We kicked off our morning with a caffeine-and-carb pit stop at McDonald’s (no judgment, please—it was quick and caffeinated), before heading off on a free walking tour with Guruwalk. Our guide, Tom—think John Oliver meets James Corden—greeted us at the Fish Fountain in Marienplatz. Equal parts sarcastic and sharp, he might roast you under his breath, but he knows his stuff, especially when it comes to Old Town Munich.
Our first stop: the Glockenspiel. It’s a cuckoo-clock-on-steroids show that chimes daily at 11, noon, and (from March to October) again at 5. The figures re-enact a royal wedding, a joust (spoiler: Bavaria wins), and the Schäfflertanz—the barrel-makers’ dance said to lift Munich’s spirits after a plague. Locals take this seriously, so if you chat during the performance, expect stern Bavarian side-eye.
We wandered into the Neue Rathaus (New Town Hall) for a quick architecture lesson and a surprising history nugget: Germany has existed as a unified country only since 1871—making it younger than the USA. Cue a side spiral into 80s nostalgia and Elton John’s Cold War ballad Nikita (blame the Berlin Wall).
Next up: the Frauenkirche. The twin-domed church looks more impressive from the outside than in—but it does feature the infamous “Devil’s Footprint.” Legend has it the architect tricked the devil into funding the church, claiming it would be windowless. A clever column trick blocked the windows from view at first glance. When the devil realized he’d been duped, he stomped the floor in fury. The footprint remains, though it’s more a modern reconstruction than supernatural souvenir. Still, a good story.
We looped back to the Neue Rathaus for a peek at its dragon sculpture before heading to St. Peter’s Church. Inside, you’ll find golden altars, ceiling frescoes, and the fully bejeweled skeleton of St. Munditia, Munich’s most glamorous martyr. She’s decked in gold and glass-eyed glory, holding a vial of her own dried blood. If you’re feeling brave (and fit), you can climb 300 steps to the church tower for a killer city view—Alps included on a clear day.
Our next stop: the Viktualienmarkt. Once bursting out of Marienplatz, this foodie heaven got its own space in 1807. Today it’s a buzzing hub of fresh produce, meats, flowers, and street eats. We came back later for currywurst, fries, and beer—classic, crispy, and absolutely worth it.
From there, we walked to the legendary Hofbräuhaus beer hall and the nearby Opera House, still bearing battle scars from WWII. Then came a sobering shift in tone at Feldherrnhalle, site of Hitler’s failed 1923 Beer Hall Putsch. The short-lived coup ended in gunfire, arrests, and Hitler’s brief prison stint—where he’d write Mein Kampf.
We walked the alley behind the Feldherrnhalle, known as Drückebergergasse or “Shirker’s Lane”—used by locals to avoid giving the Nazi salute at the now-dismantled memorial. A subtle but powerful act of resistance, the consequences of which, if caught, was deportation to nearby concentration camp, Dachau. Sobering indeed.
Three hours later, we were thoroughly walked, wowed, and weirdly fond of our cheeky guide. We donated €20 each—more than fair for the insight and entertainment.
Since Munich’s transit passes work in 24-hour blocks and we had an early train the next day, we grabbed tickets at Marienplatz and skipped the long walk back to our Airbnb for a well-earned nap.
Later, we returned to our favorite Italian spot, Trattoria Porto Cervo, for wine and their spicy Diavolo pizza. Delicious, once again. And just like that, our time in Munich wrapped up—full of history, legends, and more than a few surprises.
