Sometimes you end up in the wrong city, in the wrong country. Maybe you’re trying to get to Innsbruck, Austria for a conference but the airline you booked with decides not just to cancel your flight but that they will no longer fly to Innsbruck, period. So they reroute you to Munich instead and you land 200 km, an international border, and half the width of the Alps away from your destination.
It’s 6 am local time but 1 am in your body and you stagger around the airport looking for water and Euros. There aren’t any bubblers in this airport and you ask the women at the desk under the big “i” but they seem to have never heard about water fountains so you refill your bottle from the bathroom sink faucet. It’s before the pandemic so you don’t think it’s that gross. You can’t get out money from the ATM because you didn’t tell your bank you’d be in Germany because you weren’t supposed to be in Germany.
You board a local train which takes you from the airport to downtown in just under an hour. You don’t remember exiting the train because you’re mostly asleep but you come to your senses right in Marienplatz. This square has been the heart of the city for almost a millennium and you’re a sucker for Gothic architecture.
The city is waking up and Marienplatz is full of small wooden huts in various states of openness. It’s late November and the Christmas market is in full swing. Not this early in the morning, but in general. The Christkindlmarkt has been popping up in this square annually for centuries. You wander around and take photographs, shooting with a Fujifilm X10. You can’t be bothered to carry around an SLR anymore but the Fuji can take high-quality ISO-bracketed photographs and has a vintage look that works with your overall vibe.
You’re so hungry but restaurants are still closed. You find a café in a bookstore with enough open space to set your large red pack down next to you. When you know you’ll be carrying your stuff with you for long stretches of time you take your pack for the freedom it affords. Rolling suitcases do not work with your vibe. Double espresso, please. There’s no one to text; they’re all sleeping.
You walk in the direction of the München Hauptbahnhof, the central train station. You get a bit lost in the subterranean tangle of the station before finding your platform. You board the train and are disappointed to see that your reserved window seat has an obstructed view. You’re a window seat person, all the way.
The train haltingly leaves the station and you settle in for the two hour ride south out of the urban sprawl and into the mountains. You doze off for a while and wake up to find a white long-haired cat in the seat next to you sleeping against your leg. You don’t mind.
