There are no fixed plans for the day, though there are things that will certainly be done. I’ll discover what I’m going to do as I fall into them. Now that yesterday’s writing chores are finished, I can go on with experiencing this Tuesday, June 8th, 2021.

Putting things in their place and sorting others so they may be where they need to be. Emotions and artifacts, the past and the present, all have their purpose in time, but like moments in time, they tick by, and everything moves forward. Our work is to resolve our needs to be present and learn what’s important due to the ephemeral nature of lives that are always in a state of change.

I’m feeling a sense of conflict regarding what I thought I might be doing in Germany and what I find myself doing. While I understood that my mother-in-law would enjoy my time with her, I thought I could manage with her seeing four or five times a week. Knowing that I’ll be gone in a few weeks, I feel that I’m cheating her if I don’t afford her every moment I can, as July and August might prove quite lonely for her as visitation is reduced to once a week when Stephanie makes time for her mother. The hope is that Caroline and I will be back around the middle of September, but now I’m re-evaluating our need for part of that visit to be split between vacation and family time or if we should give it all to family.

Enough has been said in my previous blog posts about my refamiliarizing myself with Frankfurt, so maybe I’m giving that a break though there’s a lot I’ve not done yet and might warrant some sharing, such as a visit to the Gallus area, Palmengarten, and some museums. Though I may not share much on that side of things doesn’t mean I’m not deeply engaged. When my senses were tuned to dropping into Germany, they are now focused on what it means to eliminate many of the traces of our lives and what ends up being important as a life heads for the exit.

So much of what’s in my mind feels like nascent fleeting sparks of potential where I can’t even see the light but sense that it’s there, kind of a quantum inspiration I hope to discover.

Am I still shocked to see cigarette vending machines on the street? I suppose I am, as they’ve been gone from America for so long now I can’t remember when streetside smokes were last available or if they ever were. But what’s really shocking is that a pack of Marlboro is just under $10. While this price is about 50% more than what Americans pay, there is no shortage of smokers; I’d venture a guess that there are comparatively far more smokers in Germany than in the U.S.

So while children could buy cigarettes on the street and the alcohol laws are pretty lax, for example, In Germany, there are three drinking ages: 13 – minors are allowed to consume beer or wine with their parents or legal guardians. Age 16 – minors are allowed to consume beer or wine without their parents or legal guardian. At 18 – adults are allowed to consume distilled alcohol. There is no dialogue currently going on about legalizing marijuana, while in America, recreational weed is starting to be available in more and more places. One problem with legal weed in Europe would be the population density as the smell would infiltrate everything, and while Germans have accepted cigarette smoke in their presence, I’m not sure how the pungent smell of grass would go over.

I had written something totally other that was meant for this image of the train tracks that just end here while about 100 feet away on the other side, the track begins, an old line no longer in use with the rest of the track already removed. That text was sliced out of here and saved in another document that is still being hammered out. In that potential post are my observations about Jutta and how someone born ten years before the end of World War II in Germany experiences adolescence in a devastated post-war environment trying to navigate a derailed national identity. Returning to momentum after you’ve been brought to a full stop requires figuring out new paths. So there, while I won’t share the entirety of my thoughts over there, I’ve not simply baited and dropped you off.

I’m experiencing a Germany that is unique at this time; everything is mine. Being vaccinated and a foreigner, while strict travel restrictions are still in place, offers me some benefits such as always being able to get a table in an uncrowded cafe, the churches, and museums are still empty, with many people working from home the trains are never filled to capacity. I don’t wait to take photos as there are no tourists jockeying for the same view. This is offering me a perspective on Germany that will likely be unique in my lifetime.

Compare this to America, where people across the country and within their own states are traveling everywhere right now. It seems to me that the only Germans who want to visit big German cities are those who live rurally; otherwise, the German people want to visit other countries to escape what they must perceive to be a lack of striking differences within their borders aside from those who travel to the German Alps and up to the Wattenmeer, the two exceptions. So Germany is mine, though my time to poke my head into all the places I might want to visit is limited.

This says everything you ever need to know about the differences between Germany and America.

Tunnels, like life, go places, but you cannot see the destination. As you enter, you are shrouded in darkness (ignorance), but along the way, you harness light (knowledge) to illuminate the way. When you arrive you might integrate with those on the other side and make bonds, discover another culture, and leave better off than you were before (wisdom). Sadly, most never seem to enter the tunnel and are happy to stay within the confines of what they know.

I’m already in a new day, on the other side of the glass, up the stairs. What I mean to say is that I look at this image from another day while also trying to write the first paragraph for Day 16 before a nice 77-year-old lady strikes up a conversation. We speak about her daughter’s love of America and her mother’s American boyfriend after the war, while she recommends Oberursel as a nice place to live should we retire here. But that’s tomorrow, and I shouldn’t be writing about the future while trying to maintain the illusion of being in the here and now about Day 15.

A walk away from Saalburgstrasse took me to Saalburgallee and over to Eissporthalle before I turned into Ostpark for a walk towards the Main River and an encounter with Skatepark Osthafen, full of skaters too!

The first bridge I crossed is called Honsellbrücke, and this bridge, which picks up where the other leaves off, is called Osthafenbrücke. I’m now on the south side of the Main River with a good idea of where I’m going compared to when I started this walk, not knowing exactly which direction I was traveling. After living in Phoenix, Arizona, for so long, it sounds strange not to know which way I’m going as I live in a grid with roads that only go east/west and north/south. While there are landmarks in Frankfurt that could act as markers of direction, they are difficult to see on the streets of a city where you are surrounded by four- and five-story buildings.

Just as I’m repetitive in my words, I can be repetitive with my use of images too, especially when we are talking about this view of the Frankfurt skyline I’m so enchanted by.

Speaking of enchanting, these are Bembel, earthenware jugs used for serving apple wine, and are a sight and taste that delights Caroline. You should be able to guess by now what I’m about to do.

I’m taking a dinner pause after my long nine-mile (15km) walk around Frankfurt. I’d like to leave the following details to the margin, but I’ve been waiting for Fichtekränzi Restaurant to open, and now I’m here. It, like so many other restaurants that didn’t feel they could maintain their reputation and quality of food with take-out only, closed eight months ago and just reopened this week. Strangely, I’m the only person sitting inside; admittedly it’s beautiful out, but even the patio isn’t full yet. Before the pandemic, I dare you to try to get a table in less than 15 to 30 minutes.

I’m not sure that the two-mile walk back to where I’m staying is going to be possible; I’m tired here at 10:30 p.m.

My tram stop is at Dom/Römer, where the U4 will have me delivered in minutes, but of course, there’s time for a photo or two.

The words Deutsches Reich are what caught my eye; I had to take a second look to see the date 1910 and Drei Mark below, letting me know that these floor decorations were based on an old coin, not Nazis.

Minutes later, I’m onboard and zipping across town. Being in a hurry to get anywhere is a disappointment as there’s so much to take in when moving at a snail-like pace. Time to find tomorrow and be done with today.