Garmisch-Partenkirchen
I arrived back in Munich with about 15 minutes before the next train left for Garmisch, my next destination. The trains left on the half hour, so if I missed this one I'd be in for a bit of a wait. So I dashed back across the street and down a block or two toward the hostel, grabbed my things, and ran back to get a ticket. I made it on to the train with about 30 seconds to spare, having run the last 200 yards to the farthest set of tracks with a pack on and a duffel bag jostling in one hand. By that time, I was glad to sit down for the hour or so ride south.
Garmisch lies in the south of Germany, where the Bavarian Alps rise precipitously and without warning from the plains, much like the Rockies rise out of nowhere when you drive into Denver from the east. The town stretches out along the length of a valley that winds between rows of peaks; only through a narrow slot pass between two mountains can you see back toward the nearby flatlands. Otherwise, all you can see is Alps, on every side, reaching skyward.
I got in while the sun was still up and set out to look for the hotel I had booked
at. I wandered a ways along the street marked Bahnhofstrasse (literally, the train station street - there seems to be one of these in every town), which turned out to be in the wrong direction; when I returned to the station, I saw the hotel right where it was promised to be - just across an open parking lot from the train stop. I checked in and asked in a very broken mixture of German and English where I could go to rent skis. The woman at the desk pulled out a tourist map and drew arrows to the opposite side of town, so after I dropped my gear in my room upstairs I set out to figure out the skiing situation. It turns out that the shop she had pointed me to is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, and it's located at the crossroads between the main street and the street that leads up to the base of Hausberg, the nearest mountain. And, the free shuttle to the hill picks up right outside the shop. Perfect.
Having that errand taken c
are of, I set out to see the rest of town. Actually, two towns. Garmisch on the west side of the train tracks, where most of the ski areas lie, and Partenkirchen on the east side of the tracks, where the hotel was located. Since I was already on the Garmisch side, I walked into the center of that town. Rarely is the local architecture so perfectly suited to the natural landscape as in the Bavarian Alps. Cute little houses with peaked roofs and carved-wood balconies where flowers will bloom in primary colors in the spring, a church with an onion-domed tower, and a thick dusting of snow atop everything. You couldn't invent something as perfectly pretty as Garmisch.
I ate a quiet restaurant along the the main street. Though I'm still stubbornly half-vegetarian, there is still much to choose from: soups and fish and salads and that strange half-Pepsi half-Fanta soda they have only in Germany, and local beer. Because I have vague but fond memories of visiting the Aying brewery when I was very little, I ordered an Ayinger beer and was pleasantly surprised that I actually liked it, being that I find most beer tolerable but not tasty.
Stepping back outside was disorienting the half-dark of the nearly full moon. I saw lights high above the horizon that I thought must be stars or satellites until my eyes adjusted to the dark: not stars, not satellites, but the lights of the lodges half way up the ski mountains. And then, out of the grey-black darkness, the outline of giants came into relief, the outline of towering mountains standing guard one every side of me, surrounded by Alp, surrounded by mountains peaking so far from the valley floor that you have to crane your neck back to see the tops.
From downtown Garmisch I walked back to the centerline where the tracks run between the two towns. Back on the Partenkirchen side, I walked the length of the main street and turned back toward the hotel only when I ran out of street to walk on.
Garmisch lies in the south of Germany, where the Bavarian Alps rise precipitously and without warning from the plains, much like the Rockies rise out of nowhere when you drive into Denver from the east. The town stretches out along the length of a valley that winds between rows of peaks; only through a narrow slot pass between two mountains can you see back toward the nearby flatlands. Otherwise, all you can see is Alps, on every side, reaching skyward.
I got in while the sun was still up and set out to look for the hotel I had booked
at. I wandered a ways along the street marked Bahnhofstrasse (literally, the train station street - there seems to be one of these in every town), which turned out to be in the wrong direction; when I returned to the station, I saw the hotel right where it was promised to be - just across an open parking lot from the train stop. I checked in and asked in a very broken mixture of German and English where I could go to rent skis. The woman at the desk pulled out a tourist map and drew arrows to the opposite side of town, so after I dropped my gear in my room upstairs I set out to figure out the skiing situation. It turns out that the shop she had pointed me to is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, and it's located at the crossroads between the main street and the street that leads up to the base of Hausberg, the nearest mountain. And, the free shuttle to the hill picks up right outside the shop. Perfect.Having that errand taken c
are of, I set out to see the rest of town. Actually, two towns. Garmisch on the west side of the train tracks, where most of the ski areas lie, and Partenkirchen on the east side of the tracks, where the hotel was located. Since I was already on the Garmisch side, I walked into the center of that town. Rarely is the local architecture so perfectly suited to the natural landscape as in the Bavarian Alps. Cute little houses with peaked roofs and carved-wood balconies where flowers will bloom in primary colors in the spring, a church with an onion-domed tower, and a thick dusting of snow atop everything. You couldn't invent something as perfectly pretty as Garmisch.I ate a quiet restaurant along the the main street. Though I'm still stubbornly half-vegetarian, there is still much to choose from: soups and fish and salads and that strange half-Pepsi half-Fanta soda they have only in Germany, and local beer. Because I have vague but fond memories of visiting the Aying brewery when I was very little, I ordered an Ayinger beer and was pleasantly surprised that I actually liked it, being that I find most beer tolerable but not tasty.
Stepping back outside was disorienting the half-dark of the nearly full moon. I saw lights high above the horizon that I thought must be stars or satellites until my eyes adjusted to the dark: not stars, not satellites, but the lights of the lodges half way up the ski mountains. And then, out of the grey-black darkness, the outline of giants came into relief, the outline of towering mountains standing guard one every side of me, surrounded by Alp, surrounded by mountains peaking so far from the valley floor that you have to crane your neck back to see the tops.
From downtown Garmisch I walked back to the centerline where the tracks run between the two towns. Back on the Partenkirchen side, I walked the length of the main street and turned back toward the hotel only when I ran out of street to walk on.
posted by skylanda at 9:02 PM
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