Fancy a dose of happiness? Want to drift along and see what you come across? That's exactly what our author did: She cycled along the Isar and stopped at places that looked particularly beautiful. Whether it was a detour into Munich's neighbourhoods, the wild waters of the Eisbach or the shimmering green of the Isar floodplains – she fell in love with this city all over again.
I'm not a true Münchner Kindl (Munich native), but by now, I can call myself a Munich resident. Bavarian expressions such as ‘ja mei’, ‘so a Schmarrn’ or ‘pack ma's' roll off my tongue with ease, and I have also picked up the local competitive mindset when it comes to recreational sports. Just not today, please. Fast pace, tunnel vision, competition breathing down my neck – I just can’t deal with any of that right now. I'm definitely not going to set myself any ambitious goals today.
Sticking to this decision, I set off on a relaxed bike ride from Odeonsplatz (square), my favourite square at the northern edge of the old town, which never fails to cheer me up. And, as always, I am not disappointed today: the ochre-yellow façade of the Theatinerkirche (church) towers into an outrageously blue sky. Behind the entrance to the Hofgarten (court garden), the chestnut trees are in full bloom. Here I meet photographer Frank, who especially loves the “jungle” part of Munich's urban jungle and would rather swim in the Isar than among crowds of people. I'm delighted that he's cycling with me and that we'll be capturing a few beautiful moments together – as inspiration for anyone who wants to get to know Munich from a very green and relaxed side. But let's get going now!
First, we stroll through the park to the Bayerische Staatskanzlei (Bavarian State Chancellery), whose new building was so hotly debated at the end of the 1980s. Why was that? If I remember correctly, the excavators came across many extraordinary artefacts from the city's past, which led to a citizens' initiative against the construction project.
Opponents described the planned building as a ‘mixture of mausoleum and greenhouse’. Even if you find its architecture quite atractive today, you have to admit – that was really quite funny. Fortunately, the original plan to build the Bavarian government headquarters almost three times the size of the White House was abandoned, so that the arcade on the northern edge of the park was preserved. The gravel path in front of it is scattered with the silver metal balls of the boules players who gather here in all seasons.
Bavarian expressions such as ‘ja mei’, ‘so a Schmarrn’ or ‘pack ma's’ roll off my tongue with ease, and I have also picked up the local competitive mindset when it comes to recreational sports. Just not today, please.
Let's continue. We speed through an underpass to make a short detour to the Englischer Garten (park) and the Eisbachwelle (river wave). From here on, the water becomes our constant companion. Sometimes it flows along, murmuring green between the trees, then it rages white and foaming over weirs, only to spread out before us a little later like a glittering carpet. It's a bright but cool day, yet again and again I feel tempted to dare at least a few steps into the water. At the Haus der Kunst (art gallery), we turn back towards Prinzregentenstrasse and cycle past the Bayrisches Nationalmuseum towards the Isar. If we had already reached the end of the tour, I’d go for a drink on the terrace of the Goldene Bar in the Haus der Kunst. But we are still far from done.
On the bridge below the Friedensengel (Angel of Peace), I enjoy the view across the river towards the Maximilianeum. There, in the Maximiliansanlagen gardens, on the riverside path between the Bogenhausen and Haidhausen neighbourhoods, I once had a particularly beautiful Munich moment years ago:
It was a bright late summer's day; the leaves were already slightly tinged with yellow. From the opposite bank drifted the sounds of brass band music and between the trees passed a row of horse-drawn carriages. Wow, I thought, Munich looks like out of a picture book. I loved it. At that moment, I could imagine staying here longer. Now, after more than two decades in the state capital, I know: It must have been the first weekend of the Oktoberfest, because across the street, on Maximilianstrasse, the annual Trachten- und Schützenzug (traditional costume and riflemen's parade) kicks off the Wiesn (Oktoberfest).
The Friedensengel gleams visibly from afar on its pedestal. With an olive branch in its outstretched right hand, it stands there symbolising peace under the white-and-blue sky. But if you look closely, you discover the small figure of Athena, the goddess of war, in its back hand. The four Art Nouveau mosaics around the base of the 38-metre-high monument shine with golden backgrounds. Today, I am taking the time to look at everything more closely.
The Friedensengel gleams visibly from afar on its pedestal. With an olive branch in its outstretched right hand, it stands there symbolising peace under the white-and-blue sky. But if you look closely, you discover the small figure of Athena, the goddess of war, in its back hand.
The images, composed of countless small stones, show views of war and peace in Munich at the end of the 19th century. The image on the north side depicts two sparsely dressed warriors from antiquity fighting each other with lances and showing off plenty of skin and muscle. Pretty naive, I think – war presented in images like something out of a sword-and-sandal film. By the time the ensemble with the Friedensengel was completed in 1899, the bloody battles of the Franco-Prussian War of 1870/71 had probably already been successfully blocked out. After the victory over the French came years of peace, during which art and science flourished. The horrors of the two world wars were still a long way ahead.
Below the Friedensengel, in the pedestrian tunnel, there has been an urban art gallery since 2011. International greats such as Kid Acne and Dotmaster from England, Light and Markus from Russia and Stuko from Japan have already left their mark here, as have Munich’s own stars of the scene, like Loomit. Every two years, the pictures can be painted over. There is a long list of applicants for a place in the Hall of Fame under the Friedensengel. I can’t wait to see what's on display right now: Alongside some murals spreading an apocalyptic mood, the graffiti of a reclining woman and a bird of paradise gleam out of the darkness. Reverently, I stroke a patch of gold on the rough plaster. The firework of colours that the South American sprayer group INTI from Chile has brought to the wall here lifts my spirits – just as the collective intended. What a great gift.
For our first coffee break, we head for the roof terrace of Café Frau im Mond in the Deutsches Museum and manage to grab a spot right at the outer railing with a view along the Isar up to the towers of the heating plant in the Obersendling district and across to Au, where Karl Valentin was born (Zeppelinstrasse 41). The Deutsches Museum stands on an island in the Isar and is now 100 years old. In the museum garden, two sea recue veterans are lying at anchor. Here in Munich, where not a breath of wind is stirring, it’s hard to imagine their missions on Germany’s coasts.
From here on, the water becomes our constant companion. Sometimes it flows along, murmuring green between the trees, then it rages white and foaming over weirs, only to spread out before us a little later like a glittering carpet.
The fact is: In 25 years on stormy seas, the ‘Theodor Heuss’ rescued 2,500 people from distress at sea, while the ‘Asmus Bremer’ recovered 644 people from the waves, covering a distance equal to almost four times around the Earth during its service. The Deutsches Museum is particular popular for its experiments – not only for generations of school children. I have never in my life milked a cow, conducted an orchestra or launched a rocket. All of that would be possible here – and it's about time I try it out.
“Trains, little streams, flowers, evening sun – and beer. Anyone who can combine these five terms into a romantic context is in exactly the right place: Giesing”. I ‘stole’ this intro from the article Bleibt alles anders (Everything stays different), which offers the perfect description of Giesing – and I should know, because I've lived here long enough. I used to swim my laps in the Schyrenbad (outdoor pool) and rock the pram in the fragrant section of the municipal Rosengarten (rose garden) next door. Today, a young man is sitting on my usual bench, obviously spending a lot of time working out and using the windless corner to show off his muscular chest to the sun.
The meadow under the blooming trees offers a peaceful scene: Parents spread out with their babies, blankets, nappies and jars of baby food. For older children, there is a stream to float little boats and an educational garden where they can learn quite a bit about poisonous plants. Once, names like “Schierling” (hemlock) and “Taschentuchbaum” (handkerchief tree) inspired me and my writer friend to create a piece of experimental prose. I will definitely come back when the roses are in bloom.
What I especially love in Giesing is the Auer Mühlbach stream, which creates magical spots right in the middle of the big city – like the little neighbourhood around Mondstrasse in Untergiesing, where the house gardens border directly onto the water. Not far from there, between the railway bridge and Pilgersheimer Strasse, stands the so-called Hexenhäusel, where delicious food is offered along with live music and readings.
In a picture gallery on the café's website, you can see how the Café Gans Woanders was created from an abandoned kiosk with a lot of craftsmanship and creative skill. My personal highlight is its terraces, where you can sit beneath the treetops. Thanks to the tireless Hahn brothers from Munich, several such imaginative places have popped up in recent years, including the Alte Utting (disused pleasure boat), which we will visit towards the end of the tour.
I have never in my life milked a cow, conducted an orchestra or launched a rocket. All of that would be possible here – and it's about time I try it out.
Just before Tierpark Hellabrunn (zoo), we dip our feet in the Auer Mühlbach stream. While its water once drove mills and was used to wash clothes and extinguish fires, today it brings people joy in other ways: a few fearless teenagers are floating past us in the ice-cold water and a little further north from here, coffee connoisseurs are sipping their Third Wave Coffee on the terrace of the Fausto coffee roastery right by the stream. If we kept cycling south from here, we would eventually reach Italy.
We are not equipped for a trip over the Alps à la Munich-Venice, so instead we cross the Isar at the Flaucher. That's the name of the entire summer leisure and bathing area on both sides of the Isar, from the wooden footbridge to the Braunauer Brücke (bridge) next to the Rosengarten. It was named after the inn of a certain Johann Flaucher. The beer garden still exists and we stop for a bite to eat. Now all we have to do is find a ‘griabig‘ spot. ‘Griabig’ is the Bavarian word for cosy and snug, for places where everything feels just right. ‘Griabig’ things are often made of wood, such as the typical beer garden tables and benches. For Frank, it's the corner with the red folding chairs and round tables decorated with monstera deliciosa – the perfect spot for us to enjoy a snack with beer, obazda (Bavarian cheese spread) and giant pretzels.
The Flaucher is our turning point. From here, we head back towards the old town – or rather – home. We follow the path along the Isar further into the city and reach the Alte Utting after about ten minutes. On board, we enjoy the last warming rays of the afternoon sun. The ship has become a landmark of the Schlachthofviertel (district) and shows that the seemingly impossible can become possible if you just believe strongly enough in your dreams: in this case, bringing a decommissioned excursion steamer from Ammersee (lake) to Munich and hoisting it onto a disused railway bridge to open a café inside.
Here, as in many other places in the district, the past comes to life in a very delightful way. In Café Tagträumer, the glass ceiling and the original Sollnhofer stone slab floor in the shop space remind you of the 1970s, when this was one of the neighbourhood's many butcher's shops. The modern brick ensemble of the Volkstheater, with its arches and curves, also includes listed old buildings from the former Viehhof (cattle yard).
Here, as in many other places in the Sclachthofviertel district, the past comes to life in a very delightful way.
There are many reasons to pay a visit to the Glockenbachvertel (district) on your way back to the city centre: its lively queer scene, the many original clothing and vintage shops, or the quiet Südfriedhof cemetery on Thalkirchner Strasse, where you can stroll among the graves of famous personalities. Architect Leo von Klenze, painter Carl Spitzweg and chemist Justus von Liebig are buried here. And, of course, the ice cream parlours! For example, the delicious pistachio ice cream at Jessas.
Tips on what else to see, the best pubs and where to shop are available here. At this link, you also find further recommendations for Munich's neighbourhoods that were not included in our tour. We chose the Isar tour, because it's so easy to ride: On cycle paths from the city centre upstream along the Isar with detours to Au and Giesing – and on the other side, at the level of the Flaucher, through the Schlachthof- and Glockenbachvertel (districts) back to the old town. If you don't dawdle as leisurely as we did, you can manage it in half the time – about two hours. However, we highly recommend taking your time and enjoying the ride.
