After moving out of our wine barrel from last night, we ended up in a room at the main hotel that offered us this view of Drosselgasse. What is this place I refer to? Drosselgasse is a famous cobblestone-lined narrow street that slices through the old town, so if you find yourself chilling one day on the Rhein River and are wondering where to stay in Rüdesheim, you too might consider Hotel Lindenwirt. By the way, a very nice breakfast buffet is included with Champagne or wine.

Not certain I had enough images to give a great impression of Rüdesheim, we stepped out to grab a few more, but time was short as we had a train to catch back to Frankfurt at 1:00 p.m.

Not sure I’ve pointed this out before but it’s a convenience I’m in love with: menus posted outside restaurants that make it easy to see what is on offer. There’s always something embarrassing about entering an American restaurant, asking to see the menu, and then walking out as though they aren’t good enough just because you didn’t see something that resonated with you at that moment. It feels like we often compromise and figure it’s good enough rather than turn our backs on a friendly host or hostess. Maybe that’s what is intended?

We ain’t leaving Germany without some cheesy gifts after staying in a town many Germans consider declasse and only fit for “Spiesser” or typical commoners below contempt. Well, we’ll own that title, as life isn’t all about snobbery without laughter. Tea towels with prints of German landmarks and mini bottles of Asbach Uralt (the local brandy wine) are coming with us.

We needed to make quick work of the walk along the Rhein back to Geisenheim as every lost moment lingering in the scenery was minutes not spent with family.

But I’m a photographer and this old Hindenburg bridge ruin is not failing to enchant me every time we pass it. This will certainly be the last image of it until the day we return to the area. The stairs on both sides of the part of the bridge that is still intact lead to a steel gate topped with barbed wire; a drone would have come in handy here.

We’ll only have a brief two hours here with Hanns and Vevie, but taking advantage of the opportunity to spend time over the course of three days with them lent a deeper quality than dipping in for a few hours and being gone again for a year or two.

And, of course, once more, a toast was raised to Our Lady of Geisenheim.

How quickly two hours pass.

Father Hanns walked us back to the train station and expressed a superabundance of appreciation for our visit, as did Vevie before we left their apartment. There’s a sadness in leaving, knowing that we won’t be visiting again before the next year at the earliest. If the people we spent time with were less enthusiastic, it would be easy to recapture our time and spend it selfishly on ourselves, but with how warmly we are greeted, we can only wish to spend time with everyone weekly if it were possible.

An hour later, we are back in Frankfurt, about to spend a brief hour with Jutta. Chasing through the day, I get sloppy with remembering to take photos, and somehow, I bungled snapping an image of my mother-in-law with Caroline, but I didn’t forget to take yet another shot of Römer.

On to our next date, this one in the Bahnhofsviertel.

Early in my previous stint of living in Germany, I met Olaf F. tonight; we are having dinner with him and his wife, Sylvia S. On previous visits, we caught Sylvia at inopportune times when we’d maybe have minutes with her, but that is not true this day. It turns out that Caroline and Sylvia have a load in common and hit it off, spending every second of the seven hours we’ll visit talking, talking, talking.

This is Olaf and Sylvia with their son and daughter, Johnny and Lucy, more than a dozen years ago. As I’d never seen it before, I asked to take a photo of it for our blog of scrapbook memories.

Olaf F. and John Wise on the way to dinner in Sachsenhausen with our wives, who are quite effectively ignoring us as they are lost in gab.

This was our designated meeting place for the other two old friends we were supposed to meet up with, but they were drunk and passed out on the street. We tried rousing them, but they were nearly dead to the world. So the four of us had to eat alone.

After dinner, the ladies wanted to walk back to Bahnhofsviertel while Olaf felt like the tram, so I accompanied Olaf and Sylvia and Caroline continued their conversation with a stroll along the Main River.

Well, this was quite the surprise as neither Caroline nor I have ever seen a floating Döner Imbiss, but here it is satisfying the late-night munchies of those out on a walk. America may have created a food truck phenomenon, but maybe it’ll be Europe that creates the food boat wave.

It’s almost impossible to fully appreciate how safe it is to walk through this city late at night, considering the conditioning that comes with living in the United States that there’s always an element of danger lurking in the back of one’s mind. America has fostered the conditions where people walk with trepidation in our big cities as there seems to be a constant threat to safety with every step. Untreated mental health issues, drugs, easy access to weapons, and a mostly broken, half-functional safety net make for a perfect breeding ground for those on the margin to act in desperate ways, thus putting everyone’s peace of mind into the toilet.