The Cologne themed dinner held in tribute to the pending festivities of Carnivale was without a doubt one of the most unexpectedly delicious evenings I've spent in Munich thus far. Ralf's friends were gorgeous and the traditional Cologne dishes were more proof that my knowlege of 'traditional' German cusine was not only limited but entirely based on a stereotypical depiction of such a small part of German culture. 

The hospitality continued late into the night and once we had devoured the traditional Cologne dessert we had polished off three very nice bottles of wine, a gin and tonic and three or four 'samples' of different flavoured schnapps. In 'sample' terms everyone else was always poured a moderate tipple of booze while I, the guest and foreginer, was consistantly offered the full glass and not wanting to offernd anyone (I heard somewhere that it can be considered highly offensive to refuse the offer of a drink in some cultures) politely obliged. So by the end of the evening I was in fine form and poor Ralf, who was the responsibly sober designated driver, had to put up with my tipsy rambling until about 4:30AM.

I did do my best to sleep in on Saturday but the pesky little jetlag bug hasn't quite left me alone so after only three insufficent hours my morning and day had begun. Ralf got up at a more approppriate hour and prepared a super healthy (and delicious) nutty smoothie and fruit salad for breakfast before we set off for a day on the push bikes. 

We seriously could not have ordered better weather over the weekend, as we cycled away from the city following the river bank I was able to stop whenever I needed to for typical tourist photo ops, and after a few hours - approximately 20km and quite a few photos later - we arrived at a restaurant along the river that in summertime you can see would be dripping with locals out to enjoy a good feed and a couple of steins by the river which runs full of chilly mountain water that is so clear, if it weren't flowing, you'd swear it was glass. This place was nothing short of stunning and as we made our way inside through the deserted beer garden, full of empty flower pots and lonely chairs, I could smell that I was going to like this place... and I did. Ralf and I shared a three course traditional Bavarian meal and again my taste buds were in cullinary heaven. 

After our late lunch we caught the train back to Munich and by the time we got home we only had half an hour before we had to leave again for dinner at a brewery with our friend Thomas and his (recently announced) pregnant wife - I still can't believe that he's is going to be a dad, and he'll be a damn good one at that. The place was packed and it ended up that we were lucky to get a table, I ordered the schnitzel (that I could barely eat half of after our late lunch) and on what was now my third day in Munich I had my very first German beer... well, first in Germany anyway!

It was so great to see Thomas and meet his lovely wife. I think he was nervous about his english (which is more than sufficient) however with the reality of my running on three hours sleep and day full of exercise, that let's face it, I'm not really accustomed to, my tired brain struggled to remember correct phrasing so Thomas could understand more of what I was saying. Anyway, it ended up being a pretty early night, Ralf and I walked home to try and digest and endulged the opportunity to take some night time photos of Munich on the way.

Sunday began at 5:15am with a quick dash to get ready for a day at the snow. Once we arrived at the station though we realised there was a little breathing time up our sleeve before the train left so Ralf introduced me to the delectable pastry that is, in essence, a croissant that has been cooked like a bagel. I enjoyed the experience so much that I had to vow it was my last (I'm already struggling to fit into my jeans and it's only week one!).

The night before we had convinced Thomas that our day trip to the snow could possibly be his last opportunity to skii before the baby comes and his gorgeous wife Anna was practically holding his arm while we did the 'twisting'. Funnily enough it was the father-to-be that struggled the most with the early morning start and he slept for a good part of the first train ride. I on the other hand, was far too excited that we were going skiing I soaked up the view out the window as soon as the morning sun lit up the horizon. 

An hour and a half on the train and another hour or so on the mountain tram cart (thing) and we had arrived, to the top of Germany's higest peak. Breathtaking. The sun was shining and the sky was an endless blue canvas which in contrast to the white snow was a scene I had only ever seen in photos or paintings - and now it was real. After collecting my hire gear we 'hit the slopes', at which point I realised that turn of phrase has an entirely different meaning when I'm involved. I hit the slopes alright, and I hit them hard! I've never been a great skiier due to lack of practise but I've always had fairly good balance on the snow, not here though, the fresh powder plays an entirely different game with your center of gravity and that, combined with the fact that our first 'easy' run was without a doubt the steepest and probably longest run I've ever attempted, what should have been a two minute cruise to the bottom turned out to be a thirty minute slap stick routine by yours truly. 

Humiliating doesn't even come close but the experience its self was the most fun I'd had in ages and despite eating more snow than I actually skiied over, that thirty or so minutes to the bottom of the slope showed me more about my lack of self confidence than an entire adolescence of unrequited love. I realised that the way in which I approached that mountain was how I've tackled every obsticle that life has thrown in my path. I went at it with excitement and blind hope that despite my lack of skill and technique the task would miraculously come naturally to me. Then at the point of no return, when the top of the slope is now too far away to crawl back up to with any dignity left in tact, I look up for the first time and take in the entire challange in a single wide angled shot. In that moment of being entirely petrified I lose all connection to my motor functions and before I know it the ground is coming up at me faster than I can manage. Once I hit the snow, re-group and look around it occurs to me in one hit that the challenge ahead is far greater than I anticipated and it's only the impending loss of pride that allows me to remain somewhat focused on the task at hand. This routine continues again and again until my determination begins to outweigh my fear and I realise that the only way I can reach the bottom of the slope is to be resourseful with what I have and what I know, and above all, never look too far ahead. Keeping focused on a very small portion of the path in front of me would mask the reality of the rest of the challenge. As confronting as it was I realised that being too hard on myself at this point wasn't going to do me any favors, this is where I'm at and in truth is pretty much why I'm here. I would be interested to tackle this mountain again in twelve months time and see if I'm ready to make it to the bottom with my head held high and skiis beneath my feet.

It may seem like this account of my first crack at a European ski slope is somewhat over processed, but it had an effect on me that I wasn't expecting. If it weren't for Ralf and Thomas I would have given up then and there but again with the whole self pride preservation thing, I had no choice but to go again, and again and again. I can't quite remember if it was only three or a total of four runs that I did (which to any regular skiier is just the start of the day) but with all the falling down, spectacular crashes and picking myself up again - over and over and over - I was completely spent. Thankfully is was at this point that the boys decided that we should go to the restaurant at the summit and have lunch, and I couldn't agree more.  

The view from the restaurant was obviously spectaular and it was there we enjoyed a wonderful hot lunch with a well earned beer. Afterwards we wandered out onto the deck and up onto the viewing platform where you could stroll across into Austria without having to show your passport! After lunch I had to retire my ski gear and convinced the boys to go and have some fun without me while I caught up on some old fashioned correspondence - A.K.A writing postcards. We were absolutey stuffed by the time we got home and Ralf, the BEST host ever, made an incredible pumpkin soup for dinner while I soaked away my aches and pains in a hot bath. I swear the service here is second to none ;)