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: 

Truffle Hangs with Cousin Clara

We don't call Truffle "our baby" and we're not "her parents" - I adamantly prefer the phrase "her humans." Still, there is something really fun and cute about little 8-month old Clara being Truffle's cousin. Clara is our niece, Lauren (Dave's sister) and her husband Patrick's first daughter. 

Earlier this month, we were so stoked to enjoy Clara's presence - without a doubt, the best little baby girl in the history of mankind. Clara is cute, giggly, curious, and always up for an adventure (even during naptime). She has these crazy big blue eyes, and when they focus on you, you actually feel lucky to be their subject. They focus on whatever is happening around her, these giant blue eyeballs moving around the room watching adults, views out the window, or Truff lying right by her side. She talks a lot, but hardly cries - well, only when to say I'm hungry! or I need a change! All in all, she was a champ coming this far around the world. 

Clara, Lauren, and Patrick arrived with smiles the Saturday before July 4th and stayed for a week (that's right! visitors can and should stay with us). We got some sunshine - FINALLY! - so we were able to hit up some of the best spots around town. 

Here are some highlights from our time together:

  • Got tea and cake at my favorite coffee shop before watching Germany beat Italy on the 9th overtime penalty kick
  • Took the free Rick Steve's audio tour of Munich, which included stops at the Hofbräuhaus and sorbet, and ended the evening with a walk through the Englischer Garten and a stop at the Chinesischer Turm for some outdoor biers
  • A walk along the Isar river with a pit stop at our neighborhood biergarten for some drinks and a giant pretzel. Yes, that's 3 beer gardens in 24 hours.
  • A day trip to see some gigantic, German-made stuffed animals at Steiff, honoring a Penndorf family tradition of these teddy bears
  • Visit to Dachau, a Nazi German concentration camp 
  • Walk around a quaint, off-the-beaten-path German countryside town of Nördlingen along the German Romantic Road, and dinner at a cute pizzeria, complete with an opinionated, Italian matriarch who insisted on what Lauren should and shouldn't be feeding Clara. 
  • A daytrip to Landshut where Carl Penndorf was born, Lauren and Dave's late father. There, we met distant Penndorf relatives who then hosted all six of us at their home in Dorfen for a BBQ. We looked at the "blue book" together, a hardbound typewritten Penndorf anthology written by Dave's grandfather, tracing the family lineage back 500 years and found the exact family connection (shared great-great grandparents)!

All in all, we learned that there is someone who can rival Truffle at the attention from random passers by. Her name is Clara. And we learned how fun it is to show people around our new hometown. 

With a tear, they left a few weeks ago. We couldn't have asked for a better trip. Thanks to Lauren and Patrick (and Clara!) for making it all the way to continental Europe just for a visit with Uncle D, Aunt Sarah, and Cousin Truff.  

Sometimes it's the small things.

For those of you who I've talked to, you know being here isn't always easy for me. I don't speak the language, I work crazy weird hours, I have major FOMO for all the friends dinners and ladies' nights in San Francisco, and damn! going to the grocery store every day because things are sold in tiny one-serving portions is annoying. Yes, in spite of the quick and pretty Instagrams, it is indeed often hard. 

But! There are also wonderful things about being here and living in Europe. There's the obvious reasons like living an hour from the Alps, or being able to jet off to Rome or Barcelona or London. There are also the small reasons, the things that are just a tiny bit different from what we do in the states, or are just a tiny bit wonderful in their own way. Sometimes, it's the small things that make it so interesting and fun. 

A few weeks ago, we were driving home from the mountains and saw the German-equivalent of a Pick-Your-Own flower farm! And then I came across another! Complete with an on-your-honor payment system and little crappy knives to cut the blooms. Man, do I love this place. I've already become a regular patron anytime we're driving nearby. I love being able to cut my own pretties and smell them all week long. 

Sometimes it really is the small things.

Our First Month(ish)

Whew! What a whirlwind. 

Our very first night in Munich, December 22, we dropped our bags,  and headed out for a walk in our new 'hood and one block later came upon Das Maria. Its hippie food and shared tables were just what these Californians needed to feel at home. They weren't serving any longer, but Dave and I both quickly knew I'd be eating my way through their menu in short order. One block further, we came to Faun, and stepped inside to the bustling, traditional Bavarian part-eatery, part-brewhall. Even better, when we noticed a dog inside, Dave ran home to get our white fluffer so she could join us. 

Truffle laying under the table, two biers, and an order of hummus and kraut, we were off to a very, very good start. 

The next few days, we tried to balance vacation, exploration, and some progress ticking off the seemingly endless list of things to do. Seriously, moving abroad is not a trivial task. I am SURE to write more about this later, so I won't linger here any longer.

Our first full day, Dave was out of the house by 7am and off to some government office somewhere dealing with some sort of paperwork which I'm still not exactly sure what it was. But I'm sure it was important, and I'm so glad he handled it. Then, he came home with warm laugencroissants from the bakery a few doors away. Let me pause here. These are not just croissants. They are PRETZEL croissants. Why didn't anyone tell me these existed? I didn't think croissants could get any better. We got dressed in running gear and headed out to a doctor appointment which is requisite for applications to German health insurers. I'm sure we'll also have more to say about healthcare too, but for now I'll just say that 1) based on the looks I got, people don't wear their running gear out in public, and 2) Germans are pretty trusting and willingly accept IOUs. When we didn't have any euros to pay in cash, the receptionist said no worries if we came back in a few days, and in the meantime, oh yeah, they'd submit the paperwork, kein problem.

After our first German run along the Isar, where we accidentally and serendipitously found the Englischer Garten - a giant park where dogs and people roam free - we headed home and out to our first Christkindlemarkt! I had heard rumors from Marselle of how awesome these Christmas Markets are, and I can officially report they are indeed worthy of the hype. Basically, a Christmas Market is a lot of people of all ages and demographics standing around in the cold, eating roasted chestnuts and drinking mulled wine or beer. Talking and making merriment. Sure, there are stands with some homemade ornaments and other gifts - as well as a bunch of Made-in-China junk masquerading as cute German trinkets - but the attention is unequivocally just not on shopping. It's all about the hanging. Germans, I'm learning, are very serious about their chill. 

Christmas eve was more of the same. With our first big meal in Germany. We opened some presents and headed back out to the Christkindlmarkt because we Just. Couldn't. Get. Enough. 

So much so that the next day, Christmas day, we were disappointed to learn the market in Munich was closed. But not in Salzburg! (Also known as the original set for the Sound of Music. And Mozart's birthplace.) We of course then rented a car and road tripped to Austria. First, we spent the day hiking in the Alps! My first time! And indeed, the vistas were vast, the trail soft, and there were a lot of people out and about hiking a mountain. Secretly, though, I couldn't get to the market fast enough. But when we got there, somehow the Salzburg market just wasn't as charming as the one in Munich. It was actually sad in a way, maybe even depressing. I'm not quire sure why or how, but we ended leaving pretty quickly, and headed back home to Munich. 

By the 27th, we were ready to head back to Austria for our first ski day. Note to Uncle Peter: five days after landing and we're on the hill. Not fast enough, I know, but the Alps were (definitely past tense now) having a slow start to the season. Dave chose Sölden, in large part for its conditions, proximity to Munich, and the parking sitch so we could let Truff out at lunch. Two things stood out right away: 1) Aprés starts before lunch. Scratch that - before skiing. I went into the chalet to get some tea at 10am and I was the only one ordering a non-alcoholic drink. Glühwein, beer, and schnapps. At 10am. I'm not kidding. 2) The alps are giant. Like, huge. It's a completely different skiing experience. There's more to say here, and between me and Dave, you can expect at least one (probably many more) whole post devoted to winter mountain activities. 

A few days later, we took Truff on her first metro ride out to the suburbs to go car shopping. More specifically, to go VW campervan shopping. Can you guess what the model is called? "California" - our dream is literally to eurovan around Europe in a California (still gets me!).... As many of you might imagine, I am indeed sorely conflicted about buying a Volkswagen after the emissions scandal. But let's put that aside for now to reflect on the process of trying to buy a car in a foreign country: in some ways, it's exactly the same, and in other ways, we face real challenges in evaluating our options. The language barrier doesn't seem to be the hurdle, but understanding the contract is a big one. The structures are fundamentally different than what we know in the US, so there is a whole new set of questions to ask, and of course, a whole new set of risks. We walked away with a fancy brochure and one important question: WHAT are we getting ourselves into, which quickly devolved to, Exactly HOW bad of an idea is this? We didn't make any decisions, but we'll keep you posted. 

We decided to walk back from the suburban car dealership, pubcrawling - beirgartening - our way home. We stopped here, here, here (our fave!), and here along the way. Two things worth noting here. First, picture the cliché image of a beer hall with big, wooden tables and tall Germans clinking litre-sized glasses filled with lager and overflowing foam. This, turns out, couldn’t be more authentic. And second, the beer hall is for everyone. Non-drinkers. Seniors. Families. People of all ages sitting down, slowing down, enjoying time together. At our first stop, the table to our left had two women, presumably mother and daughter, both over the age of 70. And they were dressed for town, both sipping their beers out of glasses double the size of mine. The next table over had a family with two well-behaved teenagers. There's an element of togetherness and family and connection and real life that seems to happen around these shared tables. 

New Year’s was quiet in our apartment, and we watched fireworks from the window. First thing in the new year, Dave headed to the recently-opened-after-a-terrorist-threat Hauptbahnhof to pick up the rental car. Sidebar: He says how strange it was that there was no signal whatsoever that a mere five hours prior this had been the site of international alarm. Then off to Switzerland for a few days, we hit up St. Anton for a half day of east-coast-style ice - but some killer views! - and made our way to Lucerne (Luzern). In the morning, breakfast on the water at Luz was gorgeous, right before I had a date with myself at the Luzern Symphony Orchestra for a mind-blowing performance with Venezuelan piano improvisor Garbriela Montero. Meanwhile, Dave and his colleagues* hung at the Luzern Glacier Museum, learning about rocks and ice and geology and history and other fun stuff. After the symphony, I saddled up to the bar sopping wet and with a soggy, dirty dog, feeling very, loudly American, at Luzern Brewery (in the former city hall). I made friends with some other foreign tourists, who were nonetheless fawning over Truffle in spite of her appearance or smell. 

Dave, along with his friends* Mel and Heiner (she German, he Swiss), and a family friend of theirs, met up with me at the bar. After a few beers, Mel and Heiner were so incredibly generous to host us for a feast at their home, atop the Lucerne hills, a meal filled with traditional German and Swiss dishes and accoutrements. We talked about the US, chocolate, the difference between Germans and Swiss and Austrians, backcountry skiing (Heiner is a mountain guide), and more. 

A few days later, we headed to Zurich, and made a pit stop at Engelberg. Snow conditions were bad (according to me, not according to Dave), so Truff and I took a hike while Dave made sure to get some turns. And turns out, Dave was right. And Truffle rolled in manure. 

And then... real life started. Work. We spent the next week in Zurich, Dave in all-day meetings, me bouncing between cafes and the hotel lounge working on a productization plan and dialing into conference calls. We soon returned to Munich, where life would be filled with errands (like going to the registration office), painful and tedious challenges when doing basic life tasks like grocery shopping, an occasional night out like the evening with Abby's friend Russ and his climbing crew at Tap House, and work. Lots and lots of work. 

Off to Mexico then back to SF for a week, now here we are, back in our "home" of Munich. Well into our second month, we don't yet have a routine, but it's around the corner. I can feel it. 

 

*Dave says he's not good at making friends. I say he is. Dave and Mel work on the same project, and there we were in their home drinking and laughing away for our first night of true Europen socializing. Both Mel and Heiner have been incredibly helpful translating apartment applications, providing recommendations on the best backcountry gear shops, giving us cultural insights, and so much more. You'll probably hear more about them. 


For (Future) Visitors

We miss everyone. And so we hope we have visitors, lots of them. Our dream is that we'd have so many visitors in fact, that we need to coordinate. Being optimistic, we created a shared calendar, which you can view HERE, to help in your travel planning. That way, if you're in the brainstorming phase of planning a trip, you'll know up-to-the-minute when we're available to host, and when we're not (because of our own travel, work travel, or OTHER GUESTS!!!).  

So far, it looks like Lindsey, Matt, and Orson are coming in April. Lauren, Patrick, and Clara are coming in July. Uncle Peter and Donna are considering October. 

So read about Munich, book your tickets, let us know, and we'll lock it in. 

We hope you come visit!

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