23 Sept, Day 42, The Weizn

20 Sept, Day 39, Culinary Adventures
I went out to dinner twice this week –shattering previous standards of dining afar since I’ve moved to Monza. The reason for this was twofold. I found myself staying past 8 at work as we had a deadline Friday and returning home after it was too late to buy dinner at the grocery store, and I was starting to get tired of my standard dishes.

So I had two excellent dinners. The first was at Osteria del Cavolo. I believe this restaurant has set the record for the best breadsticks I’ve ever had, but the rest of the dinner was analogously delicious. After two mini pieces of bruschetta, I dove into the primi piati of two giant ravioli covered in a thick meat sauce. Next was two small bits of beef with a crust of a baked pistachio breading. These were accompanied with a buttery spinach and a few green beans. I concluded with a rich and piquant coffee.

I think the other meal is I prime candidate for the best meal I’ve had after 6 weeks in Italy. (And the restaurant is less than 500 meters from my house, so I will certainly return for seconds!) I opened the heavy wooden door of Magazzini Del Caffe to find a snug and welcoming cluster of tables tucked into booths and several more tables above the rafters in the lofted area. I took a seat at on a bench facing the door at a table for two. I started with bread and wine (-like Christ), before being presented with a small cup of a creamy soup to dunk some crouton-size pieces of bread. The first course was a gnocchi in a particular sauce that may have involved bits of pumpkin. Next was 1 and ½ breasts of quail with herbs and potatoes. Dessert was three delicate morsels of, (I’m guessing) whipped egg whites and sugar, and a coffee liqueur to put on the finishing touches.








I arrived in Munich HBF at 8:58AM after taking the overnight train from Milan. I had a bunk in a cabin of 4 filled by an Italian family. I think they were a bit shy and we didn’t really speak at all. I guess the “no talking code of public transportation” still holds on night trains. Actually, some people were drinking beers and talking in the aisle outside our cabin until after I went to bed, but with blindfolds and earplugs it takes more to bother me.

I was struck by the amount of bustle in the central station, but even more astonished by the amount of young people wearing typical German “farmer” clothes. I think the boys look rather ridiculous in the knee-length leather shorts, with long socks, a collared shirt, and occasionally suspenders, a hat, or other Bavarian folk-regalia. The girls on the other hand can look divertingly interesting in their low cut farmer’s daughter/milkmaid dresses.

I reached the fraunhofestr stop after a short ride on the metro and called my friend Daniel with whom I’d be staying. Moments later we were striding over the bridge linking both halves of Munich divided by a river.

Next priority was finding some breakfast. In addition to eggs we had some traditional Bavarian fare: a pretzel and pickles. We passed the time by sharing some old stories and exchanged news of new adventures until it was time to head for the Weizn where we had planned to meet Thomas, and maybe even Benno- (2 more of my other teammates from BMW.) We picked up a community rental bike for me, and began to make our way thought the traffic towards on the way to the tents. -The German train service has sprinkled rental bikes all over the city. They’re heavy, but build to take a pounding. I think it’s a great idea.

Weizn means meadow in German, but it has been turned into a large paved lot covered by 2 or 3 dozen large tents –where the drinking takes place, a temporary police station –to maintain a small amount of order, and an amusement park at the far end –for the people that didn’t drink enough beer. I’d guess the tents probably hold close to 100,000 people and they might cram another 50k in the beergartens located in between them. I would appraise the whole scene as a county fair with an emphasis on beer; only this one was 1 or 2 orders of magnitude larger than anything I’ve ever imagined.

So we pushed our way to the entrance of one of the higher-class tents, and Daniel was somehow able to convince the guards that we should be allowed in before the rest of the people waiting outside. Inside was stuffed like an undersize suitcase full of people. The focus of the tent was a stage surrounded by tables, but we pushed our way up to the balcony level where a friend had a table reservation. We ordered up a few liters of beer and began to mingle with the people who had been there since 8 in the morning. I was actually quite surprised by the level of sobriety and apparent education of the people. Just about everyone I met could speak English as a second language!

Then Thomas called that he was outside. We gave him a wave from the stairs, and told him we’d see him inside, only the guards would not make an exception for him, and we didn’t see him come in. At this point I was a bit divided between trying to switch tents or doing something else so that we could all get together, or just sticking it out here and meeting up later. We decided to take the second option and opt for a morning rendezvous.

After about 9 hours of beer and shenanigans in the tent it was closing time. We got back on the bikes and grabbed some McDonalds on the way to the afterparty at a club. (I was a bit disappointed that we didn’t find a more “German” snack, but there wasn’t much else open. I think the club could easily meet the standards of south beach with all the typical features ranging from a blockade at the entrance, to overpriced drinks, and excellent djs. Only the clientele was still dressed in their lederhosen. After a bit of dancing, and a lot of standing around, we decided it was time to throw in the towel and head home.

24 Sept, Day 43, Through mostly clean glass
We got up early (considering when we went to bed) and headed towards a café on the way to the station where we would meet Thomas for a brunch. We caught up on some of the latest news since our last encounter at Stanford over some weiswurst and pretzels before it was time for me to grab the train back to Milano.

I was sorry to have to say goodbye after such a short weekend, but I think we will meet again before I leave Italy. The orderliness and modernism of the Munich station is a radical contrast Italy. It’s hard to believe the two countries share a common border.

But the transition from Germanic continues after passing the border. I saw a number of handsome castles from the train, and the other Italians in the cabin with me were glued to the window as we passed until after we passed Insbruck, and the signs continued to be in German and Italian almost until Trento. From here we slithered our way though a valley in the shadows of the Dolmites before it got dark near Verona. I hope to go back to these mountains for a closer look, but I fear the first snows of winter may not be very far off.