Surprise!
YES, the rumors are true: Emmy and I just returned from prancing across Europe in search of ourselves, the best ice cream cone, and the perfect Instagram.
Our first stop was a grassy, wooded space known as Munich, Germany. But before I tap into the very gritty details of our sleeping accommodations, let me explain.
About a month or two ago when we were planning our post abroad depression trip, Emmy somehow convinced me to book a tent in the German wilderness for three nights. Luckily, we’d be conveniently shuttled to and from Springfest, basically the Oktoberfest of spring, so basically an excuse to drink four liters of beer in one sitting, so basically Super Saturday with pretzels (Frat stars take note). Read on for the result.
Day 1: Being crünchy in München.
When we arrived at Camperplatz, we were stoked – literally – to sleep in what we thought would be a spacious two person tent. I had trained long and hard for this moment in my life by 1) Reading about recent bear activity in Camperplatz, 2) Expressing my inner anxieties to every human I came in contact with, including the postal worker on Gloucester Road and 3) How to melt Crocs into soup. This can be done in dire situations. But I digress.
Things were looking up that Saturday morning: There were indoor bathrooms! Breakfast and dinner were included! There was unlimited sangria and beer!
But all was not what it seemed as we lugged not one but three overweight suitcases across muddy, graveled Camperplatz.
To this day, I’m not sure what were were expecting, but this was definitely not it:
This is depiction is 1000% accurate.
“Oh no,” we said in unison as we looked back and forth between our 300 pound baggage and our 300 pound selves, “this will not do.”
And so, as we attempted and failed to lift the first bag inside our squalid space smelling of stale urine and broken dreams, we immediately did what any logical person would do: Consult Expedia.
We’d seen the commercials, we’d heard the catchy tune, so we thought we’d give it a shot. Soon enough, we were booking the finest 40 Euro double room in all of Munich, conveniently located near the festival.
Problem averted? Not so fast. After a brief moment of panic, we realized we should stick out the campgrounds for the night. After all, the sangria was free, the lederhosen were plenty, and everyone had Australian accents.
By 3 PM we’d somehow made it to the Birkenstock store in Marienplatz with bratwurst and schnitzel in our hands. Yes, Germany was already looking groovy (from the bottom of a pint glass).
Holy Schnitzel.
Holy Pretzel.
IT RAINED THAT NIGHT. And by rained I mean there was a monsoon. The tent covering the outdoor grill and dining area leaked gallons of dirty rainwater. Wearing approximately twelve layers between us, we managed to find shelter among the raw burgers and drunken college kids.
Once we had a few sangrias in us, we made the ingenious decision to get the party started Central PA style. And so, in the middle of the German rainforest, Emmy took control of the stereo like the true #DJEmetz that we all know and love.
The rest of the night followed in this exact sequence: Timber, Sexual Healing, Shabba. Did anyone know the latter two songs? Of course not, but they still sang along anyway. Don’t worry Bucknell, we made our mark in Camperplatz that night. Literally, we made our mark on the bar after carving this message into its sodden wooden frame:
English, German, or neither?
But Kate from CT and Emmy from NJ, you ask, What happened after that? Your guess is as good as ours, friends, but what we can tell you is that Emmy lost her socks, a fight broke out in our 3 square feet of crawl space, both our Converse got destroyed, and Emmy’s sleeping pad deflated in 2.5 seconds.
But our journey had only begun.
A photo of Emmy doing her makeup in Camperplatz. Look at that poise!
To be continued.
kate from ct. 
