I arrived in Munich fairly haggard after five days and four nights of consecutive camping, the longest on the trip. The beard had become too much, and I decided to lose some hair as well while I had the opportunity.
My sole reason for visiting was to see Benny, original Cheltenham shredder, who now lives there. Really I had no other expectations.
A city can be much like any other, but since it had been six weeks since I’d stayed overnight in Granada I found a renewed appreciation for how life is in one. Everyone looked so healthy—though Bavarian food is hearty and delicious—as they walked and cycled around the tidy streets, feeling unthreatened late into the long dusky evenings, each passing one the full stop at the end of a million small stories, my own included. The story of one lifetime would, as its backdrop, see the city changed beyond recognition, bombed and rebuilt. The lifetimes of a dozen people combined would take you back before its existence.
Time on a human scale is too light to register with mountains, lakes or forests; to be in a city is to feel the weight of every hour.
I stayed with Benny and Franzi for a week and reiterate here my heartfelt thanks for everything. Next time: the final leg.
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