Designed for budget conscious travelers, hostels are a sociable place where privacy is sacrificed for price. Some places have policies to allow only certain demographics to create a certain type of atmosphere. Such restrictions are usually associated with age limits to have more of a party vibe. The hostel that I booked in Munich had no such restrictions.
When checking in, the receptionist at the front desk told me that I would be in a room with a long term resident. She warned that he was a little strange but completely harmless. Expecting the worst, I grabbed my keys and headed up to the dormitory. As soon as I entered the room, the aforementioned old man was sitting at the table alone and staring out of the window. I said hello and approached him to shake his hand with my own extended. He stood up, looked me in the eyes without saying anything and raised his hand as if to silence me. Without a single sound or expression on his face, the old man walked by me as if I wasn’t worth talking to and left the room.
Completely bewildered, I shrugged it off and setup the sheets for my bunk which was directly across from the table he was sitting at. For the rest of the day, I walked around Munich exploring the city and the sights available. When I returned to the room after a moderate night of drinking, the old man was sitting at his table again. Because of his prior behavior, I didn’t even bother to acknowledge him and went straight to my bed to lie down. With my eyes closed, I kicked off my shoes and was about to go to bed. That was when I noticed a strange guttural sound coming from the table where the old man was. Turning my head and opening my eyes, I saw him sitting with a large carton of milk and a full glass. Whenever he would take a sip, he would emit noises that I’ve only heard in horror movies.
For the rest of the night, I laid there clutching my knife and waited for my odd neighbor. Every time he made the noise, I imagined visions of people being strangled or slowly decapitated. It wasn’t easy to sleep that night but it happened. When morning arrived, I woke up to see this man sitting in the same spot with an empty glass and staring directly at me. Without saying a single word, I packed up all of my stuff and went downstairs to check out. The receptionist asked how my stay was and I responded with, “Fucking weird” and walked out.
A regular size in Munich will hold a liter.
You sit on picnic tables with strangers.
The beer doesn’t taste like pennies.
It’s fascinating to watch these tiny German girls carry 12 glasses of beer at once.
People will just randomly start singing for no reason. That person might sing alone or everyone in the room will join them.
There are plenty of places to pee.
Munich after a few weeks in Morocco seemed like a culture shock. Everything was so gothic and metropolitan. Morocco had a yellow light filter to it because there was sand and dust everywhere. Nothing was clean. Munich had a monochromatic gray that made everything seem sterile and organized.
I made my way around the city by foot and bus while watching countless luxury cars make their own way on the streets. It was strange to me that the taxis here were Benz S600s that cost a fortune to purchase in the United States. This made me somewhat insecure of the money I had and my spending habits became more conservative. My stop in Germany was for a single reason to sample it’s legendary beers. There were no funds allocated to drinking water.