Flying alone is occasionally boring, but usually relaxing--despite the cramped quarters in economy class, you can usually read a stack of mindless magazines and catch the in-flight movie.
Traveling with a toddler is maniacal. Plus, toddlers have so much more luggage than adults--the extra changes of clothes, the diapers, the snacks, the toys, the extra toys for when the first set gets boring and you're mid-flight, the storybooks, the medicines for every possible ailment (because do you really want to be finding tylenol in a foreign country at 1 am?), the stroller. . . so you are entertaining your child while dragging the equivalent of an ox cart behind you.
Tonight was Bee's 10th international flight within a two month time period and we are done, done, done, with flying for the foreseeable future. Tonight our plane didn't turn around mid-flight and head back (good) but it did land in some of the thickest fog I have ever seen in my entire life (questionable judgement on the part of the airport authorities, but hey, this is Eastern Europe after all).
But now we're home, David and I. The luggage is piled up in the hall and I think it is going to stay that way until tomorrow night. I want to go get in bed with a magazine and have a bit of a pout--it's always hard to leave Munich.
I am starting to think that Munich is more like Disney World than an actual city. The buildings are so perfect they could be made from gingerbread. They are iced with Christmas garlands and twinkling lights. Christmas displays brighten every shop window. One block from my sister's apartment is a chocolate shop that rivals Willie Wonka. The city is so sweet I want to eat it up. But there's no need, because every neighborhood has its own bakery with pastries the size of pie plates and fresh pretzels. Sigh.
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