Saturday, December 26, 2009

Das ist Guuut

Its a bit overdue, but I couldn't forgo the details from my first visit to my future new home. Welcome folks, to the incredible Munich, Germany. Everything here is, well, substantial. At least way more substantial than Paris. The men, the beer, the noise level. Instantaneously, I felt at home in this ridiculous place.

I hadn't seen the German components to my family tree in about 15 years, so I wasn't sure who to look for or exactly what to expect when Mickey came to fetch KK et moi at the airport. Being my dads side of the family, I was sure that these people were a little more than crazy. And Alas! How correct I was. In the first 5 minutes, we were laughing over old family stories and Mickey was trying to explain to me our family tree, which in reality is more like a lamp post. I guess the incest explains the kookiness? Anywho, Mickey takes us on a quick driven tour of Munich before we make a pit stop by the apartment/hotel he is letting us stay in complete with beers and cozy blankets. Cant ask for much more in freezing Munich.

And then the craziness ensues. While Mickey is preoccupied this way and that, alternating between business phone calls and playing family tour guide, we somehow end up at a very local beer-garden. KK and I take in the substantial surrounding, food, and people, and are introduced to our escorts for the night (or something like that), Dennis and Colby (Jack). These guys are definite dudes (and I looove DUDES) who I immediately impress by knocking over a half liter of beer right onto Colby Jack's pants. Oops! Mickey starts hysterically laughing and pointing to his crotch attempting to make “loo” jokes until, and a bit after, the beer evaporated into the beer-garden air. I got shit for that one for a while. So, back to the events at hand. We, more wine drinkers than beer aficionados, more vegetarians than carnivores, are ordered the following: 1 plate of sausages, mashed potatoes, potato dumplings, pork, sauerkraut, red cabbage, chocolate cake, apple strudal, and 3 kinds of beer that appear to be bottomless. Did I mention we weren't even hungry? Holy moly. Looking around, taking in the surroundings, these people are bigger and louder than most I've witnessed, and their mugs and plates definitely mimic that. We hit it off with the boys, and 3 doppelbocks (but in actuality much less as I kept pouring mine into Dennis' liter mug), 3 hours, and a whole lot of miscommunication later, Dennis and I are standing on the booth of our table, attempting to dance for the rest of the restaurant. Hmmm....we decide to take this elsewhere.

Quick lowdown on the boys:

Colby Jack: The tall, lankier of the two, he is your typical late twenty something asshole player type, trying to be smooth with the ladies even when he has remnants of an entire beer on his pants. The smarter of the two, speaking English, although not quite understanding when I call him a “creepster.”

Dennis: even more substantial than your average German, adorable in that free spirit, just wanting to have fun way, but complete with a whole lot of muscle. His English is fairly non existent, but understands when I respond to his love confession with , “oh, God, not another one.” He says that's his line. This guy is mine.

The five of us are dancing our way through the snowy baroque-ness that is Munich. We pop into a wine bar and witness and then take part in, although just for a moment, some dancing reminiscent of a type of German ho-down complete with lederhosen. We pop outside again, continuing to frolic through the streets, meanwhile being exchanged between Dennis and Colby Jack. What fun! At the point, I'm not sure what my cousin(?) thinks of his long lost family member. We reach our final destination, the German discotheque, finding ourselves on platforms dancing, in dark hallways at moments, and being handed vodka red bulls in the process. (O Lord, WHY?? Why did they pick that? Anything but that! or that's precisely what we moaned later that morning) After watching these macho type boys demonstrate pass the ice cube, KK et moi look at each other befuddled, and then partook. The night gets fuzzier, the smiles wider, the arms flail-ier. While being swept around the club by this Dennis character he accidentally bumps into the German, crazy security guard and ensuite....kicked out. Damn, these Germans are tough. We decide to steer clear of the situation and stumble home. 20 minutes of trying to separate ourselves from the boys, 15 minutes of trying to pronounce the name of our street to the cabbie, and another 10 unlocking our door, we fell into bed at 4am, some still with contacts, trying to forget that we hadn't been in this horizontal position for a good 24 hours.

The next morning, one of those huge sunglass and coffee mornings, after we had a quick photo shoot in the snow, we meet up with more long lost family and old family friends. My aunt(?) Renatae suggests the liver dumplings soup and fried fish since it is LIGHT??? and I've had enough meat to last me for the rest of my life. I look over to Mickey and am surprised by the reasonable lunch he has in front of him, thinking its fried egg on toast, except that isn't toast, its pork. They slay me. The lunch was complete with crazy family stories and laughter. I felt so at home in this crazy German world. For once, I was face to face with where my German family stems from and I felt more like them in one day, than 3 months in the other European country overflooded with stripes and moustaches. Renatae continued to take us to the Christmas markets, where we perused great architecture and the spirit of a snowy Christmas season. Of course they love us through food, feeding us gluhwein (hot wine) made to perfection, roasted chestnuts, chocolates, and then resting our feet to eat a supposedly famous dessert in the middle of old Munich. The markets are truly extraordinary, a must for any Christmas freak, like myself.

We haven't even been here for a day, and I feel as though it has been forever, and finally my unter schwester Shaina arrives and after some quality sibling time together, we take off to Hofbrau House and somehow end up drinking liter beers with the US Olympic Bobsled Team. I could go on forever baby, but honestly the more I think about this weekend, the more my liver and stomach start spasming.

Upon departing from Munich and returning back to my “real world” that is anything but, I have decided that if there ever needs to be extreme shitty times to balance these incredible ones, that's ok by me. I leave with invitation upon invitation from family and friends to return, and I hope to....maybe for longer than they expect.

Next stop: Detox. One thing I can always count on good old California for....

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