Arriving into town on a Sunday is strange. You see a city at rest. In Germany all the shops are closed, except the restaurants. Music fills the streets; whole quartets, an opera singer, a lone accordion player. For this reason I could live here. And for another reason I could too; even without the sea anywhere near, the people of Munich know how to celebrate a summer. A summer of river surfing, of being swept off your feet in its current and watching the English garden flow past, its bridges high above your head. And of gathering friends around a table in a beer garden and talking until the stars are brighter than the fairy lights strung from tree to tree.