On the Noble Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing

"We decided, in the interest of our health, to do absolutely nothing. Nothing, that is, in the scientific sense — a deliberate, studied absence of action. The most strenuous activity undertaken was the lifting of a pint glass, and even then we agreed that such exertions should be kept to the bare minimum."

Of course, there are moments when life interrupts even the most meticulously scheduled idleness — such as my recent, meteoric visit to Munich. A trip so brief and so improbably full of pints, pastries, and polite bafflement in train stations that it could only be described as a logistical triumph in the field of non-urgent travel. The objective? None, really — or at least none that would withstand the sort of interrogation one might expect from a conscientious customs officer. It was the kind of trip that exists purely to feed the soul and, if I’m honest, the pastry counter at a respectable German bakery.

It was also, in no small part, about meeting and reconnecting with wonderful people whom I had not seen in quite some time — the sort of encounters that remind you that geography may keep you apart, but a good beer and an unhurried conversation will stitch the years back together in an instant.

More on all of the above soon, as I gather my thoughts, comb through the photo album, and try to decide which moments are safe to share in public.

What I can say for now is that the trip contained all the classic elements of an Alpine interlude: mountains that look deceptively close until you start walking towards them, hiking trails that promise “moderate difficulty” and then demand the thigh strength of a mountain goat, and the occasional moment of cursing the very concept of fresh air. Somewhere in there, the Herzogstand made its presence felt — both as a panoramic reward and as a reminder that gravity is only a friend on the way down. We also took the unholy H1 trail to the Heimgartenhütte — a “difficult” route marked in black, which in Bavarian terms translates roughly to: If you slip, it’s a helicopter ride, but do enjoy the view.

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The Hanseatic Cask: On Commerce, Confusion, and a Porter Best Left Buried