eating roast pork suckling and nearly drowning in a liter of Radler at Hofbräuhaus beer hall,
watching A.'s disappointed face when a piece of chocolate purchased from the fancy little Confiserie Rottenhöfer did not taste like a Kit Kat bar as he'd hoped,
sitting and writing on the grass at Hofgarten and listening to classical music and the nearby church bells announce the hours while A. slept in the sun (I can't take this guy anywhere.)
and then walking back in the night to stumble upon a cellist playing "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Misérables and stealing kisses against the plaza pillars. He played it so beautifully I probably would've teared up if I weren't so caught up in taking his picture.