Wednesday June 13th
Awoke, shower’d & hit the banks. The first one refused my card but after a nervy wait the second one cough’d up some marks – great! Skinn’d up, stroll’d into town (via the free U-Bahn), found a nice café & hit the books. A very relaxing sommer’s morn trundl’d by, help’d by the cappuccinos & skunk.
Moved a few K out of the city to the Nazi camp at Dachau & was suitably impress’d. The place really invoked the despair its desperate inmates would have had to endure. I found the cremation ovens spooky, but was glad to see a huge rock erection dominating the scene, raised by the Jews to exorcise the ghosts of that terrible regime. Back in town I explored the Englischer Garten, a very nice place but chock-a-block with nudes. It is possibly the best municipal park I’ve visited, especially when sat with a giant ice-cold beer (very hot today) & a bratwurst in a beerkeller by its picturesque lake.
Back at camp I chill’d with a few spliffs & some Irish lads, who had very wisely brought a crate o’ booze wi’ ‘em. I was soon trash’d & took a walk by a river, where a very dramatic lightning storm erupted, chucking bucketfuls of rain on mi head. Raced back to camp where I composed a little in my thankfully waterproof tent, the rain eventually lulling me to sleep…
Thursday June 14th
Hung over! Saunter’d into town to work on my stanza about the Putcsh (iv) – but found it virtually closed down as there was a German holiday happening. I found myself having a coffee in a bar & tasted my first Aryan hostility, being virtually hounded out of the place. After this I used the old, ‘I’m a poet,’ blag & got into the majestic Residenzmuseum for free. I was soon stood captivated by classically painted scenes from the Niebelungen (v), then finally prising myself away at the very time it felt had come for me to leave the city.
With all my U-Bahn & S-Bahn action never being noticed once in Munich, I have decided to give myself an extra Train-Jumping point (2-0). I hopp’d local trains to Landsberg (3-0) where, munching cold ravioli, I sat by the prison where Hitler dictated Mein Kampf (vi). It is a relatively nice looking place, far from the Victorian foreboding of an English criminal incarceration. However, a prison is not an ideal place to spend one’s tour, so I headed on outta town.
Flank’d by the sunset I cross’d a very wide plain northwards thro’ Augsburg to the delightful town of Donauworth (4-0). It was had been ruin’d by wartime bombing, but rebuilt almost exactly how it was. My tent was pitch’d in a secluded spot where the Danube meets the Worlitz – a lovely poetical place. So lovely, in fact, I decided to drop 20 mushrooms. Once fully within the shroom-bubble, who would arrive but some trippy psychology student & his girlfriend upon a romantic outing. We shared a spliff & had quite a deep conversation – my first proper one with a Kraut, & very stimulating. After they left, I just chill’d with the waterflow until attempting to get to sleep – very difficult & that’s the last time I sleep on a slope!
Friday June 15th
Awoke to a fisherman stood outside my tent. He generously gave me some beers for breakfast (God bless Germany!) which turn’d the double-decker train jump up to Nuremburg into an unnecessarily difficult affair (5-0). It was nice to return to somewhere I had visited before (two years previously) but this time I avoided the cheap hotels & pitch’d my tent up in a forested camp site.
I drifted into Nuremburg on my penultimate spliff & twenty mushrooms. The old city is very beautiful, tho’ the temperature had climb’d to 34 degrees, so it was a little arduous. I took a U-bahn out to the Grand Palace of Justice where, to my muse-stricken fortune, I happen’d to ask the public prosecutor for Bavaria about the War trials (vii). He ask’d if I was a student, I said no, I’m a poet. Upon saying the magic word he took me for a private tour of that great scene from history. As usual the room was a bit disappointing, being a little small – but cool all the same.
My psychedelics on full throttle I headed to the Luitpold – that monumental legacy of the Third Reich. After checking out the hypnotic Kongressbau I went to the Zeppelinfeld, site of Hitler’s speeches. These days it’s just a hang-out for the kids, car after car blaring out tunes. I hook’d up with some lads, sharing beers & chatted about the footy. Ask’d them about England’s chances in the forthcoming World Cup qualifier in Munich – they were very blasé (viii). Had my last spliff outside the tent, underneath the Teutonic pantheon of stars, then crash’d in my tent…