Having missed it the first time...

So there's a problem intrinsic to trying to document an adventure while you're having it: time. You can either be seeing things you've never seen or writing about them.

I am now back at my happy light in the cold den of my sprawling house, having finished not only my entire trip, but the endless trip home and a day of sedentary recovery as well. While I was on the train during travels I did type up some text, and everywhere I brought with my little pencilled journal, so I'm now typing that up too -- but I have no coherent story of the rest of my days. For the sake of efficiency, here's what came after what I've written about on here so far:
1/6/07, Saturday, Train from Paris to Munich, saw historic buildings in Munich, went to City Museum to learn about Nazi Reich history and see a zillion weird OLD instruments
1/7/07, Sunday, Guided bus tour around Munich, rest of the day at the Dachau concentration camp
1/8/07, Monday, used a car in a carshare program to drive to the Real Disney Castle, Neuschwanstein, at the foothills of the Alps (though they're not called foothills and they're not exactly hills -- more like the mountains just START, no transition -- and we hiked around a lake
1/9/07, Tuesday, relaxed and did more stuff in Munich, bought presents (mostly for me), went to see Eragon dubbed in German1/10/07, Wednesday, took train across countryside south to the Alps, took train and gondolas to the top of the Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany -- saw a disarmingly gorgeous lake in the fog1/11/07, Thursday, took Munich municipal transit as far south as possible to the 550-year-old Andrechs monastery and brewery in a peaceful little town, hiked through wet forests, saw the gorgeous Ammersee lake, bought chocolate; upon returning to Munich went to see the Olympiapark designed 35 years ago for the Olympics; climbed the hill there that is made of war detritus to see the glittering panorama of the city at night1/12/07, Friday, left Bernd's at 8:15 to take subway to airport, flew 10 hours across ocean to Dulles in Washington D.C. -- disembarked to accompany my luggage through customs but they screwed up and the whole flight's luggage took an hour to get to the place where we were supposed to take it through customs, so I missed my scheduled flight to DIA; finally took my luggage through and went to United's next departing flight for DIA, waited on standby, was the last standby person selected, went out to plane -- ended up being the exact same frigging plane I got off of two hours earlier; dozed sorely until Denver where Brian picked me up and brought me home to two dozen roses and a good night's sleepSo we get back to me sitting under my Happy Light, a full-spectrum lamp I use to regulate my circadian rhythm -- which helps to make me tired when I should be so I can sleep without chemicals and wake up with energy. It is wonderful to be back to Brian and free refillable water in restaurants, but I could not be more satisfied with these last three weeks. I'm halfway through typing up my handwritten journal so I'll probably make a long entry with that whenever I finish it. Rupert Brooke wrote a poem a hundred years ago that expresses the feeling of the daily grind when adventure and intensity have become the norm:

A young Apollo, golden-haired,
Stands dreaming at the verge of strife --
Magnificently unprepared
For the long littleness of life.