Munich, Germany

When picking the family holiday spot for a couple of pre-Christmas days, the choice boiled down to Munich (for the markets), Barcelona (for Gaudi) and Amsterdam (for the coffee – I mean, Anne Frank’s house). We finally settled on Munich, and it was fantastic. The markets were just the start of it.

Mel and I flew into Munich (with Zoe and Will, by amazing coincidence) on Thursday night, took a train to the central city station and then utterly failed to meet up with Mum and Michael until we chanced upon them in a place decidedly not outside McDonalds. Our hotel was cushy. Free coffee machine cushy.

Friday consisted of markets in the morning, Dachau in the afternoon and schnitzel in the evening. We’d decided to visit the Dachau concentration camp the night before, having learnt how close it was to Munich. Unsurprisingly, it was a harrowing sort of visit, on a cold, grey day that did well to reflect the atmosphere of the place.

Having walked through the iron gates – ‘work sets you free’ – we stood at the edge of an empty parade ground, where the prisoners were forced to stand (or lie, sick or dead) for hours on end during roll call. They would have worn little more than pyjamas, and putting their hands inside their pockets amounted to inviting torture. Makes you think a little before complaining about London drizzle.

We were shown through the original processing centre, where prisoners were stripped of their identity (assigned numbers), their dignity (told to remove all clothing) and their possessions. We also saw reconstructions of the prisoners’ living quarters, and how they changed from the start to the finish of the war. At first, each prisoner might have had a bed. At the end, as many would have died, suffocating under the mass of people above them in the same bunk. The perimeter of the complex was lined with grass. Nazis used to periodically throw a prisoner’s cap across the border and tell them to get it – a death sentence, as snipers were ordered to kill any who stepped foot on the grass.

The next day we went somewhere completely different: Neuschwanstein, the most Disney-looking castle outside Disneyland. We caught a train into forest country, land of gingerbread houses and snow-covered fields, the whole Bavarian cliché, and got off in a town called Füssen. Being me, I somehow caused us to miss the hourly bus to Neuschwanstein, so we hailed a pair of taxis and got ourselves up to the foot of the castle-bearing mountain. We then hailed a horse and cart to take us the rest of the way.

Horse ‘music’. That’s all I really have to say.

Once up at the foot of this glorious fairytale castle, all nicely decked with snow, we hiked around the side, passed a ‘do not enter’ gate and made our way to this rickety matchstick bridge that had suicide written all over it. I ducked out for the view, snapped a courageous photo, and ducked right back onto solid ground.

We eventually climbed up to the actual castle and took a tour. The whole thing was incredible – brilliantly overdone, all dressed up with fantastically camp Disney-style scribblings. There were Arthurian legends, there were swans, there were a couple of naked women chucked in as an aside… everything Mad King Ludwig II might take a fancy to. The doorhandles were made in the shape of swans. Amazing.

Incredibly enough, we bumped into Zoe and Will on the way down the mountain. Mum, being Mum, decided a photo was necessary, so there’s photographic proof somewhere.

After the long train ride home, Mum and I homed in on the Christmas markets, hunting down gingerbread and biscuit cutters. I got a moose cookie cutter! Best thing ever. For dinner, we met up with the others for a pub meal. I had lentil and sausage stew, followed by strudel. To get home, we had to claw our way through flocks of gluhwein-guzzling locals. They love the stuff.

Sunday was our final day in Munich. Mel, Michael and I took a Third Reich tour of the city, which took us around to some really interesting places. The Indiana Jones book-burning square comes to mind.

I think Munich airport must be the most awesome airport I’ve ever been to. It had its own Christmas market! Ice rink and everything. We had one last bratwurst then left for London.