Volksfest, Munchen

It’s been suggested that the abysmal signage on German trains was imposed by the Allies to disrupt recovery after WWII.  My instructions seemed simple enough: Take the S1 from the Airport to Laim, change to the S3, get off at Olching.

And so New Adventures Begin (a.k.a: Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride).

The S-Bahn (S1) has both Express and Local lines, both going to Munich from the Airport.  I picked up my associate, overnight flight from Chicago, and we headed into town for a bit of sightseeing.  ‘Day-pass from the machines, what could be easier?

However, the Express passes Laim, stopping only at the Hauptbahnhof (Central Station). No worries, simply ride on to Marienplatz for lunch.

But, no, this S1 variant reversed and headed back to the airport.  The meal was a bit delayed getting turned around…

  

Similarly for trying to get to Olching.  DB Rail recommended an S3 express, which was direct to Mammendorf, the site of the next day’s meetings.  However, today, this was an overshoot from Munich, requiring a half hour wait for the Local S3 to backtrack to our pit-stop village, tucked along the Muhlbach river.

My competence at mastering the European rail system has now called into serious question.

 

The morning’s embarrassment was salvaged by the afternoon’s visit to Mammendorf’s annual Volksfest, a celebration of all things Bavaira (since 2007).  Beers flowed (by the liter) and sausages (by the meter).  Everyone (save us) was dressed in traditional Lederhose and feathered caps; the orchestra played Bavarian standards.

 

I tried the local delicacy of sausage slices, cold, with vinegar, oil, and onion (the Dutch-German version, swapping beef for haring), and ate far too many pretzels

By late afternoon, the band swung from Bavarian folk tunes to Super Sjoene Daag (The Carnival Song: I got heavily nostalgic and did the dance) and a mix of Elvis standards.  The second liter of beer arrived as the crowd thinned.  We made faces at everyone’s babies, trying tog et a smile.  A few couples danced; I played with portrait photography.

     

We talked about what this all meant to the locals.  Everyone know one another, most had been present at the creation of the tradition.  The ambition in Mammendorf was to celebrate tradition with neighbors and friends, to drink fine beer and eat juicy sausages in the warm summer sun, and to gather the extended family within the company for the future together.

It’s a different ambition, but not  a bad one.

The Neue Nationalgalerie, Berlin

The group had plans to tour more historical sights in Berlin on Sunday, but I really needed to see color, creativity, and warmth to counterbalance our previous excursions to the memorial and war sites.  A few of us settled on the Neue Nationalgalerie, a collection of modern works by artists from both East and West Berlin.

  It was wonderful.

     

The paintings and sculptures put the history and experience of Berlin into perspective. Here were works y thinking people who had lived alongside the terrible times, taken it in and put their feelings into expressive form.  The sculptures and drawings, in particular, were evocative, and the museum allows (non-flash) pictures which encourages later thought and comparison of the  works.  In contrast to both the media-inspired public memorials and the dead museum exhibits, these had life and feeling that bore witness to the events and the people.

It re-affirms the human spirit that the occupation years never crushed, and the value of art in communicating the people’s experiences.

Or, as posted at the UNESCO building:

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The modern collection is also quite good,  with provocative works, well described and grouped around themes that help with the explorations of movements and the connections among works. 

  

Naar Berlin

It was snowing when we come out of the underground near the Gedenkstätte Mauer, a remnant of the Wall and the no-man’s-land that divided berlin for decades.  The wind was biting, the warmest spot was in the lee of the concrete slabs.  Everywhere, slabs, blocks, daubs of paint as slogans, protest, and decoration.

Every wall in Berlin seems to be  canvas for residents to express their feelings; every gust echoes the cold history of  the city.

 

Berlin is not a happy place  I’d been reading about it’s renaissance as a center for art, media, and technology, but the reality feels abandoned and incomplete, not yet reconciled with its history or its future.  The city has a wonderful transport system, wide boulevards and a wonderful system of trains and trams.  But the monumental streets are bordered by buildings being torn down, leafless empty parks, and block high-rises devoid of windows.  Only Potsdamer Platz feels alive and electric.

I think it’s a result of the city being leveled during the War, then partitioned afterwards, first into four occupation zones, later into Ost and West.  As a result, it never had a unified urban plan, and individual projects rose among monuments, sacred jostling with commercial, hurried new construction rising on foundations of buried terrors.

   

My friend loves history, so we went to see the sight: the Wall, the SS Museum, Checkpoint Charlie, the Stasi compound, the Holocaust memorial.  The procession of death and suffering blends with the cold wintry weather, a tapestry of governments hurting people across a hundred years. 

 

As history, it’s all interesting and informative, well preserved, labeled, acknowledged in a public penance that wavers between sincere regret and overbearing theater.   The food is good; the people are abrupt.

On the last day, the sun finally came out, and I could sense a bit of what the city might be in better seasons, better times.   But I’m in no hurry to return.

More pictures, as always, at my Flickr site.

Zusatz: Crossing the frontier

Even after six years living in the Netherlands, the little things can trip me up.

This week, the big medical device show, Medica, is running in Dusseldorf.  The easiest way to get there is by train: NS to Roermond, Veolia to Venlo, then the VRR to Dusseldorf.  Simple.

Almost.

The problem is that the station is two miles from the German border.   And any train ride, even a two-mile one, requires a ticket.

The solution is a Zusatz.

A Zusatz is a train ticket that covers that two mile stub: I’d never heard of it but it’s required to ride the VRR out of the Netherlands.  They can only be obtained at the point where the VRR embarks, using a separate ticket machine.  And, since the trains only run once each hour, there’s no time to learn about that process during a five minute transfer.

So, cooling my heels in the Venlo station for an hour and five minutes, there was plenty of time to understand and document the process for those who may follow my tumbling footsteps:

1) Find the special Fahrkarten ticket machines.  (Men and women seem equally confused by the process: the difference is that women cluster and consult, men frown and jab at buttons in solitary frustration).

2)  Hit the Zusatz Tickets button, then the Ausgabe… option.  They are the same price, but the top Tickets option gives you a stamped ticket good for only 90 minutes, while the lower Ausgabe choice gives an unstamped ticket that is good anytime.

  

3) Add a ticket: since I want to return to the Netherlands, I need two for the round trip, and I can’t buy a Zusatz in Dusseldorf.  In fact, buy several, so that this won’t happen again tomorrow during a tight connection.

4)  Pay the extortionate fare.

5)  Wait one hour for the next train.  (Bring reading material – there is little to do at 8 am in the Venlo station.)

6) Stamp the Zusatz.  Don’t do it earlier – don’t do it in Maastricht:  the ticket is only good for 90- minutes once stamped.

7)  Have the Zusatz ready when the conductor comes by to ask for it.  They actually did.

8) Remember to stamp the remaining Zusatz before leaving Dusseldorf.  Otherwise you have to hunt for a machine in stations along the route down.

  

PS:  Don’t forget to punch-in and punch-out during transfers from NS to Veolia.  Although both trains accept OV-Kaart, they run different accounts and you have to be checked in with the carrier you ride.

And, yes, at least I did that bit right…