Kultur
Das Welt-Zelt
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Do you know that feeling you have when you discover something you have lost a long time ago, or find money or a piece of jewelry on the street? The way your eyes widen when a character from a novel or a film suddenly expresses your exact thoughts and feelings about something preoccupying you right then?
It’s a rare feeling, one of pure, innocent excitement – and the world lights up, and your smile is as big as a hotdog and the only thing you can think about is how great the feeling itself is. Last Saturday I had this feeling, multiplied by a hundred. And no, I never even left Munich.
These precious moments, just like fireflies, are most abundant during the summer. Every city has at least one place where summer is at home. It resides there, for three months, dragging its feet when September comes, always begging for another five minutes, like young lovers before parting. In Munich, this place is hidden in the forest; when approaching it, you almost feel like the sea is silently and forever waiting behind all those trees.
Sadly, there’s no water at all (there were just more trees and some tennis courts), but one lesson I’ve learned since living in Bayern is that der See, for many people, is the sea. The entrance to place is on a street called In den Kirschen, and its proximity to Nymphenburg almost had me on the lookout for a baron in the cherry trees, that’s how poetic it was. On Google Maps/Earth, you will find the campsite under the name of Internationales Jugendübernachtungscamp Kapuzinerhölzl, but people simply call it the Tent.
The path leading to the small complex of barracks kind of felt like falling down the rabbit hole and waking up in 1972, which is actually the birth year of the Tent. Apparently during the Olympic summer, there were so many young people camping in the English Garden, that the city authorities came up with the idea of gathering them all in one place. So the Tent was built out of necessity, to eventually become, according to my charming guide Martin, a place for legendary fun and many love stories.
People bringing their children to the place they first met is awfully romantic, as is the nightly campfire or the small, improvised Japanese garden next to the piano bar. Right in the middle there is one big chapiteau and two smaller ones – it’s almost like the circus – and in two of them, hundreds of colorful bunk beds align, somehow reminding me of a scene out of M.A.S.H. There was a lingering, undeniable feeling of comfort, (imagine 3.0 hippies meeting hipsterdom) especially with the hot afternoon sun and the lazy, good-humored glances people threw each other from the hammocks.
The Tent is actually a hostel in the wild, a state-funded, non-profit, cheap place to crash for a couple of nights, and it’s usually packed with young backpackers. There are, of course, exceptions, like an old American gentleman who was having trouble with a cash machine and a couple of families with small children. Although this is a hostel, it definitely feels like a summer festival.
The staff is ultra-friendly and the hammocks are simply great to swing in, day and night. Among the countless wonderful activities you can engage in, besides meeting incredibly friendly people and simply hanging out, I’d recommend trying out the organic (yet very affordable & tasty) food and local brew (yum!), taking showers – just because the cabins look great, practicing leisurely sports at half-speed, (such as ping-pong, pool, kicker, darts etc.), browsing the web, book swapping, tree climbing, opera singing, snail-racing or even mushroom hunting, because here you can do whatever crosses your mind and nobody will be cross with you (as long as you don’t offend someone, I guess).
The tents are really cool during the night, because of the water vapors, so I’ve been told you can actually get a good night’s sleep – even the snoring seems to be rare. Among the visitors, Americans and Australians, as well as Brits, Germans, French, Spaniards and Italians – they seem to make up the vast majority. The place is quite safe, as they have lockers in the tents, and every night at 1 am it’s curfew time. This, of course, does not stop the people from partying on; the alley that leads to the tents is lit all night long, and along this path there are numerous circles of internationality having another drink and a laugh.
We immediately met some lovely people from Moncton, Canada, and spent some relaxed hours just chatting away; it was a completely new experience, by comparison to (the silly amounts of money we spend on food and drink on) an average Saturday evening out.
But allow me get to the point: if you don’t have the time to go on a holiday or if you really really long for a summery atmosphere but fail to find one on the marvelously warm Isar bank, go to the tent. If you’re lucky, you might even get to see some outdoor cinema or some live singing. Martin told me there are neighbors who just hang out there all day long. I wonder if they also shower there.
Strangely, when asking some of my German friends whether they’ve been there, they all acted surprised. “An eco hostel in Munich? Since ‘72, seriously? Never heard of it.†If you’re in the same position, there’s going to be a big summer party on the 31st of July, so if you feel like escaping the city for a few hours, go there, it’s so worth it.
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