Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, most of us stopped believing in magic.

Not the fairy tale kind. The real kind. The kind where candlelight reflects off cobblestones in a city that has been celebrating winter the same way for six hundred years and something in your chest just... opens.

That is what ten days in Munich, Salzburg, and Nuremberg does to a person.

We will wander through some of Central Europe's most storied Christmas markets, eat things we cannot pronounce, stand inside cathedrals that make our problems feel appropriately small, and stay up too late with people who started as strangers and ended as something else entirely.

This is not a holiday vacation. 

It is the trip you come home from quieter, fuller, and somehow more yourself than when you left.

You have been doing a lot. Come wonder for a while.