Making French Girls Laugh / Pretzels

I didn’t think I was asleep as my train to Munich was passing through the Slovenian countryside until I woke myself up with a loud, singular, goose-like ‘HONK’. I wasn’t the only person who heard it either—I noticed a really pretty French girl* my age a few rows down start giggling and whispering to her friend with a quiet, but distinct, ‘honk’ thrown in.

My WordPress ‘author profile’ (that sounds a lot more official than it really is) says I like pretzels. I really do like them so I was pleased to see that Munich is a city full of them. I ate one after strolling around the historical part of town (jam-packed and full of colorful banners for the Gay Pride festival that weekend), and another while strolling through the Olympic grounds following my visit to the BMW Museum, and yet another for good measure to relax a bit after visiting the concentration camp in Dachau.

I heartily recommend everything I visited in Munich. The Deutches Museum, with its recreated mine and its microelectronics exhibits, really captivated me. I loved seeing all the cars on the BMW Museum (though seeing their actual prices in the showroom in BMW Welt tempered my enthusiasm). The Old City and the Nymphenburg Palace grounds were pleasant places to stroll around in. Even Dachau provided a surprising contrast between the horror of its (thankfully mostly unused) gas chamber and the pretty buildings that the town itself is comprised of.

*I am a pragmatic prescriptivist since I would like to use ‘man’ and ‘woman’ for people my age. However, those terms seem far too formal for my peers. Thus, people my age will be referred to as ‘guys’ and ‘girls’ to reflect common usage. Feel free to call me a mysogynist in the comments.


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