Sorry, dear Munich! It’s not you … it’s me. I have tried you and failed quite miserably. You welcomed me with open arms, I had a nice summer and now I don’t feel any regret leaving you. Then again, it has always been quite an unfair fight between your laid back alpine charm and the laid back insular charm that is Ireland. There’s no place that can win against my Dublin-driven mind. Not for the time being, anyway. Nevertheless, just like I treated Berlin to a recap, I think Munich also deserves a proper eulogy, so here we go:
What I will miss and remember about Munich
Our dear friends Natalie and Manuel, who have helped us out so much when landing and even agreed to take care of our one and only house plant (which is definitely good news for its life expectancy). Guys, I swear to God our somewhat hurried departure has nothing to do with us having agreed to help with your upcoming move …
Nabend!
Nage & Sauge bar and restaurant around the corner of our apartment. It was my little piece of Berlin. Whenever I felt about sitting on uncomfortable, duct-taped together chairs and enjoying a generous, delicious salad while my outfit and hair is being eyed disapprovingly by the hipster patrons – it was THE place to go. That and their disarming teutonic “n’abend” (very un-bavarian way to say good evening) sign whenever they are closed.
The Asian Take-away up the road where I could order “Mädschik Suschi” with a middle-aged guy straight out of the Bavarian picture book and one of the thickest Bavarian accents I have ever heard. Lovely Sushi, by the way!
Taking a walk in the English Garden. To me it is the quintessence of beauty and serenity in a city centre. That is, as long as I managed to steer clear of the middle-aged nudist guys that regularly put their jewels on display on the west side of the Eisbach.
English Garden Delights
Talking of which. Munich is the town that I have seen the biggest amount of naked people spread right before your eyes ever. Spending time on the Isar during the summer really confronts you with a kind of body cult that is often less pleasant than it sounds on paper …
Mingling with the legendary Munich Schickeria. With Berlin and Dublin people are usually careful to dress down, it was quite refreshing to see the Munich people blissfully bask in their affluence. An exploratory night at the infamous P1 disco was a whirl of Jogi Löw-Lookalikes (guys, finally get off those scarfs, will you?), not-so fresh big spenders doing the Saturday Night Fever on their own on the dancefloor, and painfully (for me, not hubby) beautiful girls on the look-out for the next Bayern Munich footballer. So much fun!
Sitting on Gärtnerplatz enjoying lovely Italian ice cream from “Al Teatro” in Reichenbachstraße, talking about life and the future with hubby and friends.
And last but not least – thanks to my very first visit to Oktoberfest I now know first-hand why I never missed it…
Oktoberfest Fun
Hm. Reading this, I wonder why I write this from my couch in Dublin but couldn’t think of anything to write about when actually being in Munich. I am honestly mystified. Must be something in the water, maybe.
Anyway – dear readers, if I haven’t lost you completely yet:
Here’s to Munich, who deserves better. And here’s to Dublin and hopefully more productive times for this blog.
Mia san mia - old Bavarian wisdom
4 Comments
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I’m deeply troubled by nudists, they’re never good looking and with good bodies, which makes for a stomach churning sight. Fortunately, no nudists in London…er, not that I’ve seen. Phew!
The Oktoberfest photo. That was like every day in my life for 4 years when I drank nightly and often ended up looking even worse than those blokes.
Yay for Ireland. Yay for Dublin. It’s a bit too laid back for my uptight Londoner arse but it’s still a great place. Haven’t been there in years, but have a Guinness for me
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Congratulations! Although I’m quite irked that in the last week my husband and I have made plans to fly to Munich in March to ski (well, he skis. I sip hot toddies.) now that you’re gone. *shakes fist at sky* At least that means the English Garden regulars will keep the family jewels tucked in their cases in the cooler temps at that time?? It’s funny, I remember biking through there in ’98, and our guide told us of a legendary nudist endearingly referred to as the “Tripod” because of his third “leg” flailing in the breezes…
Anyway, I enjoyed this recap immensely and hope you’re now settled-n-cozy in your new Irish home. You are such a good sport about moving – I refuse to even move elsewhere in London, not because I wouldn’t enjoy experiencing a new neighborhood, but I told the spouse that the next time I pack my crap in boxes, they’re getting shipped to the States. Moving is a bastard. Cheers to you.
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@Alannah: I know, nudity is better enjoyed when you can chose the object … Am happy if your nights and mornings after don’t look like that anymore, my dear. It just doesn’t look like it’s worthwhile. So much better writing!
And yes, yey for Dublin! So many people who don’t understand what my thing is with that island. But what the hell, you don’t need explanations for everything. I am going to enjoy it.
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@Monkey: DAMNIT! Our timing can do better. But then again, Dublin is so much closer to London.
Still you will definitely have a great time skiing/sipping. Where are you going to have your holiday? Austria?
Hahaha, yeah, I have definitely seen some legs to remember in that park. Guess March will be safe enough, though.
Thanks for the whishings-well. We are still on the look-out for the right apartment for us but we will take our time. The plan is to go more long-term this time. Your stance towards moving sounds strict, my dear! I also hate every bit of moving, but what I have learned from hubby there is to keep the goal in mind, rather than the way to get there. Makes things so much easier….