Over the past few days, I kept hearing my hostess saying the word “fluke,” but actually she has been saying “flug,” or flight. An appropriate misunderstanding, because these perpetually cancelled flights (we’re now into next Monday) have been a blessing in disguise.
I am very sorry to let go of my trip to Portugal, to watch my one opportunity for warm weather, a personal tour guide and beach days ebb away. But I really like being “stuck” in Munich. This place is calm, happy, friendly, picturesque.
People say goodbye at the end of a shared elevator ride, even if “tschüss” serves as the first and only word uttered in that time. There’s an outdoor market where half the city convenes during lunchtime to drink a liter of beer and eat bread with various dips. Car-free, pedestrian-friendly courtyards and expansive parks are everywhere. I can enjoy liverwurst on a pretzel without enduring looks of horror and disgust from nearby diners. My life feels like a postcard.
“Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.”
– Kurt Vonnegut