I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been through the Munich train station. But I know exactly how many times I’ve used the restroom in the Munich train station, because each time, I had to cough over 80 euro cents. But in a land of potato salad, sauerkraut, and endless beer, 80 euro cents is well worth the peace of mind of knowing that relief is just an escalator ride away.

At chicken and rice, we frequently pay homage to the food and drink we consume, but rarely do we talk about the latter half of the digestive process. At the Munich Hauptbahnhof’s Rail & Fresh Water Closet, that’s all they can talk about. Or so I assume– my German is admittedly not so great.

The experience begins when you walk to a central desk and announce your intent to relieve yourself to a receptionist who smiles, holds out her hand, and says “achtzig Cent, bitte.” If you do not have 80 cents already counted out, you may have to awkwardly fumble through your pockets for a moment. Don’t be afraid to give her a full euro. Sometimes she’ll give you 20 cents back. Sometimes, she’ll just keep the euro. If this happens, convince yourself that you wanted to tip her 20 cents anyway, as this is easier than starting an argument in a language you only half understand while your bladder and/or colon is telling you to move along.

After paying for your toilet time, you choose your side. If you are male, turn right. If you are female, turn left. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of going to the correct side. Not that it matters that much to the other restroom goers. The whole facility is, in fact, open and visible to everyone. But you’ll feel like an idiot if you find yourself surrounded by members of the opposite sex when you could have avoided the mess by simply going through the other turnstile.

Around this time, you begin to notice the immaculate ambiance surrounding you. The walls are white and light blue, and they glow from some magical floodlight whose source remains invisible. The people washing their hands at the randomly placed sinks are nodding their heads in time with the treble-heavy Euro techno-pop that plays over the sound system. You begin to feel like you are in the cleanest place on Earth, a refuge that is constantly sterilized with auto-tuned German phrases and synth hits. And something smells like springtime. Truly, this must be what heaven is like.

You then enter your own private one square meter room. The music intensifies. The light brightens. The rest is history.

If you are planning on traveling to Munich in the near future, you must visit the Frauenkirche, the Deutsches Museum, and the train station restroom. The Rail & Fresh Water Closet has a funny way of glorifying the icky and mundane to such a point that, yes, it does smell like roses.

Let me count the ways:

1) You are greater than pi, which was compared to pie, which is delicious.

2) You are not a letter. Especially not T. T is a jerk.

3. You look good in light blue.

4. You are easily uploaded as a tiny JPEG, so that I may link to you as the logo for my fantasy football team, who is undefeated. Oh, 4, you bring me perfection.