Spatially and in the flat relief of an internet viewed map my hotel was across the road from the Hauptbahnhof , left a bit, right and then to be found in a block of buildings some 50 metres further. Oh, and with a bloody big red directional arrow over it's location.
Introduce, however, other premises with Hotel written on them, hordes of commuters, vehicles, a tram system, bright lights and a travel weary tourist and things get a bit confusing. A phrase in german to the effect of "where is to my hotel am I going" was milling around in my head but I chose to persevere with my original perception of where it was.
What, on a screen, had resembled a wide boulevard was in reality a narrow alleyway between a large posh looking hotel and a city gymnasium. Doorways off led to commercial kitchens and service entrances, a bit rough looking compared to the edifices facing onto the central Munich street. Creative Elefant was an unusual name for my destination but it met a couple of my criteria for an overnight stop, cheap and cheerful. The other fundamentals for a place to stay in a new city were a roof, walls, windows, sanitation, a bed and a lockable door. I could tolerate there not being a trouser press.
Although a five storey building , painted in terracotta amongst drab white surroundings and displaying a huge signage banner I did walk past the recessed porch entrance. After filling out the obligatory registration card at Reception I was left to find Room 29 using either the lift or the stairs. In the embarrassing period of time it took between pressing the button to call the lift and actually hearing any mechanical motion I made the decision to just nip up the stairs.
My room was a double, but only just if you walked sideways between the bed end and partition wall. Neat, comfortable, very minimalistic and european with a stout door lock. I pocketed the small packet of Haribo gummy bears that I found on the pillow,being one of five children this was a natural reflex action, and anyway the Cream Crackers would be staying in the room whilst I explored. They were a tight fit in the mini-safe in the wardrobe.
I must have been in the room for a mere 10 minutes before breezing past the Night Porter and out onto the street trying to orientate myself to a reverse journey to the railway station. It was still rush-hour and Munich Station was heaving with weary, serious types under heavy formal jackets and top coats, youngsters with headphones, a few elderly citizens, beggars and vagrants keeping warm.
The complex containing upwards of 50 incoming lines was a temple to transport and commerce. The nave was an expanse of cobbles, under a vaulted glazed atrium with coffee, bagel and pretzel kiosks dotted about, each with its own queue waiting to receive communion. The aisles off were taken up with every type of shop, not just those providing goods and services to travellers but chain stores, boutiques and supermarkets catering for all and every requirement for modern living. I must have seemed a bit starstruck to onlookers, a veritable country bumpkin visiting the big city for the first time.
If it were not for very clear and efficient Teutonic directional signs I may have wandered there for the duration of my visit but I headed off to the U-Bahn, or subway system. Three steep, descending escalators later I was on the subterranean platform for U-1, the orange coloured line that on the schematic transit map went upwards from the Hauptbahnhof hub. The smells of diesel, electric traction and, well, underground railways was distinctive and not a little bit exciting in anticipation of an onward leg of my trip.
In appearance the U-Bahn could have been straight out of the 1930's and I imagined the good citizens huddled down here seeking refuge from wartime bombing. This notion was exploded by the information board that the U Bahn dated from 1971 and had been largely part of the infrastructure for the hosting by Munich of the Olympic Games and World Cup within a two year period. The rolling stock was a bit old and fusty and with liberal use of wood panel trim a bit like the dashboard of a British Leyland Austin Allegro Van den Plas in the days when Britain had a car industry before the Germans stole it away and made it work. I hoped I had kept that last bit as a silent thought as I stood in a crowded compartment.
"Mind the Gap" was recognisable in its sentiment but sounded more jaunty and less ominous. My stop and a change of line was at Olympia-Einkaufszentrum and I flitted through a couple of connecting footways , very clean and tidy. U-3 was the blue route and in three stops I emerged out on the pavement.
In front of me was the distinctive shape of the Olympic Stadium resembling the fully deployed sail of an ocean clipper. I ticked it off subconciously from my list of 1001 Buildings to see before I die. That structure was not however the principal reason for my emergence on the surface.
Just a little to the left of the stadium was BMW Welt. In terms of a multi-functional building it was top of the pops. Multi functional conjures up an image of boring cube with a cafe, viewing area, community function rooms and good toilets. BMW Welt is none of these, toilets probably excepted.. It is a statement of utter superiority by a world dominating car corporation, a shameless display of outrageous expenditure, a cathedral to capitalism, a big justified finger to the struggling car industries of other nations and, in the biggest show of vanity and conceit, just a large, brash showroom with a few shiny cars in it. I was dumbstruck by the building, a design by Coop-Himmel and taking 4 years to create, ostensibly out of left over bits of vehicles. Every elevation was different in shape and form. In fact, the whole thing sort of swept around , seamless and with no sharp angles that could be called an elevation. I did not go in. Perhaps it was fear, a feeling of inadequacy, I did not own a BMW and could be known to be a big critic of their current model range. Don't get me started on my unique profile, borne out of actual experience, of a typical owner/driver of that particular marque. Perhaps it was because it was closed to the public.
I did something else for the next four hours and a link will appear hereas soon as The Boy has posted something up on his own Blog.
By the time I got back to the U-3 it was well past eleven thirty and I was concerned that there would be a thinning out of the train services. The simple back -tracking along the earlier route was denied by the withdrawal of the link westwards and I hastily studied the whatever transit map thing for an alternative route.
There was a possible tortuous and multi-change option eastwards and then south. I had no time to be cautious and reserved as the subway train pulled in instantaneously. The onboard map was stuck to the roof of the carriage and the close scrutiny of it must have made me look a bit manic because the other passengers avoided me. Stops with swift walking to other connections was the pattern to follow and at each there was a gradual thinning out of other travellers until I found myself completely alone at midnight on an empty and draughty platform, still some way from the Hauptbahnhof. Down in the tube station at midnight, that sounded like a good title for a song. What I had thought to be a single flow chart line from my current position in the U bahn network to the hub did not exist and appeared to be a work in progress. A new station was being built. I hastily re-worked my route and eventually emerged at ground level to find the shops still open and busy. As an aperitif to Cream Crackers I purchased a bag of crisps, bar of chocolate and a bottle of mineral water. The mini-bar in the room would not have to be raided after all.
In the morning, after a fitful 5 hours sleep in which I was engaged in a dream being chased, whilst naked by a green Morris Minor around a red brick built British Leyland Factory ( a regular dream for me) I settled the hotel bill and crossed the strasse to be re-acquainted with Platfrom 32.
The 8.20am local train service to Memmingen was not a well patronised route and I was in the company of, at most, two housewives and an old lady with a shopping cart full of old newspapers. Those sights I had missed because of the failing light the evening before were now visible but, after all, a bit same-old, same old in a city environment.
I did get excited by a huge factory ,trackside ,some one hours travelling out of Munich. The car park was full of red-clad employees striding through stubborn patches of snow. This, to me, resembled a Santa Claus convention. It was actually the Hilti Power Tools plant and a red fleece appeared to be standard staff issue.
The heater at my right leg was pumping out possibly chloroform impregnated air which caused me to drift, once more, in and out of consciousness. Memmingen was soon reached and after buying some beeswax kleine angel candle figures from the Christmas Market I shared a taxi with a Turkish couple to the airport. They were going to spend the Festive break with relatives in London.
In such a small regional airport the sudden appearance of the next contingent of passengers caused havoc. I spent more time in a queue in that check in area than the whole of the journey to date. I still only had a back-pack and the clothes I stood up in but I could not get any concessions or fast tracking as I had at Stansted on the way out.
The aircraft was late and then two arrived within minutes. The other for sunny parts of Spain was a temptation. If I feigned ignorance and a bit of confusion ............ I persisted with my scheduled flight which was surprisingly empty so did that mean we would fly faster?
The pilot, in a matter of fact drawl, informed us of a 40,000 feet cruising height and a journey time of around 1 hour 45 minutes. This was longer than the flight in but then we were heading north and uphill. I again kept my head down and avoided eye contact with the attendants. There was a particularly heavy selling approach to the Scratchcards but understandable if passengers were keen to offload their euro coins.
It was not long before I was back on English soil, through customs and out in the cold, fresh air to take the shuttle bus back to the car. I had been out and back in a period of only 33 hours. It had been a great experience and the tantalus of BMW Welt would soon cause me to make a return trip during public opening hours. Oh, and I would have to retreive a packet of Cream Crackers from the lost property department of the Creative Elefant hotel if they ever managed to blow the safe in Zimmer neun and zwanzig.
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