In the summer of 1971 I had gone to Munich to study German. It was my first time in "the Fatherland," and I suppose I had half expected to find blond, blue-eyed kids yodeling on street corners, or adults heading to work in Lederhosen humming Beethoven's 9th.  Instead, blaring from every Italian Pizza Parlor, every Turkish shish kabob stall or ubiquitous McDonald's was the …