Germany · Munich travel guide
Munich: Where Breakfast Has a Deadline and the Beer Comes by the Litre
In Munich, a sausage has a deadline. The traditional white sausage, Weisswurst, is supposed to be eaten before noon. Let it hear the midday bells and you’ve apparently let the whole of Bavaria down.
A city that holds a sausage to a strict timetable, then serves it with a pretzel the size of a steering wheel and a wheat beer at ten in the morning, has my full respect.
If Berlin is the scruffy cousin who stays out all night, Munich is the well-dressed one with a BMW, a good pension and a table booked for dinner at six. Get them both around a long table and see who goes home first. My money’s on neither.
Breakfast first. We’re on the clock.
Start near Marienplatz, preferably early enough to do the sausage justice. Weisswurst comes in warm water with sweet mustard and a Bavarian pretzel, or Brezn. Leave the skin. Some people suck the sausage out of it. A knife and fork will get you there with fewer spectators.
Once breakfast is out of the way, stop in the square for the Glockenspiel on the New Town Hall. Tiny figures dance, knights joust and a rooster has the last word. Below them, hundreds of people stand with their phones in the air. You’ll think it’s slightly ridiculous. You’ll also stay for the rooster. Check the day’s performance times before arranging your morning around it.
Then walk over to the Frauenkirche. The twin onion domes are easy to spot. The thing to look for inside is at your feet. There’s a dark footprint near the entrance, supposedly left by the Devil after the builder got the better of him. There are several versions of the story. Any one that ends with the Devil making a fool of himself in a church is good enough for me.
Listen for the tuba
Church bells roll across the old town. A tram rattles past. Somewhere in a beer hall, a tuba is farting its way through a folk tune with total commitment. Then comes the clink of heavy glasses, which is usually a sign that somebody’s having a better afternoon than you are.
You’ll hear “Grüß Gott” as a greeting and “Servus” for hello or goodbye. Give it a go. If the pronunciation lets you down, there’s always a nod. The beer will still come.
A market, a long table and a litre of beer
Make your way to Viktualienmarkt. Wander past the cheese, sausages and flowers, then find a seat in the beer garden. An hour at a long table with strangers can do more for a trip than another hour spent ticking things off a map.
For the full beer-hall experience, there’s the Hofbräuhaus. It’s loud, it’s touristy and I recommend it entirely. Watch someone carry a frightening number of full mugs through a crowded room while you’re still working out how to lift one. A Maß is a litre. By the last few mouthfuls, it starts to feel like strength training.
Say “Prost”, look the other person in the eye when you clink glasses, and sing along if the table starts singing. The words are their problem. Enthusiasm is yours.
The beer gardens are where Munich really wins me over. In traditional ones, you can bring your own food to the self-service area and buy your drinks there. Bread, cheese and cold meats under a chestnut tree make a perfectly good lunch. Where I come from, a braai can swallow an entire afternoon. I understand a city that sees no reason to hurry a meal outdoors.
Try Obatzda, the soft cheese spread with paprika. If you’re still hungry, order a Schweinshaxe for the table. The crackling should make enough noise to interrupt the conversation. And if somebody offers you Leberkäse in a roll, eat it before asking what the name means. You’ll enjoy it more that way.
If you’re here for Oktoberfest
Munich calls it the Wiesn, after the Theresienwiese grounds. It began with a royal wedding in 1810. These days, the mayor taps the first keg, calls “O’zapft is!”, and a great many people find they know the same songs.
Book your accommodation early if your dates overlap with the festival. If there’s a particular tent or evening you’ve set your heart on, check its reservation arrangements too. And wear shoes you can stand in for hours. By the end of the day, you’ll care considerably more about your feet than your outfit.
A walk in the English Garden
After a litre of anything, a walk sounds sensible. The English Garden has lawns, paths and enough room to forget how close you are to the city centre. There are designated areas for nude sunbathing. If you happen across one, carry on with your walk. Everybody else is managing.
The park is more than two centuries old and bigger than Central Park, so you can wander for hours and still not find the end. Pack a snack and a sense of direction. I only managed one of those.
At the Eisbach, Munich has a standing river wave. When surfing is permitted and conditions allow, people take turns riding it in the middle of the city. I find that wonderfully stubborn. Munich wanted to surf, and the absence of a coast was evidently a detail.
The etiquette is wonderfully German. Surfers queue on the bank, ride one at a time, and nobody cuts the line. Forget the Hollywood surf bum. This is surfing with a rota.
For a different afternoon, head to Nymphenburg Palace. There’s plenty to see indoors, but give the gardens and canals some time. The swans have the air of creatures who’ve read the deeds and know exactly who owns the place.
Where to go when the beer hall winds down
Around Gärtnerplatz and Glockenbach, you’ll find cocktail bars and small restaurants. It’s a good part of town for an evening that begins with “Shall we have one?” and acquires dinner along the way.
In Schwabing, the city loosens its tie a little. Find a bar, see who’s playing and leave the evening some room to develop. Or, if Bayern are at home and you can get a ticket, go to the Allianz Arena. The glowing, bubble-wrapped stadium is worth a look even if your interest in football extends only as far as wondering what all the shouting is about.
Give Dachau its own time
Munich was an early centre of the Nazi movement. The Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site, outside the city, deserves time of its own. Give yourself enough of it to read, listen and take in what happened there. Leave some time afterwards as well.
When the mountains start calling
If you have a spare day, choose between Neuschwanstein and the Zugspitze. Neuschwanstein is the one for a castle perched above the trees.
It was built by King Ludwig II, known as the “Fairy-Tale King,” and some say the “Mad King.” He poured a fortune into it, never saw it finished, and died in mysterious circumstances in 1886, only weeks before the doors were opened to the public.
The Zugspitze is the one for the view from Germany’s highest peak, provided the clouds are in a cooperative mood.
It stands at just under 3,000 metres, and you reach the top by cable car or a cog railway from the town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. On a clear day, you can see across four countries, and standing there with a hot chocolate in your hands feels like you’ve cheated at hiking.
Check the weather and the transport for the day you’re going. A mountain under a blanket of cloud is a perfectly good mountain, but there’s only so much you can do with the photograph.
A few things to know before you go
Do your shopping before Sunday. Most shops close. Leave Sunday for a walk, a museum or a long lunch.
Keep a little cash handy. It can save a bit of faffing at a market stall or beer garden.
Mind the cycle lanes. Standing in one while deciding which way to go will bring the decision forward considerably.
Choose a base that fits your plans. The Altstadt is handy for a short first visit. Schwabing makes sense if the English Garden and evenings out are part of the plan.
One last Prost
Munich can look a little pleased with itself. Spend an evening at a long table with strangers and you’ll probably forgive it. You can climb a tower in the morning, eat your lunch under a chestnut tree and be singing a song you don’t know by dinner.
Come for the beer, stay for the sausage, and if anyone offers you a Weisswurst after noon, politely decline. They’re only testing you.