Multi-Generational Spring Break in Bavaria with the Grandparents

Two springs ago I made the choice to bring my parents on the Munich trip. I had been turning the idea over for years — my mom had never been to Germany, my dad had been once for work in the 90s and remembered nothing — and the timing finally lined up: spring break, both kids old enough to be charming on a plane, and the Bauers thrilled at the idea of meeting the people who raised the girl they'd raised for fourteen months.

I'll say up front: this is not the trip to bring your parents on if you and your parents need a lot of space from each other. It's also not the trip if your kids are at the meltdown age. We were lucky on both counts, and it was still a logistics puzzle. Worth it. But a puzzle.

The Cast and the Apartment Math

Six people, ten days, Munich. We rented a two-bedroom in Bogenhausen big enough for my parents to have their own room, the kids to share a pull-out, and Dave and me to take the small bedroom. The Schwabing apartments we usually rent wouldn't have worked. If you're doing this, prioritize space over location — Bogenhausen is a 15-minute U-Bahn from the center and the kids treated each ride like a personal accomplishment.

The Day the Grandmas Met

The whole trip, in some sense, was leading up to one afternoon. Frau Bauer invited everyone — all six of us — for *Kaffee und Kuchen* on the Thursday. My mother was nervous in a way she rarely is. She'd been practicing "Guten Tag" in the car all morning. I told her not to worry, that Frau Bauer would feed her into a happy stupor and that nobody was going to be tested on grammar.

What actually happened: Frau Bauer pulled out a *Apfelkuchen* recipe — her mother's, from a small spiral notebook — and my mom, a serious baker who has never written a recipe down in her life, started miming her own version of the same cake. They had maybe twelve mutual words. They spent forty minutes in the kitchen together, gesturing, laughing, occasionally pulling me in to translate "do you proof your yeast?" or "is this butter or margarine?" By the end Frau Bauer had Xerox-copied the recipe and pressed it into my mom's hand and was kissing her on both cheeks.

My dad and Herr Bauer, meanwhile, had found their own thing — Herr Bauer is an engineer, my dad is a retired electrician, and they spent an hour on the balcony talking about American versus European wiring conventions in a mix of slow English and slower German. Dave brought them beers periodically.

What Worked, What I'd Do Differently

What worked:

Splitting up daily. My parents took Leo for a long Englischer Garten morning while we did a museum with Ella. Twice we did the reverse. Nobody felt held back.
One "big" outing all together: Salzburg. We took the early train from Munich, did the *Festung*, ate schnitzel near the Mirabellgarten, and were back by dinner. Salzburg is small enough to do as a day trip. Vienna is not. Don't try Vienna with grandparents and small kids.
Letting my mom take the kids one full evening. Dave and I had dinner alone for the first time in months. She was thrilled.

What I'd do differently:

I'd buy fewer museum tickets. My parents were tireder than they let on. The Englischer Garten and the markets and a cafe were enough most days.
I'd eat dinner earlier. Six PM instead of 7:30. The 7:30 dinners destroyed everyone.
I'd build in one full day with no plan. Every day had at least one bullet point and that was a mistake.

The Salzburg Day, Briefly

The train from Munich Hauptbahnhof to Salzburg is two hours, scenic, and runs every hour. Tickets in advance are about half what they are at the counter. We did the *Festung* in the morning (the funicular is the entire selling point for a 4-year-old; Leo asked to ride it three times and we obliged twice), lunched at a *Gasthaus* near Mozartplatz, walked the Mirabellgarten, and let the kids run on the grass until the train back. It was, my dad later said, his favorite day of the entire trip.

The Englischer Garten Afternoon

The other unbeatable day was an afternoon we just sat. The Chinesischer Turm beer garden has long communal tables, kids can run, the food is reasonable, and we were there for three hours doing nothing. My mom got a *Radler* and decided it was the best drink she'd ever had. Brigitte and her daughter joined us halfway through. The kids ran. The grandparents sat. It was the trip in miniature.

On the flight home my dad said, of Frau Bauer: "That's a serious woman. I see why you stayed." I have thought about that sentence many times since.

The kids will, I think, remember this trip as the time Grandma met Frau Bauer. That's what they tell their cousins. They don't remember the Salzburg funicular or the Englischer Garten — they remember two old women in a kitchen laughing at each other in a language neither one of them spoke. I'll take it.