Pitstop Suprises - 5 Hours in Freising, Germany
- Mira Sky Gaia
- December 1, 2019
- 4:50 pm
- Life Adventures
I landed in Munich Airport exhausted. While choosing my flight to Cape Town, I ensured that I would have only one connection with a substantial enough layover to leave the airport take a nap and a shower. I looked at the map, picked the closest town and booked my stay. I was looking forward to some time where I could spread out again before my next longer flight.
As I walked out into the crisp Munich morning air after the lengthy exit process, the Freising bus had just pulled up. I checked with the very un-stereotypical jovial bus driver who spoke a few words of English with a thick German accent, making sure I was in the right place. I didn’t have time to go the wrong direction. He was a curious and open German, asking where I was from and we made some small talk as he smoked his cigarette waiting for the bus to fill up before his next departure.
I sat all the way in the front partly because I wanted an unobstructed view and partly because he was interesting enough to observe. I soon noticed he was constantly smiling and also talking to himself as he looked down at his phone in his lap while on straight passes clearly having memorized every nuance in the road and traffic patterns. I remember being so tickled by the interesting demeanor that I posted a picture of him to my IG story, saying “ I met the happiest bus driver ever and in Germany of all places!”
This was my 3rd time on Munich’s soil and as much as I enjoyed my two previous and much longer visits, I wouldn’t say I remembered the typical German to smile incessantly and open up to foreigners the way he did.
After the enjoyable 20 or so minute bus drive into small-town Freising, I inquired with the bus driver and then some other locals about how I could find my Airbnb. I learned it was a short drive outside of the center. Still energetic enough to check out the town, I followed with “Where I could find some good food?” He pointed, and I followed his cue. Putting on my head warmer bandana and trying to keep my hands in my pocket, I wondered a kilometer or so into this quintessential town.
I wanted to experience an authentic restaurant even though my time was short, having fond memories of them from the past. Just when I thought I would have to go to a more modern cafe, I saw a little poster across the street with food and beer on it. I entered the wooden door. It opened up to what looked like an apartment hallway. I was ready to turn around and walk out, but my intuition told me to open the door inside the hallway even though it wasn’t marked. I was glad I did. The hostess spoke impeccable English and greeted me warmly. I was able to even find a port for my almost dead phone and happily drink a local beer or two before I ventured off in the taxi the waitress graciously organized.
My easy going taxi driver and I started to chat. We actually covered quite a bit of conversational territory, so much so that we ended up talking about the book I wanted to write, his interest in the subject, his life in Germany coming here as a 20-year-old from Portugal, the cultural ins and outs of starting a new life.
I could tell he wanted to stay connected moments before he passed me his business card. I knew I would be needing a taxi to go back to the airport in about 4 hours so I gladly accepted his invitation. I overpaid by 10 euro due to the apparent 20 euro minimum for card transactions and was off, thinking maybe he would deduct it from the return trip to the airport a few hours later.
Entering what was appropriately named “Atlantis,” the scene was bustling with all of Ingrid’s friends gathered around the cash register chatting energetically with each other. Ingrid, the owner, only spoke a bit of English, which I actually appreciated because it felt more authentic. Having met Germans all over the world who speak fluent English, my expectations were skewed.
I assumed the whole country spoke fluently in the 20 years that lapsed since my last visit.
The shop was a very eclectic with crystals, incense, oracle cards, books creating a very spiritual vibe complimented with yoga/ meditation studio. A juxtaposition to the culture in an imagined provincial German town. Images and colorful bright paintings exemplifying spirituality, multidimensionalism, kundalini, chakra openings swirled and enlivened the walls.
Heading downstairs brought a new level of enchantment complete with hand-carved wooden chairs reaching almost to the ceiling purposefully creating an illusory effect kind of like being in an Alice in Wonderland.
Passing by the shower, Ingrid gave very specific instructions on how to operate the drainage system it in an interesting mash of basic German and English. As we descended into what felt like a den, she passed me slippers because shoes were not allowed, how Eastern this place was! As we entered the bedroom, it was complete with a meditation wooden encasement, that looked to me more like entering a small sauna, gongs and other musical instruments to vibrate away any traveling stress. I looked forward to collapsing in the bed even though the pillows could only be comfortable in a state of exhaustion – requirements I met.
After the walk through, Ingrid asked her friend to translate as she didn’t understand exactly what I was trying to tell her about organizing the taxi and my timeline to return to the airport. The shop would be closed and completely vacated soon. Ubers didn’t seem to be an option from what I gathered and I certainly didn’t want to be stranded. I gave her the card of the Portuguese taxi driver and she took care of business, organizing the pick up with him and giving me the instructions on how to lock up and leave the key in the drop box. She warned me to arrive at least 2 hours before due to the immensity of the airport which just meant my nap time was cut even shorter.
Waking up a bit dissorientated from my zen power nap while gazing up at wall to wall forest, I was so glad I experienced this magical place! I ran upstairs, took a very quick shower, making sure to follow the instructions to drain the water. I couldn’t find a towel, a hand towel would have to suffice!
I grabbed my belongings , darted through the yoga studio toward the exit. Just before I was ready to release the keys into the box, I hesitated thinking I ought to make sure my taxi arrives before I relinquished all possibility of escaping the cold night, somehow having a premonition that perhaps all might not proceed as planned. On a side note, I love this built in sense of trust. I was alone and had keys to her entire facility. This would never happen in America!
As I waited in the now darkened sky, I noticed that it was quiet, very quiet. Not only that -my phone was not able to connect, although I paid for an international travel pass. The Portuguese taxi driver who was clearly not on German time!
Pre Panic Sets In
As each moment passed, my nervous system engaged with the thought of being stuck without communication in the empty suburb. I ran up and down the block looking for signs of life. I had to catch this plane to the New World!!! I spotted a little bar/restaurant, but it looked closed set deeper off the road. I hurried up the driveway, still not seeing signs of life. Then to my great relief, I spotted an older German man sitting outside the door.
I asked for help trying to explain my situation with interjecting a few basic German words. He was almost automatically annoyed with me! He was relaxing minding his own business, then I roll in infused with discombobulated energy. Most older Germans from what a recall as a 13 year old, were not fond of me probably sensing my lack of reverence for strict conformity, remembering their disapproving stare as I splashed in the fountains in the town squares.
He agitatedly responded, telling me to call the taxi. “Oh thanks for original the tip,” I thought. I knew he wasn’t going to be an easy nut to crack, but he was my only hope.
I told him my phone was working and offered to pay him. He flipped his hand up in the air, almost like telling me to get out of his space while simultaneously gesturing that it was a ridiculous notion and now he would have to make more of a begrudging effort.
I showed him the card of my taxi driver. Dismissing it immediately, he called a taxi company he knew. I mentioned that I still had to return my key. He looked as if he were thinking “What are you waiting for silly girl?” Do it “now”! I sprinted back to Atlantis. Low and behold drop -the Portuguese driver is waiting !!!
Now I didn’t know what to do. I felt so bad that he came all the way to this remote area. But the taxi was already called and I didn’t want to further infuriate the old German man. I motioned for him to follow me as I ran back up the driveway of the restaurant. He was so accommodating and relaxed, he told me not to worry and that I needed to wait for the next taxi. I supposed his eagerness to converse was dispelled by circumstance.
Friedrich and I continued awkwardly conversing. He asked “Where are you coming from?” “Philadelphia,” I replied. “But where are you coming from?” more emphatically. “Philadelphia” I repeated. “Where are you coming from RIGHT NOW?” “From the airport.” Phew, this seemed to clear up some confusion! He assured me I would have no problem catching my flight considering my bags were already checked in, perhaps sensing my angst now totally dependent on him, his flip phone and his taxi!
On a deeper level, I sensed his ego was offended that I didn’t speak German, thinking these Americans the whole world must learn their language! I remembered I had a sample bottle of whiskey in my bag, feeling this might cheer him up and serve as my thank you considering my linguistics wouldn’t suffice.
Well, it sparked not only more light heartedness, but a new interest in me. I explained that my brother had founded the company and more about the quality of the whiskey, etc. His attention perked, “Your brother?” not fully believing me. “Yes, my brother.” Then, he asked for a business card and as I gladly obliged, pulling out the card that never failed to impress. Suddenly, he considered me more legitimate.
The questions that followed were in a respectful interested manner. Gee, what a 50 ml of world class whiskey and a piece of printed paper can signify in this world, I thought.
ALLES GUT
About 10 minutes later that taxi pulled up. Now, my newfound German friend stood up, walked to the unmarked black van and conversed with the driver asking about accepting credit cards, assuring the price for me, organizing a point where the driver could drop me to an ATM and wished me all the best. I said goodbye then “Alles gut” unexpectedly came out of my mouth. I guess I did remember a useful phrase from German with Herr Brey and Herr Schmidt at Wissahickon high school.
I proceeded to baggage claim with a warm feeling in my heart. The stiffest of men showed his jovial side in the end. What a mini triumph!
I placed my bags on the conveyor belt while running the last hour of travel adventure through my mind. The daydreaming came to an abrupt end when I was pulled over to be screened in a way I had never experienced. The woman felt basically every part of my body including running her gloves up and down my feet!!! Wow, the Germans are thorough! I proceeded to pick up my bags and noticed that the guard was agressively taking all my liquids out of my carry on demonstrating how they were spilling out of an example quart size bag!
He asked if they were mine as I approached, then looked down with frustration, beginning to tell me how badly I had dismissed the rules as his voice escalated!!! I told him I never had a problem taking this many liquids before which only excited him further.
That’s when I decided to shut up, my necessary liquids were at his mercy. He shouted “Since 2006, this has been the law!” “Since 2006 this has been the policy!” “Since 2006!”. My heart sank, I prepared myself to lose my expensive newly bought makeup, whiskey bottles, lotions, perfume, eye drops, etc. A look of sad surrender came over my face.
Just as I thought I would have to let them go, he paused looked me in the eyes, and said “I will allow it this time, but next time put them in your checked luggage!” I was so relieved and thanked him as profusely!
Man oh man, that honestly shook me! It’s been over 5 years of never being questioned about the quantity of liquids as long as they were under 3.4 ounces or under. I thought it was a rule informally dismissed among TSA workers around the world. I made a mental note to avoid this conveyor belt forevermore.
One of the reason I love travel so dearly is due to the built in unpredictability. I sure as heck got a full dosage of it here!
Tschüss until next time Germany!
