The emptiness of Sunday is alive and well in Germany. There’s magic walking out in a city on an early Sunday morning to find its streets without people. Then, around 9:30, the bells start ringing, and parishioners start to move towards the church of their choice. Others walk with a quick purpose, having snuck out to fetch some bread because they likely forgot to visit the bakery yesterday. There are not a lot of bakeries open on Sunday, while cake and sweet shops will be open, but that won’t happen until around 10:00.
Pigeons, John, trees, and a maypole are the only things present. That’s not correct, is it? This was a kind of Waldo statement as the maypole is not like the others. Plus, there are people who pop in and out of some of the businesses as they get ready for the reduced hours of a Sunday, and I should mention that those are only establishments that deal with food, as everyone else will remain closed.
Getting these photos even on a Sunday morning without people sometimes takes a moment of waiting for someone to finish walking through. Other images I’d like to capture are spoiled with the presence of construction signs, such as a couple here that I felt were unobtrusive enough while yet other photos are skipped due to a looming crane overhead or scaffolding wrapping a building.
The Hofgarten here was the busiest spot I’ve found so far today, with people running through, riding bikes, or walking dogs. Just look at them all; if you look closely at the bridge in the distance, you might see someone standing there.
This is the final resting place of Richard and Cosima Wagner at Wahnfried House in Bayreuth. Now, I don’t know if they are in the same casket, but this would be awfully romantic in my book if they were. Even if they’re not cozied up to one another, I’m just gonna go with the assumption that they are.
As you might guess from the name behind the statue, this is Wahnfried House, or more accurately, the villa shared by the Wagners. I didn’t take the time to visit for much the same reason I didn’t go to any museums while here in Germany without Caroline: she’s not here with me. Behind the villa is where I took the previous photo of the Wagner grave.
Why should I be so enamored of this old-style architecture when, in many ways, it’s just plain old German stuff built in the previous centuries, as is common in many cities across the landscape of Germany? I think it has something to do with how temporary architecture feels in America. Nothing in the States feels permanent, not our iconic buildings, not our nature, not our coastlines, not people’s civility. Regarding this idea of civility, Germany had about 28 murders committed during my stay of the past two weeks (five of them by crossbow), while in America, that number was approximately 663. Go ahead and point out that America’s population is three times larger than Germany’s, but my math says if America and Germany had similar murder rates, America would have had only 84 murders, which is still too many, or Germany should have had 180 homicides instead of its paltry 28: amateurs.
The Margravial Opera House is on my list of places to visit and to bring Caroline. This classic example of Baroque architecture features performances quite regularly, and while I would have loved to take a concert in, I just can’t do it without my bestie.
The Schlosskirche was filling up, and nothing is more frowned upon on Sunday than tourists dropping in on services to treat the congregation as a bunch of animals in the zoo there for our entertainment. This from the guy who drops in on random weddings, huh?
The cleaners here at Disneyland are a stealthy bunch coming out at night to wash away the day’s festivities. Nary a sign of the merriment that was happening on the streets into the wee hours of the night. By the way, found free breakfast today at a Bed and Breakfast Hotel. I walked in, went upstairs, looked around where I should pay, but couldn’t find anyone, so I joined the queue for the buffet-style gathering of guests; and upon finishing my breakfast, I scouted where I should pay and still found nothing. Not able to find someone to clear my bill, it felt perfectly acceptable to enjoy my gratis meal.
I did something rare this morning: I went back to the room where I’d left my bags, not with the intent of grabbing them and heading to the train station but to prepare the photos I’d already shot and get them uploaded to the blog. With Caroline coming in at 5:00 p.m. this afternoon, I don’t anticipate having much time to do the bloggy thing later today. Matter of fact, I may just remain in a perpetual hug with her until we pass out, which for her will probably be much sooner than me, seeing my jet lag is a relic of the past.
The train left Bayreuth at 12:30, arriving nearly an hour later in Nuremberg. With a 38-minute stopover, I needed to figure out where the train I was taking to the Frankfurt Airport had moved platforms to and try to find out which car I was in as that determined where I needed to be on the long platform. It’s now 70 minutes until I arrive at the airport and about two hours before Caroline does. Good thing I have all this writing and editing I need to try to finish before falling further behind.
I’m now at the airport, sitting in front of exit C1, and Caroline’s flight is delayed by 25 minutes. I guess I’m practicing my smile for when I see her because since stopping at the Hauptbahnhof before heading out here to the airport, I’ve been smiling a lot. Though I know she doesn’t arrive for another 35 minutes, I can’t help but glance up at everyone who emerges from those automatic doors. Once she landed the process of passing through customs and retrieving checked bags went incredibly fast as when I landed, I felt like I was off the plane and approaching the train within about 15 minutes.
This is strange as she approaches from afar and is still in the air on the final approach; I think she’s bringing her jet lag to me, and somehow, I’m sensing it’s on its way. After two weeks of being on the constant go, I’m sitting here at the airport, and I’m overwhelmed with feelings of sleepiness. I’d better do the right thing and go over to this cafe next to me, fetch a coffee, and continue to wait with a smile on my face because who can possibly fall asleep while grinning, right?
My German has arrived in Germany. Nothing else needs to be said besides, better together.
After not being in a car for two weeks and then getting in with a taxi driver who was intent on moving fast, I wasn’t quite ready for how quickly we pressed into 100mph. In about 15 minutes, we were already approaching Heddernheim where we’ll be staying with Stephanie and Klaus for the next week. After a quick hug and stepping into their house while a thunderstorm approached, Klaus was soon busy making Frankfurter Grüne Soße. This is the food of happiness during springtime here in Frankfurt, where it has become a serious contender for the official food of the city, well, at least in my version of reality. Green sauce for you English speakers is a combination of the fresh herbs parsley, chives, chervil, borage, sorrel, garden cress, and salad burnet. These finely chopped herbs are then mixed with yogurt or sour cream and served cold with boiled new potatoes and hard-boiled eggs.
Reintegration with people I needed to communicate with after a two-week break in the Berlin area on my own wasn’t as smooth in my head as I tried to make it appear on the outside. Within, I could feel a heavy sense of passive-aggressiveness brought on by the need to be polite and to remain in one location. My only salvation was to excuse myself and take a fast walk around the neighborhood. This opens up the potential for another experiment in intentional behavior and perspective shift, and that’s to go on a one-month walk where I don’t make contact with anyone I know. Note to self: read “Of Walking in Ice: Munich-Paris” by Werner Herzog which chronicled his walk from Munich to Paris during the winter of 1974.
Looking back at my earliest days in Germany decades ago, I knew no one, but I started to establish contacts out of fear and anxiety that I would otherwise be alone. In those days, I couldn’t understand the luxury of me time in quite the same way. Sure, when I traveled, I mostly did so alone, which opened the window for me to read more than I ever had, and it gave me the exquisite opportunity to indulge in people-watching on a regular basis. That type of time was lost again until Caroline and I hit the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon back in 2010.
I have to wonder if part of the magic found in Caroline’s and my travels is related to the idea that we are leaving behind certain familiarities and routines that limit our perspectives. Is this heading into the removal of one’s self from accountability to others the key to realigning the poles of our personality and curiosity and where we go doesn’t necessarily even matter?