Lesson Learned: A Regional Clash

After visiting Munich during my first trip to Germany, I concluded that consuming liters of frothy beer, plates of bratwursts and piles of mashed potatoes was a fantastic ordeal. Munich is a cozy urban city with massive parks. The best feature of the parks are the beer gardens that lie within. The combination of city and nature highlighted my appreciation for German culture. Of course, the beer gardens had some pull too. During my next trip to Germany, I went to Frankfurt. My idyllic vision of Germany was blurred, but this time, the beer gardens had nothing to do with it.

Our visit to Frankfurt started as a default, because it is almost equidistant from Amsterdam and Prague. Because none of us had been there before, Frankfurt seemed a natural choice to split a 14 hour train ride in half. Frankfurt is one of those cities that we some how forgot to extensively research before visiting. We soon found out that although Europe's largest financial district is

located in Frankfurt, it would hardly be as entertaining as Munich. There weren't any suitable parks to il-postino without worrying about being stabbed by a crackhead. The city lacked the beer gardens that we'd spent countless joyous hours in just months before. We spent a full day hunting for a restaurant that served full liters of Hefeweizen, but found no such place. When we finally stumbled across sausages and mashed potatoes but we couldn't wash them down with the over-sized mugs we were accustomed to. Instead, the only choice was the half-liter schooners or pints that could be found in any bar or pub. We were pretty disappointed.

After one full day of mindless wandering through the urban sprawl that is Frankfurt, we decided to plan a day trip to the closest Bavarian city. We purchased as much Beck's as our arms could carry, gathered our Eurail timetables and planned a day trip for the morning. Frankfurt, for all its follies, is a great city for one thing. Switching trains. The main station in Frankfurt is one of the busiest transfer points for German rail transit. With an overwhelming flow of arriving and departing trains, we would be off to Wurzburg with high hopes of an atmosphere similar to Munich.

We loaded our day packs with some left over bottles of Beck's and our cameras, and hit an early morning train. The 120 kilometer ride was smooth and swift. The train conductor even stopped the train for a quick rest and a "schmoke" half-way through the journey. When the train rolled into the little town of Wurzburg, we were all anxious to find the nearest beer garden.

We soon found out that there were no beer gardens. However, we did find half liters and

sausages. Although the beers were the same size and the food of similar quality to Frankfurt, we weren't disappointed. The scenery and vibe of Wurzburg was much more agreeable than Frankfurt. Also, we had tip-toed out of our hostel early in the morning under the snoring noses of Noley Bear and our other inept tag-along Patrick. This enhanced the experience ten fold. We noticed that Wurzburg had much more to offer than Frankfurt. There was a slow flowing river through the center of town, bridges, gardens and an abundance of old buildings to gaze at as we strolled through the narrow, cobbled streets and corridors. Wurzburg seemed more of a Walt Disney creation than an actual village. There was no modern sky-scrapers or litter filled gutters, just quaint chalet style buildings and ornate wooden clocks seemingly around every corner. When we stumbled across the Wurzburg Residence we were all taken aback.

The Wurzburg Residence is a baroque palace surrounded by a massive garden. This building, erected in 1744, has been recognized as the "nicest parsonage in Europe" by Napoleon. However, there have been ongoing renovations to the building due to damage during World War II. It would be a lie to say that we haven't, one time or another, suffered from a quick spell of the complex named after the French commander. So, in his honor, we decided on that day that the Wurzburg Residence's garden would serve as the "nicest parsonage in Europe" to crack open a couple of room temperature Beck's.

We were thrilled to find several sneaky park benches under green leafed canopies where we could toast Monsieur Bonaparte and his articulate description of our current surroundings. A cozy sector of the garden was accompanied by a few golden aged bocce-ballers

and made for a great place to il-postino. We drank our beverages, enjoyed a quick nap and decided to stay and watch the locals engage in their match. The players tossed the metal balls with grace, but after each toss, eye-balled us with less than welcoming glares. It seemed as if they did not appreciate us sprawled out on the benches, a scene that would've been the envy of any homeless person. They may have also been angry at Nate for taking not so candid photos of them while they played. But, I don't know for sure as I am a bit foggy on my German.

The sun was beginning it's descent and our time in Wurzburg was coming to an end so we jammed to the train station to catch the evening train out of town. In a short 90 minutes, we would be back to the strip club capitol of Germany, marked on the map as Frankfurt.

That was the last time I stayed in Germany. I know now that I didn't fall in love with all Deutschland during my first visit. Rather, I fell in love with Bavaria and its culture. You can take central Germany, and I'll take the south. Beer gardens and cleanliness are my preference, but if shooting heroin (which is legal in one district in Frankfurt) and slimy strip clubs are your thing, consider Frankfurt your place.