Above is a photo looking over the rooftops of Munich, which is a place I’ve been think quite a lot about lately. We lived here when I was a small child, and then I moved back here more than a decade ago.
Listening to my mother’s stories as we revisit our old stomping grounds, I’m reminded of how different this place looks as a tourist. Rarely, if ever, do I find myself asking the questions that seem to come up while escorting my brother and his daughters around the city.
I love having visitors, though. When people I know come through Munich, I gladly meet them in a beer garden or give them advice about the best Bavarian place I know.
We’re in the middle of a particularly exciting summer here – what with the World Cup in full swing and assorted family and friends visiting. People are swarming in and out of Munich; whirlwind tours and day trips in and around the city.
I suppose one of the things I find myself coming back to again and again is how I see the Germans and the particularly curious manner in which they go about their business. Over the years, I’ve seen some really humorous blogs from outsiders writing about their experiences living here.
Anytime you approach such a thing, you risk making rash generalisations and grossly inaccurate assessments about the culture that’s being observed. My only hope is that the more I talk about this stuff here, it continues to be clear how much I like the natives. Rest assured, I wouldn’t be living here if I didn’t enjoy some of the unsettling idiosyncrasies of the folk I encounter, as well as my own.