The end

The final day dawns with me feeling a little shaky. That's what you get for drinking litres. A leisurely breakfast helps. And a lie down until 5 minutes before checkout. Checked out, I leave my bag and head in the direction of the Viktualienmarkt.

Just like in Salzburg, there's lots of tempting meaty stuff. I ignore it. My mission is simple: get some nice bread for Dolores.

"What do you want me to bring back from Germany, darling?"

"Bread."

In many ways she's the perfect wife.

I buy half loaf of a rusticy brown round thing. It's quite big. A whole one would have been the size of a wagon wheel. And I mean the wooden things wagons roll on, not the chocolate biscuit.

I'd considered hitting a few more beer gardens today. The persistent rain has ruled that out. Looks like I'll be inside most of the day. It's still quite early, so I wander up and down Munich's main shopping drag a bit. I nip into the Hugendubel book shop on Marienplatz. You never know. They might have a beer book I've not seen before.

I try the two most likely sections to find one. First, the shelves devoted to books about Munich. There is a book about the Oktoberfest I don't have. But it doesn't look like it contains anything of much use to me. Next I try the cooking department. There is a section devoted to beer. It has all of four books in it. Two are dedicated to homebrewing. One of the others is the German translation of a book I contributed to. It's weird seeing my words converted into German. Yet another disappointing visit to a German book shop. I don't know why I bother.

It's just before the hour when I emerge. There's a crowd in Marienplatz, despite the rain, to watch clockwork figures around the clock dance. May as well handg around to take a look myself. It takes forever. There's 5 minutes of discordant chiming before any of the figures move. Then a few more minutes of seriously out of tune clanking while the figures circle enough times to make it really tedious. The whole performance takes nearly 10 minutes. It's badly in need of editing down to two minutes, tops.

A chemist has an unusual display in its window. One that's fascinating and creepy in about equal measures. A glass jar full of leeches. The way they move makes my skin crawl. I'm glad there are two layers of glass between me and the little monsters. I'm sure they're eyeing me up, imagining sinking their teeth into my lilly-white flesh. You wouldn't want my blood lads. You'd be pissed for a month.

Oh look! There's Augustiner Großgaststätte. Not been in there yet. And it's open. I'm soon sitting with a Dunkles in front of me. I've not had an Augustiner Dunkles for ages. Because it's always either Helles of Edelstoff that's served Bayerischer Anstich. It's sweetish and malty in a throwing itself down my neck sort of way. A real Lager Dark Mild. Or is the correct term Dark Lager Mild?

There's something else I realise I've not had yet. Weisswurst. One of my favourite sausages. This could be my last chance to get some. I order a pair with potato salad. The sausages are pretty good. The potato salad is too acidic and mustardy for my taste. Dolores's is much better.

Not yet noon, but there are plenty of customers. British and American tourists. An old German couple who eat and drink beer in silence. A young German couple who get litres of Weissbier and feed each other with a touchingly innocent intimacy. Hang on. What's that I see in the corridor?

I was surprised by the number of Arab women in town. Some fully veiled and covered. Others not far off. Three in the latter category are sitting in the corridor drinking tea. What an odd sight, in this palace of pork and beer.

Tell you somewhere else I've not been in ages, Bayerischer Donisl. Let's give it a try. It's on the way to Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl, anyway. I sit down and order a Dunkles without even looking at the menu. I only check it after the waitress has gone. That's when I notice two things: the high prices and what their only dark beer is. It's Salvator.

Looking around, I remember why I've not been here in ages. The interior is weirdly cramped, walking a line between blandly kitsch and kitschily bland. Around me are mostly Italian tourists eating sausagey saurkrauty stuff. I don't linger. As soon as my stickily sweet Salvator is finished, I fuck off.

I hurry to Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl. The weather has improved enough for me to sit outside. It's much more pleasant here. A dirndled waitress soon has me supplied with a glass of Augustiner Helles. Fresh, soft, deeply satisfying. Here's a beer that wants to be drunk. And I'm not going to go against its wishes.

I'm starting to feel peckish again. There's a sausage-shaped hole opening up in my stomach. Best fill it. Nürnberger Bratwurst seems the obvious choice. I get a few pairs with potato salad. They really do the bratwurst properly here. There's a wood-fired grill at the back. The sausages are delightfully smoky. I wish I'd ordered more.

The clock is ticking. Not long until my flight. Bag retrieved from my hotel, there's just enough time to drop by Weisses Bräuhaus for a Schneider Eisbock. I can't leave Munich without having one. Almost time to catch the S-Bahn. That's it for another year.






Augustiner Großgaststätte
Neuhauserstr 27,
80331 München
Tel. 089 - 231 83257
Fax: 089 - 260 5379
Website: http://www.augustiner-restaurant.com/



Bayerischer Donisl
Weinstraße 1,
80333 München (Munich).
Tel. 089 - 2908410
Fax 089 - 2285884
Email: Donisl.Muenchen@t-online.de
http://www.bayerischer-donisl.de/



Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl
Frauenplatz 9,
80331 München (Munich).
Tel. 089 - 220385
Fax: 089 - 2904736
Email: info@bratwurst-gloeckl.de
http://www.bratwurst-gloeckl.de/



Weisses Bräuhaus
Tal 7,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 299 875
Fax: 089 - 290 13815
http://www.weisses-brauhaus.de/

More Munich

Football. There's a game on tonight. The quarter final between England and Italy. I can't face the torment of watching England play without anaesthetic. What better place to find it than Augustinerkeller?

Did I mention how much I like Augustiner? It's lovely stuff served Bayerischer Anstich. Both the Helles and Edelstoff. I can't understand the hate some have for Edelstoff. Subtly delicious is how I find it. Doubtless if you've been abusing your tastebuds with clumsy hop bombs, you'll find it bland. But that's your porblem, not mine.

Despite the slightly iffy weather there's a good crowd. I fetch myself a litre from the beer shed and set about demolishing it. At least I would do if my first long draught didn't reveal my terrible mistake: I've picked up a Radler. No way I'm drinking that. I pour it into the gravel at my feet and fecth a proper beer. That's better. Don't want to drink any of that sugary poison. No knowing what it might do to my delicate system.

I'm halfway down my second litre when the game starts. Luckily there's a giant screen close to where I'm sitting. To be honest, I could do with some smack. Something to mellow me out and dull the inevitable pain. But I'm going to have to make do with beer.

Pretty much all of the EU is represented in the group watching the game. It's easy to spot the English. They're the ones swearing and shouting and holding their heads in their hands. The Italians are much more restrained. It's our fiery English temperament, you know. That and the fact we all turn into frothing maniacs as soon as someone starts kicking a footbal.

The crowd is distracting my attention from the game. Which is no bad thing. Following it attently would only make the agony more acute. When the inevitable penalties come around, I'm dying for a leak. I'm in the bog for the first two England penalties. Just as well. I do make it back in time to catch the downcast looks of the England players as they head out on penalties yet again.

I don't feel like any more beer. Less might be a better idea. But I don't feel like vomitting. More like crying. I can't be arsed to work out which tram to take and walk back to my hotel. I'm feeling a bit peckish when I get to Hauptbahnhof and nip inside for a bratwurst. Very nice. Why aren't there sausage stands in Dutch stations?

It's about midnight when I get back. Time to kick out some z's.






Augustinerkeller
Arnulfstr.52, Ecke Zirkus-Krone-Str.
80335 München-Neuhausen.
Tel. 089 - 594393
Fax 089 - 5504415
Email: arnulfstrasse@augustinerkeller.de
http://www.augustinerkeller.de/

Mike's trip

 This is Mike's version of our first few days away:


Our first stop in Bavaria was Falkenberg - a tiny, but very striking village that supports three Zoigl stuben. The weather was beautiful and the streets were quiet. As only one stube is open at a time, we enjoyed a lovely dinner in the garden behind their place and slowly wandered back to our accommodations.

The next morning, I decided to walk down to the village and pick up some coffee and cakes. Halfway down to the main road, a middle-aged woman wearing a backpack that towered over her head asked me if I was local. No, I said. Well, I'm looking for a bakery, she replied. Me too!

We carried on down the hill together and came upon an older man. He, it turned out, was indeed local and directed us to the all-in-one shop in the village. So, fresh coffee and cake in hand, I headed back up the hill. Lovely beginning to day two.

The Windischeschenbach/Neuhaus twins didn't thrill me - that deep gorge that divided them seemed to underline their determination to remain apart. Yes, between the two parts, there are probably more Zoigl stuben than any other village in the Oberpfalz. But those hills! Yes, the beers, the stuben, food, locations were all brilliant, but those hills!

The next stop was Neuhaus - a different one. The official name is Neuhaus an der Pegnitz. This Neuhaus had no Zoigl, but it did have a communal brewery and three pubs that used it. They also used the six-pointed star common to Zoigl, but they described it (on their beermats) as "the sign of good beer."

We ended up a Kommunbrauer Paul Reindl, which may be the most commercial of the three brewers. The beer may well have been the best beer I experienced on this trip. It was certainly more complex than most of the other beers on the trip and it slid down the throat easily enough. Second only to the beer was the food. In fact, the food/beer offering was so good, we had both lunch and dinner there. Definitely worth a visit.

In Bamberg, I had planned to visit two beer gardens up a hill from the main part of town. I found a bus that brought us to the top and then an easy walk down. Unfortunately, we got there a little too early and none had opened yet. Making a note of the opening time, I went back later on my own. I was not thrilled with the garden or the beer at Wilde Rose, but the Spezial keller knocked me out!

Spezial is located on top of an open field that looks out on the city. The views are really quite sensational. And, they have beer (I'm pretty sure it was bayrischer anstich, but there was only waiter service) and lots of food. Brilliant place. Now that I know the opening times, I'll be back.

After Bamberg, we eventually worked our way to Pegnitz. Like it's neighbour (Neuhaus a.d. Pegnitz), it also had something a bit like a communal beer, even with its own name - Flinderer. Similarly to Zoigl, there is a Flinderer calendar showing which one pub is serving it. Unfortunately, the pub that day was out of town and the weather wasn't nice enough for the long walk, so I headed into Pegnitz and hoped to find something.

It turns out the beer has a "brand name": Böheim. I found a pub, a real local's pub, btw, and found myself sitting behind a Helles. It was quite nice and the landlady explained to me that the Flinderer was actually a slightly higher alcohol version (5.5 vs. 4.9 percent) of the beer I was drinking. The beer was nice enough for a second. I would have had a third, but my bus was leaving and missing it might leave me stranded.

Pegnitz, the town, is nothing special, however, there is a good deal of good beer in the general area (though not in Pegnitz itself), so a return visit could be in order.

Munich

It's boiling hot again. And Salzburg station is still a mess. Taking the rickety staircase over the tracks again, I spot something on top of the old glass canopy: a two-headed Austro-Hungarian eagle. You don't see those every day.

As I said before, I'm sure the station will be very nice when it's finished. One bit that is ready is a big Spar supermarket. Now that's handy. And it's open on Sunday, which is what today is. Best stock up for the journey. The beer selection isn't great, Eggenberg Urbock excepted.. But there is a good choice of 20 cl bottles of impulse schnaps. I'm soon sorted. Shit. What about food?

Not to worry. I'm bound to find something in Munich.

The air conditioning isn't working in the first carriage I sit in. Yet there's a girl with a blanket over her legs. And she's  sitting on the sunny side. Must be some sort of reptile.

The next carriage is much cooler. And has vacant seats. Just in front are two thirtyish heavy metal couples. One of the blokes is wearing headphones but I can hear the beat: chucka-chucka-chuck-chuck-chucka-chucka-chung-chucka-chucka-chuck-chuck. Sounds like a real toe-tapping tune.

Just over the German border the view is spectacular. The railway line hugs the edge of the Alps. Big, bulky rocky masses, like a row of crumbling office towers. This is fun. Especially as I've opened my schnaps. The spirity goodness is running through my veins and doing my spirit good. I'm not even sweating.

The countryside gets flatter and the mountains recede to the horizon as the train approaches Munich. I know exactly what I want to do once I hit town. Go to several pubs, drink lots of beer and eat loads of sausages. It's a simple plan. And one with a good chance of success. Pubs, beer and sausages aren't exactly rare in Munich.

My hotel not being far from Weisses Brauhaus, that seems the obvious place to start. It's busy, but not full. What beer do I want? I'm tempted to get an Eisbock. That's what I normally get. And an Aventinus schnaps to keep it company. Feeling adventurous, I choose a Hopfen Weisse instead. It's good. Shockingly good, with a mix of citrussy hops and wheat beer spiciness that I would never have expected to work.

Remember the sausage part of my plan? Weisses Brauhaus is the perfect place to implement it. They a have a sausage plate that's, er, a plate full of sausages. Exactly what I need.

I love Weisses Brauhaus. The feel, the look, the smell, the dirndls. I'll always pick a place with didndled waitresses above one where they wear normal clothes. Usually in Weisses Brauhaus you get waitresses the wrong side of fifty. Motherly women, who may frown when you order that fifth schnaps in half an hour. This time it's a young black woman who brings my food and beer. Very different.

There's an oompah band playing in the corner. Never seen that here before. All the musicians are drinking beer like sensible people. Being on the next table, they're difficult to ignore.

Next stop is a recent addition to my Munich circuit: Der Pschorr. It's a massive, modern, slightly trendy boozer in the Viktualienmarkt. It looks like it used to be a covered market. Yes, it's that big. Modern, trendy - doesn't sound like my sort of place, does it? There's one feature I haven't mentioned yet that makes it very definitely my sort of place: Bayerischer Anstich. There, sitting on the bar is a pot-bellied barrel from which Hacker-Pschorr Helles flows.

It's the afternoon lull between eating shifts. I take up a place inside close to the lovely barrel. All the other customers are ouside. Here it's just me and the staff. It being quiet, they're in a relaxed mood and having fun. As they evening shift arrives, they banter with the staff already on duty.

"We've 300 reservations for tonight, haven't we?"

"No. Only 284."

A third waiter says "All upstairs." He must be the downstairs waiter.

The barrel is smaller than when I've been here in the evening. Then it looks hogshead-sized, something like 200 litres. This one looks more like a firkin. The beer is soft, süffig and beautifully carbonated. It looks great in the glass. The way it tumbles and swirls from the tap reminds me of Ally Pally. And how Dunkirk Pale Ale looked as it was served by gravity. How can you get such a good head on beer served such a simple way.

While I'm hoovering up my beer the barrel finishses and a new one is rolled in. The theatre is another great thing about Bayerischer Anstich. The cermonial bringing in and lifting of the barrel. Then the ring of the tap as it's hammered home. It brings a tear to my eye and a lump to my wallet. Throat. That's what I mean. I'm always confusing wallet and throat. Or is it trousers?

I keep singing "Kinder an der Macht" to myself. They played it in Kachelofen in Pottenstein the other night. It literally brought tears to my eye. "Die Welt gehört in Kinderhände." Can't argue with that. Just let me dry my eyes a bit. Must have got some dust in them.

Next I head over towards the Hofbräuhaus. I'm not going in the Hofbräuhaus. I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. Or pull off my fingernails with pliers. I'm going somewhere much nicer. Where I'll get the only view of the Hofbräuhaus I like: from the outside. The terrace of Ayingers Speis und Trank is the perfect spot for that.

I order, just for a change, a Dunkles. It smells very milky. Like baby sick, but without the acidity. It doesn't taste like they sell very much. It's OK, apart from a slight acidity.

A large family of Spanish speakers are sitting opposite. I'd take a photo, but the father looks like a Columbian drugs baron. He might not take too kindly to being snapped. I quite like my lungs where they are inside my ribcage. Cute teenage daughter, too. Which is why I'm looking anywhere but her direction. I'd like to keep my dangly bits attached to my body.

My afternoon crawl ends in Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl. Tongue-twister of a name, but a lovely little pub. I had to come back. Twelve months ago I drank one of the year's most satisfying and enjoyable beers here. An unpretentious Augustiner Helles that hit the spot so hard it spent three months recovering in hospital. Mmm . . . Bayerischer Anstich. Not quite as orgasmic as last year. Still a lovely drop. Subtle without being bland. Best have a second to make sure it wasn't a one-off.

Time now for a quick lie down to recharge my batteries for the evening session. And to think about exactly which pubs I feel like hitting.













Weisses Bräuhaus
Tal 7,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 299 875
Fax: 089 - 290 13815
http://www.weisses-brauhaus.de/


Der Pschorr
Viktualienmarkt 15,
80331 München.
Tel. +49 (0)89 / 5 18 18 500
Fax: +49 (0)89 / 5 18 18 545
Email: info@der-pschorr.de
http://www.derpschorr.de


Ayingers Speis und Trank
Am Platzl 1A,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 23 703 666
Fax: 089 - 23 703 800
http://www.platzl.de/gastronomie/wirtshaus-ayingers/wirtshaus-ayingers.html


Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl
Frauenplatz 9,
80331 München (Munich).
Tel. 089 - 220385
Fax: 089 - 2904736
Email: info@bratwurst-gloeckl.de
http://www.bratwurst-gloeckl.de/

Breakfast

I love a proper fried breakfast. Did myself one this morning. No chips.Not like at eggbaconchipsandbeans

More Salzburg

My plan was to have breakfast at Sternbräu. But it's not open yet. I make do with a nearby bakery, where I get a sandwich and a coffee. Not a bad sandwich. But I'd rather accompany it with a beer.

Being Saturday morning Salzburg is buzzing. There's an impressive food market going on. I'd buy some of the delicious-looking meat and bread, except it would be rotten before I got it home. When I get too frustrated by vain drooling to continue, I drop in the handily-placed Zipfer Bierhaus. A stop I planned making. Let me explain why.

There aren't that many proper pubs in the old centre of Salzburg. Zipfer Bierhaus is most definitely a proper pub. When I wander through the door at 10:30, there are already quite a few customers. All sensibly drinking beer. Mostly blokes around my age. I open my paper and wait for the waiter. I'm fitting right in.

The beer selection has expanded since my last visit. Amongst the newcomers is Gösser Dunkles Zwicklbier. How can I resist something both dark and unfiltered? When it arrives, it doesn't look that dark. Amber more than brown. Butter, caramel, sherbert and yeast, I can detect. Not necessarily in that order. Bit bland, but a nice undemanding companion to my paper. I read about serious flooding overnight. I'm not surprised, the way it was chucking it down.

I'm forgetting to give you my reasons for liking Zipfer, other than it being a proper pub. The main one is that, with it's vaulted ceiling and chunky wooden furniture, it reminds me of a Czech pub. The food reinforces that impression. On top of that, despite being plum in tourist central, the customers all look like locals. They're all speaking Austriany German. And I'm the only one wearing shorts.

I'm thinking about what to get for my second beer, when a woman around 60 comes in and sits in the corner. She gets herself a half litre of something very pale. Then does something that truly shocks me. Something that looks so, so wrong. She lights a fag. Fuck me, there's no smoking ban in Austria. I'm so used to smoke-free pubs I'm shocked, appalled and oddly fascinated by the woman and her fag. Funny how quickly you get used to smoking being banished outside. I've forgotten there are still places where it's allowed.

Even odder is that I've been in the pub for more than half an hour and no-one else has lit up. Despite the customers being the older, working-class sort of chavs you'd expect to smoke.

I've made my decision. About that second beer. Think I'll have a Bernstein. I'm not surpised when the beer is golden, just a touch darker than Pils colour. I've sussed their distorted colour-sense. Even blander than the last beer. Not really much in the way of flavour at all.

To make up for missing breakfast here, I'm having lunch at Sternbräu. Because of the weather, not a soul is inside. All the action is in the garden. I take a seat in the cloister that surrounds it. No chance of the sun reaching me here.

Despite being barely noon, it's filling up quickly. Thankfully plenty of dirndled waitresses are scurrying around and soon I'm staring at a glass of Stern Bier. Lovely logo. The beer itself is on the fizzy side. And nowt special, to be honest.

An Asian family sit at the next table. Parents and twenty-something daughter. They seem to be struggling with the menu. The English-language version. When their food arrives, I suspect they might not have completely undersood it. Two bowls of soup, one sausage, a salad and a giant merangue-like desert are placed in front of them. Not a combination I've seen before. The father is so impressed with the desert, he starts to sketch it with a pen. The daughter is so impressed by her father's sketching, she starts videoing. To complete the circle, the mother then photographs the daughter filming the father.

Susprisingly, I am still awake. I thought it was in one of my weird dreams for a minute. The ones where my house mystically acquires extra staircases and acres of extra rooms. I can't help wondering how the Salzburg experience is for the Asian family. Is it as surreal as it looks?

Sternbräu being at the Mülln side of town, it seems crazy not to drop by Augustiner again. This time I use the back entrance, which avoids a good deal of climbing. Though my body feels in much less danger of a thrombie today. Despite the continuing heat.

The garden is even fuller today. With the same eclectic mix of nationalities and ages. I'm soon back in the groove with cooling Märzen and meaty snacks. While picking up some of the latter, I spot something that slipped my attention yesterday: little bottles of Obstler. Now, I don't want you to get the idea that I'm a total pisshead. But I immediately grab a couple of the little bastards. They're only 5 cl. Waste of time just getting the one.

Something else I missed yesterday. The signs saying: no making music or being noisy. While there's no music going on, there is plenty of noise. Not loud noise, just the background buzz of a large number of people in a relatively small space. A gentle grumple, with the odd cling or clang.

Picking up a beer at the counter, I notice the gazebo-like structure next to it seems to house a private party. The jammy bastards have their own wooden barrel, from which they serve themselves. How cool is that? I'm dead jealous.

Though I'd like to stay in Augustiner for, well, the rest of my life, I don't. There's one more thing I need to do while in town. Drink some Stiegl. Not had any yet. Hotel Stieglbräu is vaguely on the way back to my hotel. That's where I'll do my Stiegl drinking.

Stieglbräu is a hotel/beerhall/beer garden out towards the station. It's pleasant enough inside, if a bit too new to be really cosy. The garden is nice. For weirdoes like me. Not the quietest, but it has a great view of a railway viaduct. You can watch the trains thunder by as you sip. Dead handy for the frustrated trainspotter turned beer ticker.

I see that Stiegl have changed the name of their unfiltered beer. It used to be called Paracelsus. Now it's just Zwickl. It's inoffensive enough, in a yeasty sort of way. I order a second when the first has disappeared. It's a real mystery how these beers keep disappearing in my presence. I must bring beer bad luck.

There's a giant flowerpot with a tree in it close to my table. It reminds of the Flowerpot Men. One of the greatest influences on my writing style. Flobbelob. I wonder what happened to Bill and Ben? Are they happily retired in Bognor or slaving in sleazy clubs, eking out a living exploiting past glories? I heard about Little Weed's seedy "glamour" photo shoots and drug problems. No wonder she was so thin.

Tonight there's no rain. Märzen and obstler rock me to sleep.












Zipfer Bierhaus
Sigmund Haffnergasse 12,
5020 Salzburg.
Tel. 0662-843101
http://www.zipfer-bierhaus.at/


Sternbräu
Griesgasse 23,
5020 Salzburg.
Tel. 0662-4477261
Email: info@sternbraeu.at
Homepage: http://www.sternbraeu.at/


Hotel Stieglbräu
Rainerstraße 14,
5020 Salzburg.
Tel. 0662-77692
Email: info@imlauer.com
Homepage: http://www.imlauer.com/