Oct 11, 2016
By Jessica Myscofski
Walking on the Winter Streets in Munich, Germany
Bavaria in the winter is a different proposition from Bavaria in the summer. Perhaps if one skies, a winter in Bavaria might seem like heaven with mountain slopes. I emphatically don’t ski. Nor do I like beer. Thus Munich would seem like an odd choice.
I stayed in Munich for three months with my aunt. Four years ago she moved here for work, and found a comfortable apartment with an extra bedroom. Every member of my extended family has, at least once, come here to stay with her and take short trips elsewhere in Europe once the jet lag has worn off. I’m the last one to make the journey.
As for myself, this is not particularly a vacation. More like a figure-out-what-the-hell-I’m-doing-with-my-life sabbatical of frustration from what I’m used to in Colorado. Also a somewhat desperate bid to step up my photography with inspiration from new places.
It’s early on a Sunday, and despite the temperatures and the fact that the winter sun hasn’t managed to filter much through a blanket of cloud cover, we layer up in warm gear, pulling on knit hats over our bed-messy hair to go for a walk, camera as ever glued to my side.
It’s cold in Munich on a winter morning, and often the wind makes it colder. The apartment is located on a Fahrradstrasse, meaning “bicycle street.” One has to watch out for the bikes more than the cars. The canal we cross is lined with tall trees that are still incongruously sheathed in thick green ivy leaves. The tops of the trees are bare twigs, but no one seems to have told the ivy that it’s cold.
We crunch our way down narrow sidewalks covered in gravel, the German answer to ice-melt. The apartment buildings each have small yards for the ground-floor flats, and most balconies sport what will be greenery in a few months. Some even have tiny pines or spruce, which are decked out festively with Christmas lights during the holidays. Yet despite their similarities, none are quite the same. All have stucco exteriors, but in a surprising range of pastels. Each has its own architecture, some with decorative paintings or small inset statues.
There’s a bakery for every neighborhood, and an apoteke (pharmacy) on practically every street in Munich. The grocery store is never more than a couple of blocks’ walk. On any weekend morning you’ll find a queue outside the bakery, husbands whose wives sent them out on breakfast duty. It’s a different way of life than I’m used to, but I’ve grown to enjoy it.
It takes less than fifteen minutes of walking from the Fahrradstrasse to get to Nymphenburg Palace. The massive white exterior is impressive, but we pass by the huge staircase entrance and enter the gates that lead to the grounds. There are many paths to choose from, criss-crossing the wooded estate. Bird calls ring out unexpectedly, from the tiny blue tits to blackbirds, crows, and geese. Pillared bridges span the canals that divert water from the river to feed several fountains, still now for the winter.
Few people are out this early, so we have the quiet woods mostly to ourselves. As we crunch along, the church bells begin to toll, right on time.
It strikes me as a uniquely European experience to meander on forested paths, yet still hear perfectly tuned church bells sing out from the street that is in fact not too far away. We stop at one of our favorite trees which exudes an air of quiet wisdom, a huge and gnarled beech with bark like elephant skin, and listening to the church bells there feels as sacred as any experience I can remember having.
My time in Munich turned out to be not what I was expecting. But it was precisely what I needed. It was culture and nature all mixed up together; a new frame of reference and an opportunity to see a new way ahead. I knew that I wouldn’t be the same after this time spent traveling, and that is true. Photography became real for me, far more than a hobby. More importantly, I became bigger in Munich, with a wider world-view and deeper determination to live in a meaningful way.
Photo Credit: Dawn Myscofski
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About the Author
Jessica Myscofski
Jessica is a writer and photographer with a case of wanderlust. You can usually find her glued to her viewfinder or with her nose in a book. She has a blog: https://penbookcamera.wordpress.com/ and a photography website: http://jessica-myscofski.pixels.com/. She has published several articles about philosophy and travel. She is from Colorado, but has a hankering to live in Scotland. Or Ireland. Or Costa Rica.