The Duck House Needs Repainting

Every morning on the way to work I bike along the Praterinsel, an island on the Isar river next to Munich's Alpine Museum. In the summer, some friendly (/capitalistic) people (but not necessarily that capitalistic as you'll soon see) set up the Kulturstrand (the Culture Beach) on this island where a bunch of sand is brought in and dumped all around a big fountain, they put down some benches, lounge chairs, a stage is set up, a few huts for toilets, selling food and drinks, and manning the soundboard for the concerts, and people come 'round and have a good old time and sit back and enjoy the summer. I personally have enjoyed said Kulturstrand during this summer and others and it's always a nice sight to see in the late spring when the aforementioned friendly folks are putting down the boards to make the boardwalk around the sand and the big trucks are dumping that sand and the huts are being built and you think "Great! Summer is here!". One envisions warm evenings sitting around with friends drinking Münchner Hell and perhaps laying down a track or two on the keys (this is all pre-children, of course):

Many Moons Ago (what song am I playing? You get 10 guesses but only the first one counts)

But even post-pre-children, the Kulturstrand is a great place to hang out. There's of course the sand for digging and the fountain for sketchy-water-quality swimming/wading and, of course, one (or more) of those huts sells ice cream. And so, that great feeling I described of seeing the Kulturstrand being built up in the late spring is very similar in magnitude but exactly opposite in direction from the one I felt yesterday morning upon return from our summer vacation and my first day back to work. Nearly approaching the turn off to the Praterinsel which would take me right past the glorious urban beach setup where I would typically see the young summer job workers sweeping the sand from the boardwalks back onto the "beach" and cleaning up beer stains and performing other general prep tasks for the beach visitors that would be filling the spaces of the beach later in the day, I thought in my head "hey, since Joelle and Helga are still on holiday this week, they should maybe bike on down to the Kulturstrand this afternoon and then I'll meet them here after work for a refreshment and winding down session before heading home and attending to our domestic responsibilities of feeding, sheltering, and other things you have to do for children (whatever they might be). But as I got closer to the turn off I witnessed a troubling scene: a completely disassembled Kulturstrand where the previously assembled version existed just one week prior. This could only mean one thing: the summer is coming to an end...

Now, the summer is clearly not over yet. Yesterday was sunny with 30 degrees and today promises to be much of the same. Officially we still have exactly one more month to enjoy this most beautiful quarter of the calendar year, but the important symbolic deconstruction of the Kulturstrand is definitely hard on the psyche. So why do these not-so-capitalistic people destruct the imaginary beach so early? Do they hate making money? That place is jam-packed on a warm afternoon and evening and we (hopefully) have plenty more of those to come before the Americans and Australians start arriving for Oktoberfest in 31 days time. Perhaps they just want a vacation of their own too, or maybe (more likely) the city only grants them a permit until mid-August. Either way, it's sad to see it go. Again.