S: Munich isn’t an easy city to get to know, let alone fall in love with. You won’t find its hidden gems in social-media compilations — you stumble upon them only after taking the time to explore the neighborhood you’ve grown fond of and, most importantly, after talking to the people who live there.
It’s almost like an initiation rite, where you’re turned away several times before being accepted. Only then does the city allow you to take a seat at the right bar counters — the ones where they’ll always know your name and most importantly your usual drink order.


B: Which place in Munich feels most like your version of the city?
S: My version of the city blends Bavarian culture with a modern twist and that description fits perfectly a small marks Feinkost (a german delicatessen) that I was surprisingly introduced to not by a local, but by another expat.
Every Saturday morning I eat my soft-boiled eggs with soldiers and watch the people passing by. By my rough calculations, every twelve minutes someone appears wearing a traditional Tracht jacket, paired with the most absurd amount of luxurious (though ultimately trivial) jewelry stacked on their wrists, necks, and ears. My friend and I exchange glances and giggle — not out of judgement but rather admiration.


B: What does Munich do particularly well that other cities rarely manage?
S: Munich is a small city, I’d even call it a town, since I’m always comparing it to one of the largest Eurasian capitals, the city I come from. But no horizon of skyscrapers and no amount of twenty-four-seven amenities can compare to the feeling of accessibility here.
Just a few minutes on my bicycle (which is practically a necessity here) can get me anywhere — from the market to my friends’ homes to the university (?) . Sometimes a smaller size is a fair trade-off for the sense of community it creates.


B: What kind of munich do you think only its residents get to know?
S: It may sound pretentious, or even boring, to have this take; however, one has to take into account that I am an economics student and an aspiring financial analyst.
A city where one can build a successful corporate career without being caged by skyscrapers and other architectural disasters is something you rarely come across. From my perspective, it is usually one or the other.
Having the opportunity to take a stroll in the Englischer Garten after a long day of delivering shareholder value is one of the small luxuries Munich has to offer.


B: What kind of person do you think Munich rewards?
S: A person who tries. A person: who is proactive, who does their homework, who learns the names, who remembers the stories, and takes the first step. And somehow, it is still never enough.


B: If your life in Munich were a television show, what kind of show would it be? Why?
S:  I would want to give a more sophisticated answer here; however, the first thing that comes to mind is reality TV. Munich is “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” (In this case: “The Real Housewives of Herzogpark”). What it cannot deliver in pop-cultural significance, it makes up for in generational wealth and generational trauma.

B: If you had to explain Munich through one street, one room, and one season, what would you choose?
S: Munich is Fraunhoferstraße, a living room in an apartment my friend shares with an ex-opera singer, and definitely summer.
I’m keeping the details of the last two to myself, but would gladly elaborate on the first — I’m not going to lie, it took me a while to get used to navigating this city. Its rhythms and manners only began to unravel into recognizable patterns once I became a regular at one of the bars on that street.
There, I’ve had great drinks, borderline-problematic conversations, and developed a chain-smoking habit. But Munich wouldn’t be Munich without its Bavarian citizens — the bar is closing due to endless complaints from the residents of the building.