it's cold in munich. we walk through rainy streets in the city. spent lots of time in the tiny bavarian music shop, listening to cd's with the man with tender eyes and little hair. the walls are wood and papered in old world red. there are secret closets and small rooms with stringed folk instruments being repaired. he moves like hopping while playing his favorite tracks for us, and i can imagine my students moving forward dancing, with life in their feet, despite american ears. i buy two cds.


we eat sour plum cake and coffee for breakfast. sausage and more sausage. white, boiled in water at the garden, with sweet mustard and pretzel. mmmmm. cut in slices on a hard roll. with potato. did i tell you all this already?


i buy a green scarf though i was more drawn to the turquoise. they say, oh no, the green, your hair your hair. to remember germany. to wear in the winter, knowing someday i will live with seasons again. the snow feels possible as i walk these streets. the women dress so you notice their eyes, their face, their lines. they are beautiful in a quieter way, and i appreciate high collars and long long pant legs. the conservative comforts me, the sweaters are made for broad shoulders, and i know i could live here.



the train tells you how many minutes until arrival. the laundrymats are clean, the machines fast and efficient. the cars load on top of each other, we wait for the car elevator, and i feel more like walking.



there is so much cheese i cannot describe, and my friend tells me that the fountain in the center of this beautiful plaza in the winter is an ice skating rink. there is hot sweet wine, and pastries. i imagine the christmas music, the chill on my nose, and the hands that will laugh with me after a fall that rocks my tail bone.