Englischer Garten

Listen first. Somewhere close by, water is rushing hard over stone. It is a cold, steady roar that does not belong in a city park. Under your feet, the gravel path gives a little with each step. Above you, old trees hold the light in loose green layers. This is the Englischer Garten, the English Garden, and it is one of the largest city parks in the world. It is larger than Central Park in New York. And it starts only a few minutes' walk from the centre of Munich.

The name can be confusing at first. This is not a garden full of English roses. The name refers to a style. In the eighteenth century, English landowners started to reject the strict geometry of French gardens, with their clipped hedges and straight lines. Instead, they designed land to look natural, with soft meadows, curving water and trees in loose groups. Every view was planned, but it was planned to look unplanned. That idea came to Munich at the end of the eighteenth century, and it shaped everything around you.

The park was founded in 1789, under the Elector Karl Theodor, who ruled Bavaria at the time. The man behind the project was not a Bavarian. He was Benjamin Thompson, an American-born scientist and soldier. He had fought on the British side during the American Revolution. Later, he became an adviser at the Bavarian court, and the court gave him the title Count Rumford. He was interested in heat, cooking stoves, and the problem of feeding poor people efficiently.

Here is the first surprise. Rumford's early plan was partly practical. He wanted land where soldiers could grow food and learn farming, so they would have skills beyond the army. But the project grew into something different. The landscape designer Friedrich Ludwig von Sckell shaped much of the park in the years that followed. He created the meadows, the winding streams and the long views. And unlike many royal gardens of that era, this park was opened to ordinary people. It was a public park from its early years.

Now, back to that sound of rushing water. At the southern edge of the park, near the large stone building of the Haus der Kunst, a channel called the Eisbach runs under a bridge. As the water comes out from under the bridge, it forms a standing wave. Surfers have been riding it for decades. They stand in a line on the bank, boards under their arms, and take turns. Each one drops in, carves back and forth for a few seconds, and then falls into the cold green water.

This is the second surprise. You are hundreds of kilometres from any ocean, and yet Munich has a real surfing culture. The Eisbach wave is strong and fast. It is only for experienced surfers, and the water is cold in every season. On winter mornings, you may see surfers in thick wetsuits, with steam rising from the channel. Stand on the bridge and watch for a while. The rhythm of the line is almost hypnotic, and nobody seems to skip their turn.

Further into the park, the trees open, and a small round temple sits on top of a grassy hill. This is the Monopteros. It was designed by Leo von Klenze, the architect who gave much of Munich its classical look in the nineteenth century. A monopteros is a Greek-style temple made of a single ring of columns under a dome, with no walls. The hill itself is artificial. It was built up so the temple would stand above the meadows and catch the eye from far away.

Climb to the top if you can. From the temple steps, you get one of the classic views of Munich. The towers of the old city rise above the treeline to the south. On clear days, people sit on the slope with books, picnics and bottles of beer. In summer evenings, the hill fills with people watching the sun go down. It is a quiet, simple ritual, and it has been part of city life for a very long time.

Walk north, and you will hear a different sound — the clink of heavy glass mugs and a low hum of conversation. You have reached the Chinese Tower, a tall wooden pagoda with several tiered roofs. In the eighteenth century, Europe was fascinated by Chinese design, and gardens across the continent added pavilions in that style. The original tower here burned during the Second World War. The structure you see today is a careful wooden reconstruction, built after the war to match the old design.

Around the tower spreads one of Munich's largest beer gardens. The tables are long and wooden. Everyone shares them, and strangers end up sitting side by side. In Bavarian beer garden tradition, many tables allow you to bring your own food, while drinks come from the garden itself. On some days, a brass band plays from the upper level of the tower. The music, the gravel, the shade of the chestnut trees... this is the Munich that locals actually love.

The park is long and narrow, and it follows the Isar river on its eastern side. Near its centre lies a lake, the Kleinhesseloher See, with small islands and a beer garden on the shore. Rowing boats glide across the water in warm months. Ducks and swans come close to the paths. Not far away, you can find a Japanese teahouse on a small island. It was a gift built for the 1972 Olympic Games, which Munich hosted, and it still holds traditional tea ceremonies on some occasions.

The park also has a relaxed side that can surprise first-time visitors. On some open meadows, people sunbathe without clothes. This has been accepted here for decades, and locals barely notice it. Elsewhere, you will see joggers, cyclists, dog walkers, students and families. In winter, the meadows turn white and quiet, and the paths fill with people walking off a heavy Bavarian lunch. In every season, the park works as the city's shared garden, used daily rather than saved for special occasions.

Before you move on, pause where you are standing. Notice how the paths never run straight for long. Notice how a group of trees always seems to frame the next view. That is the design of Sckell, still working more than two centuries later. As you walk away, listen once more for the water. Somewhere in this park, the streams are still running, a surfer is still waiting on the bank, and a stranger is pulling up a chair at a long wooden table.