 I visited Munich in June 2022. It was a trip I'd wanted to take for a long time, but for various reasons I'd always put it off or postponed. My motivation for visiting Munich wasn't clear and dated back to my adolescence, probably connected to mainstream media when they showed images of the Oktoberfest on TV. As an adult, I understood the city's importance, as it's full of monuments and is one of the largest in Germany. Furthermore, over time, I'd developed an incredible curiosity to visit Neuschwanstein Castle in the nearby town of Füssen, making Munich an ideal destination for me. What made me finally determined to visit the city was Dario Argento's film "Suspiria". The film was set in Munich, and beyond the horror plot, there were atmospheres that really drew me in, as well as some unique buildings. To be honest, I was convinced that almost all the scenes were filmed on sets, but to my surprise, I discovered that two of the places that had most intrigued me were real. This detail piqued my curiosity, and I made Munich my priority. That trip was also, in a certain sense, a turning point in terms of my travel companionship, as I went alone. It wasn't actually my first, as I'd taken many solo trips since 2003, but in Munich, I experienced a kind of maturity, the ability to do what you feel like without listening to others. As I always did, I proposed my ideas to the people I usually traveled with, but when, for the umpteenth time, I encountered doubts, prejudices, and completely wrong assumptions in them about the destination I'd chosen, I stopped suggesting and went it alone. Driven by curiosity to add new elements to the ideas formed during adolescence, I organized the trip as always down to the smallest detail, knowing that being alone would be an advantage because by doing so I was not tied to anything or anyone. I landed in Munich after two flights and had already decided to take the metro to the city center. The airport wasn't close, but I wanted to make this long journey to see the suburbs from the train and begin to test the efficiency of public transportation. My hotel was about three hundred meters from the station, located in a fairly welcoming, non-touristy residential area. I actually chose that area only because it was within walking distance of the historic center, but also just a few minutes from the station for a train or metro ride. I didn't know that just a few blocks to the north was frequented by young, bohemian crowds, which nevertheless gave the area an incredible vitality. I regret having visited that part of the city only in the last few days, because I could make some wonderful connections with open-minded people with a different perspective. My mornings in Munich therefore began with a pleasant walk of about a kilometer to the historic center, where I stopped for breakfast. As luck would have it, it was incredibly hot those days, and the vast majority of the houses on the streets I walked didn't have balconies. This fact helped my tan increase rapidly, and after a day I looked like I'd been on vacation at the beach. Center During the time I visited Munich, both the station and the area in front of it were undergoing complete renovation. The construction site surrounding the station was enormous, revealing virtually nothing of the station itself. Access was through a side entrance, very small and inconsistent with the immense space in front. Once, passing by, I tried to photograph the construction site through the small slits, and it was thanks to this that I was able to appreciate the extent of the work. From what I understood, it was a complete renovation and modernization, something that would change the face of the previous station, unfortunately something I can only imagine because I never saw the original structure. Beyond the street in front were some very old buildings that were literally hollowed out inside; for a couple of blocks, that entire area had definitely been transformed into a huge renovation project. I realized there was definitely a major redevelopment project going on, as those blocks ended on Karlplatz, a semicircular square with a flat fountain with water intermittently gushing from the pavement. Two semicircular buildings with porticoes faced onto the square, joined in the center by the Karlstor, an arch that served as the gateway to the historic center. It was obvious that the gate was from another era, yet the large building had been designed to emphasize both the Karlstor and the area in front of it. Arriving at the square, there was a sense of space and depth, with the possibility of enjoying the view from many angles of both the building and the gate. The fountain was very popular, especially among children, who continually played in the water, often getting quite wet. These children were overwhelmingly the children of North African immigrants, and their parents, in perfect Arab style, let them do whatever they wanted while they argued animatedly and loudly, as was their custom. I also come from the South, the Italian one, and much of our culture is similar to that of the Arabs, yet I didn't like the spectacle I saw every day. It's not a question of racism; as long as someone moves for work and integrates into the culture of the country they're moving to, everything is fine, but being the majority populating a common meeting place using their own culture isn't nice to see. I myself, who have my own habits that may seem strange to others, conform to others' standards when I visit foreign countries, especially if I visit Arab countries with their rules. Seeing one culture being overwhelmed by another is something I don't like, even if in the end those parents were generally good people but from a culture totally opposed to the German one. My point is general and also applies to Italians who move abroad; in my opinion, respect for the culture of those who give you a new chance at life is of vital importance. The fact that there were dozens of police officers right outside the Karlstor as a deterrent only made the spectacle worse; a policy of pseudo-order that has nothing to do with true respect for the rules. Beyond Karlstor, a very long street began that reached Marienplatz, the large square where the town hall stood. The final section of this street was called Kaufingerstraße and was very busy, also because it was full of shops and restaurants. Certainly, the thing that struck me most about this street, besides the beauty of some of the buildings, was the view of the Frauenkirche, Munich's cathedral. The street that cut across Kaufingerstraße and reached the cathedral was wide enough to reveal the entire structure, which was slightly angled, a position that gave it an added beauty. The Frauenkirche itself was a unique structure because it was very tall and had two towers that, proportionately to their height, were built very close together. The cathedral was built in the Gothic style, entirely of small red bricks, with large arched windows and incredible symmetry. The towers were topped with domes whose green color contrasted with the rest of the structure, also due to their shape. Unfortunately, this cathedral didn't have a large square in front, so it wasn't possible to get a good view and photograph it. Personally, by shooting with an ultra-wide-angle lens, I managed to capture some striking photos where the cathedral was even more imposing, yet with a dark and austere feel. Indeed, due to their incredible height and proximity, the towers' tips almost touched in the photos, creating a dreamlike image straight out of a horror film. Despite this, looking at the cathedral from the outside was a singular experience; I personally felt insignificant, faced with something alien, whose shape gave me the impression that it might suddenly begin to move and perhaps displace or trample everything around it. However, as evocative as the view from the outside was, what left me hesitant and a little disappointed was the cathedral's interior. Upon entering, I had the impression of being inside a modern building, especially because of the dominant white color. Inside, the main impact was the series of columns. Although very tall and impressive, they were too many and too close together, leaving little room to appreciate either the vaulted ceiling or the large side windows. The interior was a cold-looking place, without any special works such as frescoes or altars. The most interesting place turned out to be the crypt, but more for its effective lighting than for the architecture itself. Entering the cathedral certainly felt like I was taking a journey into the future, into a more modernist and anonymous concept of architecture, the complete opposite of what I like and what I would have preferred to see. Overall, the Frauenkirche was an important and imposing work that could be glimpsed from many corners of the city, but for me its beauty was only its exterior; inside, it was decidedly disappointing. The first sight of Marienplatz and the large building housing the Rathaus, in this case the new town hall, truly impressed me. The square itself was very large, allowing for optimal viewing of the building. However, it was so long and so detailed that to truly appreciate it, one had to study it in sections, and this took time. Clearly, in terms of impact, what struck me most was the tower, as it was the tallest element and had a square base large enough to stand out from the rest of the structure. The other elements were the various turrets and stone antenna-like structures pointing upward. As I said before, the new town hall wasn't a work you could take in at a glance; this was distracting, and especially if I stopped to look at the lower, closer details, it made me completely forget the rest of the building, as if it were a separate element. What didn't help me admire, study, and photograph the new town hall at the time was a large stage stationed to the left of the building. It was a stage with a white canvas covering, and even when it wasn't in use, it ruined the aesthetics of both the plaza and the piazza. Clearly, if there was an event on the stage, this was the height of its degradation, as the plaza became too crowded, creating obstacles between those stopping to watch the event and those simply passing by. To top it all off, there were also other people who rightly populated the restaurants right in front of the building. In other words, the area was certainly uniquely beautiful, but we humans were populating it in the wrong way with our capitalist vices of consumerism and mass tourism. While I don't fully identify with this, because I like studying places, trying to extract fine art and write about them, it's obvious that to everyone else I was simply someone walking around taking pictures with a camera, a strange type, considering that today photos can easily be taken with cell phones. The somewhat nationalist atmosphere of Marienplatz didn't discourage me, and I had an intuition that allowed me to pursue my goal of studying the building. One day during my stay, I reached Marienplatz and, with the aid of a telephoto lens, began photographing the façade's infinite details. I was able to do this undisturbed despite the large and constant presence of people in the square, and this gave me incredible satisfaction. Starting with the famous and colorful Clarion, moving on to statues of men and animals, and finally ending with the large clock, I was able to clearly isolate details that I believe few people have noticed while visiting Munich. I'm sure that if I showed one of these photos to someone who had been to Munich, they wouldn't be able to associate those details with the so called New Town Hall. From the right end of Marienplatz, another beautiful and original building could be admired, a building considered the old town hall. The building consisted of two blocks: the main, classical section, and a bell or clock tower to its right. The left section was three-story with two arches on the ground floor, three arched windows above them, and a triangular cornice at the top. There were then three small towers on the cornice, two on the sides and one in the center. This was the façade of the building, which, however, extended into the depths; this part could only be seen by passing through the bell tower, which had arches at the base and was essentially supported by its four corners. This tower was a very beautiful piece of design; personally, it gave me the impression of a painted structure given the decorations on its façade. It had a central tower plus smaller ones on the sides and at the back. What fascinated me most was the clock embossed on the wall and the coat of arms beneath it. Personally, I had the impression that the building was more of a church, always keeping in mind what we should consider a church. I see buildings that had a shape where the design was aimed at collecting energy from the ether and then distributing it. Today, with history written by who knows who, we find places of worship, old town halls, etc. What was recognized as a church, however, was St. Peter's, located right next to the bell tower of the old town hall. It was one of the churches with the strangest facade I'd ever seen. It stood on a narrow street and, more than the entrance facade, it looked like the back of a church. There were no ornaments or particular design details, just an arched door flanked by two towers, everything very linear and clean. However, what struck me about the church was the tower, which could only be seen from the back of the church. With a rectangular plan, it had several levels up to the bell tower, and at each corner, for two levels, there was a clock. One detail that gave it, so to speak, authority was above all its height; The tower stood out imposingly even though it was not possible to see it from the entrance of the church. One of the things that disappointed me a bit about Munich was the Hofbräuhaus München, the famous beer hall that, in a certain sense, had come to define the city. From the outside, the beer hall was a pleasant building, three stories high and with arched porticos. I also liked the area where it was located because it was intimate and a bit asymmetrical. The interior was also interesting, especially the ceiling, which was composed of vaults with colorful designs, a very beautiful effect. What I found, however, was out of character for me was the joyful atmosphere inside, and not because I don't like to party; in fact, I'm just that kind of person. The party atmosphere wasn't elegant but, above all, noisy, with shouts, wild laughter, and multi-liter mugs of beer. I had the impression that the people who sat down to drink convinced themselves they were happy and tipsy before they even started drinking. While this venue followed an ancient tradition, it wasn't the kind of venue I was after. I've always loved partying, but with elegance and restraint, in more glamorous and exotic venues.  Karlplatz  Karlstor     Frauenkirche  Frauenkirche    Marienplatz    Old Town Hall           ArchitectureAlthough once I discover a street, I enjoy walking it repeatedly, I'm also naturally curious. During my stay in Munich, this curiosity was constantly evident, especially when choosing the streets to reach the city center from the hotel or vice versa. Once I had a grasp of the urban planning, I enjoyed taking parallel streets and discovering what they were like. During one of these walks, I discovered the “Bayerisches Staatsministerium der Justiz”, a neoclassical building that was more impressive for its width than its beauty. It faced a large square, which in turn was embellished by a fountain with statues. The view from the square was certainly the most beautiful for appreciating the building's style: in the central section, five arches were surmounted by a colonnade interspersed with windows that followed the style of the arches below. Above the colonnade was a terrace with statues and a very large coat of arms in relief. The roof consisted of a large glass dome that in turn supported a smaller one at its center. The central part of the building distorted the floors somewhat due to the tall windows, but the structure had four levels plus the dome, which were not visible. I liked this building because it gave me the option of either walking close to it, thus feeling small compared to the large blocks it was made of in the lower part, or walking along the street in the square and admiring it in all its fullness and magnificence. Starting from my hotel and walking a long block north, I could arrive right on the west side of Königsplatz. This was the square I had seen in the film "Suspiria" and which had struck me deeply, both for the violence of the scene and for the way it revealed an architectural detail. Königsplatz was a large rectangular square with a road cutting through it from west to east right in the center. It was composed of three large neoclassical structures surrounded by a fairly large green lawn. On the west side was the Propylaea, a large gate whose central section was a veritable temple with a colonnade and triangular cornice, while at the sides were two square towers. Perhaps because the structure also served as a roundabout for cars, it was the one that struck me the least, despite its imposing nature. What I especially disliked were the towers, whose design was a bit too simple yet severe, which for me didn't mesh well with the classical facade of a Greek-inspired temple. The other two buildings were the Glyptothek and the Staatliche Antikensammlungen, facing each other and both used as museums. The first building was the one seen in the film, and the last one was the more regular one, with a colonnade surmounted by a cornice with reliefs; the structure had three statues on each side. The Glyptothek had a more uniform classical line and had recently been restored. Both its location and design were beautiful and linear, and the green lawn on which it stood gave it an original feel. It must be said that, in my opinion, the structures were surrounded by too many concrete sections, as if to delineate the perimeters. Let's say that this paving was a bit too wide, probably to provide better access for vehicles to unload large works. Personally, it was the only thing I didn't like, also because they were objectively too large. The Staatliche Antikensammlungen was essentially very similar to the Glyptothek, except it had a staircase at the base, and unfortunately the sides of the building were walled in with walls that, in my opinion, had been erected later. This detail created a mix of classical and pseudo-modern that was not at all attractive. It gave me the impression that they had created a new space where perhaps there had previously been porticoes with columns. I can't even say whether that closure was temporary, but I hope so. On the road from Königsplatz to Odeonsplatz, I discovered a house that was simply the perfection of symmetry and harmony. It was a building with a small lawn protected by a low fence, and the structure rose on five levels. The remarkable thing was that the style of these levels was different on each floor. I immediately noticed and loved that building, which I dedicated many photographs to, and I imagined what it would be like to live in a city where all the houses and buildings had a similar harmony. It would surely be the quintessence of beauty, undoubtedly infusing our subconscious with a charge of positive and inexhaustible energy; imagine what it would be like to turn a corner and find yourself constantly immersed in exponential beauty. That building inspired me to discover other similar buildings, and I must say that Munich fortunately preserves many of these stone buildings, where the design is multiple, like a sound work where the changing rhythms create only positive vortices that captivate our mind and our subconscious. Odeonsplatz was a large square located in the northern part of the city. Often used as a venue for outdoor events, it was surrounded by two beautiful architectural works: a church named “Theatinerkirche”, and the "Feldherrnhalle", a loggia identical in design to “Loggia dei Lanzi” in Florence. Although the “Theatinerkirche” was very imposing and yellow, it was the loggia that surprised me when I saw the square for the first time. The reason was not the beauty of the design but its similarity, if not copying, to the loggia in Florence. Now, I don't know the official narrative behind the construction of the first loggia, and thus describing the second as a work inspired by the first, but clearly I don't believe these jokes. Such complex and intricate constructions cannot be copied when the means and technology are those described by the official narrative. It's not as if I draw an architectural plan in Florence and then take it to some gentlemen who, using the drawing, construct buildings using chisels as tools and carts as logistics, managing to make an identical copy of a loggia located in another city. When I saw the “Feldherrnhalle” for the first time, I felt betrayed by a narrative that is nothing other than a form of mass manipulation. Florence, which is improperly considered the cradle of culture, had a monument of which another identical one existed, in a city that also boasted other, even superior, works. The fact that Florence had more museums with more important works that, who knows why, ended up there, does not make it a city that proclaims itself the cradle of art. If Dante and other figures were in Florence, this is not something that has been handed down but something that can only be imagined and hypothesized. Today we have many cities, not only in Europe, where many architectural works are almost identical, proof that only a highly advanced civilization could have built them at a certain point in the past. Today, however, we live according to a narrative imposed by an elite of wealthy and occult figures, where they make us believe in a race and a culture and try to identify us with particular gifts. This is partly true; the problem is that we live in places that already existed and were not created by us! Especially after the end of the Second World War, where the victors established cultural rules based on a literally invented past to lay the foundations for a literally programmed future, where every single event was planned down to the smallest detail. My troubled state of mind after seeing the “Feldherrnhalle” didn't negatively impact my visit to Munich and my strolls through Odeonsplatz. At most, I gained a heightened awareness, and my only curiosity was to know what all the other people who passed by the “Feldherrnhalle” and perhaps even saw “Loggia dei Lanzi” thought. I'm sure most of them would have repeated the official version because "that's what it says in the books." Of course, books written in the twentieth century by obedient servants who trade knowledge for guaranteed popularity, unknowns who are elevated to masters and against whom nothing can be disputed! The Theatinerkirche, overlooking Odeonsplatz, was a striking and imposing structure. Perfectly symmetrical, with two bell towers topped by two domes, it had a large central entrance flanked by two columns with the same design that continued on the second level. Instead of a door, there was a large stained glass window with a triangle above it. There were many reliefs and statues throughout the façade, and the only thing that, in my opinion, made it unremarkable was its smooth surface. I don't know if it was conceived that way or if it was later renovated, but a construction with exposed brick or stone, like other structures, would undoubtedly have improved the aesthetic appearance and made it more distinctive. However, what I liked most were the church's interiors, which were significantly more beautiful than those of the cathedral. The Theatinerkirche had a double colonnade leading to the altar, which was of majestic beauty. It was composed of two spiral columns with relief plants imprinted in the vortex, and the triangle closing the columns was a broken one in the center. Generally, the sides also featured relief designs, and the only strange thing I noticed was a small organ, which isn't normally placed in that position, at the base of the columns. I noticed how many of the chapels inside the church were composed of spiral columns, some in marble and colored, others very similar to the one on the main altar. The only thing I didn't like was that almost everything inside the church was white, which doesn't help to perceive depth, especially in the relief works. Again, I don't know if the color is the result of restoration work or if it was already that way originally; personally, I didn't like it. From Odeonsplatz, there was one of the entrances to the Hofgarten, a beautiful park in the heart of the city. Actually, upon entering, the first thing I noticed was the large building called the Residenz München, or rather, a wing of it. What I had thought was a palace was actually just a façade, part of a much larger complex. This façade, which overlooked the Hofgarten, had a central section composed of a double patio. The ground floor featured arches, while the upper level featured a very tall colonnade, flanked by statues running its entire width. The rest of the building was linear, with windows that were arched on the first floor and rectangular on the upper levels. The Hofgarten was a meticulously maintained green rectangle with a single structure in the center: the Temple of Diana, a large stone gazebo topped by a statue. From up close, it actually looked much larger, and street artists performed inside. I didn't delve further into the temple's history, but it was a popular and beloved spot. What caught my attention on another side of the park was another building, even more beautiful and elaborate than the Munich Residence; it was the Bavarian Chancellery. The building consisted of a central stone block with a staircase leading to an imposing entrance featuring six columns. At the rear was a dome, also very beautiful and imposing. The building was glass-enclosed on the sides, undoubtedly following its original design, but I assume this section was built later, using what remained of the original building. While I'm not particularly fond of these new design solutions, I must say that in this case the result was pleasing, because the foundation was a stone construction. Living and enjoying the perfection and symmetry of these buildings in their historical period must have been a totally different experience. Even though we present ourselves as the most advanced civilization, this isn't the truth. We can see it in the violence around us and in the hideous architectural works designed by pseudo-architects today. A civilization that made symmetry a constant had to be more beautiful and civilized, because only harmony can create beauty. A civilization like ours, based on money and interests, can only create conflict and violence, which is why we live surrounded by ugliness! Among the many buildings I enjoyed admiring while walking through the city center, there was the Munich Opera, located on Max-Joseph Platz. The building was constructed in neoclassical style and was particularly striking for its large central colonnade, which was so tall. Above it was a triangular cornice with a relief in the center, while further inside was another, higher cornice, containing a sort of fresco with a gold background. Unfortunately, atop the inner cornice was the pathetic Ukrainian flag, which to me was pure Western hypocrisy: a territory was being used by Anglo-Saxon oligarchs, to the detriment of the poor, as a proxy battlefield to provoke a nation like Russia, which simply wants to stay away from the perverse Western lifestyle and economic system! But to return to the palace, beyond its grandeur, the square was very large and surrounded by other beautiful buildings, this created a place where beauty was 360 degrees, the only thing I didn't like was the excessive concrete and asphalt present in the area. While exploring the city, I came across a modern sculpture that was probably popular, but I personally wasn't familiar with it. It was called Love Hate Ambigram Sculpture and was created by the artist Mia Florentine Weiss. It consisted of a large inscription where, thanks to a special calligraphy, the word "Love" could be read as "Hate" when viewed from the opposite side. The sculpture undoubtedly evoked reflections on two opposing feelings, which in this case were interpreted in the same inscription as representing a human being who can experience both. What I didn't understand was why the sculpture was double, and in any case, my interpretation isn't positive. In fact, in my opinion, the feeling of hate is something negative that should be removed and not always carried within alongside the feeling of love, which is more or less what the sculpture suggests. A work where perhaps hate escapes from the opposing feeling would have been much more beautiful and constructive, assuming my interpretation of the Ambigram Sculpture was correct. There were two works located to the east of the city beyond the Isar River. They were the Angel of Peace, or Friedensengel, and the Maximilianeum. I visited both places on a long walk, starting with the Friedensengel, which was located further north. This was a statue of a golden angel and was very tall, so much so that it could be seen from a distance from some parts of the city. The beautiful thing was certainly seeing the work grow larger and more imposing as I approached it. The tall column on which the angel rested was actually at the top of a staircase, and once I reached the base, the statue of the angel could be seen from a strange perspective, looking from below. What I discovered, however, and didn't know existed at the base, was another work: caryatids that actually supported the base of the structure. I must say that in the end, I was more struck by them than by the statue of the angel, probably because the latter was visible from afar and from below rather than from beneath the statue itself. I visited the Friedensengel only once, and to be honest, I didn't stay long, but rather continued down the path to the Maximilianeum. After looking out over the riverbank several times to take in the various views, I finally reached the large palace by crossing the river again. Although very imposing, especially for its width, the building didn't impress me that much. It rose high above the street and was essentially a two-story structure whose design was dictated by arches. Even though there were elements such as statues, frescoes, and a larger angel in the central section, for some strange reason I wasn't thrilled with the building. I think it was its elevated position relative to the type of building; in fact, if it had been on one level with a beautiful garden in front, I certainly would have appreciated it more. One of the monuments I don't remember how I discovered was the Endless Staircase, which was located outside of any tourist context. I remember reaching it by taking a subway line I never used again. Luckily, the work was just a few blocks from the metro stop, and I reached it quickly. The Endless Staircase was an iron staircase with wooden treads that essentially started from a point and, after several turns at the top, reconnected with the starting point. It was a visual form and conveyed the idea of infinity, where the beginning was the end and vice versa. This staircase was like a phoenix rising from its own ashes. The staircase was also beautiful for the shape it created when seen from afar, and the fact that it had modern buildings with straight lines and colored red and orange as a backdrop created an incredible contrast, making it stand out even more. The staircase was like a totem, a sort of giant heart in that large, colorful courtyard, and its meaning was not practical but spiritual. Indeed, seeing a staircase that leads virtually nowhere yet continues in a perpetual cycle is certainly a singular experience, a way to reflect and connect with one's consciousness. It was impossible to climb it, and I don't know if doing so would have aided the process I described or nullified it entirely. The fact is that the calm of that place and the sight of such a work truly connects us with our unconscious. I'm normally suspicious and reluctant to see and study modern works, but I must say that this staircase truly conveyed positive feelings to me. That day, there was a girl there listening to music on portable speakers while in front of the staircase she was immersed in herself. That music was the only thing off-key at that moment, also because the girl likely hadn't yet completed her inner journey; to immerse herself in deep thought, she needed the dual inspiration of the music and of being in front of the staircase. I had this impression and at the same time I developed the desire to see that place without various musical backgrounds. The Church of the Sacred Heart, like the steps, was a building that was located in a remote part of the city. However, it was located in a very beautiful residential area, full of trees, quiet and peaceful, where I felt an incredible sense of calm as I walked to it. The church was literally a glass cube, very modern and in fact didn't look like a place of worship at all. Inside, however, the structure was made of lots of light-colored wood, creating a certain contrast, although in my opinion it didn't achieve a sufficiently welcoming atmosphere. The place, also because of the marble floor, always remained a cold-looking place, and perhaps that was also the intention. What struck me, however, and made me reflect, was the organ I saw as I exited, as it was above the entrance, behind me when looking inside the church. This organ was designed to resemble a masked face, especially the eyes and mouth. The point was that the appearance of this face was more inclined toward evil than good, very similar to Darth Vader. A longer discussion is needed about the Star Wars character because I believe that some negative characters are actually those who act for universal good, not the opposite. In this specific case, I associated this character with the organ because Darth Vader is universally recognized as evil. Overall, this church, with its ambiguous meaning, is a place worth seeing, but not for its structural significance, but rather for its occult and subliminal messages, which, paradoxically, for me are more evident than hidden.  Bayerisches Staatsministerium der Justiz  Königsplatz-Propylaea  Königsplatz-Staatliche Antikensammlungen  Königsplatz-Glyptothek    The perfect building  Odeonsplatz  Feldherrnhalle  Theatinerkirche   Residenz München  Temple of Diana  Bavarian Chancellery  Munich Opera    Angel of Peace   Maximilianeum   Endless Staircase  Church of the Sacred Heart  Olympia Park What initially drew me to the Olympia Park area was the curiosity of seeing a building that always appeared in the film "Suspiria." The structure was shown from a bottom-up perspective and struck me with its shape made of round blocks. It was a modern and futuristic structure, and that shot emphasized this feature even more. I discovered that the building was part of the BMW Museum, and the complex was located right next to Olympia Park, which also housed the Olympiaturm, the observation tower with its distinctive mushroom shape. When I arrived at the Olympia Park metro station and reached the surface, I was faced with a futuristic yet original spectacle. On my left was the BMW Museum building, composed of four round blocks symbolizing the radiator design, a characteristic of the BMW brand. Next to it was another building that resembled a giant aluminum frying pan, with completely smooth walls. Opposite it, across a large four-lane road crossed by a modern aluminum-clad bridge, was another modern complex. From the M logo outside, I guessed it was another BMW building, and it too was ultra-modern, with a large glass window and a section on the left that symbolized a sort of vortex. In other words, exiting the metro, I found myself catapulted into a futuristic dimension where aluminum buildings with strange designs were immersed in a context of pure greenery; the place was in fact full of flowerbeds, trees, and green lawns. Even though I'm no longer a fan of modern architecture, I must say that whoever had designed that place had done it with care; in general, those buildings conveyed a sense of harmony, probably also due to the natural context in which they were built. The park and the tower were on the left, so I headed first toward the BMW museum. I hadn't planned to visit it, and the line outside didn't change my mind, eventually letting that option for later. Snapping photos and trying to create some fine art, I headed straight under the building with the round blocks. The place had a surreal atmosphere, even stranger than the one in the film, as the area was completely deserted. The sense of abandonment, however, contrasted with the overall cleanliness and order of the place; everything was impeccable! I remember taking photos, trying to recreate the building's perspective from below, but in reality, that structure offered several opportunities for original shots. From there, there were also beautiful views of the Olympiaturm, the other BMW building, and the museum, all of which could be captured in a single shot. I must say I spent some very relaxing moments admiring and taking photos there. I then turned back and, after crossing the aluminum bridge, headed toward the other building to see what it housed. The interior was a beautiful exhibition space with a modern yet pleasant and welcoming design. Arriving from the bridge, I entered at an intermediate level, from which I had a complete view of the entire interior and the lower section. This space, in addition to being a showcase for cars, also had a restaurant, a café and refreshment areas. I must say, there was a certain harmony despite everything being modern. On the ground floor, there were mainly BMW ultra-sporty cars, sectional engines, and even a Rolls-Royce, a beautiful model for fine art photography. My attention, however, was captured more by the full-scale Lego reproduction of the BMW Motorrad M1000 RR. Even though it was displayed with the real model opposite, I personally preferred the Lego version, a set with over 52,000 pieces, something that would have been beautiful to assemble. However, nearby was also the Technic version of the same bike, a standard set measuring about 30 centimeters in length; if I'm not mistaken, it was a piece that was once on the official price list. Although I enjoyed this exhibition space and generally felt positive about it, I didn't spend much time there, and instead crossed another pedestrian bridge onto another four-lane road and headed into the park itself. My first stop was the Olympiaturm. After taking some close-up photos, I bought a ticket and headed to the top of the tower. As I've written in the past, except for cities like New York or Tokyo, where panoramic views from above offer unique and evocative vistas thanks to the endless skyscrapers that lend a unique three-dimensionality and depth, all other cities don't have the same effect when seen from above. This detail, however, doesn't stop me, and I love climbing all the towers and seeing both the aesthetics of them and the views from the top. In this case, the Olympiaturm was north of Munich's city center, so it was a bit far to see. I personally had brought a telephoto zoom so I could isolate subjects even if they were far away. My first surprise was managing to see the roof of the BMW Museum. The round roof had a large BMW logo that extended across its entire diameter, even though it was on two levels. It was certainly an original idea, but the tower was the only place from which this detail could be appreciated. I don't know if this particular design was intended to attract additional visitors to the tower. I must say, however, that the view from the Olympiaturm was interesting, both for what was inside the park, such as the old football stadium now used as an events space, and the beautiful residential complex with its sail-like design. Another thing I could see was the Allianz Stadium, a white rectangular box in the middle of the greenery. As for the center of Munich, I was able to isolate the cathedral thanks to the telephoto lens; otherwise, it would have been just a miniature seen with the naked eye. Otherwise, the view of the city was flat and without depth perception, but then again, I wasn't expecting anything more. After visiting the tower, I took a stroll through the park, and it was wonderful to walk and take photos in that natural setting, full of greenery and people enjoying outdoor activities. Aided by the beautiful day, I enjoyed climbing and descending the green hills, and the presence of the lakes added value and a more exotic touch to the park. The natural beauty of the place, the calm and tranquility of the people, even led me to experiment with self-timer photography. After positioning the camera on a bar, I managed to take some beautiful photos with the lake and the tower in the background, something possible thanks to the park's tranquility and safety. I must say, I had a very relaxing time going through the large park, and I could have stayed there all day. That morning, I decided to buy some street food and eat it like other people did in the designated areas, which were completely immersed in nature. I left the park after lunch with some regret, as I would have liked to return, but technically there wasn't time to do so. I always have fond memories of that morning, and if I ever return to Munich, the Olympiapark will be the first place I return to.                  Schloss NymphenburgSchloss Nymphenburg was a royal residence just outside the city. I discovered it shortly before leaving for Munich, but I didn't hesitate to plan a visit there. I'll probably remember the place more for the very long walk that took me to visit the castle than for the structure itself, but it was still an experience I fondly remember. I visited the castle on the same day I visited the Church of the Sacred Heart. From there, I took the metro and got off at a stop about two and a half kilometers from the castle. Walking toward the royal residence, I discovered a very beautiful and quiet neighborhood, full of houses surrounded by greenery with flowerbeds and tall trees, a place with a unique atmosphere. The strange thing was that after reaching a canal, it practically ran straight to the castle, so I could see the very small building on the horizon where the canal ended. Throughout the walk, I saw the castle getting bigger and bigger, and as I walked, I stopped to take photos of the houses I liked most. Reaching the royal residence this way was certainly interesting because it was like a mirage that later turned out to be real. Clearly, from up close, the structure looked much larger, yet smaller than I had imagined. The castle consisted of a large central block rising five levels, with two additional sections on the sides—two smaller but still impressive structures. Arches led into the gardens, an incredibly large area decorated with statues, ponds, and lush lawns that were simply perfect. To be honest, I didn't know if the structure could be visited, but I preferred to walk through the gardens, take some photos, and then calmly leave the residence. In reality, the castle itself wasn't all that imposing or impressive; it was a pleasant visit, but I focused all my interest on the long walk to reach the structure. The pleasant thing was the approach to the return journey; for me, it wasn't seen as tiring, but as a pleasant journey where I would revisit things that had pleasantly struck me on the outward journey. My memory of Schloss Nymphenburg was more focused on that walk, something that later gave me a beautiful discovery, which, however, was always less beautiful than the walk itself.          Nightlife and ConclusionsTo be honest, my nightlife in Munich didn't start out well, but by the second night I'd found a place where both the staff and the girls were very welcoming. I met several people with different stories, all helpful for someone like me who loves writing and seeing things through other people's eyes. Of course, I had fun with many of these people, but there was one girl who, even if only indirectly, taught me something. She was a somewhat curvy person, with a plain face and slightly protruding teeth, and generally shy and reserved. I had the impression she was a bit insecure, especially about her body. I'm a picky person when it comes to female beauty, but one night, a shy smile from hers was enough to make me approach her. That approach subsequently led to an intimate night where the shy and insecure girl showed all her passionate and wild sides. I would never have imagined something like this, and it's true that we have to get to know people deeply before we understand who they really are. That was a very useful lesson that gave me a new awareness and at the same time helped me avoid jumping to conclusions about people. I still remember waiting with her for the taxi to take her home; in jeans and a jacket, she had returned to the shy and reserved girl, her gaze generally downcast. That scene also made me think about the hidden potential we all have, in different fields, of course. That night, I probably managed to bring out the best in someone, and that's something I appreciate in others when they do the same for me. Our potential is, in fact, closely linked to the people we hang out with: the wiser and more open-minded they are, the more this manifests itself for the collective good, not just the personal one. If I had been tied to my high standards for female beauty and my prejudices, I would never have met that girl physically and I would have had one less positive experience. At the same time, everyone I know who has always discouraged and criticized my desire to visit Munich are those negative people who, at the end of their lives, will look back without seeing anything except the moments when they perpetually put something off. Munich also taught me that we have to be determined and pursue our goals and desires, running away from those who criticize and discourage them. Furthermore, traveling alone leads to seeking out connections and therefore puts us in a more open frame of mind. In Munich, I still vividly remember an endless series of people I interacted with, where the connection was born out of their curiosity to understand who this solo traveler was. From the girl at the reception desk who gave me so much useful information, to the Italian waiter at a restaurant where I went to dinner every night, to the girls I met and simply shared a beer with. Added to these are all the passersby I passed and exchanged glances with, or those who stopped me for information. When I think of Munich, they all come to mind in a visual representation like those on the poster for an ensemble film by Robert Altman or Paul Thomas Anderson. All this through the imagination of something actually done, not just desired or dreamed. A.M.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |