Trains, tracks and tantrums (part 2)

Interailing in Europe - Vienna, Regensburg & Munich

Our next stop, Vienna, was a magnificent city- very pleasing to the eye, but it carried a rather aloof 'don't touch' attitude in comparison. It provides a seemingly endless supply of churches (and expensive cafes) to visit, along with the imperial beauty of the Schonbrunn Palace, home to Sisi, who could be regarded as the Princess Diana of her day. Perhaps a welcome break from all the grandeur is the Prater funfair, home to the giant Ferris wheel used in 'The Third Man'.

Regensburg was somewhat of a break, being less of a tourist magnet. While its centre was small, it boasted the residence of the Prince of Thurn and Taxis, which was well worth visiting despite the German-only commentary. However, we did get to wear overshoes, which enabled one to slide delightfully across those vast wooden floors. Along with the ubiquitous cathedral, there was ample opportunity for cycling beside the Danube.

There now follows an example of what happens when you go to look for the ice rink, and forget the map. After an hour and a half wandering in residential suburbs, my attempts at asking directions produced 'He said something about going past a bridge, and going over a bridge, but I can't remember in what order'. My travelling companion suggested asking a sixty-something lady at the bus stop, on the basis that she might speak more slowly, which worked.

A short train journey led us to Munich, home of the stereotypical beer-swilling Bavarian. Given that yours truly fell asleep on reaching the hostel, and that we later visited a friend of mine over for the summer, consult a guidebook about sightseeing. I could, however, regale you with anecdotes about a litre of (quite nice) wine costing 64p, the two lads in the pasta factory being paid for their overtime in spaghetti, and the one-bedroom flat where twelve people staying.

While we saw relatively little of Munich as a city (partly owing to the amount of scaffolding), we took a trip to Dachau, the mention of which inevitably invokes silence in those who hear it. Surrounded by trees, and with tall poplars along the central avenue, there is a strangely restful air. The museum illustrates the suffering of the inmates simply and without excess embellishment. Perhaps most difficult to imagine was the size of the camp; most chilling, the crematoria with their stretcher-like shovels. Its position, frozen in time, provokes questions about both the past and the future.

>> Click HERE to continue with Paris and the Ferry home in Part 3