BMW? What BMW?

So much for careful planning.  We arrived at "Die Welt," (BMW's modestly named "The World"), marched up up to the fancy lobby for those picking up their car, announced our name to the elegant receptionist, and  - Auch du lieber! -- we weren't on the sheet.  Grosse Gott!  Turns out we got the date mixed up (or, in Carolyn's view, they got the date mixed up).  No great tragedy, however. They were expecting us tomorrow (Thursday).  So, we journey again to BMW's World tomorrow morning to pick up our baby.

Note for Jack G -- they had your BMW on display at Die Welt.  Here's it is.  You need this!

Afterward we walked so far we both needed motrin for our aging legs and feet. (As soon I finish this blogging business, in about three minutes, we're hitting the Scotch we got at duty free -- another story for another time).  We tramped through the Olympic Park (thinking, of course, primarily about the Munich tragedy of 1972), to the Nymphenberg Palace -- a small version of Versailles and pretty boring (except for the royal coaches and sleighs -- especially Mad Ludwig's amazing coach, upon which Disney modeled Cinderella's.

 

Food notes:  German menus are not as easy

as French menus; of course, that

may be because we speak pretty good menu French and almost no menu German.  (I almost ordered lamb's lungs last night!). Prices are pretty much like the US.  And the beer -- especially the Weiss Bier -- is truly spectacular. Above are pictures of our lunch spot, and Carolyn's yummy wurst.