At the gates of Munich, the endgame began

Munich was only sad for one reason: Our arrival meant the end of the European gallivanting, and only days before my flight to Philly clicked onto the departure board.

But before we could enjoy any of it, we needed lodging for three nights.
On Mitzy's orders, we fanned out into the city blocks around the Hauptbahnhof, Munich's central train stations, asking hotels about available rooms. Everything came in at $200 a night, if the hotel had any rooms open.

On my third stop I hit the Hotel Alfa, finding a room for four at 145 Euro per night; we grabbed, it unloaded the car, then Chris and I took off for Schweig, navigating the 25 miles with relative ease, and taking a larger look at Munich on the way.

The S-Bahn ran from the airport to the secondary train stations, and once we figured out which train to ride (I failed to realize the countdowns on the marquees were for the train's departure, not its arrival), we ended up at the Ostbahnhof (the east train station) with not a clue how to return to the Hauptbahnhof without a healthy wander amid the streetcars, bicycles and taxis swarming outside.Of course, we found it, and exited the train station just a block from Hotel Alfa.

Then, it was time for Munich.

Mitzy and Hannah explored the city while we deposited the car, so they took us through the wide vistas of the altstadt, which at first I had a hard time reconciling with.

Given that rubble populated Munich after World War II and it needed the Olympic games to vault to world-class city status, the old architecture worked unnaturally with vanilla shopping mall decor. A McDonald's awkwardly fills ground floor space at the altstadt's gates.

Just off Marienplatz, with the spiky rathaus (ironically, the German word for city hall) and its two-story glockenspiel waiting for the morning hours, we found a restaurant not too weighed down by tourism. The doublebock was smooth, poured from a high-tech taps, and the ox meat was heavenly. The meal actually started with a communal salad with beans and fresh greens swimming in oily dressing; it never stood a chance, and lasted only minutes.

Soccer was the topic of the evening, as Bayern Munich, the biggest and best Bavarian team, was playing the following afternoon and Hannah, Chris and Mitzy were itching to catch a game. I stayed quiet about it, but soccer has never been my thing. I enjoy it live, but not to where I want to squander one of my last afternoons in Germany with 70,000 soccer maniacs.

I gently told them that I was on the fence, though with our Friday on the stones in old Munich, I'd already hopped to the other side.

More than anything, I noticed the bicycles. Everywhere. Gears spun and bells rang; I wouldn't be in the stands watching soccer tomorrow.

(Up next: Behind the handlebars and February surfers)