Lesson: The Germans don't like British Pounds...

Unaware of the phenomenon of May Day, I managed to book the first ever flight to Memmingen on Ryan Air.  this means two things...first, that the pilot, who already does his best to make RyanAir flight landings as uncomfortable and terrifying as possible, has never landed at this particular airport.  it doesn't help, either, that when the landing time did come, I was completely unaware, beign entrhralled by a new book I had just purchased a few hours before.  Secondly, it meant that the airport we were flying to was small.  very small.  so small that all the pounds I brought with me to exchange at the airport exchange place were totally useless - there was No airport exchange place.  so I got off the airplane, left the airport, and walked in what looked like the directioin toward the city, with nothing by two euros and 80 cents.  Later on, this would buy me a pretzel (buterpretzel to be precise)  and a bottle of wather that I was praying would not be carbonated.  It was.  The first town I got to was silent.  A silence that was extremely unwelcoming, despite the beauty of the flowers and trees and German buildings scattered hear and there.  every now and then a biker would huff and puff and he peddled by, but mostly it was silent.  I should have taken this as some sort of warning, but I just figured it was a small quite town where nothing ever really happened.  But by the time I got to the next town - a much larger town, this one - one that actually had its own ice cream shop - I was huffing and puffing myself.  And while the ice cream shope was open, nothing else, as far as I could tell, was.  maybe a cafe or two.  and a church.  but not the bank, no, and no change exchange places to speak of.  all the supermarkets begged me to come in with their fruit displays smiling out the windows like an eager child with his face to the glass - but as soon as my eyes widened, they drooped once more.  locked.  closed down.  Do they have a siesta hour here, too?  this was a serious question for me.  finally, I made it to a hotel where a lady kindly informed me that it was in fact, a holiday, and all the banks and such would be closed.  there's an atm around the corner, she poited out. fail.  it had extracted all but 50 dollars from my savings account and it was all in my wallet in pounds.  having noting else to do, I was forced to extract the rest of my funds in euro dollars from the machine and then my journey to munich began.  now I am in the train headed Munichways with 10 euro left and no place to spend the night.  yet.