August 6, 2022. Arriving in downtown Munich was no small feat—first a ten-minute walk to the metro, then a half-hour subway ride. But I bought my €9 ticket and made it just in time for the Glockenspiel at 11. Just as I arrived, Jennifer texted saying she wanted to meet up, so we met at noon and grabbed hamburgers at a spot she liked. I paid, and we wandered a bit afterward. She showed me the path the Nazis marched during the putsch and pointed out the National Socialist Museum. She walks way faster than I do, so by 3:30 we parted ways, and I finally had a chance to try catching up on my own plans.

I got to the museum around 4 and stayed until 7. It was intense, but so worth it. While I was there, I met a friendly Swedish guy who was trying to puzzle through some tricky English words—we ended up chatting and I helped him out a bit. Afterward, I checked out the gate near the museum, wandered through the botanical garden, grabbed some ice cream, and strolled through the Englischer Garten until about 9:30. Then I headed back.

It hit me that I really miscalculated how much time I needed in Munich. Between meeting up with people and the long rides in and out of the city, I barely had any time to actually explore. I found out it’s wildly expensive to live here, though rent control helps keep it somewhat manageable—annual increases are capped at 5–15%, and after five years, renters get six months’ notice. Jennifer told me about how unemployment works here too—two years at two-thirds of your salary. Way more generous than in the States. We talked until around 11:30, and I didn’t sleep well that night.

August 7. I hung out with Jennifer until about 11:15, then headed off to meet a patent attorney near the Oktoberfest grounds. We walked to his office, chatted a bit, and then I headed back to meet my cousin Alex at a Middle Eastern restaurant, which fit with her dietary restrictions. She didn’t want to sit inside because of the gender bias (all male), so we sat an outdoor table. I was glad we had been able to connect, as I’d hoped to visit her place in Garmisch-P but didn’t have time. I’ve always admired her intellect. Her mom was the second oldest of my mom’s sisters. Alex is a political philosophy professor at the University of Hong Kong.

We walked through the Englischer Garten and passed the Residenz. She hadn’t been back to Munich in a year, even though she used to live there. And she wasn’t up for walking much, so we turned around at the lake and headed back to the train station. Even so, she almost missed her 6:32 train. As we walked she told me about life in Hong Kong and frustrations with research—French scholars ghosting her on her Rousseau project. She was hoping to present a poster in Switzerland.

I had hoped to explore Munich more, but ran out of time. I was disappointed not to revisit the stunning art nouveau swimming complex I had the pleasure of admiring during Museum Night. The U6 line was torn up; every summer I have visited most Munich train lines are under construction. It was nice to walk to Goetheplatz through the Sendlinger Tor. I discovered some new spots I’d never before seen. I stumbled into Jennifer’s place at 11, exhausted, turning over the conversation about being asked to be an executor for her living will. I tossed and turned, in my gut knowing I didn’t want the responsibility of managing financial investments in different countries.

August 8. In the morning, I talked it out with Kanga. He said I needed to learn how to say no without sugarcoating it and trying to manage other people’s reactions. Letting them feel what they feel—and letting myself feel what I feel too. Good advice.

Jennifer asked if I wanted to go on a bike ride. We rode together to Blutenburg Schloss and on to the Nymphenburg Gardens. I’d been there before, but it still blew me away. I peeked into some of the buildings and walked the full length of the gardens, hunting down the little architectural follies scattered around—except the village, which I couldn’t find. I was on a small commuter bike, stuck in first gear, and my ankle hurt going uphill, so I basically spun like a maniac for an hour and a half. It was a 27 km ride. Serious workout.

More than one person had openly stared at me, and I felt self conscious, wondering whether shorts weren’t appropriate attire on a hot day riding a bike. I couldn’t tell if it was judgment, curiosity, or just plain awkwardness. I was hot and sweaty and wished I’d taken a shower at Jennifer’s.

I bid Jennifer goodbye and headed to Tegernsee, parking at the south shore of the lake and exploring the nearby old town. The south shore was my favorite stretch of the lake—wild, natural, full of people swimming and just hanging out by the water. I wished I’d brought my swimsuit but felt too embarrassed to jump in without one.

Eventually I made it to the town of Tegernsee itself, parked, walked, re-parked near a spa, and kept exploring. I was tempted by a fancy ice cream place, only to find it was closed. That made me crave ice cream more, so I went to the next spot I saw… and it was terrible. I threw half of it out. But then I wandered into the old cloister complex, and those ancient, echoing halls became my favorite part of the lake visit.

I had great memories of Tegernsee from my last visit. It seemed to have changed quite a bit in the last 5 years, feeling posh and no longer quaint. Something about the crowd rubbed me the wrong way. Still, I kept walking along the lake, soaking in the views. Eventually I found a place to camp just outside town, parked next to a camper, and thought I’d found a good spot. The traffic noise was brutal—it echoed off the mountains all night. Sleep was not on the agenda.