Well, tomorrow I’m on to Munich, where I hope to visit the Dachau concentration camp. I had planned on going to Vienna next, but I just re-read with alarm John Harris’s last E-mail to me, saying that “July” 18-25th would be fine. I worry that there may have been a misunderstanding, so I suppose I will keep calling until it is cleared. If any of you know how I can get in touch, do let me know. Anyway, I am having an excellent time in spite of a few bruises, and I look forward to having more, less painful, news in the near future.


Gruß Gott to all from Vienna,

Pay no attention to the panic from my last letter, I got in touch with John shortly after writing and have since spent a lovely week in Vienna. Before, however, I had a day to spend in Munich. I took a sweltering train from Venice to Munich. Evidently, many Europeans would rather have Turkish-bath conditions than wind blowing in their faces. This was worsened by the fact that I had not been able to get a sleeping compartment, so instead tried to sleep in my upright chair in a compartment with six other people. It wasn’t happening.

Munich was a nice town, I had wanted to go to the Dachau concentration camp but the camp was closed on Mondays, something that struck me as kind of humorous. Munich was much like an American big city, however, something that was kind of a nice change of pace. In the evening, I struck up a conversation with a man on the subway, and told him I was looking for the famous, touristy-hokey Hofbrauhaus beer hall, just to see it. He said he felt like a beer, so invited himself to come with me. We go there and, halfway through the second biggest beer I’ve ever had, I finally get around to introductions. His name was Ferenc, and he was a Hungarian who had lived in Munich for the last 20 years. He was 64 years old but did not look it, and had no family, only a doberman named Caesar. I was going to eat something, but he told me that we MUST go to this other place that had the best pork knuckle in Munich.