Today is our last day here in this fantastic city, but there are still things on our bucket list of what we want to see and experience before leaving tomorrow morning. Strangely, we are saying goodbye to our hosts as they are leaving for Rome for the weekend, leaving us to man the apartment. We can lock the door on our way out in the morning, but leave the key inside the door. They are so very trusting.
Before the day flies by, our first stop is the Egyptian Museum adjacent to the Residence. They claim it is the only museum in the world to focus entirely on Egyptian art. Having been to Egypt, this is an incredible declaration on their part, forcing us to investigate their honestly. The generic museum brochure states offers that the collection is an overview of all period of history, with dazzling exhibits. Truly, once we entered, we were dazzled and beyond. The exhibits were breathtaking. So many pieces were magnificently intact, boggling one’s mind as to how they could stay so well preserved over all of these centuries.
Having sensory overload, we needed a coffee; Ron suggested heading to a location our host had suggested a few tram stops away. Once we arrived, it took about 2 minutes to realize we were back at the same neighborhood where Ouida the beer house server worked. Walking around the area, but in a different direction, we found some places to browse, but did not stop for long. Museums generally open at 10am and close by 5pm, especially on Saturdays, so there was not a lot of time to waste. Hopping on another tram, we were headed to the Deutsches Museum. This is advertised as one of the largest and most important collections of technological and natural science items in the world. Yet, on the way, we discovered a quaint looking little bookstore that had all of the sensory appeal of days gone by where you wanted to hang around and browse through the books. With a wall of English books, this was entirely possible for us to do and picked up a couple of titles. Interestingly, these were new books, but they were cheaper than what we normally pay for used books back in Hungary. It is a conundrum as to why.
After regaining our senses redirecting us to our original target, we found the museum just a block away. Advertising for the establishment suggests that the exhibits are presented in a scientifically clear and entertaining way. The place is expansive and this is the only museum where they asked me to fill out a short form after presenting my Press Pass, which allowed me free entry. That alone gave me a sense of obligation to enjoy myself. At this, I was a miserable failure regardless of my best efforts. I love technology, but only enjoy science. The scales are tipped heavily for technology, yet this is in the area of computers, cameras, and other things I can envision myself using. Machinery for dairy production does not fit into that category, nor does counting the types of nebular clouds. My immediate reaction is “Get me out of here and fast”. I blame my blood sugar level; the cafeteria was closed and I was starving. Reminds me I still need to get the results of my diabetes test.
In search of a coffee shop, we wandered into one that looked cozy enough. After seating ourselves and doing the panoramic view of the premises, we realized there were only 3 men in the place if you counted us. There was a distinct air about the women surrounding us; they were really friendly to each other. It didn’t take long for the light switch in my brain to flip on. This was a thespian coffee shop. Oh, forget that, they were not acting, this was for real. This was a lesbian hotspot, though we were not treated like aliens, so we stayed. If we ever return to Munich, this is on our return to list. Melcher’s Café at Buttermelcherstrasse 21 (Telephone: 24-243-705).
Learning our lesson from last night, we knew if we wanted to eat at Moro’s, we would need reservations. That ticked off of the list, we hit the stores for some clothes shopping and then back to the apartment to drop off the sacks of goods. After trying the computer once again, it seemed to be working fine, but there were too many days to catch up on; it would all have to wait in line with all of the other “to do” list items.
Dinner at Moro’s was all we were led to believe it would be. The service was excellent as was the food. I had my heart set on the pumpkin soup as soon as I Google translated it on my phone, but alas it was not meant to be. They ran out. The guy sitting next to me received the last portion. I was tempted to dip my spoon, but he was younger and stud-lier than I, giving me pause. We chose Thai chicken soup instead. Ron’s pork steak and my sauerbraten something style were both declared the best dinners we had this trip. Huge portions besides.
On the way back, we decided to have a drink at the Teddy Bar. Being this was a gay bar, our impression and what our host told us was that this was a bear bar. For the uninitiated, a bear bar is for those who are the hairy male version of Rubenesque as well as for their admirers. Out hosts told us they thought the bar had closed down, but we found lights on prompting us to give it a shot. Shock would have been better. A gay bar, yes, but nary a bear to be found. This type of gay bar is what is whimsically categorized as a wrinkle room or rather a conference hall for gay septuagenarian and octogenarian gay men. I was the youngest one in there by 2 decades.
Prior to entering, we had looked over the menu posted and had decided to have Fernet menta, an Italian herbal digestive. I grew up on regular Fernet, which is similar to the German Jägermeister or the Hungarian Unicum. I tried to order Fernet saying it the Italian way, but was only served a “HUH?” Trying again with a little less ancient, still only bartender grunts. The third time was less accented, but with more determination at which a chorus of patrons shouted out “FERNET”! To our ears, the sounds were identical, but perhaps they had to adjust their hearing devices for the first two rounds of requests. We sat for a while sipping our drink talking, but no a soul spoke to us. My thinking is that when this group was in school, learning a foreign language meant Latin or ancient Greek. Disappointed at not seeing a single bear, we went back to our apartment to pack for tomorrow.