The city of Munich is heavily
guarded by lions. Great ones, large and proud stand guard before the
Field Marshall Hall on the vast Odeonsplatz, one with an eye on the
yellow Theatinerkirche, the other gazing upon the former residence of
Munich's royalty. The latter's lips slightly parted as if to lowly
growl a message to its four small, golden brethren who line the street,
their prominent noses at the perfect height for an affectionate pat from
passersby. The lions watch from flags and memorials, from a world
renowned brewery and from countless city keepsakes. And under their
watch, Munich keeps her charm and beauty. Invites her visitors to
breathe her blossom scented air in the spring, bask in the sun on the
fields of the Englischer Garten, then to seek the shade of the countless
chestnut trees spreading their vast, flat palms over every biergarten.
To revel in the jocundity of Oktoberfest as the music and beer flow and
effortlessly carry away any negative thought. But also to humbly and
shyly bare the scars of her dark history and in her clear, blue eyes
beckon the viewer to understand and learn from them.
My
arrival to Munich was a bit of a jump into the deep end. The music
group I was invited to join (and the reason I had come in the first
place) was on tour. My accommodations were organized online and through
one telephone call which had simply directed me to navigate the
airport, find my way to something called an "S-Bahn", and take it to the
strangely named "Feldmoching" where my 80 year old landlady would
hopefully be waiting for me. I had a couple travelers checks, a small
bit of money saved up from my New York City days, the largest suitcase I
had ever owned in my life, and the glimmer of hope that this would be
the start of something better.
I'm the type
of person who likes to hit the ground running. Especially when the
alternative is to stand in the middle of my strange surroundings, look
around, spread my arms and scream "NOW WHAT?!" to no one. I had the
good luck of my living situation being everything I had expected if not
more, and within my first two days, I was out and about and exploring
the city, trying to find my way. I had a few short term goals, short
term mostly due to my three month time limit after which my tourist visa
would run out and I would face the decision of returning home with my
tail between my legs or doing something drastic…
Goal #1: Get a residence permit.
Goal #2: Get some sort of job that enables me to get said residence permit.
Goal #3: Jumpstart this fabulous music career I was supposed to have flown into (does that count for the residence permit?).
If All Else Fails: Marry some random German.
My exploration of the city brought me into the folds of a tour guide
company who were looking to hire a couple new guides. It was from them
that I learned about the little lion heads that lined the gates to the
Residence. People would rub their gold noses for good luck or would
make a wish. But rub more than three of the four noses and you would be
accused of greed and granted nothing. Over the next couple of days I
learned the lengthy tour script, found a couple of contacts to choirs,
practiced my German with my landlady, and kept my eyes peeled for my
emergency plan.
The day before my official "audition" for the tour company, I found
myself on the street with those four lions. Stoic and proud, they
stared straight ahead, accepting the wishes from the fingertips of
locals and enduring the photos with tourists. I decided upon the
technique of the former and casually allowed my fingers to brush the
nose of the first lion. I wish to pass my test tomorrow and become a tour guide. Without stopping, my palm met the nose of the second. I wish to get my residence permit. On to the next. I wish for a successful music career here.
As I let my hand drop from the third lion, I could feel their watchful
and judgmental eyes on me. Even the lion from the Field Marshall Hall
seemed to lie in wait, fangs bared, ready to pounce if I should dare to
try for a fourth wish. I met his eyes for a moment with a defiant
gaze, then directed them straight ahead as I walked by the fourth lion,
hands at my sides and marched on down into the Odeonsplatz Subway
station.
As I
made my way home through my neighborhood, I saw a small feline figure
sitting in the middle of the road, eyes reflecting the lights from the
streetlamps, focused on me. I softly greeted it as I passed by and was
surprised when it turned to follow me. We walked in silence to the gate
of my house where I stopped and turned to the cat. It mewed softly and
with an additional purr, began to affectionately rub itself against my
legs.
"You'd
better be careful. There's a dog that lives here and he wouldn't like
it if I brought a cat home." I said with a smile. The cat looked up at
me, holding my gaze. It mewed again, then started off back along the
street. I watched it for a moment and saw it turn and sit once again in
the middle of the road, eyes never leaving me. As I let myself into
the gate, it was still there, but when I looked back one more time
before entering the house, it had disappeared.
The next day, I passed my tour guide test and was scheduled for my
first tour the next week. The evening after that, I met and sang for a
choir director who wrote me into his Handel program at the
Theatinerkirche as a soloist. My group returned from tour and we got to
work on the project I came to do. Through an obscure yet miraculously
well timed contact, I received help with getting my residence permit and
in a month I was approved to stay for a year.
It has been four years since then. The tour guide job had left much to
be desired and I left after working there for a month, but it
introduced me to some of my closest friends. For that, I found the
experience invaluable. My work with the group has expanded and I am now
a part of three ensembles of theirs as well as one of the
organizational heads. The project I came for has enjoyed much success
and we are already at work on a second album. I make my living
primarily with music which is so much more than I ever could have asked
for. And by August next year, I will have my unlimited residence permit
here. All this, and I didn't even have to marry a random German.
Since that day when I had my encounter with the Munich lions, I have
felt that they have been watching over me. In turn, I felt like Munich
welcomed me in with open arms. I am more at home here than I have ever
been anywhere else. Where in New York I felt out of place and always in
search of something greater, here I feel that I live with purpose and
am firmly on the path to the life I always dreamed of having.
I still pat the lions noses on occasion. One of my wishes has stayed
the same, just to reinforce it. The other two change from time to time,
depending on what lies in my immediate future. But I've found
recently, one of those wishes tends to repeat itself. And a part of me
finds myself looking for a nice, maybe not so random German.
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