From Brixen, Munich feels closer than it looks on a map.
Living in the Alps means borders soften. South Tyrol is officially Italy, but culturally it breathes Bavaria. Roads rise, tunnels cut through rock, and suddenly you are there. Munich is our nearest city. Not by distance. By rhythm.
We traveled often to the global headquarters of BMW. Early mornings. Clear air. Coffee taken standing. The city wakes up with order. Trams on time. Conversations direct. Inside the buildings, everything is measured. Not cold. Precise.
Our work moved across several fronts. Innovation technology projects where performance had to be proven, not declared. Perception science special projects, where how something feels matters as much as how it works. Touch, sound, visual weight. The kind of details most people notice only when they are wrong.
BMW understands this language. Engineering first. Experience immediately after. Nothing added without reason.
Between Munich and Milan, we learned to switch tempo. Spot visits to Milan brought a different energy. Faster. Louder. More instinctive. The BMW headquarters there carried that contrast well. Same brand. Different pulse. Italy brings intuition where Germany brings structure. Both necessary.
The commute itself became part of the work. Alpine roads in winter smell like metal and snow. In summer, pine and warm stone. Driving clears the head. Ideas settle somewhere between passes.
Munich never tried to impress us. It did not need to. It showed consistency. Milan showed tension. Between the two, projects found balance.
Living in Brixen means you learn to operate between worlds. Languages change. Expectations shift. Quality stays.
Some cities pull you in. Some anchor you. Munich does both, quietly.
