Munich, Summer 2006

Becca and I took the train to Munich in the middle of the World Cup. We bought jerseys for our teams the moment we arrived and spent the rest of the time wandering through a version of Germany I hadn’t quite seen before—strangers making eye contact, flags in every window without the usual weight that comes attached to that, the whole country briefly in agreement about being somewhere worth being.

The city was completely full. Every square had screens, every bar was past capacity, and even the matches that didn’t matter felt like they had stakes. We were there for the atmosphere more than any specific game, and the atmosphere delivered. Becca found a scarf somewhere and wore it for the rest of the trip. I got sunburned on day one and spent the remainder of the week faintly pink and unbothered.

The 2006 World Cup was one of those rare moments where Germany felt genuinely light. That particular combination of summer heat, football, and collective ease doesn’t come around often. I’m glad we went.