muniching

ill travelled as i am, i’ve never been on such a short flight. they have tended to stretch infinitely, across oceans and sustained by meals of lukewarm chicken and rice, mysteriously possessing both qualities of mushiness and Crunch. lucía and i sit on the end of each aisle and hold hands during takeoff. perhaps it is due to my dopamine receptors being intrinsically out of sync since birth, but i always get the strangest thrill from the roar of the engine as the plane moves from solid ground to weightlessness. 

before we know it, we are Muniching and i queue for an extra forty minutes with my non-EU passport (thank you brexit, held on my twelfth birthday). then we are deposited safely in the back seat of an Uber as we plan our future band tangtang, which turned into something else very familiar. i wrestle my suitcase around and remember how kush the Kitty curled up in it the night before, against my clarice lispector. he is wise beyond his years (barely a year old, mind you). susana hauls it up six flights of stairs before we gain eternal rest in her lovely apartment, which is light, airy, and refined with the trinkets of a woman who knows her shit. feasting on pho loaded with teriyaki sauce from the viet place downstairs we reflect on the current states of our lives. there is Much to Say that won’t be repeated here. susana tells us tales from her youth as we sip on jasmine pandan tea, perched on red plastic stools. the rest of the night is spent on susana’s balcony with red wine and wiseness. this was not my healing hysteria seaside holiday, but nevertheless i find a certain comfort in the padded seats of the outside bench and saying repeatedly, “oh, and of course he could never understand…”

there is something so delicious about these days. we wake around noon, and have eggs and bacon and avocado seasoned with herb infused salt for breakfast (my plate finished with a generous serving of pickles). despite rain and generally dreary weather, we tourist in an appropriately lucíahannah way: buying scented body oil from the french perfumery, stopping to collect taro brown sugar tea, sifting through crystals for an unspecified amount of time. when susana finishes work we drift in and out of solemn churches and pause to light candles for our opps. this time of indulgence is punctuated by quiet moments in which lucia reads, and i potter about in my usual fashion. it is only a few stops to Marienplatz, where the city centre and old town resides, so we can flit back and forth between the city and susana’s quiet flat with ease. the Residenz München is near impossible to find, but once we traipse in, damp and slightly Over Things, there are decadent sights from bavarian monarchs and delights in the tiny gift shop to be discovered. once home, i find myself drifting to our familiar resting place of the terrace, armed with a pint of bergamot sorbet. something about the fresh air is unquestioningly perfect for debriefing for hours at a time. we can always find new ways to beat a dead horse. if we find something we must rehash in increasingly granular detail, beat it we must, and beat it we shall.

on some nights, we stay in with pho and face masks and horror movies, and play our very own Zombie Apocalypse game for over two hours (we would do marvellously, despite missing our many rituals and treats). on others, we share a bottle of yuzu aperitif as the munich skyline dims and my spell candles flutter in the twilit breeze. together lucía and i arrive at the conclusion that time and a trip away can heal all wounds, especially with the aid of a few glasses of yuzu. not that this time away was about food, but oh did i dine. carbonara after church-seeing, pan-fried dim sum, cheesecake and hojicha from the little café downstairs. that was healing in its own way. ed asks if i will have yuzu withdrawals, and frankly, he is entirely right.wandering through the ‘trees / time / architecture’ exhibition was another joy amongst the many Joys of munich, naturally coupled with my frequent and repetitive singing of Hoochie Coochie on the metro. oh, the joys. i show lucía annihilation, curled up on susana’s couch, and she tells me of the book differences, which i still really need to read. i find myself healed from something i cannot quite put my finger on, some malignancy i have not named. perhaps some luxuriating with your best friend is all you really need. munich i will be in you again, trust and believe.