Today, we’re off to Neuschwanstein castle. It turns out to be a further drive from Munich then I expect, so we make a pit stop in a small town at a little shopping complex for gas and some food. You know the kind- there’s a grocery store, a liquor store, a bargain-bin clothing store, and a dollar store (okay fine, Euro store). It's the kind of place that people with flame-detailed cars shop. James and Zach are in love.
While they do a dude version of Glamour Shots, I duck into the Euro store to see if I can find some sunglasses and some watercolor paints.
As I’m browsing I discover the Erotic shelf. At the dollar store. With penis sheaths.
I start to wonder what’s going on in this small German township. I hope they’re not as thrifty when it comes to their choice of protection.
Neuschwanstein is an amazing castle. But like a lot of things these days, the people that run the grounds aren't as amazing as the attraction. I should have been more wary when the sign at the ticket counter used the same language as the sign in front of bear cages.
So yeah, our tour guide, not so amazing. I mean, I shouldn’t really criticize the guy, because I don’t know how to speak German. And he did deliver the entire tour in English, so he’s got one up on me, even if it did just sounded like he was regurgitating a tour fact sheet. It actually sounded like he was regurgitating. He had this wonder-inducing guttural voice, and he paired that with this super scary German thing of having the last word of every sentence drop down an octave. You know, the way people bellow when they’re commanding mountains to move, or chanting evil spells. Or running out of air. Whatever it was, apparently everyone in the group of 40+ was laughing so much by the end of the tour (I got kicked out, more on that in a sec) that BBE missed half of what he was saying. Perhaps all he was doing was cursing all our future generations.
So yeah, I’ve been dutifully taking pictures to get my photo gallery back up and running. Usually this is a good thing, because it means that I can show friends pictures of things I’ve already forgotten about. But today it got me kicked out of the castle. Yes, they told me several times that there was no photography, but I figured that was with a flash and with a real camera. And then not even five minutes into the trek, I was pulled off to the side, sternly talked to in that throaty echo, and pushed out a door hidden behind a tapestry. Not to be defeated after being exiled to a cold, claustrophobic stone corridor, I shimmied up an emergency exit turret to get up to the third floor and salvage seeing at least half the castle. I got about 20 sublime minutes to myself before my tour caught back up and I was rediscovered. And after all that, the pictures I took aren’t even any good.
And this I just found disturbing. There's another version of her with Photoshoped brown hair on the other side. Do you think she works as a nutcracker during the holiday season?
Nuff said. After we make it back, I made up what I figured was an authentic Deutschland meal as a final thanks to our hosts Adam, Kevin, and Joe. I took ground pork, mixed it with a load of onion and garlic, wrapped it around pickle spears, covered it in some sauerkraut, and baked it. Finished that off with some fresh spaetzle, apflekraut, salad, and a crate of bier. Not a bad way to end our unexpected Munich interlude.
Although a bit harsh, I think the label of our amber sodas that night basically sums up our stay in Munich.
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