Can’t forget that we’re in a pandemic, though we are thousands of miles from home on vacation as occasionally the explosive numbers and widespread movement of a new variant in America take hold. While trying to avoid current events, people want to talk, and headlines pop up in the subways on animated billboards. So, we’re going home later this month to the breakout of the COVID variant called Mu. Germany will vote on a new chancellor a few days after we leave, and a note or two about Afghanistan made it to our eyes. Enough of that stuff; I only mention it because today I’m opening with this photo of us on the subway that has us in masks. In previous days, I’ve tried to keep masks out of the picture to offer a semblance of normal as it existed before the age of the Pandemic.

Yesterday, I visited St. Leonhard church and learned of the oldest building in the area, St. Justinus church in Frankfurt-Höchst. Ironically, we had just cycled past it the other day on our family bike tour, and I had no idea. As I brought this up with Caroline, she pointed out casually that this had been one of her many “Fun Facts of the Day” at work but hadn’t thought of it until I mentioned it. With some time available this morning, we took the train out to cross this important historical building off our list of places to visit.

Well, that was the plan. Little could we have guessed that a Catholic church would be closed Monday through Thursday due to the pandemic. Maybe we can come out to Höchst on a subsequent visit to see the Saint Justinus church that’s been standing here and in continuous use since 830, and I do mean the year and not 8:30. I posted a photo of the church from the river the other day during our bike ride and I can’t find a better view from where we are now so I snapped this image of Jesus on the Cross at the side of the church where two gentlemen informed us about the closure much to our disappointment.

Nothing left to do but make the best of a poor situation and return to the square where we had lunch the other day (under the blue umbrellas) and grab a bite to eat before going to see Jutta.

Our very German meal at Gasthaus Zum Schwan of pork variations with bratkartoffeln and cabbage was on order. Caroline opted to supplement the food with a hefeweizen.

Though we couldn’t commune with Gott (God) in his house here in Höchst, we could take some time to appreciate the old town.

There’s so much being said here with stickers that go beyond personal brands and veer into politics and social commentary, but with me falling behind in my blogging, I don’t really have time to decipher the sticker about Bolsanaro, Fuck Peter Booth, or FKTN which is not Fukutin a.k.a., a protein-coding gene.

While this distant suburb of Frankfurt has some quaint and historical qualities, there’s something provincial I sense here, making the place unappealing. I should blame this squarely on my own bias as there’s something about the inflection of the working-class Germans and their chain-smoking that gives them the appearance of blunt dullards on the verge of losing their humanity as they slide down the evolutionary ladder.

Caroline most certainly let out a loud groan reading this last sentence, but to ignore Germany’s class awareness is to simply stick one’s head in the sand, just as Germans are apt to do. I’ve written before about how Germans do not vacation in their own country unless they are skiing in the Alps or visiting Sylt up on the Wattenmeer. This, in my summation, is because, in those two locations, Germans will encounter other wealthy Germans, while in nearly all other locations they risk running into those fellow citizens that embarrass them.

Enough of picking at scabs; time to get on the train and return to the big city.

I walked with Caroline over to Lebenshaus, where Jutta lives; they have a nice clean toilet that’s free. From there, the plan was for me to catch up on writing.

As I headed away from the ladies, I ended up going to the coffee shop I knew they’d be visiting so I could surprise my mother-in-law.

And here they come.

We are at Einstein Kaffee on Römer, where mother and daughter are having a slice of Johannisbeeren cake and coffee while I try to focus on the writing. Once the cake was devoured and the last drop of coffee gone, the ladies headed back to Lebenshaus.

A little later, Klaus joined me for a short time, and when Caroline returned from Lebenshaus, they walked off to meet with Stephanie for a rice bowl dinner at a nearby favorite joint while stayed on to finish my writing for the day. A crowd had been developing in the center of the square outside Einstein; it was a political rally held by the Green Party.

People in the cafe were complaining about the size of the crowd and how last year’s Christmas market had been canceled due to expected crowding, and yet, for politics, the authorities are afraid to impose restrictions as they find that their own voices being heard face to face with the electorate is too important. Whatever serves power is allowed; whatever serves the individual is tertiary after power and money. I do not mean this ironically, as with Germany being in the driver’s seat of the Europan economic engine, they better keep the balance of governance in top form if the EU is to survive.