It is a gorgeous morning, the sky so blue and the air so sweet that it will have lifted the heart of the most sullen person. Everything is so alive, just sort of pulsating, moving all the time.
I'm among those on Marienplatz in Munich who are all faces with mouths open as if to receive honey from the sky. A hopeful grin on my face, I crane my neck waiting for the town hall Glockenspiel to come to life. Daily at 11 am and 5 pm, and in the summer at noon, it chimes and portrays two stories from the 16th century. I check my watch. Eleven am. It's time!
On cue, 43 bells start chiming. Life-sized figures come into view, reenacting the fantastically expensive and sumptuous marriage of Bavarian Duke Wilhelm to Renata of Lorraine in 1568.
I'm swept up by the enthusiasm around me. I visualize the solemnity of the church ceremony. The bride will bat her eyes at the groom as the priest instructs, Bitte antworten Sie mit 'Ja.' Please answer, 'Yes.' She takes a deep breath, taking her time to answer, Ja. The couple take each other's right hand. Ah, without love, everything else is meaningless, I croon.
A royal joust with mechanical knights on horseback follows. I can almost hear a squire yelling out, Is there among you any gentleman who for the love of his lady is willing to try with me some feat of arms?
The challenge will be answered, I will deliver him from his vow. Let him make haste and come out of the castle. After the squires have taken their stations, the tilt begins. Glaring in outrage, they meet each other roughly with spears.
I'm now looking with more intensity at the next scenario, the coopers' dance. The coopers, who make the barrels in which beer is stored, are highly respected in this city known for its breweries. Twenty-five colorfully-dressed figures swing hoops of fir branches.
A festive atmosphere prevails. A man scurries over, puts a hand to a lady's waist, and whispers, Lass uns tanzen. Let's dance. He whirls her around the dance floor. She keeps the rhythm on light feet, dancing gracefully. They look happy as they spin around in circles making me think that after the music stops, they will still dance to some melody unheard by mortal ears.
For a finale, a small golden rooster at the top of the Glockenspiel chirps quietly, Kikeriki! three times, marking the end of the spectacle. Everything has seemed to happen at once within the fifteen minutes of the show.
I stride through the plaza, the sound of my footsteps preceding me. I don't know how long I'd been walking, but I feel I've traveled a great distance outside time. With light steps and an easy heart, I cross toward St. Peter, the oldest parish church in the city.
All has been merged in a dream as extraordinary as it is perfect.
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