Blog

I did it to myself. Everyone had told me. In fact, they had told me multiple times: “pack light.” I thought I had. I packed what I thought I needed, took a few things out, and had plenty of room to take back gifts and souvenirs. When I got to the airport, I could easily lift my bag onto the scale at the check-in desk. According to the scale, I was ten pounds under the fifty pound limit. I thought I was set. However, that was until we had to catch a train to travel to Paris. A train that was just shy of a mile from our hotel.

Munich is by far one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. You’re immediately struck by the gorgeous cathedrals with their clocktowers that chime every hour. However, Munich is paved with cobblestone streets, which are lovely…. until you have to trek almost a mile while dragging forty pounds of luggage.

At first, it’s not too bad. The streets are deserted, completely void of life, except for the remnants of German beer bottles and the faint scent of black powder from the New Year’s Eve fireworks that had been lit just a few hours before. It’s rather peaceful. It’s weirdly enjoyable, and then you walk another block.

It’s at this point that you begin to question every packing decision you have ever made. Your arms and shoulders are starting to get tired, but it’s fine. You’ve obviously walked halfway by now, right? Wrong. It’s only been four blocks.

So, you try to pump yourself up by remembering that the train your schlepping your way to is taking you to Paris. Right as you start to disregard the discomfort, a flight of stairs appears, a flight of stairs that isn’t an escalator. 1, 2, 3, lift. You trudge up the stairs and think to yourself, “why in the world don’t I go to the gym more often?”

You finally make it to the halfway point. Now, you don’t even care. The train can leave without you. You don’t have to go to Paris. Honestly, what’s so great about Paris anyway? But you trudge on. Your perseverance is rewarded with another flight of stairs. Perfect. However, this time when you reach the top, you realize you’re about 200 yards from train station. It’s the most beautiful sight you have ever beheld.

You find your seat. You’re as sweaty as the winner of the Boston Marathon and have forearms so big they could rival Arnold Schwarzenegger’s, but you made it. In a few hours, you’ll be walking down the streets of Paris. As you look out the window and see Munich vanish on the horizon, you swear you’ll never pack more than two changes of clothes ever again.