Beering in Bavaria: Part II

In the second decade of 17th century, Europe was caught up in a series of wars.Faith, territory...the reasons were manifold.Like a curse unleashed it spread over Europe, one war leading to another and that to another.Half way down the mad lane, young Gustavus Adolfus of Sweden, 'the Lion of the North',invaded Bavaria. In the face of imminent plunder and loot, the Bavarians sought for settlement. And the accord was reached, the city left in peace, for 600,000 barrels of Hofbräuhaus beer.

The Hofbräuhaus am Platzl, was where we stopped next.The Hofbräuhaus is state owned and was founded in 1589 by the Duke of Bavaria. Over the years its brew has passed through many a famous and infamous lips. There was Mozart and Lenin; but also there was Hitler (although they say he never drank the beer).The huge public beer hall can seat over a thousand guests.So we sat down, waiting for our beers and thumping on the table to the rhythm of the dance performance onstage.

Beering in Bavaria: Part I

I flew to Munich amidst fears of blizzards and airport closures.The television screens of my Air Berlin flight played in unison, Sting's "Rise and fall" which was not exactly reassuring.But all went well. Daniela picked me up at the Munich Hauptbahnof(Central station). Along our short walk to the hostel, I realised a few things. One was that snow was beautiful. Second, that it is not always cotton soft and fluffy, but is wet and crystalline as well. Third, and a few more steps down the lane, that when the temperature is in the negative, the chill creeps in through your fingers and your nose and freeze your insides.

So bless Dani for taking me a few minutes into my arrival to the warmth of the little underground pub of our "4 u München" hostel and introducing me to the magics of German Weißbier.Weißbiers are wheat beers which mix at least fifty percent wheat into barley malt achieving a light golden brown coloured smoothness. That half litre glass was the first among many such that guided our two days in Munich.

Immaculate Conception

I will start from the very end of our trip. Dani and me reached Porto yesterday around midnight.From Zurich we flew to Palma de Mallorca from Palma de Mallorca to Barcelona and finally from Barcelona to Porto.So why did we take this strange angular route almost tracing a 'V'in the air, covering a lot of useless nautical miles, hoping off and on at airports? Well that is how it is when you have to fly cheap.

So after over eight hours of wait at the Barcelona airport, we moved to the Ryan air counter. To be fair, Ryan air offers the cheapest flight options within Europe. But then its like a hurdles race where any time you might trip over of a thousand carefully set rules of law. You fall down and end up paying through your nose.

Snow-ward bound...

I had never known snow. For me it was settled on the picture post card roof-tops and trees.Snow was the cotton fluffed over plastic Christmas trees behind shop windows.Snow fell onto the pages of the novels I read and melted over poems. But I still had never known snow.So it was mostly to see snow that I was travelling this time. A tour charted out carefully by Daniela, through Bavaria, Vienna and Zurich over which the year would pass and the new one would begin.

The trip began in the Bavarian capital of Munich on a night when the railroads and streets were covered with snow.It ends today in Zurich, where contrary to expectations, the sun shone bright over the city. We never knew any city in depth, but skimmed through their surfaces. Sometimes we strolled aimless along the streets, sometimes went for the strict routes of tour buses. We traveled to the Bavarian interiors, got caught in the Viennese new year. We went into drunken excesses and fell into the temptation of unknown flavours at expensive restaurants.

After the Christmas Eve

1.
There was an incessant downpour all through the Christmas day. The day turned chilly and the breeze blew off the umbrellas from passers-by. All I could do was to just hold on to the handle of my fragile black "made in China" umbrella as I was constantly blown off the course by the winds that the Tagus carried.

One unusual thing about Lisbon is that it announces elevators among its modes of public transport. I was heading to one of them, Elevador Santa Justa. This 45 meter tall iron structure was built in 1902 in the neo-gothic style and connects the streets of the Baixa to the Largo Carmo area. I did not think much of the architecture. But I had to appreciate it for its sheer height. All the more after finding out that the lift was closed for the day. So i climbed all the way up, panting,clutching my sides, my face frozen, as raindrops like pinpricks fell. The view in offer was however worth the effort. So, even with the rain like a curtain caught in wind, blocked my view. The Baixa neighbourhood, the Lisbon castle and the Rossio square lay around and below in a spectacular spread.The spectre of the Igreja do Carmo (Carmo church) destroyed in the 1755 earthquake looms in the background. Its roofs opening out into the sky, gaping in horror at the heavens' wrath. A sombre monument to destruction.

2

Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes
In variegated maze of mount and glen.
Ah me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen,
To follow half on which the eye dilates
- Lord Byron

Bless the sun for shining on Sintra this day. For, I was not prepared to take in another days of shivering long walks.So, the day after Christmas i took my train to the famed Sintra.Sintra lies about half an hour off to Lisbon towards its North- West and is one of the most known tourist destination from Portugal. I spend my day wandering in Leisure through its historical centre, among the towers of the Castelo dos Mouros and through the corridors of the Pena palace.

The Castelo dos Mouros (Moorish Castle) is by far the most spectacular structure I have encountered in Portugal.Not many would agree with me there. The country is strewn with vestiges of Manueline architecture. But the sumptuous and heavy Manueline style seems a bit overdone to me.The Castelo dos Mouros is a 9th century structure. Subject to attacks and occupations over the centuries, the castle was renovated in 1830 during the reign of King Ferdinand well in tune with the romantic spirit of the times. It has two walled segments and granite steps that winds to the top of the towers.But more than its architecture, it is its location that defines the castle. From the top of the tower, the gaze stretches over the narrow streets and yellow houses of Sintra, the lush green beyond, with the pathways that snakes out of the town and onto the Atlantic blue up to where the ocean meets the horizon. Its a message of power conveyed in poetry.The Moorish castle at present offers a view that was unintended at the time of its construction, the 19th century Palacio Nacional da Pena. The Palace is a curious mixture of arches and domes ornate windows bringing into mind the Manueline ones.Its rooms are a loud proclamation of luxury. However it is not much in my system to appreciate, the heavy wooden furniture or the silver and gold goblets. I am a claustrophobic being. And once I was inside the long rooms and corridors of the palace, all I wanted to was to get out. However viewed from downhill, in its entirety, the Palace of Pena is a lovely sight.It is painted red and yellow and blue into a fairy tale perfection.

Over the past two days, the soles of my feet were troubling me a lot! I suppose it has to do with my amazing sense of direction, which made me walk over four hours on Christmas night finding my way back to the hostel. So i wound up the the little excursion earlier than I would have otherwise. But not before wandering into the Cafe a Piriquita. The crispy, light crust of the cream filled Traverssario sprinkled with white powdered cane sugar over a cup of strong unsweetened coffee..oh sweet dear life!