaded. The courtyard itself, however, was the most fascinating point. This was Nazi headquarters. This was where it all went down. This courtyard was where all of the marches, trainings, book burnings, protesting, and rallying occurred.

At the intersection on the opposite end of the courtyard, Matt pointed out two fenced off and overgrown areas

“Picture this,” Matt said. “In 1923, after World War I, Hitler and a bunch of his supporters march through Munich trying to over throw the Weimar Republic. He’s with a bunch of old war veterans, and they are met with a ton of resistance. A bunch of them are killed, Hitler gets thrown in jail where he goes on to write Mein Kampf.”

“When Hitler took rule in Germany, he had two tombs constructed here. They looked like small replicas of the Pantheon and were dedicated to the ‘fallen heroes’ that had been Hitler’s friends killed in that uprising. They were guarded around the clock, and each had eternal flames burning in the center of them. After Hitler fell, the German government tore them down.”

Further down the road, Matt pointed out a building that was under construction. Called “The Brown House” it had been the party headquarters for the Nazi party.

Cross the street, we went to a building that was now converted to a music school.

“Look at the second floor” Matt said. “The second window in from the end.”

“OK,” I said.

“That is the room where Chamberlain gave away Czechoslovakia to Hitler.”

It all clicked. All of the history I’d been living in for the past two months. From that first tour I took of the Museum of Communism, to walking the deserted streets of Terezin, it had all started here. Hitler trapped Chamberlain in the room for hours demanding him to sign the agreement. Chamberlain eventually did, sealing the fate of Czechoslovakia and launching the country into fifty years of oppression and struggle…an era that didn’t end until 1993 (the same year I was born.)

The music school of course does not approve of tourists barging in to see the historic room. The entire history is still very taboo to talk about. We did peak inside the lobby of the school, but a variety of signs and a security guard kept people from going up to the historical room.

It’s funny actually how censored Hitler and Nazism are in Germany. Matt showed me sort of a historical sign that he been recently erected in the square, but beyond that, it is an era that people don’t really want to talk about. In addition to referring to Hitler as “Our Guy” in most public tours, the word Nazi is very frowned upon (as is the swastika and giving the Nazi salute.) I suppose in some ways, it is not so different from high school history classes glossing over the Vietnam War—specifically the treatment of the soldiers upon return—but it is odd to think that a country can erase such a large chunk of world history.

Walking down the street and away from the square, we came to a large roundabout with a huge obelisk in the center. Matt pointed out a site called “Amerihaus” (American House) that performs English plays—such as Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”—all in German.

Also in this little center was the missing piece of Ludwig’s story. On end of the square was a large statue of King Maximilian, Ludwig’s father. On the end was a fountain, sporting a bust of Ludwig’s uncle Luitpold, who succeeded him as king.

Branching down one side of the square, we walked passed a porcelain shop. This was the same company that had provided many pieces for Ludwig’s Linderhoff collection. The color and detail of the porcelain was beautiful. The price however was appalling. A small salt dish cost over 90 euros. A tea set cost 515 Euros. Lamps and clocks approached 3000 euros.

And while we were on an expense tour, we dropped into a Mercedes dealership. Unlike American dealerships, this was completely inside. On the main floor, there were two large silver convertibles. They also had a historical model on a raised and rotating platform. Of course they also showed off their increasingly popular smart car (which I did not know was manufactured by Mercedes.)

The dealership also had a full service bar with complimentary water. There were sitting lounges and soft piano music, at the base of a large, open spiral staircase. Upstairs was another lounge where customers could custom design their car. In the center of this sitting area was a large glass display case with miniature models of historical Mercedes models.

We took pictures of many of the cars, before heading back outside. Just around the corner, I suddenly realized where we were. We were back in Marionplatz, the center that Lizzy and I had toured the first day in Munich.

Approaching the monument with lions on it, we walked up into to read the history. As Matt translated, we read that this was to commemorate many great heroes of Germany, including those that fell in “The European War” (World War I.) Matt explained that different countries have different names for various military conflicts. Germany calls World War I “The Great European War” and they call World War II “The World War.”

On the side of the monument, Matt pointed out four stains.

“If you connect those, what do you see?” he asked. Using his hand, he traced them to form a swastika.

“So right here,” Matt said “is where Hitler and his cronies had had their shootout with the German troops. During Hitler’s reign, a swastika, wreath, and eternal, flame were attached the “Monument of National Heroes.” Every time someone would pass, they would have to give the Nazi salute to the memorial.

“So check this out,” Matt said. We walked down the street about a block. A row of golden bricks marked the “path of the resistance.”

“People would cut through this alley to the other side of the memorial,” Matt said. “If they walked on that side, they wouldn’t have to give the salute….it was literally the path of least resistance.”

Just next to the monument was Munich palace. This was where government business had been conducted back when Munich was the capital of Germany. It had several great courtyards, and beautiful clock towers. The really noteworthy site, however, was the garden.

Before wandering the garden however, Matt took us to what looked like and empty water fountain. It had several box-like crate structures stacked on top of each other, and dropping about two stories down.

“This is cool,” Matt teased.

As we walked down steps into the fountain, I realized they weren’t crates but actually a sand colored marble. In a small catacomb formed by the marble blocks, was a single grave with a statue of a sleeping soldier.

“This is the German’s World War II memorial,” Matt said. He explained that initially the US and Britain had forbidden Germany from commemorating the war. Eventually, the government protested saying they had a right to honor their fallen fathers, brothers, uncles, and friends. The created this well hidden monument to honor their fallen troops without being flashy or showy.

It was beautiful. It was simple, but hallowed and it really drove home that all people are people. It was a reminder to me at least that even “bad guys” morn and hurt and feel.

Up in the garden, we walked up through a pavilion with fountains made of seashells. The shells were arranged to look like shiny gills on the fish and aquatic creatures that decorated the water spewing spouts.

Another pavilion (which actually formed the entrance to the garden from Marionplatz) showed murals of various Bavarian rulers in there most prominent moments. We had to joke that neither Ludwig nor Our Guy were depicted in the murals.

We still had a couple of hours until my train came. Deciding to go get a famous German Bratwurst, we went into town for fund some lunch. On the way, Matt pointed out the Barrel Maker Statues. Barrel Maker’s day is celebrated in Munich to commemorate the Barrel Makers during the middle ages. When the plague ravaged Europe, the Barrel Makers took the street to dance and cheer people up, using the metal hoops from their barrels as dancing instruments. In modern times, on Barrel Maker’s day, groups of performers dress up as medieval barrel makers and reproduce the dance.

For lunch, we went into Nürnberger Bratwurst Glöckl Am Dom, home of the most famous Bratwurst in Germany. The restaurant was very atmospheric for a Bavarian pub. Everyone was wearing cultural dress, and we were seated at open seats of a table that already had several occupants. The family we sat with had two small pugs with them under the table. It seems that dogs in restaurants are popular across Europe and not just in Prague.

The Bratwursts were actually served as seven little sausages, with a heaping pile of sauerkraut. Both tasted amazing, as did the Apple Shirley I ordered to blend in with beer drinkers. As we ate, we talked about church and mutual friends from back home. Matt took several photos to document my first real German bratwurst, and eventually the waitress offered to take a photo of all of us.

After lunch, we caught the metro from Marionplatz, back to the hotel to pick up the car. Driving to the main train station, we parked in a lot in the back. While initially we thought about walking around to the front, we found a back entrance inside. Following a stealthy pigeon that had snuck in, we made our way to the main platform.

The first sound we heard inside the station was a million shattering glass bottles. One of the vendors selling liquor had bumped their stand and knocked the entire thing onto the floor. It looked like one of the America’s Funniest Home Videos—we could all see it happening, but nobody knew how to stop it.

“We better hope she’s an employee,” Lizzy said. “In Germany, they would make a customer pay for all that. Even if they pour you the wrong drink in a bar, you have to pay for it because they already poured it.”

We had about 30 minutes so we went up to the lounge to find a table. While Matt looked for a table, Lizzy and I stood with my stuff talking about future trips. I’m excited for Amsterdam, but I can’t decide if I want to go to Budapest or not.

After about 20 minutes, we noticed Matt had found a table across the food court. We went to join him and he said he’d been calling us the whole time, while other vicious tourists circled the table. We only had about five minutes to sit before I had to board my train.

Matt and Lizzy were awesome. They boarded the train with me and helped me find a seat. Most of the compartments already had people in them, so I joined one with an elderly man, an older woman, and a young teenage boy. None of them appeared to be related, so I stowed my stuff and blended right in. Lizzy and Matt both gave me a hug and asked me to email them when I got back to my dorm. With that, we said goodbye and they got off the train.  

I journalled for a bit waiting for the departure. The kid sitting across from me was listening to German rap and the music was way to loo loud. The man and woman were talking in German. They asked me a question at one point but I said I didn’t speak German. They ignored me initially before asking a second question in German. Again I reiterated my ignorance of the language, but they continued to try and get me to talk with them in their tongue. I kept smiling and saying I was sorry and eventually they let up.

Just before we left, the door of our compartment swung open. It was Matt making sure I was ok. I said I was, and thanked him again. He wished me a safe trip and got off the train.

A few minutes later, we left Bavaria.