Last week, the second 90 minutes of my German class was held at the outdoor market in the Münsterplatz. We were there to practice everyday phrases:
“Wie viel kostet das?”
“Ich hätte gern zwei kilo Äpfel, bitte.”
It was fun, and our instructor treated us to wine from her one liter plastic container she had filled at the market.
A few of them were going to Munich for Oktoberfest over the weekend. On the walk to the market, I heard my classmate Eric mention he was staying at a place called The Tent.
“I’ stayed there fourteen years ago!”
As we walked, I told them about Munich with Marcelo and my adventures in Venice, trying to find him.
“Did you end up marrying Marcelo?” Olivia asked.
“No, I married a white boy from Arizona.”
Today during our break I checked in with Eric to hear about Munich. Unsurprisingly, they had a great time. Eric asked me where I went to college.
“What do you mean?”
“The one in Arizona, right?”
“Seems like you had a lot of fun in your youth.”
I did have a lot of fun at ASU and on my backpacking trip, but I thought it strange to classify these as events of my youth.
Youth is lost for most but not always at the same point in life.