Nostalgia

Gooodbye America selfie #foreveralone

If American airports are full of barking orders, scary men, queues and not-putting-a-foot-out-of-line-for-fear-of-being-shot, then Turkish airports are places to herd cattle. It was crazy in Istanbul, I had an overwhelming sense of being a foreigner, there was little English going on, the plane was loud and full of people in matching Guess tracksuits socializing. At the airport I was lost...literally and metaphorically. They sort of just, dropped us off outside and that was it....I sort of followed the crowd, and there was a lot of pushing, and leering by older men and we all tried to get through customs. There were no English announcements in my entire time in the airport, I had to help out these Germans who were just as confused as me. Although I spent only an hour in the airport in Istanbul, I will always remember Turkey by this TERRIBLE gum I bought, that cost me like $6 American dollars and tasted like tobacco and eucalyptus leaves both at once. It was awful. 

The flight was, yet another flight I'm afraid. I am reminded of what my lovely (but very fashion-conscious) French friend Pierre texted to me, a few months back when he was leaving Boston;

"Is a plane an excuse to wear jogging trousers? I would say NO, not under 20 hours flight ha ha ha."

It was probably a good thing you didn't see me at the airport my love. I would have (yet again) embarrassed you with another fashion disaster.

It actually turned out to be a good thing, because some many hours into the 14 hour flight, I needed to go to the bathroom VERY badly, and I was seated in the window seat. So I did what I saw my neighbor cleverly do earlier, I stood up and literally climbed over the 60+, grey haired, Turkish man, fast asleep and snoring loudly, on the aisle. Except, with much less grace than I had hoped. The plane decided to hit turbulence at that exact moment I was poised above his sleeping body, so I ended up almost straddling him whilst I used all the strength that I could possibly conjure up to hold my poised body an inch from his rising and falling chest until the turbulence passed. I got some odd looks. That's the downfall to travelling by yourself I guess. You have to face the looks and judgement alone. So I just closed my eyes and waited for the giggling coming from the aisles behind me to pass.

I arrived in Munich late, and it felt good to be home. Munich is a city I know very well, I think this is my 5th time in the city. Bavaria is my favourite part of Germs, and Munich...four years worth of wonderful memories in Munich. I grabbed me stuff and hit the U-Bahn, and with articulate pronunciation I wished everyone on my way a good night. I thought I remembered the way to Wombats hostel, but of course it turns out I didn't, though I knew it was close to the Hbf. Nonetheless I didn't mind wandering around the city at night, taking in the familiar sights and remembering all the special moments I've had there. I'm not going to bore you will them, but they are special. Ok, no I will share some; I walked and stood in the exact spot where me and my tow other backpacking friends met our American friends at the Hbf, Jan 2012. I walked the familiar route to the hostel, where all three of us and Mareike went out in the midst of winter in thongs and our singlets. I remember the Rathaus where I met Australian friends with Mareike in January of 2010. I remember driving through the city and looking out the car window in awe, straight off the plane, in November 2009. It's special, and I'm so glad to be back. Even though I took a 'detour' I didn't mind wandering around for an hour in the dark. In fact fair certain I was grinning like an idiot. I feel safe, competent and after 5 months on the road, sort of like I've come home.

Checked in to good old Wombats (Australian hostel chain in Europe) at midnight, and in true Wombats style, showed, and headed directly downstairs to the WomBAR for the famous WomBAR favourite of my dear friend; a Flying Kangaroo cocktail. 

Shoutout to my traveling companions who were sitting there with me last time at the WomBAR; it looks no different, the atmosphere is still rocking, the company is still top notch and the elevator is working again and back in action. 

M.U.N.I.C.H

All the rats in da haus put your paws up