Like many people, I spent Friday glued to the television. I was anxious for the up-to-the-very-second news of what was happening in Munich. Munich. I kept asking myself: How could this happen in Munich? But like so many things that seem to happen in the world, there’s no reasonable explanation. There is no logic.
Just shy of five years ago, I visited Munich for the first time. I’ve been back once since and I’ve been mentally planning the trip next year for far too long. So many people have had their heart stolen by the romance of Paris, New York, London. For me, it’s Munich. I could write ad nauseum about the city. And I’m sure some would argue that I already have.
They call it a “toy town,” a major city that feels like a village. Walkable, beautiful, and green. The locals are friendly, the food indescribably delicious. It’s a casual lifestyle that involves cake and coffee (or tea) in the afternoon with no worries of spoiling your appetite for dinner. With art and culture. And I won’t lie and say that I don’t secretly wonder what it would be like to wear a beautiful dirndl.
Last year, I had my first taste of Prinzregententorte at the Richart’s in the Olympia-Einkauszentrum. I’ve shopped at the Saturn electronics store across the street, next to the McDonald’s. I window-shopped for tea at Eilles and bought a car magazine for my husband’s friend in Galleria Kaufhof, both in Olympia-Einkauszentrum. I’m confused and heartbroken. But I’m also more determined than ever to return.
Sending love and warm, kind thoughts.