This is my temporary 140mph office on steel wheels. There must have been a breakdown of service on my Frankfurt to Berlin leg of this trip as nobody came by offering coffee. All I can imagine is how this porcelain cup of hot coffee would slosh about spilling over the sides and potentially damaging my computer. Without hesitation, the steward who carried the tray of coffees to our car set it right down next to a rather costly Surface Book and didn’t flinch.

After leaving Berlin, I was trying to get caught up with blogging chores before falling too far behind, so I used the two hours on this highspeed ICE train to go online (one of the rare places where wifi is free, known as WLAN here – pronounced Vay-Lahn if you are asking a German).

Every so often, I’d look up to ensure that the entire world hadn’t just passed me by, and sure enough, it was still out there. We had a stop in Leipzig to drop some people and pick up others. I’ve got to say that I do believe that modern train service could work in America. The economics of air travel within the states is not viable for the spontaneous traveler. One cannot simply show up at the airport and choose a destination with a departure in the next hour or two and then be quickly on their way. Instead, they will have to pay nearly three times the cheapest published fare, and that’s if there’s a free seat on the tightly packed flight.

So where I paid a little more than $90 for a 1st class ticket to Berlin from Frankfurt, which is nearly the exact same distance between Phoenix, Arizona and Los Angeles, California, a flight on a cramped seat bought today for the trip across the desert would be at least $220 with bag restrictions, I don’t have on the train. Back when I booked my trip to Berlin, I could have purchased a 2nd class seat for as little as $40. While we can jump in the car for 5 hours and drive the 340 miles to L.A. I cannot tap into free wifi, focus on writing, or sip on a coffee delivered to my seat, all while traveling at 186mph to Southern California in about 2 hours. I’m starting to wonder if the powers that be don’t want a truly mobile, spontaneous population.

I’ve arrived in Erfurt this afternoon to a much slower speed of life than that of Berlin. I’d equate this to going from the bustle of New York City to sleepy Phoenix. While I was able to make some serious headway into writing, I’m still nearly a full day behind. Prior to leaving Berlin, I took the time to prepare yesterday’s photos and send a couple out to people wanting a copy of an image I shot.

My feeling is that the time spent caring for these details on a computer instead of maximizing my sightseeing opportunities allows me to share with Caroline some of the moments I’m experiencing while she’s still in Arizona.

By creating this space I end up looking at and consequently thinking about things that I can allow her to, in a sense, join me. Keeping her in my thoughts becomes a constant reminder of how spoiled I am to be here. More than the music stuff, nature, architecture, history, or food I’m afforded to indulge in, I want to let her know how much awareness I have that I appreciate this opportunity to dwell within myself.

Of course, there’s the knowing that if she were here with me right now, we’d be smiling like loons at one another and holding hands far more than we can ever do back home due to not being next to each other every waking moment. When we travel, the luxury of John and Caroline’s immersion runs deep. I have never needed to step away for “me time” because I’m bored with her; that’s just not in the nature of our relationship.

Something within me is quickly changing as I drift out of the machine known as Berlin and flow into the brook that is Erfurt. I’m starting to miss Caroline more than ever. This doesn’t imply that I simply turned her off upon landing in her home country, but it is a reflection that my attention was aimed squarely at being fully present for Superbooth.

At this point in the adventure, things would certainly be enhanced by Caroline’s presence, but I wanted this extended sojourn so I could spend a good amount of time organizing words here on this digital paper. So, I’ll try my best to limit the lament and focus on whatever it was I was hoping to discover in my mind.

To say out loud that is a beautiful day to be here would be gratuitous, and I’d hope that it is obvious. After checking in to the place I’m staying for these days, I walked out of the front of the building and headed to what looked like the center of the old town. It’s Mother’s Day today, and Germans are out with their loved ones for ice cream or maybe just a lovely walk around town while enjoying each other’s company.

John Das Brot meets Bernd Das Brot. I feel that the Wikipedia article on this character best describes him, so I’m going to borrow it and share: Bernd is a depressed, grumpy, curmudgeonly, constantly bad-tempered, surly, fatalistic, melancholic loaf of sandwich bread speaking in a deep, gloomy baritone. This puppet television star was a favorite of Caroline’s just a dozen years ago; I think it was because he reminded her of her husband.

I am surely in Church City. There are 36 churches and 15 monasteries in this small town. I will not attempt to visit them all, but I will stop in when the chance to do so arises. Walking into the Erfurt Cathedral, which is also known as St Mary’s Cathedral, was on the top of my list because this is the exact spot where Martin Luther was ordained back on the 3rd of April, 1507.

I probably sat here for about an hour listening to Chanticleer’s Palestrina: Missa pro Defunctis & Motets, and when quiet, I’d listen to the sounds of the cathedral. Afterward, I went next door to the Church of St Severus, where I sat in on a service being offered to those in attendance. The service was in German and closed to tourists. Baptized Catholic as I child, I assured the lady at the door I was there for God and not taking pictures. Some might say that lie will help deliver me to hell, but I assure you that this minor transgression pales in comparison to the big ugly shit that my feet could be held to the fire for. I did not take photos or make a recording of the incredible reverb the nave offered, as that would be rude. Listening to a pipe organ in a 13th-century church is an experience everyone should embrace once in their life.

The Maypole comes in as many versions as there are towns that erect them. I don’t believe that anywhere in America observes this European tradition, though the majority of our ancestors are descendants of Europeans. That is if you are not part of the original inhabitants of North America. The maypole is thought to come to us out of the medieval Christian European culture and symbolizes the return of warm weather. Somewhere in the back of my mind is an old song about dancing around the maypole, but I was probably 5 or 6 years old when I learned it, and now it’s long gone.

I walked into the night until few were left on the streets of Erfurt. It’s difficult to get a sense of the medieval culture that once existed here. While some of the architecture still exists, the blue light of television flickering through windows adds to the spoiling of the atmosphere. The neon shop signs along the narrow passages and the white electric light emanating from the houses don’t help either. Fortunately, the sound of a shallow brook running through the heart of town can only sound as it did hundreds of years ago, so I do have that added reminder of the past.

Maybe this is as close to pre-modern Erfurt as I will get. What a beautiful village I get to stroll seemingly by myself. That the streets are no longer strewn with sewage, nor is it dumped into the stream, has the added benefit of not raising a stench that would have been out here along with the stink of slaughtered and butchered animals. So the idyllic, sterile, and safe landscape just might be more desirable than a primitive medieval village where life could be extinguished by morning with the plague moving through. About now, a hot shower and clean sheets sound like the kind of luxury I really want.