We’re in Florida for a few days to visit family. For once I packed running shoes. Florida doesn’t require bulky clothes, and I’ve been eating and drinking nonstop since the beginning of November on my work trips, and the weather would be pleasant for running, so I sacrificed some of my luggage space for the shoes. Up until today, I’ve run every morning we’ve been here.
This means that every afternoon, in the doldrums of the day, in the time between lunch and dinner that’s lazy and free when you’re on vacation, I have down time. Two of our days, we’ve all brought our novels down to the neighborhood pool. It’s too cool to swim, at least for me — I wore short sleeves and bare feet, but with long pants — but it’s lovely to sit in the sun by the sparkling blue water and listen to palm fronds rustle in the breeze.
Our daughter wants to sunbathe, and our son wants to hang out outside of the house, and I want options, so I bring my new backpack down so I can read or sketch or write — whatever I feel like doing as I relax into the total empty space of time when I get to choose whatever I want to do.
One day, I drew a palm tree. Both days, I read. I started out upright in a normal chair with my feet on the ground and my water bottle on the side table next to me. After a couple of chapters, I’d feel warm and golden, like honey. I’d feel tired of bing upright, so I’d move to a lounge chair to get more horizontal. I’d read a few more pages, and I’d feel the heat of the sun on my skin and on the hair on the crown of my head. It was so soothing and comforting. I’d get that delicious drowsy feeling. That’s one of my favorite feelings, to feel sleepy in the sun and know that I have the leisure to close my eyes and lean into it if I want. I’d put my book down on the stone pool deck, take off my glasses and set them on my book, lay my cheek on my arms on the lounge chair, put my hat over my face, and fall asleep in the warm winter sun.
When I travel for work, I have a hard time fitting in physical activity. Running shoes are too big to pack for the small amount of use they’ll get since I only wear them for running. Swim gear is small, though, and there were pools both places I went on my recent work trip. I brought a swimsuit, cap, and goggles, which fit easily in my suitcase. However, the pool the first week was outside and cold, and the pool the second week was indoors but closed. So I didn’t get to swim.
By the time we got to Munich, after I’d been sedentary and eating delicious food non-stop for a full week in Palma de Mallorca, I was desperate for physical activity. It turns out Munich is a wonderfully walkable city, if cold and wet in November. For my second week away, instead of running or swimming, I laced up my boots and I walked.
Day One: city center shopping and Munich American High School
On our first day in Munich, I discovered to my delight that we were only one block away from access to natural beauty, with walking paths and without cars. Our hotel was called Hilton Munich Park, but until I looked at the map and saw huge green spaces everywhere, I didn’t put it together that the hotel was named for its proximity to the Englischer Garten, one of the largest urban parks in the world. Our first morning in Munich, I walked out under the grey sky into the park, and I fell in love. I walked there every day.
Walk in the park
This day was our day off between meetups, and after breakfast, the four of us from my team who’d come over from Mallorca walked all around the city center to watch the Glockenspiel strike noon, to shop for art supplies, kitchen supplies, and a photography backpack, and to eat pretzels and drink beer.
Glockenspiel, a teacup Christmas tree, and beer and pretzels
After lunch, I ventured out on my own to see if I could find my mom’s high school. All my life I’ve heard her talk about Munich American High School, the school she graduated from in 1969. Her dad was in the US Air Force and was stationed in a small town in Italy where there wasn’t a high school for Mom and my uncle to go to, so they shipped off to Munich.
I rode the tram to the stop near the address my mom had given me. The rain had finally started falling after threatening all day, and when I got off the tram, I went straight to the supermarket to buy an umbrella. I walked for about an hour, all around the area where my mom’s high school used to be. The school isn’t there anymore, but I got to walk a wooded path by the schools that replaced it, and I got a feel for the area.
Where Munich American High School used to be
I got in 19,000 steps that day, and it felt so good.
Day Two: Surfers, Palace, Hofbrauhaus, and cake
This was the travel day for the meetup, meaning that most people from the company would arrive today. I started my day with a morning walk, as I ended up doing every day in Munich. On this day I tested waking at 6am and walking at 7am (sunrise was 7:20) to see if I could walk around the lake and get back by 8am for breakfast. If it worked, I planned to make that my routine for the rest of the week.
It did work, and I followed that routine every day: wake and shower, do a little work, walk, then head to breakfast, when I had meetings scheduled nearly every day. My daily walk was a perfect way to start each day. I loved seeing the lake in different light and weather.
Morning at the lake
Since I couldn’t find Mom’s high school the day before, I asked her for any other landmarks to visit. She remembered the Glockenspiel, and she also told me about a beer house she used to go to — Hofbrauhaus — where she could get a liter of beer for 50 cents. So the second day, that was my primary quest. My team lead also told us that Germany is good at cake, so we needed to also meet for cake. That was my secondary quest. First beer, then cake.
After my morning walk and catching up with some work stuff, a friend from my team walked with me through a different part of the park to get to the city center and Hofbrauhaus. The river through the park is flowing fiercely right now, and there are places in the river that create continual waves.
And these continual waves attract surfers.
So on our way to the beer house, we stopped to watch some surfers, decked out in full wetsuits, surf the river wave. We also walked through the grounds of the Munich Residenz, the palace that was home to Bavarian kings and queens, and Feldherrnhalle, the site of the battle that ended Hitler’s failed coup to take over the Bavarian state in 1923. He was subsequently arrested and found guilty of treason. He wrote Mein Kampf from prison after that arrest.
Surfers in the distance, about to drop inBathing verbotenPalace groundsPalace courtyardCorner of FeldherrnhalleOn our walk to Hofbrauhaus
My coworker and friend, Kris, joined me on my venture to Hofbrauhaus. As soon as we turned the corner and I saw the crowned HB on a building, I recognized it from a stoneware beer stein we’ve had in our house my entire life. I always liked it because my dad and mom are Henry and Beth: HB.
At Hofbrauhaus, I had the best meal I think I ate in Munich. We got a bread basket that included rye rolls and seeded breadsticks with fried onions and crispy cheese on top. The bread in Munich is amazing. Our team lead told us that mushroom foraging is big in Germany, so I ordered a seasonal special of mushroom ragout. And of course, I had to get a liter of beer, the Hofbräu Dunkel. The mug was bigger than my head.
My mom’s high school doesn’t exist anymore, but the beer house she frequented does
I could barely walk when we left, I was so full. And we were due for cake in 30 minutes with our teammates. So we set out on foot again and headed for the cake shop, Konditorei Erbshäuser, where we shared 5 pieces of cake among 4 of us: Prinzregententorte (many thin layers), Sachertorte (my favorite! all chocolate), almond cheesecake, apricot cheesecake, and Mohnkuchen (German poppy seed cake). It was raining when we finished, but we walked through the rain to another shop anyway before catching an Uber back to the hotel.
Cake quest
Days 3-6
Our meetup officially started on our third day in Munich, which means I had less time to move and get active. But I still walked every day in the park.
Walking at sunriseWalking in the rain
On the final day of our work meetup, I went a different direction on my walk than my normal lakeside routine. I walked toward the palace and found a different part of the park I hadn’t seen yet. I walked along the river and found more waves and small waterfalls. It was too early for surfers, but in a calm pool in the river, in the early part of the day just after sunrise, before many people were out walking and running, two people bathed naked in the river. I wore a warm hat, a coat, long underwear, and wool socks, and these two were just hanging out in the barely-above-freezing water with nothing on. Apparently this is fairly normal, nudists in Germany. In winter, surfers wear hooded wetsuits, but in summer it’s not unusual to see them surf naked.
That night, our company booked tables for more than 300 people, and we were treated to dinner and beer at Augustinerkeller, a beer garden and hall that’s been around since the early 1800s. I got another liter of beer, because why not, I was in Germany, and though the walk was short and cold, we did walk around the garden where people in liederhosen played matches of curling in the rain. We stood around a raised fire bowl and sipped our wegbier — “beer for the way” — or walking-around beer. Because of course there’s a German word for the beer you carry with you.
Final day in Munich
I didn’t have any idea what to expect of Munich, but I fell in love with it. I could spend a lot more time there.
This week I am in the cold and wet of Munich, Germany for a work trip. Last week I was in sunny Spain. This week I’m walking in the rain with an umbrella, surrounded by brilliant fall colors like at home, eating sausages and pretzels and drinking beer. Last week I was in a villa with citrus and olive groves, surrounded by palm trees and sunshine, eating cheeses and cured meats and drinking wine.
I love both places. My Munich photos aren’t as good as my Palma ones, so for now I’ll just share pictures from the island in the Mediterranean, where I ate tangerines fresh off the tree, and where rosemary grew wild on a rocky hike to the sea.
Finca Rústica Felostal villa where our team stayedOur first day at the villa
In the mornings I sat outside on the terrace to eat my breakfast of Greek yogurt with almonds and honey. On the one day it wasn’t sunny, wind blew through palms, pomegranate trees, and bouganvilla, while rain pattered on the Spanish tile roof. I journaled at a worn wooden table with a small fluffy cat curled up in the pad of the chair next to me. My teammate’s yoga mat lay on the tile terrace outside her room’s glass door to the garden.
Eight of us from my team were able to make it to the meetup, and we rented a van since the villa wasn’t walking distance to restaurants or the market. Plus, we were on an island, and we wanted to see the sea. One day we piled into the minivan to go for a team hike, and it was spectacular.
By the seaHike to a cove
After a wild and stressful year, this was a soothing time together to slow down, reflect, and get inspired for 2024. We made meals together, we processed 2023 together, and we enjoyed the calm, rejuvinating peace of the villa.
Herbs, olives, and orangesSo pretty I loved this little table under the tree
We had a big birthday over the past weekend — my husband’s 50th — and I surprised him with a trip to New York to hear some jazz. We live in a small town. At home, our weekend evening entertainment consists mainly of going out to eat. When our kids were younger, and dining out alone together happened once or twice a year, those dinners were a major occasion. They were special and rare. Now that the kids have their own lives, my husband and I find ourselves at restaurants thinking, welp, here we are again.
So last weekend we went on a trip where our evening entertainment wasn’t to sit at a table and eat. Instead, we had music: two jazz clubs and Hadestown on Broadway. On my husband’s birthday, we had 10:30pm tickets to see Ezra Collective play at Blue Note in Greenwich Village. Since the show started later than our usual bedtime, we grabbed pizza at Song E Nepule in the West Village, then coffee and cheesecake at the bar of a packed restaurant further up the street before heading over to Blue Note to get in line for a good seat. It was a chilly night and we watched the Village pulse as people spilled out of restaurants and bars and queued outside of comedy clubs. We were pretty close to the front of our own line, and when the doors opened at 10pm, we selected seats not right up next to the stage, but about 15 feet away. We were packed shoulder to shoulder at the little two-top tables pushed together to make as efficient a use of space as possible.
The show itself was possibly the most joyful musical experience I’ve ever had. Because the club is small (200 seats), and we were so close to the musicians, it was intimate. We were all part of an experience together, rather than just watching someone perform on a stage. Because we were so close to the musicians, I could watch them interact with each other, watch how in sync they were, how despite making music through five separate bodies and five separate instruments, through the music, they were one body. They communicated without words, just eyes and music and giant smiles. And that’s what filled me up the most: how much fun they were having. It was obvious they loved what they were doing, they were completely present in that room with each other and with us, making music was playful and fun and a delightful surprise each time one of their bandmates soloed, and their joy was infectious. They’d watch each other and feel each other’s vibe and burst into happy open-mouthed smiles. I listened to an interview recently with the actor who plays Roy Kent on Ted Lasso, and he talked about sport. He said “I think sport is there so men can say I love you without saying I love you.” As I watched Ezra Collective make music together, I thought, they are saying I love you without saying I love you.
Saturday night, we went to a different kind of jazz club. Where Blue Note was bumping, and everyone on their feet at the end, and the music high energy and loud the night we went, and the club is at street level and has windows and tables and seats 200, the place we went Saturday night, Smalls, is a tiny basement jazz club with seating capacity for 74. We had tickets for a 7:30 set with the Jean-Michel Pilc trio, with Jean-Michel on piano, Ari Hoenig on drums, and François Moutin on the upright bass. We stood outside an unobtrusive, beat up door with a beat up sax above it and a tiny awning that said “smalls” as we waited to go in, and when the door did open, we walked down a set of stairs into a small room with maybe 6 rows of 10 metal folding chairs. We sat close to the piano, ordered martinis before the set, and listened to the hum of everyone talking. The drummer was there tuning his kit when we sat down around 7, and the bassist and pianist showed up about 5-10 minutes before the set began. At 7:30, Pilc was smiling at what I assume was one of his friends in the corner, put his finger to his lips and quietly said “Sh, sh, sh,” and the room went silent.
I don’t know how to describe the experience. I can’t describe the experience. Every person in the room was riveted to the music, which felt like it was being birthed in that space, in that moment, and as witnesses to it, we as the audience were part of its making. The only sounds besides the music were the quiet shaking of a cocktail shaker under the bar or the spritz of the bartender opening a beer. We were rapt. For an hour I was transported, I don’t know where and I don’t really care. All I know is I was moved to tears and I don’t know what they did to make that happen. I definitely felt awe that night.
On Sunday, our flight was at 9pm and we had to check out of our hotel by 11:30am, and I knew we’d be fried and tired of walking after three days in Manhattan, so I got us matinee tickets to see Hadestown, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, and of Hades and Persephone, at the Walter Kerr theater. Our son had gone to NYC with some friends over his spring break, and they went to see Hadestown, and he loved it and said it was one of the coolest things he’d ever seen, and he wished he could see it again. So on Easter Sunday, after happening on Radio City Music Hall, and Rockefeller Center, and throngs of people in Easter hats outside of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and a walk through Central Park among the flowering trees and tulips and daffodils and horse-drawn carriages, and after sitting in Times Square and eating hot dogs and falafel, we made our way over to the theater and saw Hadestown, where a trombonist and other musicians were on stage with the actors, and where we got vocals and a story in addition to the music, and where we got to sit in a really cool theater, and where I cried at the end because I didn’t know it would end that way.
In addition to all the music, we also experienced about a million other things, as seems to happen on a visit to New York City. You can’t walk a block without seeing something iconic. We stayed near Washington Square in Greenwich Village, which meant we got to walk through the park every time we went anywhere, and experience its vibrance day and night.
Washington Square HotelWashington SquareCharles Dickens’ deskCeilings in NY public libraryInside NY public libraryNew York public libraryGrand Central and Chrysler buildingSt. Patrick’s CathedralCentral ParkCentral Park on EasterCentral Park on EasterCentral Park on EasterCentral Park on EasterSt. Patrick’s Cathedral on Easter
I traveled to Istanbul last week to meet with my team from work, and as my friend Gracie would say, I was Turkish delighted. The city’s history stretches back almost 1700 years, its population is twice that of New York City, and the city straddles two continents: we stayed on the European side of the city, and we were able to hop on a ferry to take a day trip to Asia. The city is full of riches: ancient history, architecture, culture, food, cats*. It stimulated every sense, at all times.
Mosaic and tile at Istanbul Archaeology MuseumDoor to tile building at Istanbul Archaeology MuseumTurkish tea setsAt the Grand BazaarLamp shop at the Grand BazaarCat 7 of 492Turkish DelightAt the Grand BazaarTurkish Breakfast, first courseLeaving Europe to go to AsiaLeaving the Europe side, about to cross the Bosphorous. Our Airbnb was near the tower on the left (Galata Tower).Our team walked an hour on the Asia side of Istanbul to find this cat statue.In the antique districtSidewalk backgammonAt the ferry dock on the Europe sideGraffiti at the pier; we walked by this wall each time we crossed the Golden Horn (an inlet of the Bosphorous River) to get to the Grand Bazaar and mosquesKitty outside my favorite coffee shopBooks and Coffee. I liked their coffee best.The view from our Airbnb: the Golden Horn waterway, Hagia Sofia mosque (maybe? maybe not — there were many mosques), and our resident seagull who squawked at us all day while we worked.
*The cats in Istanbul might have been my favorite part. See Kedi, a documentary with lots of beautiful footage of the city and its kitties. Also, our day trip to Asia included lunch at Ciya, featured in season 5 episode 2 of Chef’s Table. The food was phenomenal, but it’s not in this post; I was too busy eating to get any photos.
We’re visiting family in Florida. Yesterday, I woke early to walk on the beach before it got boiling hot. I took my camera with me, and it turns out I didn’t end up walking very much. I wanted to play with some of the basics I’m learning in my photography class — motion, leading lines, contrast — so I ended up stopping every few feet to snap photos. I also wanted to mix it up a little with my photographs; I’ve got a thousand shots of the Gulf of Mexico being the Gulf of Mexico in it’s beautiful blues and greens. I switched to black and white, and I had fun capturing the beach in a totally different way.
I started a new photography blog to help me curate some of my favorite photos and also track the camera settings on them so I can learn. It’s at photo.andreabadgley.blog if you’re interested.
Butterfly Mind 