The Olympic Stadium, Rian gets greedy and Des Lennis: The Munich Chronicles Vol.3

The Olympic Stadium, Rian gets greedy and Des Lennis: The Munich Chronicles Vol.3

So we kicked off day three of the 'non-stag doo stag doo' with a trip to the Olympic Park, home to the 1972 Games. But before taking in the sights of the Olympic stadium we popped in to the BMW Museum. It was effectively a big car showroom but Mike was impressed with the clinical cleanliness of their toilets so he was happy.

The most unconvincing boyband line up of all time

We then made the short journey over to the Olympic park. It was here where I was reminded exactly why I chose Munich for this trip. I love the snow...and Munich has tonnes of the stuff. The Olympic park was white-over and the huge lake was frozen solid. The views were spectacular. We ventured up a nearby hill to get a better look - and it was breathtaking. Hands down my favourite part of the trip and the scene of my favourite picture of the trip too.

After a stroll around for an hour or so we made our way back towards the centre of Munich. 'Mapman' was on the hunt for a pork knuckle sandwich and the rest of us were feeling quite peckish too. We mooched around a marketplace, indulged in a bratwurst or two then the group split in two. Ian and Alex headed back to the Allianz Arena to watch Bayern Munich play Werder Bremen whilst the rest of us made a 45 minute trip to the Dachau concentration camp.

It may sound like a strange choice of destination for a lads weekend but I'm glad we went. It's only when you see these places for real you can begin to in any way understand the sense of bleakness, chill and cruelty which emanated from these camps. As we walked in as a group, it made me think, statistically, at least two of us would never have walked out again. Chilling. A part of human history which should never be allowed to be forgotten.

Suffice to say by the end of the afternoon we were all flagging a tad so we did what every stag doo group would do in order to 'get back on it'...schedule in an hour or two at the hotel for nap time.

Now, we all anticipated the final night would be relatively subdued. From experience, most people are getting tired, a bit grouchy and keeping one eye on the journey home the following day by this point. That's why the final night was supposed to be quiet. A few drinks, some decent food and then back to the hotel for a decent night's kip. None of these things happened.

We went to a beer hall and were fortunate enough to get the final row of seats. We duly orderded some stein's of lager and set about ordering our food. Now, one thing I learnt on this trip...the Germans are wonderful at lots of things. Engines, beer, hospitality - all first class. Their cuisine however leaves a lot to be desired. And so it proved at the beer hall. An ordering process which resembled a scene from Fawlty Towers with the hapless waiter coming back at least four times to tell us that various orders were 'off'. Alex eventually ordered a half roast chicken. In fairness the description was spot on. He was served up half a chicken. Nothing else - just half a chicken unceremoniously dumped on a plate. Tasty.

Now Rian. He was clearly peckish as he ordered two main meals. The first one was some sort of anaemic looking sausage platter and the second, well, there are few words which I feel could  do justice to just how awful it looked. And in fairness - it didn't taste much better. Try and imagine if you will, something which has just come out of a Felix cat food pouch...but less appetising. After being passed around the table for us all to try (and one or two even gagged), the waiter returned to take it away. He was clearly amused: "You English? I knew you wouldn't like. I didn't tell you, but I knew you wouldn't like". I admired his honesty.

We then embarked on a drinking game which requires everyone around the table to put their hand flat on the table, crossed with the persons next to them. Hands are then tapped around clockwise until someone messes up the sequence and then is forced to drink. Fortunately for everyone involved, Garv was dreadful at this game. As someone commented - 'Garv, I bet you were picked last for everything in PE'. He was.

So, as Garv got progressively inebriated his co-ordination got even worse. We eventually gave up on the hand tapping game and progressed to the game where you have to name someone famous, then the next person names another famous person whose first name starts with the first letter of the previous persons surname (bear with me here). For example, one person would say 'Michael Jackson', the next one would be 'Jessica Ennis', then 'Eva Cassidy' and so on and so forth. At this point, Garv was on the ropes. His brain was clearly as co-ordinated as his hands (he's a catch ladies) culminating in what I'm sure will go down in folklore as 'Des Lennis'...our survey said...drink Garv.

Garv's further ruin was saved only by a group on the table next to us starting a traditional German sing-a-long number. Mambo #5. Yes, only the British or Irish can belt out 1990s cheese pop in beer halls across Europe with no shame. Still, at least one group of Werder Bremen fans were impressed and sang along with us. Mambo #5 was followed by at least a 6 and a half minute rendition of American Pie. We then instigated a medley of Summer of '69 and Wonderwall before the lights were literally switched off on us.

We then found ourselves on the street with our new found Werder Bremen friends heading towards a club. This was not the quiet night we'd expected. To cut a long story short, we stumbled into the hotel at about 4.30am. Needless to say the following morning we were beaten men. Ian in particular had been traumatised as Alex, having got up in the night to go to the toilet and having no idea where he was, proceeded to climb into bed with him. Taking brotherly love to a whole new level I fear.

Rian had to leave early the next morning to get his flight, but in fairness, he left us his unopened bag of lettuce which was nice of him.  

It was a cold weekend, it was a long weekend. It wasn't the weekend I'd envisaged when we booked our flights eight months ago. But I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

And for a music finale...a staple tune from Wednesday nights at Reload in Aberystwyth...and now a memory of a slightly sozzled sing-song in a Munich Beer Hall with a group of Werder Bremen fans...

When's a stag doo not a stag doo? The Munich Chronicles Volume 1

No wedding, a missed train and a bag of lettuce - not the ingredients you'd necessarily associate with a stag doo.

I've just returned from what has been an eventful and hugely entertaining weekend in the beautiful city of Munich. It was originally supposed to be my stag doo but as other events over recent months somewhat scuppered those plans, I used all my PR-knowledge and sneekily re-branded it as a 'cultural weekend break'.

Now this weekend was quite clearly doomed from the outset. In fact, even prior to take-off it had already been christened the 'trip of the damned'.

So - aside from it being a 'stag doo' with no wedding - what else could possibly go wrong?

Beer Hall drinking...an experience

Problem number one. Last August I booked my friend Bordy's ticket because he was away at the time on his honeymoon. When Bordy got married he took his wife's surname (he's very progressive and forward thinking you know...and he's a drama teacher who couldn't pass up the opportunity to become Mr Shakespeare).  I just wished he'd embraced the change a little more and changed his passport. So, with two days to go we now have a ticket booked under Shakespeare but a passport which says Ward. Oh, and the airline can't change it.

Problem number Two. My mate Dav had booked a ticket for one of the other guys and spelt their name wrong.

This was not going well.

To top it off, we get to Wolverhampton train station on Thursday morning to get our train to Birmingham International and, thanks to a last minute platform change, we miss our train. Brilliant.

But things soon started to pick up. We got the issue of the mis-spelt tickets sorted at check-in and had a bite to eat and a drink before the flight. The lads had a Guinness - I opted for an equally refreshing pick-me up...a cup of tea.

We landed in Munich and made our way on the train and underground to our hotel. Given the comedy of errors so far with this trip we were all pleasantly surprised when we arrived at our hotel. It was nice.

We were to be joined  at the hotel by my friend Rian. Rian had taken the opportunity to make a small holiday of the week so he'd spent a few days exploring Berlin before swooping in to join us in Munich. On arrival at the hotel Rian asked us whether there was fridge in his room because he'd brought with him some milk, some muesli...and an unopened bag of lettuce. Apparently it's important to get your 5-a-day even when travelling abroad. Not the stereotypical start to a lads weekend away. And if you're expecting juicy stories from this break of drunken debauchery and Brits abroad running wild...you should probably stop reading this now...you'll be exceptionally disappointed.

Anyway, a quick freshen up, a beer at the hotel bar then off to discover the city of Munich. Alex 'Map Man' Angus led the way. We ended up at what can only be described as Munich's shopping district...not a pub or tavern to be seen. It was a bit like trying to get a pint in H&M or Debenhams.

Before too long we did stumble upon a restaurant and ordered our first steins of the trip. They asked us whether we'd like their 'special beer'. It sounded appealing so we said yes, thank you very much. Ten steins of special beer. Never before have I seen ten sober men flawed after one drink. It turns out the ale was rather potent and had an added ingredient of what I suspect could be anaesthetic. Never has so little beer caused such an horrific hangover. A bite to eat then a final drink at a very starnge bar which projected images of copulating snails on its walls and we were done for the night.

But we were here. Six of my closest friends, my two brothers and I, were going to have a great few days in the very picturesque, the very exciting and the exceptionally cold city of Munich.

It's been a long weekend, I'm exhausted and I can still taste the kebab I had last night. So I'm going to cut this blog entry short. Over the next day or two I'll get you up-to-speed on days two, three and four.

Coming up in The Munich Chronicles Parts II - IV - a hat that makes Rogers look like a spaniel, Des Lennis, brotherly love taken to a whole new level and the hotly anticipated arrival of Lee Gravy...

But in the meantime - here's a long forgotten Number One which I wasn't expecting to hear in a Munich tavern....