Today, I read a mail from a dear friend who just got engaged to a lovely man she met almost four years ago while we were on Erasmus in Munich. I was a mature student and it was my first proper experience of what college life should be like. I hardly attended any lectures and drank lots of beer. The fun I had that semester!
I had earned the nickname Party Frau and because I was the one who organised all the nights out, My Dear Friend contacted me about the plan for that evening. She was young and Parisian. She didn’t speak much English and I’d forgotten most of my secondary school French but we made do with our broken German. We bonded over boys. She started seeing her now fiancé at the exact same time as I started seeing his friend. She got engaged and I got some short-term fun with a hot Norwegian. Moving along…
My Dear Friend and I became inseparable. I gave her jaunts on my cheap market-bought bicycle. We swam in lakes and smoked Marlboro Lights out my 17th-floor window. We made silly videos together (one hilarious one was of our ridiculous attempt at Unterwasserradfahren: underwater cycling). We travelled to Vienna and Prague and Paris. Her laugh alone made me laugh. We wore our matching Dirndls any chance we got. My Dear Friend wowed me with her cool, laid-back, affectionate, effortlessly beautiful self. We told each other everything. And when she returned to France and I was left alone in Munich for a fortnight, she made sure to have breakfast with me every morning via Skype. We’ve only seen each other three times since then. Once for Oktoberfest, and twice in Ireland. I owe her a visit.
Congratulations, Liebe! I am so happy and excited for you both. I love and miss you. Bisous.