Why sit in traffic when you can enjoy Munich in solitude?
I can’t stand public holidays. No, I’m not a workaholic or ungrateful to the state for the extra day off work. It’s just that when it comes to inhaling the fumes of car loads of day-trippers united in a mass urban exodus, I literally have “die Nase voll”—the nose full. Why is it here in Germany that at the first sight of sunshine, and with the promise of a leisurely day ahead, people feel compelled to jump in the car and go somewhere?For newcomers, May is the month of public holidays, or Feiertage. Of the average 12 legal annual holidays in Germany, four of them fall this year on weekdays this month. Simply “bridge” a Feiertag together with the remaining weekdays (known as Brückentage) and you will have a string of long weekends without having to eat into your annual holiday allowance.
“Langes Wochenende? Wunderbar, sign me up,” you chirp. “Oh, yes and please let me creep along the Autobahn at a snail’s pace for hours, along with the rest of Munich’s inhabitants,” whispers your inner voice. And all in quest of that idyllic, rustic location with a picture-postcard backdrop in order to enjoy Kaffee und Kuchen (or watch others enjoy coffee and cake before you finally get served) only to pile into the car again and join one’s fellow Münchner bumper-to-bumper on the road back to the city.
Here in Bavaria, a break with a backdrop invariably falls into one of two categories: either next to a lake or up a mountain. Freistaat Bayern might well have more than its fair share of watery expanses and woody slopes, but on a public holiday it doesn’t take very long before almost every green space up to 60-km south of Munich is plastered with picnic blankets and baskets bulging with Brotzeit. If you don’t believe me, turn on your radio on May Day and by midday they’ll be almost begging you not to ride down the A8 or venture anywhere near Starnbergersee.
Another example is the Herzogstand with its glorious view of the Walchensee. Never try climbing the mountain on a public holiday, let alone searching for a table at the summit restaurant, unless you’re thirsting for that ultimate Oktoberfest kick at 1,731 m. This tourist trap hit the news on the Tag der Deutschen Einheit holiday last October when—temperatures over 20 degrees—it was forced to stay open into the night to feed the backlog of walkers waiting to take the over-stretched cable car back down. 3,000 hungry mouths—it felt just like the Wies’n. The irony is that had there been even a drop of rain, we would probably have had the mountain virtually to ourselves.
Then there was Whitsun when, bound for Bad Tölz and faced with massive tail backs, we opted to leave the Autobahn just outside Munich and take the “scenic route.” We weren’t the only ones to have this bright idea. By the time we finally crawled into the bottle-necked spa center it was almost time to turn round and come home. Not that it’s any easier letting the train take the strain on public holidays. Catching the train to Bayrischzell last Christihimmelfahrt—Ascension Day—we found ourselves relegated to standing space, forced to jig from foot to foot on the size of a postcard for over an hour of our precious holiday time.
Thanks to last year’s daunting experience, my partner and I have solemnly vowed that on Feiertage this year we won’t be so much as taking the car out of the garage and we certainly won’t be gracing the over-priced, crowded Bundesbahn with our custom. Not that we’ll be stuck indoors at Grossinzemoos glued to yet another showing of Winnetou or Pretty Woman. Fortunately, this non-touristy area north of Munich offers miles and miles of quiet country roads to cycle along and field and forest tracks to wander. And believe me, here in the unspectacular yet pleasant Dachau hinterland you really can stroll all day and hardly see a soul—or could that possibly have something to do with many a forest track coming to an oh so abrupt ending?
Of course, should we feel lonely and yearn for mass merriment this May Day, there’s always the dear little beer garden a short bike ride away—though you can bet your last cent that, given good weather, the place will be heaving and there’ll be no avoiding long queues for the obligatory Mass. One consolation, however, as we sip our Weizen and chew on our Brezeln—we won’t have spent the best part of the day on the Autobahn getting there.
