Once upon a time, during the middle of the twenty-fifth year, I went to Oktoberfest in Munich with my best friend.
It only took a dash of some Deutschland enchantment to shake up yet another big shift in my little-big lithosphere. We got wine drunk from 30,000 feet above the clouds as we headed to the land of bier and brezels. It was the rule-breaking European vacation I’ve been dreaming of ever since the Olson twins took their passports to Paris.
Picture this— two American girls running amok down the cobblestone streets in Marienplatz. Only a few times did we get yelled at by foreign-speaking locals. I felt like a million bucks licking a raspberry gelato cone as I swirled around in a red floral dress that I actually got for $5.37 on the clearance rack at Old Navy. I laughed until it hurt when I spilled red wine on my brand new white Vans. Our adorable AirBnb host showered us with the warmest German hospitality and cookies, which tasted especially delicious after a few too many steins at Weisn. Annie reunited with the sweet German-exchange student who lived with her family in Indiana over twenty years ago. We snickered at every “Gute Fahrt” sign on the public transportation. (hahahahaha) From the top of St. Peter’s Tower, my jaw dropped at the beauty of the Swiss Alps peaking above the red rooftops and festzelts. We were the girls standing on wooden benches in purply-pink dirndls with two looped braids like Kirsten, the American Girl Doll.
BFF’s breathing dreams like air (and drinking bier like water).
Our smiles said it all— candidly captured in happy reflections against every luxurious mirror throughout the hundreds of royal rooms inside the ever wondrous Bavarian Palace.
It was a week full of happiness and goodness and glimmers of hope. Since the big shift, I’ve been dancing around on a frustrating fault line in-between chapter territories. The pressure has been building up but I finally felt a sweet release. Not only did my left ear finally adjust from the long flight, but as I shuffled around, some Deutschland magic seeped through the cracks of my unsettled heart— perhaps the aftershock I’ll be talking about for the ages to come. It couldn’t be detected on any radar other than my own but it sure did feel good.
On Saturday, I woke up back in the States with the first flood of European stories deposited in my brain bank and some wonderful memories to frame. I’m still soaring from the momentum of a European high and I don’t want this smile to ever leave my face.
Asking myself… where to next?? ♡ Prost!
a few notes-to-self:
(really nothing to see here!!!!!)
- don’t automatically frown at a 12hr layover in Portugal
- the song there will be another on repeat
- God is in the details
- maybe don’t recommend TAP Air Portugal to a friend
- sauerkraut is actually purty good
- life is more fun w/ multi-colored nails
- when airport security politely tells u to run, u RUN
- dang, should’ve gotten that cuckoo clock
- it was 11:08pm in munich when i felt the shift
- read up on the life of Anna Maria Lindmayr (!!)
- stick to white wine when wearing light colored shoes
- yes!!!! in the FLOW, baby
- there is goodness around every corner
- get over fear of bikes. yikes.
- do europeans even drink h2o???????
- hold off on sausage dinners for a while
- it is a small world after all
- why they gotta be so mean in Customs??
- fluent english is a superpower
- keep the faith
- say yes to bff travel ideas more often******
