Abel's Journal #3 - Day 4

So they say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. For some reason, today we managed to also make it the only meal of the day. Now yes, we are trying to travel on a budget, but I would have thought that cutting 2 out of 3 meals would be going a bit far. Almost like something that the city administration of Duluth would propose. But the Wombat's City Hostel has converted me, at least for one day, to being a one-meal man.

Some hostels have a free breakfast, which means that the price is built in to your night's lodging. Wombat charges 3.50 Euro (just shy of $5) for the most substantial breakfast I have ever encountered. First of all, breakfast is held in the downstairs WomBAR. In my experience, anytime you stumble out of bed and eat breakfast in a bar, you just know it is going to be a great day. To explain my enthusiasm over Wombat's breakfast, I feel obliged to set a little background by reminding you that a typical continental breakfast at an American hotel consists an assortment of dry cereals, which are invariably Raisan Bran, Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, and, if you have really hit the jackpot, Fruit Loops. Your other breakfast choice is white toast with little condiment packets, which are invariably honey, butter, and jelly. Similar to Henry Ford's early cars, you can have any flavor jelly you want, as long as it is grape. For beverages, you have milk and juice. The juice dispenser has two sides, one of which says "Orange Juice." The other side says "Your Favorite Kind of Juice EVER, Which You Desperately Crave Right Now," BUT it has a Post-It on it that says "Out of Order...Sucker." The milk used to be a hearty skim, but after aggressive dilution, it now tastes like diet paint thinner. Anyways, although it does not take much to impress me with a hotel/hostel breakfast, Wombat's breakfast was simply stellar.
A sign said that it was all-you-can-eat buffet, and I followed those instructions quite literally. There was coffee, orange juice, and milk for beverages, so I had a glass of each. An abundance of food was arranged on a tabletop that was draped in a white tablecloth. I was quite impressed with the classy presentation until it dawned on me that under that tablecloth was a sheet of plywood. And under the plywood was WomBAR's pool table. This, however, did not stop me from gorging on the sumptuous feast that had been laid before me. I made a bee-line for the croissant sandwich rolls (the kind that are hard on the outside so that you end up with flaky crumbles all over your lap) because I am a sucker for good bread. I adorned my sandwich with slices of real salami, ham, and Swiss cheese, cucumbers, and tomatoes. My final creation rivaled anything Dagwood has ever even dreamed of. Instead of cold cereal, there was oatmeal granola with craisans and raisans, along with yogurt to add to it. I topped off my plate with canned peaches and pears. I seriously considered adding a cup of the pear syrup to my meal as a 4th beverage.

After several repititions of this process, I waddled out of the WomBAR, and made it back to my 2nd floor room by way of the elevator. At this time, my dad informed me that he would like to go to the English Garden, that it is a long ways away, and that we are walking. Perfect. Actually, the English Garden was perfect. It is in the middle of the huge and bustling city of Munich, and it is at least several hundred acres. Maybe millions, I am not sure. I do know that it is about twice as big as New York's Central Park. It is mostly woods, with intermitant rolling green clearings the size of several football fields. There is also a medium-sized lake at one end of the park. It is filled with elegant white swans, and you can rent paddleboats with which to chase them. In between the clearings and throughout all the woods, there are winding cobblestone pathways and winding rivers and waterfalls. This place is as serene as it is enormous. Out of the kindness of their hearts, the good people of Munich decided to put beer gardens at several spots on the edges of the park (plus one large one right in the middle) just to be sure that no one goes thirsty.

Now there are a couple things that I saw along our walk to, through, and from the English Garden that are a bit baffling to me. First of all, there is some kind of fashion trend that is growing in popularity with the male Munichers (Munchens? Munchkins?). It is a vest that looks for all the world like fishing apparel. Anyone who wears that in Northern Minnesota is either on their way to a lake, or coming from one. These vests are tan, green, or some other earthy color. They have several pockets of varying sizes on each half of the front, and are often worn either fully unbuttoned, or only half-buttoned. What seems strange to me about these vests, for starters, is that no one is fishing. Apparantly the Munchkins just think that they are a cool style. Secondly, the pockets are not being used. See, a Minnesotan would pack those pockets chock full o' mini Planar tackle boxes, spools of fishing line, pliers, a stringer, and a lutefisk hotdish. But a Munchkin is content with the pockets' simple existence on his clothing, never giving thought to their intended purpose. However, I cannot be too harsh on these men, for the hey day of cargo pants in America was only a short time ago. I am still not sure why they were considered cool. Maybe male humans thought that increasing their appearance of utility would therefore increase their chances of attracting a mate. "Hey baby... You look like you need some help carrying that suitcase. Lucky for us both I have this suitcase-sized pocket here on the side of my leg."

Another thing that caught my eye was a large sculpture near a street corner in the city. Now, it is not out of the ordinary in Munich to see a ridiculously ellaborate sculpture, fountain, or some other ornate piece of art on the side of the street. But what made this one stand is that it was not ornate, not beautiful, not clever, and not even attracting the attention of the tourist cameras. All it was was big and ugly, sitting on a street corner. It was a red circle about 40 feet tall. The only thing this giant red "O" is actually doing is catching pigeon poop. So I started to theorize about the hows and whys of the presence of such an eyesore in the center of a city so known for its beautiful architecture. Theory number one is that when they held the 1972 Olympics in Munich, someone accidentally made six rings for the Olympic logo, instead of the necessary five, and, being German, they were too practical to let anything go to waste. Theory number two is that someone at Kool-Aid (Munich branch) had the idea to start a revolutionary ad campaign that utilized 40-foot steel letters. Unfortunately, they never got any further than the "O," because Kool-Aid Corporate cut their funding before they could construct the subsequent "YEAH." Speaking of Kool-aid, I have always thought that if I owned a demolition company, the first thing I would do is paint the wrecking ball to look like the Kool-Aid Man. Imagine that thing busting through your wall. Oh YEAH!

Well this latest journal installment is taking forever to get nowhere, so I'm going to call it a night. I am on an overnight train to Paris right now, and after a long day of eating and walking, I am ready to hit the hay. I am pretty excited to see the sights of Paris. I hear that the food and shopping are the best in the world. I still am not hungry, thanks to the omnipotent Wombat bar breakfast buffet, so I am not really in the mood for food. As for shopping, I may have to pick me up one of them fishing vests. Paris chicks dig those. Oh YEAH!