I arrived at Munich airport at 2:30 in the afternoon after a very long day of travel. I had flown Wednesday morning to San Francisco for a lunch meeting with three representatives of a Japanese company, then had flown to Munich (via Amsterdam) that afternoon.

It wasn't clear to me from messages from Iris Kung (manager of Protel Europe) if I was expected to travel to the trade show directly from the airport (in retrospect I realize that was the intent) so I decided to try finding the hotel. (The hotel had faxed me a driving map, but no instructions as to which trains to take.)

Cold weather -- near freezing with a slight breeze. Munich had its first snow in the past few days. After taking the S-Bahn (suburban railway) into Munich, I asked at the Munchen-pasing station how to get to the town of Tegernsee. The ticket seller printed out a lengthy document (unreadable to me) along with my ticket. I wandered around the station a bit to make sure I understood which platform, then decided to go back to another ticket window to ask for more specific instructions. At this window the seller (a younger woman with a helpful smile) described to me in good English that I needed to take the S-Bahn back two stations and connect with the Tegernsee train there.

I did as she explained and, at that station, had no trouble finding the correct platform. At 4:37 the train arrived and I boarded for the 50 minute trip to Tigernsee. What I failed to note, however, was that the train had three sections, each with a different destination. By the time I realized my mistake my section of the train had split off and was bound for a small town on the wrong side of the large lake of Tigern-see. Assuming that the train would return immediately once it had made the full trip to wherever it was going, I settled back in my seat and tried to get some rest.

After a long trip of some two hours (to the end of the line and back, with a change to the correct train back in Holzkirchen), I arrived at Tigernsee station at around 7:00 in the evening. I was in Tigernsee, of course, but still did not have any idea where the hotel was. There were no taxis to be seen near the station, so I entered a small pub to ask for help finding the hotel.

In the dark, smoky pub there was a group of about eight men and one woman sitting at a cluster of tables in front of the high bar. I pulled the crumpled paper with the hotel's name and address out of my pocket and asked "Hotel Zur Post?"

At first there was silence, then a big, bearded man with around fifty years smiled widely and in a large voice, in perfect English said, "sit down first and have a beer..."

Peter, the owner of the smile and also the local barber, made room at a table and called the innkeeper over to pour me a very tall glass of the local weis bier. He asked if there was anyone waiting for me at the hotel. Probably, I said, but added that I didn't feel much need to hurry. I was tired and thirsty.

I spent an hour and a half in the pub, hearing most of Peter's life story (years of travel before settling down as a barber in his hometown of Tegernsee, a late-life marriage to a Phillipino woman, "no problem in Tegernsee, everybody knows us", playing in local bars in a rock band "ZZ Top, 38 Special kind of stuff...")

I made note of his name and vowed to send him a letter when I got back.

Finally Peter drained his last beer (the fifth, he said), and offered to drive me the 300 meters to the hotel. I noted the complete lack of other cars on the road and agreed, figuring he'd driven this route a thousand times before while in worse condition. We stopped at the WC outside for a piss ("leave the bags here," he said, waving at the sidewalk, "noboby will steal them"). We found his Volkswagen nearby and discovered that the windows had become completely crusted over with ice.

"Shit," he said, and rummaged around on the floor for a scraper.

"Look," I finally said, remembering an old trick. "Try this..." I took one of his cassette tapes from the storage area between the seats, then disassembled the case so I had the bent piece of plastic that formed the hinged lid. The windows were quickly scraped clean and we drove three minutes to the hotel.

When I walked in the hotel lobby I was immediately met by Iris Kung, who asked "What happened? I was worried I made a mistake..."

I reassured her that it was my own fault, then realized while trying to fill out the registration form and talk to Iris (who I had not met before this moment) that I was seriously drunk. I apologized again and told her I was kidnapped by a gang of Bavarian beer salesmen (not far from the truth), then followed her to join Bruce (who had arrived two days prior) in the hotel restaurant. They were already midway through their meal and had seen me arrive from the window.

Bruce leaned over and said with a grin, "I told her you were self-reliant and not to worry..."

Hungry, I ordered a plate of venison and potatoes and a glass of red wine. There was a bored-looking keyboard player in the corner of the restaurant making a terrible mess of Eric Clapton's "You Look Wonderful Tonight".

The Hotel Zur Post was a funky little place with (as Bruce put it) "all the trappings of Bavaria", including the mounted heads and horns of dozens of elk and goats, a large stuffed eagle (wings spread over a table, appearing ready to dive into a soupbowl), a large crucifix with a perforated wooden figure of Jesus, thick and half-burned candles, dried flowers and dark lampshades.

My room was tiny (Japanese in scale) heated with a hissing radiator and featuring a child-sized bed with a thick feather comforter that barely covered my toes. The fixtures in the bathroom were arranged such that it was nearly impossible to shower without giving the toilet and sink a good rinsing at the same time. (Bruce reported that his room had only a bathtub and hand-held shower with no curtain. But the price was good, the place was clean and quiet, and I wouldn't hesitate going back.)

Tired though I was, jet-lag made it difficult for me to get a good night of sleep. At 6:00 I finally got up and went for a walk around the town. The morning was pretty, with a light mist rising from the lake and blue skies above. I shot half a roll of film as the hills across the lake glowed in the morning sun.

We had breakfast in the hotel (a good buffet with fresh juices, breads and cheeses), then went out to Iris' car. As with Peter's car the previous night, her windows were covered with frost. She searched for a scraper, and once again I tore apart a cassette tape case to clear the windows.

We drove 40 minutes to reach the convention center near Munich, a massive complex of hanger-sized buildings (twelve total, all of which were filled with display booths for Productronica). I spent a slow day looking at demonstrations of automated electronic assembly equipment, mooching snacks from salespeople and marveling at the amount of money that companies like Siemens, Fuji and Panasonic must spend to set up and staff their booths for five days at a convention like this. Siemens had at least 20,000 square feet of space on the show floor, including a number of operatiional auto-insertion lines, a theater with non-stop stand-up presentations, and a large raised area with a tables, chairs and a full bar offering free beer, wine and coffee drinks to show attendees.

In the evening, after the show ended, we took the S-Bahn downtown to the Hopfbrauhaus, the most famous (and most tourist-filled) beer hall in Munich. (The high kitch of the Hopfbrauhaus is perfectly counter-balanced by the Planet Hollywood that sits across the road... and the McDonald's next door...)

Back at the hotel at 11:00 PM, I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until after 8:00.