I slept in today, waking up at 08:30, which is 02:30 in Toronto’s timezone. Daniel had been taking photos of me asleep, having for once woken before me. I woke up when a cleaning lady opened our door. We caught the elevator to -1 and ate breakfast at the unexpectedly decent buffet. The cook, a buxom woman, offered to cook eggs so Dan requested an omelette and I asked for fried eggs, over easy. They were perfect!
We checked out. It was 10:00. We had at least three hours before we needed to make our way to the hauptbahnhoff to get onto our booked train to Salzburg. We chose to walk back through the old town and see the canal.
At 11:00 we stood in front of the glockenspiel, along with all the other tourists. It reminded me of standing in the Murray St Mall as a kid, staring in awe at the mechanical display that accompanies the hourly clock chime. Just like back home but taller and with two levels of display jousters passed each other. In Münich one gets knocked back.
We ambled West, back toward Karlstor, where I drank a latte macchiato through a straw (how odd) and Dan somehow ordered an entire bottle of still vasser. It was sunny but neither warm nor cold. The outdoor seats lent well to people-watching and I wondered who the single old woman with large-rimmed glasses and caked-on makeup was, as she sipped her coffee under her broad hat.
Viktuelienmarkt was listed on TripAdvisor’s Highlights of Munich walking tour that we’d referred to intermittently while wandering about but hadn’t come across yesterday, luckily because it would’ve been closed on Sunday. I made grand plans on assembling a giant picnic basket, possibly even with a wicker basket, filled with local cheese and meat and fresh, crispy bread. Dan had run out of steam and I was perpetually distracted by each new stall so we left carrying only a packet of apfel-chips.
We ate fresh(-ish) rolls at the HBF as we waited for our train (only half an hour late) to Salzburg. Dan discovered a new game: poking me every time he said, “München,” which wouldn’t’ve become a game if I hadn’t erupted into giggles the first time he did it. It was almost impossible to finish eating my lunch without choking at just the anticipation Dan might say, “München!” and poke me in the ribs.