Welcome to Bavaria.

The grass is greener. The cars are smaller. Lakes of full of "sweet water" not "fresh". Any of the buildings aligning Munich's small cobbled streets could contain a 15Th century church and you would never know it from the outside. Beer is water--as far as Bavarians are concerned "there is no alcohol content!"

In the last 3 days I have learned many things, most notably: where I will host my wedding (Neuschwanstein Castle. Though I may have to pull a few strings as this has never actually been done.), and that I am indeed capable of sleeping past 10am (a feat which those who know my usual sleeping habits will surely appreciate).

In truth, every since I arrived here on Monday morning, my life has been a whirlwind that I haven't been able to absorb yet. My first culture shock came before I left DC. For 7.5 hours I was seated next to a very sweet elderly woman from Albania and spent I good portion of the flight trying to help her communicate with the flight attendants (she didn't speak a word of English or German). "Beef or Pasta?" "BEEF or PASTA???" You would think that flight attendants of all people would know that saying something louder does not make it more understandable. She had a little notecard that she showed to me once we reached Munich: "I do not speak English, please help me to find Gate 43." I didn't have an idea which direction to point her but found and English speaking airline employee and they shuttled her off on a miniature golf cart (yes...it is possible to make golf carts in miniature--this IS Germany). One good deed for the day!

The rest of my week has been filled with everything from visiting churches (there are at least 2 on every block), to riding bikes through sunflower fields en route to a biergarten (covered in HUGE chestnut trees to keep the ground cool enough to store the barrels), to driving hours through rolling farmland (I admit- I was asleep for most of the drive...) to visit King Ludwig II's fairytale castle that no one ever lived in, to shopping (enough said), to staring at Marie Louise's (Napoleon's wife) traveling makeup case in the Munich Treasury, to going to my first REAL club and coming home smelling like cigarettes (though it is illegal to smoke in restaurants in Munich, the law hasn't reached the clubs yet).

Then you have to add in the frustration of a computer that wouldn't work and the constant battle against jet lag. I feel like I am finally just beginning to find stable ground but I leave tomorrow night already for the real adventure. I will no longer have family friends who let me sleep until noon and then wake me up with a cappuccino, who translate every word of every sign or salesperson and take me on a tour of all the best things of the city, or who spend hours with IBM specialists trying to make my wireless card log in. It hasn't hit yet. I don't know when it will. I can say one thing for certain. I know why people do this. Why they move away, travel to an unknown. You really can't understand the world until you've done this- until you know what its like to be that person that is obviously not a local. Its pretty cool actually...to be the one ALWAYS asking questions.
Direct Translation: From "Knocked Up" to "One Night Stand"
Future site of my wedding!

These goats were right next to the metro stop...I thought it was pretty cool.

I think the scariest thing about this next year is also the best part of it all.

In exactly 3 and a half days I board a plane en route to Paris via Munich and can not picture one day of the next 365 after that. I only know this simple outline:

WEEK 1: Visit (or rather...steal a bed from...) great family friends in Munich.

WEEKS 2-5: Hop on a night train to Paris and stumble around until I end up at the Cite U somewhere on the outskirts where I will be spending the next month with thousands of international students who are also studying somewhere in Paris. Meanwhile, attending language and methodology classes at Sci Po weekly.

WEEK 5 and on: (Please fill in the blanks) Live in a (an)___?___ (apartment/house/cardboard box) in the __?__ district (pick a number 1-20), with ___?___(a family/students/rats), and start my first semester at Sci Po taking classes like ___?___ and __?__ (well...these will HAVE to be good).

With an understanding of French just short of "terrible" (4 semesters is perfectly fine! Right?), an addiction to running, and feet that have been compared to Sasquatch in length--I've spent the summer convincing myself that I won't stand out TOO much in a culture of beautiful, tiny feet that never sweat.

My mom and dad are going to call on Thanksgiving, my 18 year old brother is going to call on the day of his graduation from high school, my friends in the states are going to call on their 21st birthdays (or I rather, I'll probably have to call them), my 16 year old brother is going to call after his first varsity basketball game, my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins will call while celebrating the holidays... The list goes on and on...

I know what I am missing and don't know what I am getting in return.

BUT

The truth is that I am more excited than terrified, more anxious than nervous, and much more ready than paralyzed by the thought of the unknown.