Kitty Core’s Top Munich Haunts: Where the Iconic Star Really Hangs Out

When you think of Kitty Core, you picture her laughing in a dimly lit beer hall, leaning on a wooden bar in the heart of Munich, or dancing barefoot on a rooftop after midnight. She’s not just a performer-she’s a local legend who knows every backroom, hidden patio, and late-night snack stand that most tourists miss. And if you’ve ever wondered where she actually goes when she’s not on stage, you’re not alone. Locals have been whispering about her favorite spots for years. Here’s the real list-the places Kitty Core actually hangs out, not the ones that show up in tourist brochures.

The Old Town Beer Cellar (Alter Bierkeller)

This isn’t one of those packed, brass-laden beer halls that scream "Munich cliché." The Old Town Beer Cellar is tucked under a 16th-century stone archway near Marienplatz. No menus. No waiters. You grab a liter of Helles from the self-serve tap and sit wherever there’s space-on a bench, on a crate, even on the stairs. Kitty Core comes here every Tuesday after her shift. Why? Because the owner, Hans, knows her order: two dark lagers, one with a lemon wedge, and a plate of Leberkäse with pickled onions. He doesn’t ask. He just sets it down. She’s been coming since 2022. The place doesn’t even have a website. But if you show up on a Tuesday at 10 p.m. with a smile and a willingness to share a table, you might catch her humming along to old Bavarian folk songs.

The Velvet Lantern (Rooftop Bar)

Most people think rooftop bars in Munich are for Instagram photos and overpriced cocktails. The Velvet Lantern is different. It’s on the fifth floor of an old printing house in Schwabing, accessible only by a narrow metal staircase. No elevator. No sign. Just a single red lantern that flickers when the door’s open. Kitty Core loves this place because it’s quiet, the view of the Isar River is perfect for watching the sunset, and the bartender, Lena, makes a gin-and-lavender soda that tastes like spring in a glass. She doesn’t drink alcohol here. She sips herbal tea and writes in a leather-bound notebook. Regulars say she’s been working on a memoir. No one’s seen it. No one’s asked. But if you sit at the far corner table near the window, you might catch her writing something that sounds suspiciously like a love letter to Munich.

Wirtshaus am Viktualienmarkt (The Market Pub)

Every morning, the Viktualienmarkt fills with locals buying fresh bread, cheese, and flowers. But after 9 p.m., it transforms. The market stalls close. The lights dim. And the Wirtshaus am Viktualienmarkt opens its back door. This isn’t a restaurant. It’s a communal table in the alley behind the flower stalls, lit by string lights and heated by three old oil lamps. You bring your own food-pick up a sausage from the butcher, a slice of Brezel from the bakery-and sit with strangers. Kitty Core comes here every Friday. She always brings a bottle of sparkling water and a bag of salted almonds. She doesn’t talk much. But she listens. And when someone tells a story about their first time in Munich, she nods. Hard. Once, she slipped a handwritten note into the pocket of a tourist who looked lost. It read: "Go to the Englischer Garten at dawn. You’ll understand why I stayed."

Der Biergarten am Eisbach

Most visitors head to the Englischer Garten for the beer garden near the Chinese Tower. But Kitty Core goes to the one at the Eisbach, where the river surges hard enough to surf on. This spot is all locals. No music. No DJs. Just the sound of water, laughter, and the occasional shout from the surfers. She comes here after midnight in winter, wrapped in a wool coat and a beanie. She brings a thermos of mulled wine and sits on the wooden bench facing the river. She doesn’t stay long. Just long enough to watch the ice form on the surface. One night in January 2025, she was seen placing a single red rose on the bench. No one knew who it was for. But the next morning, a local artist painted a mural on the wall nearby: a woman in a black coat, holding a rose, with the words: "The river remembers what the city forgets."

Die Kneipe ohne Namen (The Pub Without a Name)

There’s no sign. No doorbell. Just a brass handle you turn, and if you’re lucky, the door opens. This is Die Kneipe ohne Namen, a tiny underground bar beneath a bookstore in Haidhausen. The walls are lined with books-mostly out-of-print German poetry, old travel journals, and first editions of Kafka. The bartender, a man named Fritz who’s been here since 1987, doesn’t take orders. He asks you one question: "What are you feeling tonight?" Then he makes you something. Kitty Core’s favorite? A glass of cold plum brandy with a drop of black pepper and a single dried fig. She says it tastes like memory. She comes here every third Sunday. Always alone. Always in the same corner chair. Always leaves a book behind. One visitor found a copy of "The Diary of a Lost Girl" with a note inside: "For the next person who needs to feel less alone. - K."

Why These Places Matter

Kitty Core doesn’t go to the flashy clubs. She doesn’t post selfies at the Hofbräuhaus. She doesn’t need to be seen. She goes to places that feel like they’ve been waiting for her. Places where time slows down. Where you can be quiet without being lonely. Where the city doesn’t try to sell you anything. That’s what makes her haunts so special. They’re not about fame. They’re about belonging. And if you visit them the way she does-with curiosity, not a camera-you might just find a piece of Munich you didn’t know you were looking for.