Landing in Munich, the airport felt familiar in the way most international airports do, organized yet busy, and not quite what distinguishes a country from another. Customs took longer than expected. The EU’s new Entry/Exit System, which fully rolled out in April, now requires all non-EU travelers to submit fingerprints and a facial scan at the border, claiming to replace the old passport stamp (yet we still did). It’s a quick process in theory, but with everyone going through it for the first time, the lines moved slowly, and eventually we were on a bus cutting through the Bavarian countryside toward Augsburg. That drive was the first real moment of arrival for me. The farmland was stunning. It was perfectly manicured and bright green, intertwined with solar panels and wind turbines across the horizon. From the plane window, renewable energy infrastructure seemed to be everywhere.
Augsburg itself surprised me. I hadn’t anticipated how small it would feel. There are no skyscrapers and no towering modern skylines. Instead, the city is composed of charming, older buildings that carry their history visibly. The environment also seemed noticeably cleaner than what I’m used to at home, which I kept coming back to throughout the day.
The weight of that history became clearer when we encountered the legacy of the Fugger dynasty. In the 15th and 16th centuries, Augsburg was one of Europe’s most powerful commercial and financial centers. The Fuggers, a banking family that financed kings, emperors, and the Catholic Church, were at the center of it. Walking through the city, that influence is still tangible. Maximilianstraße is a grand street, lined with Renaissance facades and monuments every which way, yet it sits comfortably alongside ordinary city life rather than dominating it. The Fugger Bank still exists too, though it now requires a minimum deposit of one million euros to open an account. The wealth dynamic of the city has transformed, but it hasn’t disappeared.
The Fuggerei was perhaps the most thought-provoking stop of the day. Built in 1516 as subsidized housing for the city’s Catholic poor, it is still functioning today. The residents pay a symbolic annual rent in exchange for prayers said on behalf of the Fugger family. As someone passionate about the nonprofit sector, I couldn’t stop thinking about how relevant this model still is. In the United States, affordable housing remains one of the most urgent and unsolved crises we face. Families are unable to afford housing, shelters are at capacity, and nonprofit organizations constantly stretched thin trying to fill gaps that policy hasn’t. The Fuggerei has operated continuously for over 500 years, funded by private wealth with a clear social mission attached. That’s essentially an endowment-backed nonprofit housing model, and it works. It made me wonder why we don’t see more of that kind of long-term, values-driven private investment in American communities. I left the Fuggerei thinking less about the Fuggers and more about what it would take to build something that lasting back home.
One question I’m already carrying with me: how does the rest of Bavaria compare? Is Augsburg’s scale and layered history typical, or is it its own thing?
On a more personal note, dinner with the German students at a traditional Bavarian restaurant was a highlight. I had schnitzel and Spätzle, both excellent. More importantly, I had been a little uncertain about whether we’d connect easily across the cultural divide, but that concern dissolved quickly. They were warm, curious, and genuinely interested in exchanging perspectives on each other’s lives. I left dinner feeling like this program is going to deliver exactly what I was hoping for.