the hills are alive


i went to germany with my dad when i was a freshman in high school. just me and him. he was going over for a business trip, and i was taking german at the time, so he brought me along. it was pretty awesome, even though i was in the midst of my whole psychotic 16-year-old phase.  we went to the original Hofbrauhaus in Munich, where i surprised him by downing a stein full o’ beer the size of my head WITHOUT getting overly drunk. (this experience, i suspect, is what sealed us as beer-drinking buddies for life.)  we also rode a horse-drawn carriage to the top of a mountain to visit Neuschwanstein, a ridiculously opulent castle that inspired the one at disney world, and then, on another day in another town, we zoomed down these tiny claustrophobic caves on a bobsled-type of thing into the depths of a salt mine, with hard hats on and all. and on yet another day, we sped along the autobahn to Dachau, a concentration camp, which was probably the most desolate, nauseating, sobering place i have ever been to in my life. and then on the way back, we popped over to the czech republic border, but they wouldn’t let us cross the border in our rental car, so we parked and my dad walked into the country for shits and giggles. i did not, as i was too depressed by the concentration camp. (true story. i mean, how dramatic can a girl be?)

ANYWAY. this beautiful picture (the clothes, the girl, the mountains) from german vogue brought this all back, and made ME want to go back. if only in my memory.

(pic from fashiongonerogue)

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