Even though I found a good flight and couldn’t spend another climbing-the-wall, wasting away weekend in Madrid, the real reason I went to Munich was to be mistaken as a German, to be confused as someone in the foreign culture instead of always on the outside (as I so obviously am in Spain). With my typical American mutt status, I would say that I am around 25% German, which was apparently enough to fool at least three people when my big old camera was stowed away. One just walked up to me, speaking German and another older lady on the train took the opportunity to tell me (based on her giggle) a silly little side comment. My last name as a dead give away at the place I stayed, so the receptionist first asked if I spoke German instead of proceeding immediately with English.

I try to determine what language the person likely speaks from the origination clues in their face and I am sure the same is happening to me when others want to talk to me. In Spain, I have just made a point of starting the conversation out in Spanish to indicate that I know the language, but in France, Italy, and now Germany, too, I walk in kind of timidly and hope the other person will realize my inability to communicate and forgive me ahead of time for the potentially tricky conversation to follow. Despite the difficulty I had reading a menu (didn’t eat at a single restaurant) or asking simple questions, many of the Germans do know English through their multilingual education (unlike the stress in the US) so I got some help on the streets.

I remember hearing a comment once that English has a lot of ties to German, but since languages are constantly adapting and picking up new words from every culture (especially so in the immigrant-filled US–aren’t we all immigrants?) I didn’t think too hard about it. Visiting, though, proved this generalization. Here, let me show you. Below is a list of German words. Read them aloud and listen to the hard sounds, only sometimes paying close attention to the spelling.

• Garten
• Schokolade
• Reis
• Morgen
• Willkommen
• Parkplatz
• Vorsicht
• Fett
• Nine

Any sound familiar? If not, they will be even more so when I give you the answers:

• Garden, as in Biergarten and the origin (in fact, exact same word) of that crazy word we use to describe our first year in school Kindergarten
• Chocolate (vanilla was too easy, Vanille)
• Rice
• Morning
• Welcome
• Parking lot/Space (exact phrase I saw was an advertisement on the train Parkplatzprobleme?)
• Watch it (I am stretching the translation a bit to make it work. Saw it on a neighborhood sign with little children playing on it. Most likely means Caution, but I like my version better.)
• Fat
• No (fooled you, doesn’t mean 9)

Now I am not advocating that I could go out and read a book in German or pick up the language tomorrow, but it was fun playing the word games and noticing the similarities.

My overall impression of Munich was, at first, confusion but once I orientated myself from walking around for a few hours and riding the S-bahn/U-bahn (public transportation), I was able to enjoy the environment much more. Perhaps owing to my semi-German looking appearance or perhaps not, many Germans actually smiled at me if I caught their eye. In the market, the vendors grinned even if they knew I wasn’t looking to buy and when I was in the park outside a former palace of Maximilian Sunday morning this one man strolling with his dog gave me some of the most welcoming grins I have gotten as of all of my travels. And, no, it wasn’t one of those you’re-American-seduction grins–I can sense those.

Amidst all the beer, brautworst, hot dogs, and soft pretzels, there was still an acknowledgment of healthier foods and lifestyles. At the convenience stores and even in the train station where healthy food choices are generally difficult to come by, I was surprised to see a number of places selling pieces of fresh fruit for a reasonable price of .55€ with a sink mounted next to the bowl to wash the fruit. Impressive.

The city itself was full of bikers (special lanes for them alongside the walking parts; I nearly got run over a number of times for not paying close attention to the terrain) and in the parks I found a lot of people walking with those poles, as if they were going to confront a mountain sometime soon.

Munich, if you recall, was the host of the 1972 Summer Olympics and instead of keeping the buildings as a monument to the honor of hosting the event (as I felt in Barcelona), the entire park was still in use by the locals. Youth soccer practice was in session, trophies and pictures of ice skating events decorated the display case in the arena, and for a few euros or a yearly membership you could use the pool.

They took complete advantage of their space and the architectural feats of even the airport, as I was shocked to see a kids’ marathon-like event for a humanitarian cause going on in the plaza between the two terminals. Inflatable moon walks and dance-like music are the last thing you would expect to see among the last-minute shops and over-priced restaurants.

I wasn’t intending to visit the concentration camp just outside the city because I have learned a fair amount about the Holocaust over the years–enough to know that I didn’t want to see it again and open myself up to the horrors once more. But, for those exact reasons, I felt I had to visit. I was quite somber walking around and only a few of the scenes and details highlighted in the memorial were shocking to me because they were new information to me, but the majority of the people were not nearly as pensive and reflective. It was still a tourist place where groups would wait outside the heavily symbolic entrance gate for people to stop streaming through to snap The Picture. In front of a placard-like sign that read “Never Again” in five or six languages, two American girls were taking a picture and the one posing goes, “Like, uh, what do you do in front of something like this?” she says as she does a Vanna White stance. Just as appalling to me was the fact that people now live directly butted-up to the fence surrounding the camp. Of course, I was expecting the town to continue to be its charming, quaint self as the years go by, but I cannot imagine who (and there were a lot of whos) would choose to be reminded everyday of this, especially with the tourists souring the atmosphere a bit.

After all of that adventure, my weekend didn’t stop as I went to the Real Madrid-Atletico Bilbao game a few hours after I landed on Sunday. Tickets were expensive because, had the current second place team Villareal lost, the win would have clinched Real Madrid’s spot in La Liga championship game, sending all the fans to Plaza de Cibeles for a celebratory night-long party. My friend was all ready to go–even though he was in Greece that morning (we kept talking about how we needed to pinch each other because it still doesn’t seem real that we are here)–but now has a motivator to study for finals next Sunday in Real Madrid wins again. The few pictures I took are here.