I am in Munich.

I spent my one hour of waiting time at Charlotte Douglass praying that I would not end up sitting for eight hours next to an irritating Ukrainian kid who could simply not take a hint.

Instead, mercifully, I sat next to a delightful eighteen month old. The plane to Munich was full of babies; I could count seven from my seat. A lullaby of a flight, really. When the lovely German flight attendant came by to ask if I wanted Cognac or Baileys before bedtime, I knew I was on the right aircraft...Then I wake up in Germany, it is ten degrees outside, and everything is covered in frost. Beautiful. 

I’m sitting in the Munich airport now, drinking coffee and watching people. They have these fascinating smoking lounges here--clear glass boxes, clearly labeled: ‘smoking can kill.’ Charming.