All this talk of Sweden

I can't think of less likely subject than Sweden to get caught in the middle of a Trump mess. But with all this talk, I'm inspired to make some progress digging our way out from the blog backlog and post some pictures from our magical five days sailing around the Stockholm archipelago with two gracious hosts, Adrienne and Erik. 

AP, as we lovingly call her, and Erik are Colorado residents. But Erik was born and raised in Sweden, and he still has some healthy ties with the country, namely his sailboat. They spent some quality time on the boat this summer, and since Dave and I were only a short flight away, we hopped on a United-miles-ticket and joined them for a long weekend. 

First, I want to acknowledge how awesome it is that in some corners of the job market today, many of us have the flexibility to design our own schedules and to work remotely. Don't get me wrong, I have responsibility and accountability, and I often work way too long or way too late at night. But the other side of that coin is that I have earned (Dave, too!) the trust of my boss, so we're in a lucky position to jet off to, say, Sweden, work for a day or two from a cafe, and then sail away for the weekend.

So that's what we did in mid-July.

We flew into Stockholm, and through a series of buses, taxis, and foot (all which Dave successfully and generously researched and planned), we landed at AP and Erik's home port of Saltsjöbaden. Dave and I worked for the day from a deck with a terrible view (see picture below), then eagerly made our way to their dock, hopped on board to Welcome brews, salmon, and the best gosh darn butter I have ever had. Literally. Seven months later, I'm still thinking about this stuff. Come to think of it, there is probably a Swedish grocery in Munich. 

Erik showed us the ropes (literally and figuratively). A sailboat is a mini, moving, floating house that doubles as transit. So everything has a purpose, a place, a process. It all makes sense, but it took some education for me and Dave to take in, and AP and Erik were kind enough to tell us twice if we forgot. 

The next day we set sail under Erik and AP's great co-captainship. The two of us didn't exactly do much in the way of "sailing" ourselves, but it was fun to watch the skill and experience of our hosts. My biggest claim to fame was pulling in the fenders quickly after launch so that we 1) set a good example, but 2) don't look like an ocean-equivalent of a gaper.

The next four days were filled with some of the most beautiful sunsets, lots of catching up, cold beer, plenty of gravlax, lots more Bregott, reading, stand-up-paddle-boarding, talking with strangers, arguing with strangers, and sauna. Lots of sauna.

Dave said he wasn't a sauna guy, but he sure seemed to be on this trip. On almost each rock island we stopped at, there was another little wooden structure, always built next to the water. Behind each sauna is an ax and huge piles of wood to be chopped - the heat comes directly from nature (after the local authorities drop off the wood). So in you go, and when you get too sweaty to stand it, out you go diving into the sea. Rinse and repeat: into the sauna you go again.

We ended the trip in an adorable Swedish vacation town called Sandhamn. If you ever find yourself in the Stockholm archipelago, this place will probably make your itinerary. And it should. If for no other reason than for the bread at a small village bakery, Sandhamns bageri.

Before this trip, I had mistakenly boxed sailing into a corner - that it was a leisure activity for the most elite. That it was the glamping of outdoor activities. But what I learned on this trip is that to sail the way AP and Erik sail, requires you to have a deep, connected relationship with the environment. You need to know not just your instruments, not just your tools, but you also need to know how to read maps, how to read the weather, how to read the way land and water interact. You need to be much more connected to earth, wind, and fire than I ever imagine. So for that alone, I'm grateful. 

I was also given insight into Swedish sailing culture. Parking at remote rocks far out in the ocean - or in a more formal setting is easier when people help. And if they're around, they hop out of their boat to help you navigate yours. Loading the wood-burning sauna with freshly cut logs is a community responsibility. Sharing is welcome, if not common. Living on the water in this nordic land can be as collaborative and community focused, or as individual and intimate, as you want. I digged it. 

Thank you to AP and Erik for letting us into your world for a hot minute. We adore you, and we treasure this trip. 

 

[Regretfully, we have no pictures of the sauna! Our memories alone will have to suffice.]

A Guest Post by Courtney

[Caveat: Courtney didn't actually write this. But we imagined this is what she would have said if she were the author.]

I’ll start by saying that I'm not actually thankful that Sarah and Dave moved to Europe because I miss them. But I am thankful that I got to visit, get a slice of their Euro adventure, see their life in Munich and around, and have some hearty, late-night catch up sessions with SBZ. 

As a real estate agent, I don’t always have to be in an office Monday-Friday, so you would think that finding time for a the trip would be easy. But of course, as a real estate agent, I also kind of always have to be nearby and available. So the spring turned into summer, and back to fall again, and I had no visit in sight. When Sarah pointed out that she and Dave were already contemplating their return, I had a look at the calendar. No way were they making it back here without me finding the time to visit. So: Thanksgiving! No one wants to buy or sell houses then, so it proved to be the perfect time. 

I packed my bag full of, well, mostly stuff that Dave’s family sent me to schlep over to Munich. Then off I went! But not alone - Sarah suggested I bring along my boyfriend, Pat, since she has fomo and hadn't yet met him. I was happily surprised by the invitation and that he quickly bit the bullet for a last-minute plane ticket and joined the fun.  

Pat and I left San Francisco without any real plan or agenda (Dave usually takes care of that - score!). We were pretty sure Sarah and Dave had mentioned the Dolomites. That's at least what we told our friends and family, but honestly, we had no idea. For our arrival, Dave had prepared us with classic Dave-style instructions (too long, too detailed). I landed a few hours ahead of Pat, so I took a bus then hopped in a cab per the instructions. And that's when it happened: my first true German experience - I got yelled at!!! Just like Sarah had been describing on the phone to me, about how Germans are rude and mean. Now I knew precisely what she's been talking about, and I felt a little bad for her / slash was a little impressed she's been able to tolerate it for so long.

After ditching the cab and lugging my heavy suitcase for like 45 minutes through dark streets of Munich, the fiasco was forgotten when all four of us were warm and cozy, German biers in hand, at an old, authentico restaurant near their house. If you’ve already visited them, you know what I’m talking about because apparently they bring all their guests here. It's their fave, and for good reason. To create an agenda for the next few days, Dave drew us a map of central Europe (Switzerland is landlocked? who knew!) and gave us options. He always has options.

Long story short, there was a Bluegrass "festival" in Munich the next night - yes! This is the perfect thing to do with Sarah and Pat (see photo below). So, we decided to stay a full day in Munich, see the town, then head to Italy.  

Staying in Germany for a day meant we could also finish that bottle of wine. 4am later, Sarah and I were deep into best-friending when we stumbled into bed. I was so happy that we could get get some solid 1:1 time together so quickly.

Oh, and the other best thing about the first day? The way Truffle greeted me when I arrived. She must have recognized my voice on the front door intercom and came jumping and sprinting to greet me at the elevator. It melted me. 

The next day, we got up late (very late) and we blamed it on jet lag - woops! Dave was out the door at 8am, doing whatever chores it is that he always has to do. Pat, Sarah, Truff, and I took a long, leisurely walk through her neighborhood, along the Isar River, and ended up in a super awesome market (Viktaulienmarkt). Sarah left for home (she had work calls, bah), so Pat and I got to explore Munich on our own. It didn't take long before we found the Hofbrauhaus, where we had a huge glass of... wine. Sssshhh. 

The next morning, we were off to our mountain hut adventure. Dave didn’t know too much about it, except that it was going to be a bit of a shit show to get to if we didn’t hurry.*

 

*We didn’t hurry, and it was a shit show.

We rented skis and got in the one of the last trams up a crazy steep mountain, probably one of the steepest mountains I have ever been up. We quickly were in dense fog and could barely see two feet in front of us. We called the hut, but reception was bad, and we were pretty confused after the vague instructions to download two chairs from the top. It was also freezing cold, the sun was setting, and the fog was thick and getting thicker. We figured, it's a hut on the ski mountain, so everyone will know where it is and be able to point us in the right direction. It can't be that bad, right? 

Sarah and I took off our skis began to download. Dave and Pat skied off into the clouds, with Truffle running behind. We immediately lost visual of them and we immediately feared for their lives. How were they going to ski down an unfamiliar mountain, with Truffle, in bad weather? I was nervous, and that got Sarah nervous, which got me even more nervous and her more nervous... 

We got off one chair and tried to get some guidance on where to go. But the lift ops didn't speak English, and we don't speak Italian, and no one seemed to have ever heard of our hütte. We rode down a second chairlift, hoping it was in the right direction, with still no sign of the boys. In camp-speak, this was definitely the trip low-light with max fear factor. The Polizia skied up to us - uh-oh...Well, it turns out that ski patrol in Italy are the "police" and they had safely escorted Pat, Dave, and Truffle most of the way down the mountain. Phew! In the end, it all worked out, we got to the hut (via snowcat, straight up a hill for 10 minutes), and all was good.

We were let in by Jasmine, who proved to be the simply The. Best. Host. Within minutes, we were sitting in front of an open fire, in a gorgeous mountain hut in the middle (quite literally) of the Italian Alps, with Italian wine, mountain cheese, and freshly sliced local ham. Everything was going to be alright.

An AMAZING meal later, we were stuffed and ready for bed. The hut’s bedrooms were very simple but beautiful with hardwood everything. But those damn European beds - two singles pushed together do not equal a queen. But, whatever. Everything at the hut was comfy and cozy, and since it was offseason, we had the place all to ourselves. It was like we rented a private cabin the mountains with personal chefs and a personal Jasmine.   

The hut is named Bella Vista. In German, “Schöne Aussicht.” This translates into “Beautiful View.” The next morning, without the fog and dark, we could see the vista. And indeed, it was very, very bella (see photos below).  

Then, we spent THANKSIVING skiing! The chairlift was a short 5 minute ski down the hill from the hut. We took the chair to the top, and whoa. The alps are impressive. They go on for ever and ever. And they're SO BIG. The conditions weren’t epic, but Pat and I really enjoyed ourselves - we were really IN the mountains, and I loved it. I felt really happy that day being outside with people I care about. 

We went back to the hut for the Thanksgiving feast to come. It wasn’t turkey and stuffing, but it was traditional Germanic Italian cuisine: pasta and knödel and locally raised beef. It was totally rich and very delicious. Plus, we had Kaiserschmarrn for desert! After dinner, we had a competitive game of Settlers (Dave won by a landslide - we all ganged up on him and he still beat us), and we toasted all the things for which we're grateful. It was a memorable and perfect friendsgiving. 

... Until I got sick with some sort of virus or food poisoning. The next day, the fog was back, I felt like crap, and I just wanted to get out of there. The boys skied down to the base with Truffle, but Sarah and I took the tram down. In the Grey Goose we went deeper into Italy; I passed out in the back trying to recover my energy.

While Pat and I slept, Sarah and Dave updated our plans from wine country. We were headed to Lake Como! Awesome, I thought. My parents talked about Lake Como, and I had always wanted to go but never made it. It was raining and that part sucked, but it didn't diminish our experience too much.

Pat and I booked a last minuted hotel, and Sarah/Dave/Truffle slept in their van in a money spot right next to the lake. On Saturday, Pat flew back to San Francisco (tear) but this meant I got to have some extra QT with Sarah (smile). After a walk to a bakery, Sarah and I took the train to Milan for some SHOPPING. Dave stayed at the lake, apparently working from the van (boring!), while the two of us walked around Milan. I scored a killer ITALIAN LEATHER JACKET. Sarah bought... wrapping paper. What? I don't know, I can't explain it either. Oh, and damn, that pasta lunch was something to write home about.

Back in Como, I got to experience a true Christmas Market! It was everything Sarah and Dave talked about. Full of cute wooden stalls, fun atmosphere, and mulled wine called gluhwein that is delicious. And it had a light show that was a unique experience. Definitely got me in the Christmas spirit. 

We got back to Munich after a fun drive through gorgeous Switzerland (4th country in 5 days!). For my last day, I got bonus Sarah time. We did some Christmas shopping around Munich, went for a really pretty run along the river, had some more gluhwein, and got to experience her day-to-day life a little bit more. 

All in all, I'd say that Munich is prettier than Sarah describes it. A mix of old and new, it feels very livable. But, she's right about the locals. And yes, there isn’t as much English speaking as Sarah thought before she moved. But it is cute, and clean, and safe, and close to so many epic destinations. 

I am Thankful for my friends, new and old.

Everything You Need to Know About Oktoberfest

BY DAVE (and sarah).

The first thing to know is that Oktoberfest is mostly in September, but you probably knew that from your European edition of Trivial Pursuit. We were prepared for that one. We were not as prepared for just how much dang fun it would be. Good, clean (ok, drunken), fun. Here's what our experiences were like:

Matt and Lindsey visited September 16-19th - they actually wanted to come the preceding weekend but due to some other scheduling logistics we made them come for the opening weekend of Oktoberfest. In my usual way, I was nervous about crowds, so I made everyone get up early, eat a big breakfast, and then hurry out of the house to make it there by 10am. Mind you, no beer is served til noon. But, getting a seat inside a "tent" supposedly requires showing up early (some websites said we had to get there by 6am!). 

With our newly minted costumes on (see photos below), we left for the "long" walk from our apartment to the Oktoberfest site. 13 minutes later, we were there - yes, we can see (barely) and hear (faintly) the Oktoberfest festivities from our house....the same site that's been used since the early 1800s is only a mile away! 

First impression: wow, big. Second impression: wow, the carnival scene is huge. Third impression: Sarah, Lindsey, and Matt are very aware at how much I'm hurrying us to find a "tent" and moving us along. Fourth impression: wow, lots of people fit inside these this "tent!"

So let's break that down:

The site is about 3 square blocks of concrete. And it's a carnival, with some serious rides, theme park games, and junk food stands everywhere. At least half, if not more, of the surface area is devoted to these non-bier purposes.

The rest of the surface area is made of what you by now have noticed are not actually "tents". They are impressive, multi-story, wooden semi-permanent structures that take 3 months to build and 1 month to take down. Each one is massive; there is nothing tent-like about them.

Each "tent" has a different theme, though, spoiler alert, we couldn't really tell much of a difference between them. With S, L, & M playing along with my determination, in we went to Hacker-Pshorr; no, we hadn't heard of it either. Now, we have to find a seat. There are ~620 tables fitting 10 people each, and darn near every table was full. We stroll up and down the aisles, and finally we spot an opening -- a table with only 5 people. I run over and ask in broken German if we can have a seat. With a Boston accent, they said, "totally!" 

So, what do you do for the 2 hours of waiting for beer? Wish you brought a deck of cards. Short of that, download that Taboo-like game for your iphone. Wait... the Oktoberfest thing to do is make friends with Team Boston next to you. And then, at 11:45am when the server comes around to take your beer order, start getting excited.

At 12 on the dot, the parade comes into the "tent" with all sorts of pomp. Officials are carrying flags, people are cheering, and the MC speaks in a German that I swear was some other language. By 12:15, we hit the jackpot: our waitress carries 8 beers, a liter each in heavy glasses (many servers can carry all 10 for a table, but we liked our lady even if she could only manage 8). 

Soon after that, the music starts. First, trumpets on the balcony. And then a lively horn band with a German singer. Not long after, these guys with 10 yard long whips stand about 5 tables apart from each other, and whip their whips above drinking patrons. Weird, but fun and cool.

By about 1pm, the whole place feels drunk. But they aren't (yet) - it's just that the energy is infectious. The pretzels are huge, the music is fun, and when you have 6000+ people smiling, you can't help but do the same. It doesn't take long before Team Boston becomes your best friends - making friends with your table-mates is part of the Oktoberfest allure.

The Oktoberfest beer is a special brew made just for this time of year. It doesn't taste anything like the Octoberfest brews from the States, which come much darker in color and with sweet notes of Fall. These are a Märzen variety, just a little golden, full bodied and crisp. And typically around 6%. 

One beer turned into two. And somehow two turned into three. Another pretzel was ordered. And despite having an extensive food menu, a third pretzel and a pickle was ordered. For those of you doing math at home, 3 liters of 6% beer demands more than 3/4 of a pretzel per person, but we somehow forgot to order anything else. Needless to say, the walk home is a bit hazy. But the fun is crystal clear. 

********

Two weeks later, Uncle Peter and Aunt Donna are in town with the sole purpose of seeing what Oktoberfest is all about (not really, but at least in part). They go by themselves within 2 hours of landing in Munich (I'm away on a work trip and Sarah is working). A couple days later, it's time for us to go back. Peter and Donna went first and scored a seat at Löwenbrau, where we met them there a couple hours later. And we can't help but enjoy ourselves again.

One downside of Oktoberfest is the crowds. But one upside of Oktoberfest is the crowds! They make sure every single seat is filled at each of the 10-person tables, so that means you're always sharing with strangers... and ultimately making friends.

Reserving tables is a 'thing': like the Super Bowl, most seats are reserved by businesses. My company doesn't do this (remember, it's a French company), but we understand that almost all others do. So, after two beers of good conversation with our new friends (one tablemate was a German woman who was texting her daughter about how good looking our other tablemates were, who happened to be 3 Italian policemen), we were booted out for a reservation that was coming. Out on the grounds of Oktoberfest, on a beautiful day, we could really see all of the revelers in full swag. It seems like at least 80% were dressed up, just adding to the festive nature. We were definitely not out of place in our garb.

We weren't ready to leave yet, so after walking around some, we were on the hunt for another "tent", and boy did we find a good one. Spaten was not my favorite beer before, but it is now. The tent itself is famous for it's Ox dishes (its "theme"); lucky for Sarah, she didn't see the rotating ox slow-cooker out back. But because of this fame for its meat, the locales were in full force here. We were concerned we wouldn't get a table, but within 3 minutes, a server led us to seats right under the band. Score! Our table averaged Donna/Peter's age, and by the middle of our third beer for the day, all four of us were on on the chairs dancing, like locals. Even Peter got on his chair to dance! 

******** 

The last night of Peter/Donna's trip coincided with the last night of Oktoberfest (which lasts 2.5 weeks). Despite being a school night, Peter wanted one! last! bier! Who knew he was such a party animal?! Poor Sarah was stuck in work meetings so the rest of us had to abide by Peter's wish. A few hours later, at a late dinner, Peter cheerfully recounted the 3 decisions that were done very well that night: 1) to go to back to Oktoberfest in the first place (Peter's choice), 2) to pick the Augustiner tent (Dave's choice), and 3) to find the best seats in the house (Donna's doing). Even though we only had one beer, we found ourselves unable to resist climbing onto our chairs, one more time, to dance along with everyone else - check it out the party below (no sound available)

A HUGE thanks to Lindsey & Matt and Peter & Donna for traveling thousands of miles to come visit and see our life here in Munich. It was really fun to share such a cultural, very-German experience with you. Pictures of our amazingly-easy, so-awesome-they-came guests and some other scenes from our few days at Oktoberfest: 

And Today We Party

Today, we eat, drink, and be merry. With what I'm sure will be LOTS of tears. Like, crazy amounts of tears. 

Today is our Dave-and-Sarah-Moving-To-Munich party. We're going to see lots of faces and remember lots of moments. I'm trying to remind myself that today is a celebration of the community we've created. It's a celebration that we are just that god damn lucky to have all these people in our lives. 

Today, we're not celebrating our departure. I want to celebrate where we're going, and the beauty we'll have waiting in our home city for our return :)

 

Our First Post: On Leaving

The thing about moving is that you have to leave somewhere first. 

And now that we have a date, our plane tickets booked, and empty storage bins cluttering our apartment, it's real. We're leaving San Francisco. We're not leaving because of the crazy housing prices, or because of the Google buses (but don't get me started on that). We're leaving because we can. Because we have the greatest, most amazing luxury to pick up, schlep some stuff across an ocean, and hunker down for a year or two in a city that abuts some of the world's best mountains. All while keeping our jobs and bringing our dog. Life's pretty sweet. 

I know our European adventure is going to have a high level of awesome. But until I'm on that plane, my life is here. And it's a joyous, curated, happy life. One that when I take a step back, I can't believe is mine. For starters, my friends are family - which, to be clear, seems like such an understatement it borders insult. The kale is plentiful and year-round local, the IPA is strong, and rolling California hills calm me. This city is filled with bad asses who are literally changing the world, mostly for good. I love that there are enough bike commuters to cause bike traffic, and that a late self-made billionaire funds a free bluegrass festival. I love our curbside composting, and that most people know what is a worm bin when I mention it. I love that Truffle's dog walker, Reed, loves her like she's his own. I love that on the weekends, my girlfriends and I easily have too many options to choose from. I love that everywhere I look, I have memories. Old running routes, places I went with friends, sometimes solo, dates with Dave. Where my 20-something self partied, where Dave proposed, where strangers ate Courtney's birthday cake. The coffee is good, the parks are dog friendly, and on a bad day, the city still is a stunner. But of all of that, hands down the hardest thing to leave will be my people. The people who make this place my magical home. 

So this next phase isn't about leaving; it's about looking ahead. Dave and I are writing our story, and to get there, we need to leave here. There's no way around it, and that makes me sad. 

For weeks, Dave has encouraged me to pack (with an increasing sense of urgency) and for weeks, I've resisted. I want to be here and soak up every last minute of our life on 19th. Even though I know we'll be back, that doesn't make the leaving any easier. What will help, once we're in the air, high up over the Atlantic, is knowing that it's not about leaving San Francisco. Instead, it's about MOVING TO MUNICH! 

-Sarah