Munich and... Amsterdam?
Our anniversary fell on Thanksgiving this year, and rather than celebrate the two together, we opted to skip Thanksgiving and celebrate our anniversary in Germany, at the invitation from a friend who lives there.
We should’ve known better.
We have never had successful anniversarie vacations. The wife and I have tried several times to plan things to celebrate the day, but something always seems to come up. We’ve had to cancel trips because my dad fell deathly ill and I had to fly back to AZ. Or my daughter gets diagonosed with cancer, and I temporarily move to the city she went to school in to be near her (yay remote work!). Or Covid.
The wife and I are convinced Covid was our fault because we had the audacity to not only plan a trip, but to put money down ahead of time. While our world shut down in March of 2020, we had made plans during our anniversary in 2019 for a trip in April 2020, when the weather wasn’t so crappy.
We’re so sorry.
The Germany trip was (mostly) a disaster before we even left.
It started with the wife trying to solidify plans with her friend in Germany. She was texting and receving very terse, one-word replies. Or “I don’t care” answers. It set a funny feeling in the pit of the wife’s stomach. One we should’ve listened to.
The seat I paid extra for (I’m a big guy, and enjoy a bit of extra legroom) was so narrow, it was more appropriate for a child.
When the friend picked us up at the Munich airport, there were no big hellos, no big smiles. Just a quick hug, throw the bags in the back and head to where she lived in Dachau. The ride was quiet, with just a few comments. Not typical for a friend you haven’t seen in 6 months. She kept the radio up and the bass in the back precluded me from really joining the conversation.
So, already uncomfortable.
But once at her house, she warmed up a bit, and seemed a bit chattier. Even gave us “real hugs” this time. We went out to dinner, and then joined the friend at her line dance class. Friend is very strict about keeping her schedule, so we went along. I even joined for the first line dance at the prompting from the women (and there were only women) in the class.
The next day we piled into the bass-thumping car for one of the few bright spots in the trip: we travelled to Aschau for the weekend, a town nestled in the Bavarian Alps and it was simply delighful. We took a ferry to the Fraueninsler Christkindlmarket (Women’s Island Christmas Market), and strolled around the island. The friend was intent on finding the fish sandwich she loved, and seemed a bit offended when I wouldn’t have any. I simply don’t like fish. And then she was doubly offended when I declined gluehwein. I don’t like wine either, preferring beer.
And this is where things started to feel off. We visited the monastary, got a sausage (and a beer for me), and visited the potties. And then the friend said we needed to leave.
We’d seen maybe a quarter of the market? Hadn’t even really stopped at the booths, having made a beeline to the fish sandwich stall.
Ok, so back to the ferry, back to the hotel. Next day we left, had a quick stop in Wasserburg, a walled town bordered by the river Inn. Then back to Dachau.
It became quickly obvious we were not welcome in the friend’s house. She kept making passive/aggresive remarks. Seemed upset that we wanted breakfast (she’s a one-a-meal day type of person). Obviously put out that we disrupted her routine. Small things that were quickly adding up.
The day after we came back from Aschau, we went to Munich to visit some of the larger Christmas Markets. When we popped out of the train station we were right in one of the downtown ones, surrounded by old buildings. It was very cool, but apparently it was “too touristy” for the friend. Well, I’m a tourist, I’m all for it.
Instead she led us through the market to the outskirts, and then asked if we wanted some coffee. I replied sure, and she walked off again… but seemingly nowhere in particular. Then she decided she needed a bathroom. After that was done, she asked what we wanted to do. The wife said maybe we should get some coffee and sit for a bit.
The friend litterally gasped and said “you want to sit?!”
Well, pardon us for wanting to enjoy our coffee.
Instead the friend decided she wanted to go visit the Medieval Market. We said fine, nice to have a destination. She took us on another train, got lost three times along the way. Once found, we discovered it was quaint little Christmas market with a Medieval theme. The wife found a seller that had fountain pens and wax stamps. She was looking at buying one, but the friend snorted derisevely and asked why?
Ok, nevermind.
Friend asked if we wanted to go see “the residence”. I said I had no idea what that was, and after another one of those “what’s even between your ears” looks, she said it was where monarchs lived. Turned out she was talking about the “Munich Residenz … the largest city palace in Germany, serving as the former royal palace of the Wittelsbach monarchs of Bavaria.” (thanks Wikipedia!).
After that, the friend decided we were going to Tollwood, a Christmas market on the site of Octoberfest. So another train ride and off to visit another Christmas market. “Visit” is a loose term here. We literally went in, saw one tent, the friend wanted gluehwein and to smoke, and then we left. wtf. Time to go home it seemed.
We took a train, and then bus, back to her house in silence. She wouldn’t respond to my smiles. When we got off the bus, she walked 10 yards in front of us, and didn’t say a word, trusting we would follow her in the dark back to her house. Once home, I thanked her for playing tour guide again, and was again met with silence.
I think that’s what did it for the wife. She was furious at this point.
Over the weekend, we had talked about getting a hotel, just to help defuse the situation, but the friend’s complete refusal to acknowlege a basic courtesy changed all that. We instead went for the nuclear option and decided to have her drive us to the airport the next morning.
The conversation that ensued was obviously terse. After berating us for 10 mins, the friend insisted she needed her coffee and smoke. Then she went upstairs to get dressed (she’d been out walking, but apparently couldn’t be seen dropping people off at the airport in her yoga pants). We stood with our bags in the foyer of her house for probably 30 minutes waiting.
During the five days we were there, I’d been talking with my brother who lives up in the Netherlands. He and his wife had been planning on coming down to visit and join us at the Christmas Markets. I’d been texting with him this entire time, detailing how uncomfortable things were. At this point, I told him to not bother, letting him know we were packing up and leaving. He suggested we come up and visit them instead. A life boat in the sea of strain.
When dropped off at the airport, the friend got out and hugged us. She genuinely seemed sad to see us go. Perhaps we should have started with — and definitely will next time (if there is a next time) — a hotel. We’re not going to put anyone out ever again.
So we’re off to the Netherlands, to visit my brother and his wife, and enjoy the rest of the vacation.
Or…so we thought.
After being dropped off, we made our way to the Lufthansa desk, and tried to get our tickets updated. We told the service agent we were wanting to fly to Amsterdam that day, and then fly from Amsterdam to the U.S. the coming Sunday, the day we were originally supposed to fly home from Munich. It seemed to take longer than it should have to explain what we wanted to the agent, who looked as if she had something smelly on her upper lip the entire time.
She said that changing our tickets would cost us money, and we said fine, naturally. We wanted to leave. Then she told us it was going cost over €2,000 to make the change. We definitely paused at that. The agent then said the only helpful thing; what if we were to book a round-trip flight from Munich to Amsterdam, come back early Sunday morning and catch our original flight from Munich to the U.S.? That would only cost about €500 for the two of us.
Seemed like a much better deal, so we book those flights, checked our bags and went and found our gate and some breakfast.
While waiting at the gate, the wife received an update on her Lufthansa app, showing our new flights:
Two tickets from Munich to Amsterdam
One ticket from Amsterdam to the U.S.
One ticket from Munich to the U.S.
No return tickets from Amsterdam to Munich.
oh, ffs.
We had already scanned our boarding passes and gone through security, so we couldn’t go back out. We decided to get it resolved once in the Netherlands.
To make an already long story somewhat shorter, we spent the next two days and a total of 5 hours on the phone between Lufthansa and United (United Airlines and Lufthansa are partnered through the Star Alliance, which is how we got to Amsterdam). We even took the bus back to the airport to try and straighten it out in person, but we were told by one of the six agents standing around doing nothing that they were unable to help us rebook and we would have to do that online. Trying to do it online resulted in messages about issues with our reservations (duh). So we were told to call.
The agent I spent the most time on the phone with was very helpful, and she managed to get us rebooked from Amsterdam to the U.S., for the fee of €190. No idea why the agent in Munich, who started this whole mess, charged us over €2,000 for the rebooking. The phone agent also managed to cancel the Amsterdam to Munich flights, and we received money back for that, which helped offset the rebooking cost. Awesome.
With all that taken care of (or so we thought. Foreshadowing!), we set out to enjoy the time with my brother and his wife. We took a train to Den Haag (The Hague) for their Christmas market. My brother and I spent time in Haarlem, while the wife and SIL went on a 20-mile bike ride to the coast (the wife’s leg muscles were SORE). My brother and I watched the Lions beat up the Cowboys (the day after the actual game).
It was a nice visit.
But then the day before we were due to fly home, I tried to check in.
“There was a problem with your reservation”
Queue much cursing.
This, thankfully, was the most minor of the issues we had with these flights. Counting on them being able to sort us at the airport, the next morning we said our good-byes (with large helpings of “thank you for rescuing us!) to my brother and SIL, and hopped the bus earlier than planned. Getting our boarding passes and bags checked was painless. Not even a blip or concern at the check-in counter. Once through security, we both relaxed a bit.
You would think I would know better by now.
We found our gate, which, naturally, was at the very end of the wing in the terminal. Once we established where we were leaving from, we walked back the half-kilometer or so to the lounge area for coffee and breakfast.
Once back at the gate, we received a gate-change notice, to a gate in a completely different wing. Of course.
After about a 15-20 minute walk, we found the new gate. Which had KLM agents at the desk. Which…didn’t make sense. And sure enough, nearly the minute we arrived, we received another gate change. Back to the original gate.
Oh ffs. Again.
Sweaty and annoyed at having to walk back and forth across half the airport, we finally managed to board our flight. And once in our seats, the wife had herself a bit of a cry (not the first one of the trip, but certainly the most understandable).
I started writing a note on my phone, a bulleted list to keep track of all the major and minor things this trip entailed that went wrong or were just bad.
I had 93 bullet points when done.
When we finally got home, I went to pick up a pizza while the wife started laundry. When I got back, I locked the door, changed into jammies, and the wife and I decided to never, EVER go on a vacation for our anniversary again.
We’re also considering celebrating our anniversary on a completely different date. Ours is cursed.
