17 hours of flying and a 3 hour stopover in Doha and we're here - Munich - our first destination of our European adventure. I'm sitting at our table writing this in a jetlag induced haze, so I apologise if the quality is slightly questionable with a few grammatical errors. I'm running on about 4 hours sleep, so I'm sure you'll forgive me.
We met a lovely man at our departure gate in Doha - he was also to Perth and flying to Munich to meet with his wife and two children. Mum can't go anywhere without making a new friend, however this man started talking to us when it became apparent that we were all having a giggle at the two men sitting on the other side of the departure gate from us wearing mismatching high socks.He was really interested in what we were up to, and we bumped into him again at immigration in Munich (he choose the fast line), and then again at the baggage carousel.
We met a lovely man at our departure gate in Doha - he was also to Perth and flying to Munich to meet with his wife and two children. Mum can't go anywhere without making a new friend, however this man started talking to us when it became apparent that we were all having a giggle at the two men sitting on the other side of the departure gate from us wearing mismatching high socks.He was really interested in what we were up to, and we bumped into him again at immigration in Munich (he choose the fast line), and then again at the baggage carousel.
I love airports so much, and Munich airport was no exception. It's a fairly dated airport - for those of you who love the Singapore and Dubai airports, this isn't what I'm talking about. But the style of it makes me reminis on beautiful movie scenes, such as the wonderful Love Actually airport scene. If you are going to see true love anywhere, it will be at an airport - it's a place where hellos and goodbyes are more real than ever.
Standing next to us while we got ourselves organised was a man holding a huge bunch of flowers, watching for someone special. There was a man sitting nearby us with a dog in a crate, clearly waiting for someone. Eventually, a lady, carrying a small, white, fluffy dog turned up, and a rapid flurry of German was exchanged - with the hand gestures and tone, I gathered it was an argument. But before the lady left again, the man grabbed her, planted a kiss on each cheek, and received a lick on the nose from the dog. Our friend from the first airport also passed us again to say goodbye with his lovely wife and gorgeous kids in tow.
A few first impressions from the airport:
1. The Germans don't stuff around - not with passport control (one woman was left crying, waiting for her passport due to a miscommunication [we think]) and not with expensive airport developments when their current one does just fine. A+ for that.
2. It's cold here (more on that later)
3. Customs is pretty non existent - you either walk through a door that says "declare" above, or you walk through a door that says "nothing to declare". It was so quick to get out of the airport and the longest part of the process was waiting for our luggage.
One for the ladies - there was also a really good looking young police officer in passport control. Very friendly, gave everyone a nice smile (unfortunately we weren't in his line). Looked a tad like Robert Pattinson but in the way that you wanted Edward Cullen to look - not selling this particularly well but you get me.
We took a train from the airport and managed, in our classic family fashion, to hop on the wrong one. In typical dad style, he confidently assured everyone that this was it, before guiltily admitting about 15 minutes into the journey that we were on the wrong train and needed to wait 11 stops before we hopped off and switched lines. Oops. The scenery was absolutely stunning though - winter is in full swing and there's nothing but green fields and beautiful little houses to be seen for miles.
So it turns out that Germany is cold. Not just normal cold - this is "don't screw around" cold. I love cold weather so much, however as soon as it's under 15 degrees Celcius I'm pulling on my jeans, teeth chattering, and possibly a thermal thrown under my clothes for good measure. Give me cold weather over a boiling hot midsummer's Perth day any day! I thought I was being so stylish earlier in the day - leggings with a hoodie thrown over the top and sneakers on? Oh Laura, how trendy of you. Got the total mix of comfort and not too daggy going on (I almost resorted to my holey school tracksuit bottoms). Instant regret though when we walked outside - Munich winter is not the sort of winter you want to muck around with. "I'll be fine," I thought naively (and boasted loudly), "when I did rowing it got down to 1 degrees sometimes". Well, if I could cope with 1 degrees in the morning, I was either made of tougher stuff back then or it's a different kind of cold here. This is the kind of cold that bites you right to the bone; the kind that leaves your nose without feeling before you realise, and the kind of cold that I love.
After the failed train journey, we hopped off our line to wait for another train. The German train system is a mismatch of trains going in and out of the same stops - in Perth, one train will go to one lane at one station, and if you need to change lines, there will probably be steps and escalators involved - that is, if your train station has more than one route servicing it. Here though, we hopped off our train and waited for a few minutes for another one to come. In those few minutes, Michael realised that while he believed he looked quite cool (Rachel and I begrudgling agreed - his jeans and jacket combo beat our leggings/ trackies and puffer jackets any day), the 8cm gap in between his jeans and socks was an awful idea: "I wonder if the cold air will make your cankles from the plane shrink?". I stood there shivering, my hands in my pocket with my arm looped through my bag handle, yanking it along precariously every time I took a step.
Eventually the right train arrived and we all hopped on. A stop later, and we'd made it to where we were meant to be. After dad confidently assured us our apartment was on the corner (are you sensing a theme here?), only for us to realise it sold headstones for the cemetery across the road, we found the right place and were let in by the apartment owner. There's more than enough room for the five of us here. After putting on jeans over my leggings, boots, thick socks, my massive grey coat that makes me look like an igloo (no, I don't mean eskimo), a scarf, gloves and a hat, I was ready to head out again.
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| Before the cold hit us... |
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| ...and after |
After we grabbed some food from the local supermarket, we walked down to "Ciao", an Italian restaurant recommended to us by the owner. I'm guessing quite a few Italian people go there, because the gorgeous little waiter (an elderly Italian man) launched straight into Italian, before realising that English was probably a better option with us. I enthusiastically brought out my best Italian from school: in hindsight, a bit of a mistake because I was then spoken to predominantly in Italian and used as the spokeswoman in the family at the restaurant. We ate enough pasta and pizza to probably make the Italians proud, and then headed home: stuffed to the brim, completely jetlagged and with chattering teeth. What a group we make.
I'm not really a travel blogger but I hope you have enjoyed this post! Tomorrow brings more adventure and I cannot wait. Munich, bring your A game (but please, remind me that 6 degrees is actually cold before I venture outside).
Until next time,
Laura xxx
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