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Prodigal Son Franz was our private tour guide out of Munich, riding all the way to Ammersee with us. Sharon, Sherry and I were all smiles as it gave us an opportunity to ignore our maps and simply enjoy the scenery for a change. As Franz prepared his fancy Eddy Merxx racing bike Sherry looked at him. "Your helmet is on backwards," she said dryly. She always was the tactful sort. Then she argued with our host for a few moments until she convinced him it was indeed backwards. It fit him well though, and since it would take some time to readjust the straps he left it backwards. Cool. Franz took us to the Olympic tower-for Sherry's sake. She had worked on an Olympic committee in Canada. There was a football game scheduled for that afternoon. Local fans were already out in raucous force with drums, costumes, and shirts in the home team's colors. Two fans with painted faces grabbed Sharon and made grimaces. Franz took us to the long gardens of Nymphenburg Palace. He said it brought back memories from his teenage years when he jumped the fence to party with his buddies late at night. Sherry walked inside the palace and riled the employees manning the admissions desk. They curtly informed her the palace was closing for the day and no visitors were being admitted. Sherry had to be content to wave like the Queen from the balcony. She wasn't getting past the front door. One man noticed Sherry's knobby tires and asked if she would use them again. When she said "Of course," he told us he had toured in Norway and didn't think a mountain bike was necessary anywhere in Europe. Guess he hadn't been in the eastern part of Germany or the myriad of other European places I had wished I had a mountain bike. Over hill and dale Franzy led us to Starnbergersee where there was supposedly an incredible view of the Alps across the lake. We told Franz we were skeptical. All we saw was a heavy bank of fog. I was beginning to think the Alps were merely a figment of his imagination. We had been told they were even visible from Munich. Personally, I was waiting for visual confirmation. The ride to Ammersee was pleasant. It was carefree not having to worry about getting lost. We just followed merrily along behind Franz, his great bulk blocking the breeze. At beautiful Ammersee, swans dunked upsidedown eating plants. They looked hilarious with their hind ends sticking straight up and paddling furiously to remain upside down. We still couldn't see the Alps-so prevalent in vendor's postcards. Were they just painted on? Franz assured us they were merely hiding behind the fog bank. I could only imagine what it must look like on a clear summer's day. We passed a picnic table in a kid's park and invited Franz to join us for lunch. Franz ate all the chocolate cookies. I tried to pawn off the ginger cookies I wasn't enthralled with. "No thanks," Franz said, "those aren't so good." The guy knew his cookies. Oh well, I tried. With lots of milk they weren't so bad. Franz waved goodbye and headed back to Munich. The three of us rode on to Worthsee to locate our next host family. Reinhard, a police officer, greeted us when we buzzed the intercom. We were given the same story about the Alps, but fog was still the only thing visible. We piled the bikes behind the garage and went inside. Reinhard handed us each a Bavarian beer and ushered us to our "living quarters." I wondered if the host families were in some competition of who could make us feel the most welcome. Reinhard introduced us to his two teenage sons, Andy and Christian. Reinhard's wife was off for the weekend visiting a friend. Reinhard's English was limited, so he introduced us to his upstairs neighbors, Peter and Claudia. Claudia more than made up for him. Peter and Claudia had been to Canada. Claudia raved about Canada being her favorite place in the world. "Canada is too much fun!" she spouted. A calendar of Canada hung on their kitchen wall. Claudia showed us condiments, teas and honey she had brought back from Canada. Claudia said they would move there if Peter agreed. She was passionate about Canada, especially the West. We could have been axe murderers and Claudia would have insisted we must be fine folks since we came from Canada. Claudia had a video of a grizzly they had seen on their last vacation. She was lying in the grass beside the trail videoing a grizzly no more than five meters from her. She thought it was a great experience. The grizzly had looked right at her, swung its head from side to side and (fortunately) carried on. "It was saying 'Hello,'" she said. Peter and Claudia invited us to join them and two friends for brotside-the traditional Bavarian supper of bread, cheese, pickles, sausages and of course-beer! Peter, Claudia and their friends were dressed in typical Bavarian costume. (They were going to a play in town after brotside.) Their authentic attire added to the atmosphere of being in a Bavarian home. I took an available light picture of them sitting around the kitchen table with a one second exposure rate. I realized it had little chance of turning out however, as it meant Claudia would have to sit still for a full second. She was a constantly bouncing fireplug. Supper was great-good food, plenty of laughs, and Claudia relayed that Reinhard asked if we would like to stay another night. "If you agree to stay, Reinhard will make a turkey meat feast. It will be too much fun!" It was close to Thanksgiving and we were homesick for all the trimmings. When Reinhard said we would be having turkey it took us all of two seconds to agree to staying another night. We felt like the prodigal son returned home to find our father had killed the fatted calf in our honor. Reinhard's wife was a vegetarian and since she was away it would be a perfect time for "meat, meat, meat" as Claudia put it. Reinhard took immense packages of meat from the freezer. "Is this enough?" he asked. Surveying the mounds of meat, I thought so. |
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