We were getting excited because a town called Ausburg had 10 pages dedicated to it in the guide book an our favourite, Rothemburg, only had 8. But when we got there we found it was just a big place so had a lot of stuff going on. Ate some tasty food there though.
We met Phil at the accommodation and headed into Munich town for a night of debauchery. We drank some wonderful beers and we ate some tasty German sausage. Many tall stories were told and many laughs were had. We went to a number of great pubs but one highlight was going to this pub on the second floor of a random building. It was how I could imagine little village pubs must be. It was tiny, and there was only about 30 people in it but everyone was singing at the top of their lungs alongside the entertainment for the evening: a man that was reasonably awful at singing (I hope he doesn't read this) and reasonably awesome at playing the accordion. I was considering asking him to try his hand at the song "Disappointment of the worlds largest prairie dog" but didn't think that song had gone mainstream yet. Parts of the party split off over the course of the night and for some reason I was left with an Irishman (Mark). I'm not sure if a kiwi and an Irishman is a good combo at all. We went and tried to get into a number of places but kept getting turned away because we were wearing shorts. I had a big yarn to a bouncer and told him that in NZ if it is hot, everyone wears shorts and bars don't have a problem with it. I was lying to him but it didn't work anyway. We did get into a couple of places though. The first was a packed wee place with seedy red lights that was cranking an eclectic mix of music, it seemed like the DJ must have had a multiple personality disorder. I have never heard "Du Hast" and "Candle in the wind" played back to back (come to think of it, I have never heard candle in the wind played at a pub!) but everyone seemed to think it was a good idea and sang along with great enthusiasm including myself. The last bar we went to was apparently the "last resort" in Munich. The place you go when no one else will let you in or everywhere has closed. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be. After a couple more beers we left and went hunting for some tucker and I got a big greasy feed of BK. Some habits stick with you on the other side of the world it seems. On the way we walked past a couple of girls cranking "Seasons of Love" on an iPhone and singing (not particularly well) so I threw in my two cents worth as well (which I'm not sure improved the situation at all). After the song finished I asked them where they were from and one of them was a kiwi. Hilariously she had an epic American accent because all of her friend were American. We had a big yarn about musicals and shit and turns out her brother was probably in the Starlight Express I saw in Christchurch. Also funny was that as we talked her american accent faded into a true blue kiwi accent, it was kinda weird. Then Mark told her friend he thought it would be a good idea if she climbed over the closest car, which happened to be a Porsche. So that happened, and then they did the bolt. Which was a good thing because I realised something terrible was happening: the sun was coming up. We quickly located some BK and caught a taxi back to the hotel thing. When I got back to the room Grants alarm was going off. Bad news for the amount of sleep I was gonna get but I crawled in to bed hopeful for a couple of minutes kip.
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