LOST CHANCES

Our original intent was to spend the weekend in Germany traveling the Romantic Road, a highway that traces the old Roman trading routes winding through medieval villages and castle grounds. But after a day  of business travel and meetings and a rather disappointing tour through Augsburg, the launch point of our motoring itinerary, we decided to reorganize and returned to Munich, since we had barely scraped the surface of its rich history.  So glad we did!

But first, we stopped off to eat in an old farmhouse restaurant serving traditional German food.  My mother's family hails from Bavaria and a quick scan of the restaurant decor brought back a flood of memories for me.  Red gingham curtains just like the ones that hung in my grandmothers kitchen.  The same carved wood plaques and iron trivets decorating the walls.  Knickknacks in the cupboard. Sauerbraten on the menu, along with potato dumplings.  ( I ordered it, but it couldn't hold a candle to my grandmother's recipe.) It was both comforting and unsettling to realize that I was sitting within spitting distance of ancestral homelands and dining with their ghosts.

The next morning, our first stop was Olympic Park, a beautiful landscaped oasis on the north side of the city that housed the 1968 Olympics. Because of the Egyptian boycott, Nabil missed his second shot at an Olympic medal in Munich.  Forty four years later we wandered the park trying to imagine what his then twenty-one year old self might have been doing, thinking and feeling,  and how his life might have differed if he had indeed had a chance to compete again.

Of course there is no possible way to place yourself in the past.  Time and experience permanently alter us. Flooded with knowledge of both the world  and self, how can you reverse engineer an unfiltered experience of a past that never happened.  There was the realization, that in the end, the only thing that matters is what did happen. There are so many times when we think we might have made a different choice or voiced a different opinion, or had a chance at a different opportunity.  But in the end, we are shaped by the road taken and it is a one way street. It leads us deeper into the experience of life, building us up one layer at a time.  Padded with emotional baggage and carrying the burden of our egos, we can only hope that we are able to lighten the load by gracefully accepting that which is, rather than what might have been.

From the park, we headed into Marienplatz, the center of the Munich old town. A sea of bobbing heads met us as we entered through the old city gates.  Cobblestone streets lined with the residences of kings and their court are now lined with side walk cafes and designer boutiques.  Museums claim prime real estate that once housed government councils.  On the periphery of old town, a food and flower stalls overflowed into a riot of color. Locals and tourists gathered at long picnic tables, raising their beer steins in an endless series of toasts to the good life.  It is appears to be a very good life.  The city is clean,well maintained, safe and affluent.  The population is handsome and well built. Everyone bikes everywhere. We decided we liked everything about Munich, except German food.

We capped off the night with a Vietnamese feast in a small restaurant in the bohemian section of the city. The food was exceptional, the ambiance funky.  We ate crispy fish and basil duck.

On our last day, we spent the morning touring the Nymphemburg Palace, the summer residence of the bavarian electorate in Munich.   The palace was magnificent and the grounds even more so.  Unfortunately, the weather soured and a steady rain made it impossible to wander the gardens and smaller palaces tucked inside them.

Instead, we took in two of the national museums close to old town,  viewing an exhibit on the gods of mythology.  Afterwards, we ducked into a tourist trap of a restaurant for our farewell meal of sausages and pork roast, reaffirming that we liked everything about Munch except German cuisine!

A snarl of traffic met us on the way to the airport.   Tired and eager to find our way back to our Ankara routine, we fought the panic rising between us.   No need to worry.  The German GPS system recognized the stalled traffic and rerouted us safely to our destination. Oh, those Germans engineers.  I hope its in the genes!