THE OPENER / ANDREW TUCK
Stein of the times
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Germany is a neutral nation: a place where Swiss and UK residents can meet without going into quarantine afterwards. So this week we chose Munich to host a gathering of staff from Monocle and Winkreative’s London and Zürich HQs. And what a backdrop. Schumann’s Bar on Odeonsplatz is an institution, known for committed late-night revelry and its owner, Charles Schumann, who modelled for the likes of Comme des Garçons and, now in his seventies, still turns heads – and tables too. His bar and restaurant set-up backs on to the Hofgarten, a vast formal garden first planted in the 1600s and where the bar places tables to make the most of any sunny days. So we established a sort of alfresco boardroom here and, over two days, ran through every project, ambition and potential wrinkle on the horizon. The sun shone throughout but it was that strange, glorious and slightly melancholic time of year when you sense the season shifting at pace – the rich light looks like a fading flame, the afternoon shadows stretch with extravagant exaggeration and, as you read financial updates and look at office redesign blueprints, a scurry of autumn-ready leaves falls from the trees. Is this the beginning or the end? What awaits us? It’s a moment of change.
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Around the perimeter of the park, the ground is covered with fine grit, making this the ideal spot to play boules. And on both days nicely turned-out men and women arrived on their bicycles, parked and then proceeded to retrieve from Goyard bags and well-loved satchels their gleaming boules. I didn’t know it was such a German thing – I thought the French had this to themselves. What’s more, it turns out that in Munich there are hipster boules too. A group of four cool men, all twenty-somethings, rocked up sporting the sort of pudding bowl haircuts that look to the uninitiated like a terrible tonsorial accident (“I’ll sue!”) but which are actually deliberate (“I love it!”) and proceeded to play a barefoot version of the game with insouciance. I bet they’ll have their eyes on curling next – the sport, not the hair tongs. Although…
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It would normally be full-on Oktoberfest at this time of year in Munich, a highlight in the social calendar. While outsiders see it as an opportunity to drink a lot of beer, for the locals it’s a cultural festival, an occasion for corporate hospitality and also a time to whack on the old lederhosen, twirl one’s dirndl and, yes, drink a lot of beer. This year there’s a more modest take, with distancing measures in place, that’s unfolding in smaller beer gardens. Yet the streets are still full of men and women of every age in the full, elaborate and often costly look. It’s wonderful, perhaps because there’s no hint of this being costume or fancy dress. To almost join in, we took the team to the Schwabinger Osterwaldgarten, a neighbourhood beer spot where they also serve schnitzels not much smaller than Bavaria. During dinner we had one unusual visitor. Darting at some speed under the tables was a hedgehog looking for schnitzel crumbs to take back, I imagine, to his pals hiding in the bushes. I thought hedgehogs were supposed to be slow but this one had the pace of a BMW and a passion for German cuisine that stirred respect in your heart. I wondered whether his pals also had miniature steins filled with leftover beer? And lederhosen? Although perhaps it would be a little tricky to pull tiny snug leather breeches over all those prickles. But he was having a good night, even if he did have to sleep off the consequences in the bushes. Or was that me? More on Munich in tomorrow’s Weekend Edition.