This story takes place on a cold, snowy December night in Munich, Germany. I had left my hotel and was walking towards Marienplatz – the central public square in the city where Munich’s main Christmas market was located. I had walked around here the night before, but the holiday atmosphere paired with the gothic architecture was so beautiful that I knew I had to see it as many times as I could before leaving.
I walked slowly, noticing as much as I could along the way: the lights on the storefronts, the medieval-looking gate (Karlstor) welcoming me into the pedestrian zone, and the row of Christmas huts and vendors leading up to the main market. This was my first trip to see the German Christmas markets, something I’d wanted to do for years ever since I learned they existed. I had started in Cologne, then came here to Munich, and later would take a day trip to Nuremberg to see what was reportedly the country’s best market. It still felt surreal that I was actually here – that I was doing one of the (many) things I promised myself I’d do when I decided to become a travel blogger.
Finally, I came upon the massive square in Marienplatz and paused for a moment to take it all in: the giant Christmas tree, the vendor huts selling ornaments and hot chocolate, the laughter of kids, the lights, the smell of sausages…and of course, Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) towering over everything in the background. “Remember this moment,” I said quietly to myself – something I often did when I loved something so much I never wanted to forget it.
Suddenly, I realized I was starving.
Now, here’s my confession: as much as I love the German Christmas markets, I’m not overly crazy about German-style food. I knew going into this trip that the majority of my joy would be centered around the holiday atmosphere and less around exploring restaurants (and if you know me, you know discovering incredible restaurants is VERY high on my vacation priority list). But they say happiness comes from what you’re willing to sacrifice, and I was prepared to eat simpler foods as a trade-off for being immersed in holiday magic.
After a quick Google search, I managed to find a place with more than just fried schnitzel, bratwurst, and potatoes only 10 minutes from Marienplatz. I walked over, stepped inside, and was greeted by a massive crowd of people waiting for a table. A swift glance around told me there was no bar seating. This isn’t good…
“How long is the wait for one?” I asked the hostess. She shook her head. “No tables,” she replied. “We have no more room tonight.” I thanked her and left to find somewhere else.
I walked around for a bit and found 2 more restaurants that both told me the same thing: they were at max capacity for the evening. My “I’ll just wing it” mentality didn’t seem to be playing out in my favor. As a solo traveler, I rarely ever make reservations simply because I don’t have to. I’ve always been able to slide into a bar seat or squeeze into a tiny table in the corner. But that night? Nope. Every cozy little spot I tried was completely spoken for, and suddenly my casual I’ll-figure-it-out approach wasn’t cutting it.
I told myself I’d try one more place before admitting defeat. My last-ditch Google search pointed me toward a little restaurant tucked into Munich’s Graggenau neighborhood. I couldn’t tell you the name now, but the second I stepped through the door, I was smitten. The inside felt like a cabin, with colored bulbs, stockings, and bits of pine hanging from the ceiling. The vibe was warm, cozy, and authentically German…like stepping into a real-life Bavarian Christmas fairytale. But one quick look around confirmed I wasn’t the only one enchanted – this place was crowded.
Even though I already knew the answer, I went to the hostess and asked if she had any tables available. “We are full for the night,” she said in a thick German accent. I smiled and opened my mouth to thank her when I heard a woman’s voice say, “No no! Sit here with us!” I turned to see a family of 3 sitting at a table with one empty chair waiting like it had been saved just for me. The mom – who had spoken to me – was pulling out the chair while simultaneously waving me over.
For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve crashed weddings, parties and, even girls night out when I’ve gone to the city, but I’ve never crashed a family dinner. It seemed kind of…I don’t know…rude?!
But there was something so genuine about their invitation…and after all, are you really crashing if you’re invited? The dad was smiling, the teenage son was scooting his plate over to make room, and the mom was still enthusiastically telling me to come sit down.
And so I did.
They had already gotten their food, but sat and talked with me the entire time while I ordered, drank, and ate. I learned the teenage son was actually the mom’s, and that she and the man were engaged and planning to get married the next summer. They told me about a few bars in the city, and when I was done eating, offered to take me to their favorite one. I immediately said yes, deciding that unplanned adventures with the locals was my new favorite travel activity.
We ended up going to 3 different bars after eating. As much as I dislike German food, I LOVE German beer – particularly hefeweizens – and had my fair share that evening. The bars were a riot: all 3 places were loud, full of people, and everyone was having a good time. At one point, I stood back and thought about how the night started so calmly…wandering through Marienplatz, taking photos of holiday lights…and somehow ended in a rowdy locals’ bar, shouting over classic rock and clinking beer glasses with people whose names I barely caught. It was chaotic, unplanned, and exactly the kind of night that makes a trip unforgettable.
An Afterthought…
People often tell me how terrifying the world is when they find out that I travel solo…and while there’s truth to that, my response is always that the world is also incredibly kind. I’ll never forget that night – after all, the nights that turn into adventures always live rent-free in my head – but more importantly, the kindness that family showed me when I walked in that restaurant will stay with me forever. They didn’t have to care about me…didn’t have to take any interest in the blonde American girl who was all alone and couldn’t speak the local language. But they did. They talked to me, kept me company, showed me around, and made sure I got back to my hotel okay. It was a simple gesture on their part, but became one of those rare reminders that even in a big, unfamiliar world, we’re never as alone as we think.
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