Man trip 2.
It so happened that I had not seen one of my old friends for several months. Moscow bustle, children, crisis, laziness and all that. And so, when we agreed for the twentieth time to meet and go to drink beer together, he called and said that he was urgently flying to Munich on urgent business.
It wasn't even funny anymore. I found the cheapest (last-minute) ticket to the capital of Bavaria, checked the long Greek Schengen and notified my friend that our meeting was inevitable and we would drink beer in Munich.
Still, there were doubts, but my wise wife believes that a man should sometimes leave alone and do THERE everything he pleases.
Here, for example, "Men's trip 1"
http://www.turpravda.com/tr/marmaris/blog-99217.html
And we are not talking about separate rest. God forbid. It means a trip away from home and with friends.
And you have no idea what a thrill it is to leave the house towards the airport all alone and without any things at all. I put my socks and toothbrush in my pocket.
No one moaned "Dad. Are we coming soon? " at the moment when the taxi driver was just starting the engine. There was no need to check a bunch of documents and drag a few suitcases. And in general - to hell with a taxi. Aeroexpress rushes without traffic jams and traffic lights.
True, I still got some luggage at the station.
Registering online gave me the opportunity to wander around Domodedovo, smoke and see a lot that I hadn't been able to notice because of my haste before.
I wouldn't risk flying this.
The big plus of your trip was that a friend has relatives in Munich and we stayed with them.
The sweetest house in the quiet center.
True, I had to sleep on a cot partially under the master's piano.
(About the basket on the bed, just below. )
Unfortunately, Oktoberfest had already ended by my arrival and I had to go to talk to the usual beer brewery "Augustiner". Just in case, in order not to get off the circle, I decided not to drink beer, but limit myself to local red wine. This, however, did not save me. We had a great time. We talked, had a drink, and in the end, when the mood became completely upbeat, I decided to steal a basket for pretzels. (Salted pretzels. Snack for beer. )
I was caught twice. They took away. But I'm stubborn.
When we came home, the owner of the house, an aging Bavarian, a pedant to the marrow of his bones, a nuclear physicist and a musician, was horrified.
"Sticks, you idiot. Tieb could have been caught by a policeman. Ti could have lost his visa. Tieb could have been swindled. Why do you need this basket? Ti could have bought one like this in the store. "
I didn’t have the strength to argue with him and prove something, and we fell asleep.
The next evening, I packed the basket and we headed to the same pub.
"Stakes. Where did you drag the basket? " - the owner of the house was alarmed. "Do you want to sell it? "
"No, " I said. Return back.
Here Stefan hovered. He tried to explain to me for a long time that if the theft was successful, then we should rejoice. And taking the prey back is dangerous, because. the consequences can be unpredictable.
I tried to explain to him that it was not about the basket, but about the process. And that I have already received the pleasure of the process, and an innocent waiter may suffer.
It was crushing to the German way of thinking. Stefan sent me to hell and muttered for a long time in an undertone that Russians are generally psychos, and I am in the top ten.
By the way, the waiters were not offended at all, and even poured me a free glass of wine.
The next day, my friend was busy and I went to wander around the city alone. it was pretty damn good too. When you wander like that, you can see a lot of things that you don’t pay attention to when you are not alone.
Here, for example, is a poster in the subway.
Or a path made of gilded cobblestones.
Or a box of free dog poop bags.
I had to go to dinner alone too, but my friend wrote me the name of a dish that I really liked the day before. It's called "Frankfurter".
I ordered it at the restaurant. And more wine.
The fact is that the eyes of German waiters are focused on finding empty beer mugs. They take them and bring them full without asking questions. But they do not react to empty wine glasses. And in order not to wait, I immediately ordered Frankfurter und Zwein local company vine. "Zwein? " asked the waiter. "Yeah. Zwein, " I replied. And he brought not 2 glasses, but two jugs. It was a bit much, but uplifting. And then he brought 2 plates of Frankfurters. And covered for two. That was already a problem. 12 sausages and a stack of stewed cabbage. But I didn't give up. After I ate my ration of food and wine, I got up. Stretched. Walked around the table, sat across from him, and finished off the second plate and jug. The waiters and the surrounding Germans looked at me with great interest, but I didn't care. I have already entered the top ten psychos according to the representative of the local population. But to go after such gluttony was unbearable. I found a square with benches not far from the entrance to the beer hall and sat down. Then lay down. And lay there for about an hour. Fortunately, lying on a bench in Munich is not something out of the ordinary and no one bothered me.
After resting, I went to wander again.
Recently, Russian TV has been constantly showing creepy footage of tens of thousands of migrants infiltrating into Germany. I specifically looked for traces of this apocalypse, but did not find it. Here is the only woman in a non-European outfit that I managed to meet. So, what a misunderstanding.
Here's another misunderstanding. Horror is simple.
But this is sadness. This place was the central sex shop of the city. On my last visit, I went there to look and turned out to be some kind of anniversary visitor for a month. I received a valuable gift from the store management.
Despite the fact that my trip involved mainly communication with a friend and drinking, it was not all. There was also a Museum.
For those who are tired of classical museums, where medieval paintings with ugly aunts and men in stupid collars hang on the walls, it will be interesting to visit the Deutsches Museum fü r Wissenschaft und Technik. German Polytechnic Museum in Munich. Everything's there. And a hall of planes that you can climb into. And the hall of maritime transport. And a chemical experiment room. There is very. Lots of unusual stuff. And all this can be touched, twisted and wound up.
More recently, a branch was opened at the museum. Verkehrscentrum. There is an exposition dedicated to personal and public transport of the 40s - 60s.
Cool exposition!
Very similar to the BMW Isetta, but it's a Henkel. 1956 Own engine. 10 hp Unlike the BMW, the steering column did not fold down with the door, making it difficult to get in. AND YES. 4 places. It was only necessary to climb back through the backs of the front seats.
Goggo's delivery vans. 1957
Goggomobile Transporter van and Goggo Kleintransporter.
The volume of two-stroke engines is 250 cm.
Short way to the first floor of the museum. I took advantage.
Goggomobile T 250 from Glas. Produced from 1954 until the mid-sixties.
Post-war Germany was a poor country. And this car was quite good for those times.
Messerschmitt Kabinenroller KR-175.1955. According to legend, elements of the cockpit of aircraft from the War era were used in the production.
9 hp Two places. Seats it for another. Motorcycle wheel. Approximately 11.000 pieces were produced.
In the background is the NSU Prince 4. The waist, window sill protruding line with molding was repeated on our ZAZ 968 and ZAZ 968 M.
In short, a cool, men's museum. I will write about it separately.
The trip was a success.
But the main result of such trips is missing the family. Literally on the second day, I began to notice all sorts of signs of family life.
And on the third day I slowed down at the local kindergarten and thoughtfully smoked.
Or pretended to be such a vehicle.
So what you need. Men need to sometimes go somewhere without a family in order to further understand the value of family life.
And finally. On the morning of departure, a friend, seeing me off, forced me to drink "on the road. " Then a circle. Then a stirrup. Then on to the foot. As a result, I arrived at the airport, let's say "drunk". I didn't mean I wasn't okay. Pretty good, but smelly. And the aunt who checked in for the flight smelled it. And, apparently, she put a cross or a smiley in front of my last name in her notebook. As a result, the plane was full. and only I alone received at my disposal three places where I slept and appeared before the eyes of my wife in a relatively decent condition.
