Caroline had this nutty idea that I should collage the first five photos of this post into a single shot. Is she crazy or what? We are quickly approaching the final 24 hours of our time in Europe this year, and while we’ll be eating Brötchen for breakfast tomorrow, too, I can’t know if I’ll have time to spare to lovingly photograph the final German rolls of our trip.

While at Café Dillenburg fetching breakfast, we put in an order for tomorrow’s Brötchen, some of which will be traveling home with us. Why hadn’t we thought of this on previous visits? Once home, we’ll toss them into the freezer and likely forget about them until they are freezer-burned, but no matter because they are echte Deutsche Brötchen (real German rolls), and if you don’t know what that can mean, you haven’t indulged yourself and learned how to appreciate something that is like nowhere else.

Pictured are the five types of Brötchen we are taking home, two of each. Sadly, I can’t now tell you what each is anymore, but I do know we have a mix of potato, carrot, rye, spelt, and whole-grain rolls. The choices were based on a sampling of the no fewer than a dozen types they carry at Café Dillenburg (formerly known as Brot & Freunde). While there are only twelve or so varieties on weekdays, the weekends can see as many as nineteen on offer.

Okay, I’ve got this one; it is a potato Brötchen with sesame and poppy seeds. Guide for eating my favorite rolls: cut in half and then slice width-wise, creating four equal quarters. Slather a heart-stopping amount of butter on a quarter; don’t pay attention to the German example where you can hardly tell they’ve smeared anything on the bread. Then, using a separate spoon, take the perfect amount of homemade vanilla-apricot jam (it’s important to stay away from all other jams) and be judicious as you don’t want to put the entire jar on a single quarter, else you might have to turn to a plum, rhubarb, or orange marmalade that will ruin the Brötchen experience. Someone like Caroline would likely beg to differ, but she’s a noob compared to her gourmet husband, who seriously knows everything better than everyone else.

I know why Caroline suggested the collage; she could have never guessed that I could write so much about the beloved Brötchen, and even if I had run out of meaningful banter, having the full-size photo of each allows me to indulge in the fantasy of the Brötchen being right in front of me here in America where I’m absolutely deprived of real bread. Don’t try telling me that Dave’s Killer Bread is pretty good; else, I’ll present you with another gold floor decoration you can lick, as you are obviously gullible enough to believe anything.

Guten Morgen Frau Engelhardt! I followed along with Caroline and Stephanie to Lebenshaus before bringing Jutta over to Cafe Einstein for a mid-morning treat and to say goodbye because tomorrow, we really do fly away, even if you started thinking we were going to be here forever after so many blog posts from Europe. Mom and her two daughters will spend a bit more time over their coffees after I leave before they, too, will say their goodbyes. From here, Caroline and Stephanie will have a sisters’ day out in Mainz. Caroline might add another blog entry about their adventure in the future.

This old lady, closer to the end of her life than the beginning, is all about love. This idea was nearly lost on her as she drifted near the pit of relative unhappiness (abject acceptance) right up to the age of retirement. Sadly, my mother-in-law, in her first decades on earth, only knew a kind of sterile, cold, matter-of-fact type of love. Today, she enjoys laughter that comes from within instead of a superficial, perfunctory chuckle that fails the authenticity test.

We are keenly aware that each visit with Jutta could be the last, and I believe that Caroline, Jutta, and I are okay with that; Stephanie, I’m not so sure of. I’m fairly certain that my sister-in-law will experience profound loss at Jutta’s passing as something feels unresolved, but I’m not at ease to inquire as I think I’d risk opening an avenue of hurt.

And so we’ll share a hug and offer hope for another brief visit in the morning, but time is short in those brief hours before we fly and so my goodbye for another year or two has to be memorable as I take in her smile. I have to wonder how many goodbyes are shared between people after they’ve accepted the limited time remaining for one of them though that limitation effectively hovers over all of us?

Klaus wasn’t with us this morning as he had to attend a conference call for work. While the women had their own ideas, Klaus had made plans that had him and me meeting up at Hauptwache so we could catch a train to Bad Soden. From there, we’d board a bus over to Königstein im Taunus, not too far outside of Frankfurt.

We were heading into the mountains to experience the best currywurst known to humankind while the plain white Kaiserbrötchen should be considered a travesty to the German culinary experience and banned in Europe.

Just kidding, we are out for a hike on the 3 Burgenweg, which ideally would have been a 13.5 kilometers (8.4 miles) hike, but we dawdled. Phew, good to get that out of the way, but what would one expect when two guys armed with cameras hit the trail on a warm, blue-sky day? Klaus assured me that this is a well-marked trail due to the hiking club that maintains the signage. Well, that might have been an overstatement.

The evidence of suboptimal route marking is seen right here: Our hike was supposed to lead us right over to the Burgruine Königstein (Königstein Castle Ruin), which is the first part of the “3 Castles Trail” we are hiking today. We decided to forego that castle at this time and catch it at the end of the loop since we had no idea that we would leave the trail in Kronberg to make our dinner reservations at a favorite Portuguese restaurant of Klaus and Stephanie.

Okay then, off to Castle Falkenstein, which sounded a bit like Castle Frankenstein to me, though I already knew that Frankenstein is over near Darmstadt.

I tried my best to Photoshop the haze out of this three-image panorama, but this is as good as I got. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a clearer image of the city I called home for so many years from such a distance as today. Off to the right, we could see the planes taking off at the Frankfurt Airport while in the background, about 55 kilometers (35 miles) away, is what I believe to be the Odenwald mountain range.

And before we knew it, we were at the foot of Castle Falkenstein.

I think Klaus and I were both surprised that the ruins were open, and not only that…

…the tower was also open, offering us this view of the northeast corner of Königstein.

This is the most un-hospital-looking hospital I’ve ever seen.

Eat these and have a reason to visit the un-hospital-looking hospital.

Thanks, Klaus, for picking a perfect day and a perfect trail through the Taunus Mountains.

Maybe because it was only Friday afternoon and not the weekend, but we only encountered a few people, mostly on other trails that bisected our own.

This was a huge surprise seeing that nobody would fault one for thinking that all Jewish cemeteries in Germany were wiped off the face of the earth during the Nazi reign, but then you come across one and can only scratch your head and wonder, “How did this survive?”

Following Klaus, as he handles the guidance responsibilities, absolves me of anything more than being present. What an awesome gift on our last day in Germany. No thinking, just wandering.

This is Bürgelplatte, which appears to be all that remains of what might have been a small castle a long time ago.

It’s a shame that when I was in my 20s, I thought nightlife was the best life for me and that these places surrounding Frankfurt were for old people. Well, here I am now, an old person proving younger me right.

I wonder where this giant boulder came from. Is it a glacial erratic, or was it unearthed? I don’t believe it fell off a formerly high cliff landing here before erosion wore away the mountain. I tried learning something about it, but while others have photographed it, I can find no explanation for the mystery boulder.

We’ve reached Kronberg Castle, which is closing in just a few minutes. No matter, as we need a bite to eat and something to drink before catching a train back to Frankfurt to join Caroline and Stephanie for dinner.

In the mid-1980s, after arriving in Germany with the U.S. Army, I spent my first six months wandering the Rhein-Main area of Hessen and went to countless villages via anonymous train stops that I kept no record of. I have no recollection if I’ve ever visited the castle herein Kronberg but I want to return with Caroline now that I’ve stopped here.

These are the Drei Ritter (Three Knights) at Friedrich Ebert Straße in Kronberg. The characters above represent debauchery, and the words below translate to, “Your advice is far too late.”

This is St. Johann Church, and it’s Protestant, so I can just forget about entering on a Friday.

Gasthaus Adler has a menu that talks to me, it even screams at me to return for its Austrian-influenced eats.

How I managed to snag this photo from a moving train will always be a surprise, as they so rarely work out. Klaus and I were on our way to Tasquinha da Jacinta to sample some Portuguese cooking at one of Klaus and Stephanie’s favorite restaurants in the Frankfurt area. Sorry, there are no photos of us or our meals but it was so nice to relax and do nothing that I took advantage of the moment to just hang out. Dinner was great, though you’ll wait a good long time for service since the place is popular, packed, and only open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Passing through the Ginnheim tram stop, look closely; this is a self-portrait.

If only the day were over! We need to knock out the majority of our packing so we can avoid as much stress in the morning as possible. Talk about using every single moment of vacation to remain busier than we ever are at home: this was quite the endurance test. For all intents and purposes, vacation is over.