It rained again today, quite a lot.
We were supposed to do things in the morning, but I forgot to set an alarm and Hostess didn’t attempt to wake me (the sloth is my spirit animal) so we didn’t actually get out of the house until about midday, by which time I was regretting that choice of coat again. The train took us tantalisingly close to Oktoberfest, but apparently that’s Monday’s fun now. Tantalisingly close or not, I found myself struggling to concentrate as we fought through wave after blond wave of tanned, beleathered flesh, which was quite the sight.
Around 1pm, after a postcard and tourist-tat hunt, we went to the Hauptbahnhof to collect another guest from the 13:02 ICE from Leipzig (arrived at 13:18). From there, we extensively toured the underground until — bags deposited, tourists prepped — we were dragged to a vegan restaurant for more super yumminess and an opportunity to de-soggify.
The plan had been to visit Hostess’ alma mater in the morning before Guest arrived, but that became our next task after a bit of tram-hopping through the centre of Munich past some shiny things I made a mental note to try and get to tomorrow.
We were briefly diverted into a hat shop, because every time I think “oooh, I need a hat” I’m either holding an umbrella or wearing something with a hood (regretting that choice of coat again). There had previously in the morning been multiple unsuccessful attempts at headwear procurement, so when Hostess spied a hattery, (hathaus?) we were very excited.
I’m still not entirely sure whether it was a hatter or a milliner — perhaps a bit of both — but was quite impressed when the assistant found something that sort of met the brief of “wide-brimmed, felt, and crushable”. I appreciated her effort, but I think she confused me for Theodore Seuss.
“That’s 58,” she said vaguely, passing something that looked as if it had been ribbed for at least someone’s pleasure. “Oooh,” said I, trying to feign sufficient enthusiasm because she’d made an effort. “58” struck me as a vaguely large number for a hat, so I had to check at the tag to make sure what we were talking about. I was mid-breath (of relief) when my brain finally caught up with my eyes and notified my face that the three-digit number (two decimal places) was not a brow measurement in millimetres and 58 was not a price.
We smiled at each other, her smile perhaps more that of sympathy than disappointment, mine of horror. I flustered something about having to think about it, then we scarpered.
Still regretting that choice of coat.
Weiße Rose (‘white rose’) was the name adopted by a circle of students and one professor from the University of Munich who formed an intellectual underground resistance against the Nazis in June 1942. After having spent some time on the Eastern Front and then learning the fate of people in the east of Europe, they started writing and distributing anti-war leaflets urging active opposition to the regime. They did this in and around the Munich area in great secrecy, initially sending leaflets anonymously to people randomly selected from the phone book.
When it became apparent that the war effort was not going to plan, they increased their activity and published more scathing tracts until they were arrested while distributing them in the university. Hans and Sophie Scholl were witnessed by a cleaner throwing their leaflets from the gallery into the central stairwell of the university for students to read and distribute. The cleaner called the Gestapo, and they were arrested.
The siblings were tried in an emergency session of the People’s Court and found guilty and sentenced to death, to be executed by guillotine with friend Christoph Probst on 22 February 1943.
A copy of the last flyer found its way to the UK and from from July 1943 copies were dropped all over Germany by RAF planes.
After history and art, we took a slightly soggy walk through the Der Englischer Garten, one of the world’s largest urban parks.
We didn’t get to see any of the surfers who regularly ride waves down one of the artificial streams, and it seemed quite unlikely we’d bump into any topless sunbathers. Instead, we walked to the Monopteros for a nice view of the surrounding, looked at the Chinese monument and then hurried onto a bus back to civilisation.
