And then there were three!

"You Americans. Everything is always 'amazing this' and 'amazing that.' Everything is sooooo ammmaaazzzinnggg all the time."

Like most young travelers, we've spent most of our trip is a state of constant amazement over everything we've seen. Christiane, a German student who, along with her boyfriend Flo, adopted us during our stay in Munich, was quick to point out that this overuse of superlatives (i.e. describing everything as amazing, wonderful, beautiful, etc.) is strictly a North American tendency.

I'd never realized my overuse of superlatives until that moment. I mean, how many times on this trip have Elissa and I met people who we enjoyed spending time with and, immediately after waving goodbye, turned to each other and said, "Oh my gosh. I LOVED them!" The answer is many, many times.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good superlative. But, I could see Christiane's point. How can you apply the same word you use with someone for whom you have deep affection to a group of strangers with whom you enjoyed sharing a beer?

So, as a personal challenge I'm going to attempt to describe some of the experiences from the last week without drifting into a superlative slump.

LONG LOST FRIENDS
Stephanie and I go way back. Before there was a California Kristen there was Stephanie, Lindsay and Kristen, three goofy 12 year olds who became best of friends over one week at summer camp. Over the years, Steph and I drifted apart a little. I moved to California. She lives in Calgary. Still, we've always been the kind of friends that, no matter how much time has passed, we always start each conversation as if it has only been a few days since we last talked, instead of a few years.

When I found out that Steph and her husband, Matt, were living in Bologna for a few months I made plans for a day trip during our stop in Padova.

As I waited for Steph and Matt is the town center, I couldn't help but wonder what our day would be like. It's been at least three years since we've seen each other and, even though we're the same age, our lives seem so different. She's been working full time for ages, is married and has even owned a home. That's pretty much as far away from my unemployed, unattached, uncommitted life as it gets.

Still, the moment I saw Steph all of those concerns disappeared. We were back to that place we always ended up at. It was like nothing had changed except, instead of giggling around a campfire at Lake Chestermere, we were sipping espresso in Bologna.

As it turns out Steph, despite living a life that seems so foreign to me, is in very much the same place that I've found myself over the past year, questioning everything, looking for answers, seeking adventure, creating new experiences and opening herself up to all kinds of possibilities. It almost felt as if our lives had kind of aligned for a minute in Bologna, as a reminder that we're both on the right path, heading in the right direction.

We talked all afternoon. About everything. And when all had been said I waved goodbye and left for the train station, wondering when the universe would see fit for our lives to align again, and what kind of adventures we would find ourselves on in between.

PROST!
"Viva Cologne!"

It's been four hours and this is the only Oktoberfest song we know, mostly because it doesn't really have any other words. Okay, that's a lie. We also know the song that has "la la la" as its only lyrics and when the live band in the middle of the beer tent plays American classic rock songs like "Proud Mary" and "I Will Survive" you can bet we sing our hearts out with the 3000 Germans around us, all of whom are dancing on tables in lederhosen and dirndls and shouting "prost!"

I'm going to use a superlative here and say that this is the best party I've ever been to.

Our German friends, Christiane, Flo and Blade have somehow managed to snag us a table in the Spaten tent, something that is usually virtually impossible without a reservation, and within minutes we have half a dozen new German friends. There's the two medical students from Cologne who have spent the last year studying in Norway and so spend most of the evening speaking to me in Norwegian (which I kindly ask them to translate to English because the only Norwegian word I know is "skol") , the pair of middle aged men who do dead on impressions of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and a few lively dance partners who spin me around the wobbly wooden benches, precariously dipping me to within inches of the floor.

"What are we doing here!!!??" Elissa, Michael and I yell to each other over our beer steins.

The three of us had arrived in Munich early that morning, Elissa and I via our last (!) overnight train from Padova and Michael from New York. We were absolutely exhausted, but after a power nap at Christiane and Flo's apartment we were ready to hit the tents.

I'm not quite sure what I expected Oktoberfest to be like. Outdoor beer tents in the middle of grassy fields, where people leisurely sip their beer while listening to lively Bavarian music was the picture I had in my head. Turns out Oktoberfest is NOTHING like that.

First of all, everyone is in traditional Bavarian garb. The U Bahn and S Bahn were packed with men and women in lederhosen and dirndl. I felt so out of place that I had to go try on a dirndl the next day to make myself feel better.

Second, Oktoberfest does not take place in the middle of a green pasture. It takes place in the middle of a gigantic Disneyland-esque midway, full of puke-tastic rides, that has been constructed just for the event.

Among the midway rides there is every kind of food you could want, from GIANT pretzels to chocolate covered fruit, every kind of wurst you can imagine, and endless mounds of candy and nuts. I'm pretty sure we had a healthy sampling of just about everything.

And finally, finally, there are the beer tents. Twelve in all, each with a different and very specific theme and packed to the rafters with raucous Oktoberfesters and thousands of gallons of the world's best beer.

What could be better?

Looking back over pictures I took that night I'm not sure that I was able to capture the sheer joy that was on our three faces that evening. We had a hard time leaving Munich, not only because we ended up making wonderful friends and really felt at home in home in the city, but because the spirit of Munich, amidst all of the festivities, had gotten inside of us and we didn't want to see it go.