The Everywhereist

The walkway to Linderhof Palace, Bavaria.

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Do you ever get the feeling that you’ve forgotten something?

It’s a sensation I absolutely hate, and I think that’s part of the reason why I’m always doomed to feel that way. I can’t leave the house without being convinced that I forgot to put something important in my purse (like my wallet or my phone or the emergency granola bar that I keep eating and needing to replace). Or that I left my straightening iron plugged in, or the iron on, or I somehow managed to set the kitchen on fire and it’s now engulfed in flames that I failed to notice as I waltzed out the front door.

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Not Pictured: Linderhof Castle

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Rand and I did not realize what the building was when we first came across it.

We were heading to Linderhof castle in Bavaria, and when we saw the giant green dome emerge between the mountains, lovely and imposing, we figured that was it.

It was only once we were inside that we realized it wasn’t the castle, and even then, we weren’t clear on where we were.

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When I am hungry while traveling, things go downhill very quickly.

I become snappy and irritable and overly-sensitive. In a town like Munich, this can be problematic, because German isn’t exactly a delicate sounding language to begin with. Even when folks are being courteous (which they often are in Bavaria), I want to respond to them in one of two ways, depending on my level of hunger:

1.) Weep.

2.) Scream, “OH, YEAH? Well ‘ENTSCHULDIGUNG’ TO YOU, TOO, ASSHOLE.”

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Bavarian food doesn’t f#ck around.

Bavarian food is the guy at the gym in the tiny muscle tee who’s lifting weights so heavy, the veins in his neck and head (and other parts of the body that you didn’t even know HAD veins) start to pop out.

Bavaria‘s cuisine is a monster truck. It crumples the delicate-by-comparison culinary offerings of Spain, Italy, and France like tiny little Fiats and Peugots in its path.

Do you want to eat Bavarian food? OF COURSE YOU DO. It is rich and doughy and filling and is the only thing on the planet that can soak up German beer. Every other fare will simply hide in the corner of your stomach, petrified at the sheer awesomeness of the brew that resides in there with it, and it will never get digested.

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I hope you aren’t yet sick of hearing about our trip to Germany. I still need to tell you about the rest of that Europe excursion – we went to London and Madrid, too – as well as our jaunt to Vegas from which we’ve just returned (in a word, AMAZING. And this comes from a girl who hates Vegas). But right now, I’m not yet done thinking about Bavaria. The place is just too darn pretty – and we had too much fun – for me to get it out of my head. So I hope you don’t mind if I dwell on it, just a little bit longer.

Then I’ll you about churros and Spitalfields and neon lights and the rest of it. I promise.

But in the meantime, here are ten pictures from our trip.

1. The Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) in downtown Munich:

One of my favorite places to pee in downtown Munich also happens to be in this building (relax: it's in a bathroom.)

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I realize this post is going up a little late. Forgive me. Rand and I are in Vegas, and our hotel room has a magnifying mirror (you know my history with those) that has been very informative. Because of it, I learned that I not only had a unibrow, but also a teeny tiny mustache. You’d think this would be the sort of thing one would be aware of. Like, if someone asks you whether or not you have a mustache, you’d hope that you’d be able to answer correctly, right? BUT CLEARLY I COULD NOT. Because up until twenty minutes ago, I’d have said, “No, I am mustache-free” and that would have been an inadvertent but nevertheless DIRTY, DIRTY LIE.

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