*Maxing = Hanging out with Max
A few days before my train to Munich, my friend Max—with whom I'd be staying—found out he'd have to work in Frankfurt during the week, and thus would not be at home when I arrived. He gave me directions to his apartment, made sure a roommate would be home to let me in, and welcomed me warmly with this awesome spread:
|Umbrella, apple, towel, warm socks, tram map, cloth bag, key, handwritten welcome note with info + tips, and snail mail sent to me via Max. Amazing!|
One of the places he recommended was a nearby cemetery, where locals often go for a stroll or to sit in peace on the benches:
His apartment is gorgeous; the second picture below with the swings is a scene that I later painted in my watercolor journal.
I went to a Couchsurfing event my second night, stayed in the third day to catch up on blogging/reading/etc. (it was raining out), and then late that night—as you already know—something strange was going on in my belly and I puked. A lot.
Don't worry, even with a fragile stomach, I made sure to eat no less than one pretzel per day.
Max got back from Frankfurt on Friday evening, so we spent the weekend hanging out—often with his girlfriend Anke.
Above: Currywurst and pommes (french fries)!
Below: Wine festival event where Max's old boss had a stand for their vineyard (so she had thus given Max free entrance tickets).
I actually sent my Munich mail via Touchnote, but took a #GlobalSnailMailing pic anyways.
Here's our final meal together: Sunday-night risotto at Anke's.
Apart from the pen sketch in the marketplace earlier in the week, I later painted the window nook from Max's kitchen with the two swings.
And on Monday I stumbled upon these two very talented marimba (& xylophone?) players in the center:
After putting a tip in their snare, I turned around and noticed that the building in front of them was decorated with neat blue/yellow paintings:
So I walked to the nearest bench, which was out of sight of the musicians but within hearing distance, and began to paint the facade.
As I was working on the very first sketch in pencil, soaking up the sun, enjoying the music, all of a sudden—splat—I felt something hit my knee.
Yup, a bird shat on me.
I had to laugh—what a lesson after last week's serendipitous sketching moment in the market. But that's exactly the point: Everything I'd done that day, affected by everyone else, put me on that bench in that exact spot right when the bird let one drop. All the moments are equally fluid and magical.
It wasn't until two days later, on my train from Strasbourg to Montpellier, that I pulled out the unfinished pencil sketch and continued working on it: