Father Hanns and Our Lady of Geisenheim

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

I can see it coming: after weeks of traveling by foot, bike, and train, we’ll be getting in a car after we arrive back in the U.S. in a couple of weeks, and in those first moments of speeding down a road, there will be a frightful sense of danger. If you think there’s also a similar sense of danger in riding bikes here in Europe, you’d be wrong. Europeans have rigorous guidelines for acquiring a driver’s license along with strict rules for how you operate a car, which create a [relatively – Caroline] non-threatening environment for bicyclists that must share the road with 2-ton cars.

Enough of that, we have arrived at the Hauptbahnhof as we are leaving town for a couple of days.

On the way to Geisenheim, Germany

This map found overhead on our train shows the stops we’ll be making on our way to Geisenheim in the Rheingau, translating to Rhein District. Wine grapes are this region’s claim to fame along the Rhein River, and we’re on our way to the 11th stop, Geisenheim.

On the way to Geisenheim, Germany

While wine and, specifically, Riesling is a great reason to visit, we are traveling west along the river to visit family.

Father Hanns Engelhardt, Caroline Wise, and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

His Honorable Bundesrichter A.D. Herr Dr. Father Hanns Engelhardt and his wife, Our Lady of Geisenheim Vevie, have an apartment here in the town center. It’s been two years since Caroline has been able to visit while I had just seen Hanns down in Karlsruhe back in June. To celebrate our arrival, a bottle of Sekt (German sparkling wine) was opened.

John Wise and Father Hanns Engelhardt in Geisenheim, Germany

If I’m not mistaken, this is the first photo ever of Hanns and me. Yes, you see that right; I had a glass of water because alcohol in any form and I are incompatible.

Caroline Wise and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

I’ll probably overshare the following, but I want to write this early in the post: Caroline and I could not have been welcomed with more enthusiasm and heartfelt gratitude from Hanns and Vevie than we were. Seeing these two together is turning out to be a special treat.

In Geisenheim, Germany

When I say “together,” I’m referring to the situation that we’ve most often seen Hanns down in Karlsruhe, where he was a judge and for many years, he also served the Lord as a priest in the Anglican church for a local parish. Vevie meanwhile maintained the apartment in Geisenheim.

Father Hanns Engelhardt, Caroline Wise, and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

Originally, we were scheduled to arrive at 10:00, but as is apt to happen, we can’t squeeze as much as we would like to into day after day without paying with some small level of exhaustion that requires course corrections during our vacations. And so it was today that we had to delay our departure with us arriving at noon. After the sparkling wine, we needed to beat feet over to a local restaurant (there are not many in Geisenheim) which closes at 2:00.

In Geisenheim, Germany

With some obvious reluctance, our server sat us at 1:4o, knowing there wasn’t a chance we’d be gone by the time they closed. Somewhere around 3:30, Hanns paid the woman who took over for the man who headed out, and with that, we started our walk back to their place.

In Geisenheim, Germany

On our way to lunch, we passed the Rheingauer Dom as we were already late, but as we had to walk right by on our way back, I made my way over for a quick photo inside. Everyone else followed.

Father Hanns Engelhardt, Caroline Wise, and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

At the front of the church, Hanns shared some of his knowledge of procedures as they happen when service is taking place while the ladies continued their chat. On our way out, we stopped to light a few candles and offer a donation to the church.

Caroline Wise and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

The conversation flowed faster than the wine, but only barely. Yes, the warmth in Caroline’s cheeks is from the sense of joy we shared with family today, though there’s a certain amount that arrived with the libations.

Father Hanns Engelhardt and Vievie in Geisenheim, Germany

After five hours of reminiscing and sharing, it was time for us to go check into our wine barrel, I mean hotel, while there was still daylight so I could capture some photos of our unique lodging arrangements.

On the Rhein River in Geisenheim, Germany

From previous experience, we knew that there was a river trail that would take us to Rüdesheim, and that was the path we opted for.

Campground in Rüdesheim, Germany

No, these are not the wine barrels we’ll be staying at tonight. This photo was taken as a note to our future selves, reminding us that we might want to stay here at Rheingau 524.

Hindenburg Bridge in Rüdesheim, Germany

Wow, was my exclamation as we approached this collapsed bridge. It is the Hindenburg Bridge in Rüdesheim and has been left as a relic of World War II when it was intentionally destroyed in the closing days of the war to slow the United States’ advancement. My photo does NO justice to the scale of elements; I’ll try to share another tomorrow if we walk by.

On the Rhein River in Rüdesheim, Germany

Weather is moving into the region with rain forecast to begin tonight, but in the case of this sunset photo, these clouds are a welcome addition adding drama to the sky.

On the Rhein River in Rüdesheim, Germany

Sorry, Mr. or Mrs. Swan, but we have no snacks that you’ve obviously been conditioned to expect when humans pass.

Lindenwirt Hotel in Rüdesheim, Germany

Time to check into Hotel Lindenwirt here in Rüdesheim.

Caroline Wise in a wine barrel at Lindenwirt Hotel in Rüdesheim, Germany

Did you think I was joking about staying in a wine barrel? In the list of unique lodgings, this is certainly one of our most interesting.

Caroline Wise in a wine barrel at Lindenwirt Hotel in Rüdesheim, Germany

How often do you walk into your hotel room and need to laugh out loud at your good fortune that you’ve snagged something that few people will find as enchanting as you do?

Into the old town, trying to spot something for dinner. Many establishments close at 8:00, which doesn’t leave many options.

I found the one corner that was scruffy enough to lend character to all the shiny new Disneyland-like points in this famous wine-drinking village by the Rhein River.

After dinner, we took a walk looking for a Spaghetti Eis (spaghetti-shaped ice cream I’ve described on many other occasions), and while all four shops we stopped in proclaimed to offer this frozen treat, all of them had already started their closing procedures at 8:30, and the first thing cleaned is apparently the whipped cream dispenser. First of all, good German ice cream shops do not spray fake whipped cream from a can with bright red words on it; they make real whipped cream that tastes like the real thing. Second, Spaghetti Eis without a bed of whipped cream is ice cream with strawberry sauce. Third, I was angry, not because I wasn’t willing to compromise but because these shops close at 9:00, and people visiting from other countries or are on Rhein cruises might forego dessert on their cruise ship or at a local restaurant in order to sit in a cafe and enjoy a parfait are going to be limited in their options to a scoop of ice cream or two.

When I came to Germany earlier this year, I talked with many a restaurant worker or owner who lamented their industry being closed for seven months due to the pandemic. Now here, with the tourism industry open again, the business owners who should be enthusiastic to welcome visitors back appear to only be concerned with their convenience, not my luxury.

Hey Rüdesheim ice cream shops, just shut your operations and leave dessert to the restaurants as you’ve left a blemish on this town. True that many come for the wine, but in such a small town as yours that supports nearly a dozen ice cream shops, it seems that tourism is integral to your economy. Either operate your business honorably for those of us visiting or go away.

And with that lament out of the way, we head into our Winkeler Hasensprung (rabbit jump) wine barrel. The name originates from a local vineyard’s hillside near the town of Winkel. As for the experience of sleeping in a barrel? The bed was inches too short for me, but that didn’t matter one bit as I made it work. Sure, sleep was a bit restless as I had to adjust my contorting position, but who cares? I slept in a wine barrel.

Gott und Wählen

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

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.

Too Weird

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise on train to Cologne, Germany

Dropped Caroline off at the main train station at 6:00 this morning for her visit to Köln. That all went well, but after that, things got too weird. I’d like to share why she went into the area of Cologne (Köln), but it was a secret mission to collect “special” equipment and meet someone who shall remain anonymous. Hi Claudia 🙂

Woman with open stoma in Frankfurt, Germany

The photo should say it all but it wasn’t taken under the best conditions as I wasn’t of my mind (or stomach) as I first passed this person. Coming down the escalator the first thing that grabbed my attention was that a woman was sitting topless at a subway stop. That was nothing compared to what I saw next when she stuck her finger in her stoma and flicked what she cleaned out of it on the ground next to her. I had to look up what that technical name was, as I only knew that the abdominal exit thing was her forward-facing new butthole from a colostomy. My stomach turned hard as I grew instantly nauseous, and what the hell was up with the two old guys sitting a couple of seats away from her? That’s the price Germans pay for ignoring the world around them. Finding it rude to look upon people who are “out of sorts” they are in denial of BIG details like this, where a half-crazy person is flicking shit at their feet. I was approaching the valley of hurl and had to avert my eyes. As I boarded the train that had finally pulled in, I saw my opportunity to snap a photo or two, but my camera settings and the lighting weren’t perfectly coordinated, so this was the best I got before the door shut.

Breakfast at Eifler Bakery in Bornheim Mitte of Frankfurt, Germany

With that out of sight, I made my way over to Bornheim Mitte so I could have breakfast at the Eifler Bakery I had been frequenting regularly back in June. All was going well; my nausea had faded, and I got to writing about Klaus and my trip to the Celtic burial mounds at Bulau. Meanwhile, Caroline and I were chatting back and forth about her ride to Köln, her looking for the train bathroom, the train running late, her first sighting of the famous cathedral (Kölner Dom), and, of course, how much we love each other.

Man eating boogers in Frankfurt, Germany

Then it had to go and get weird. This guy sitting just on the other side of the glass a few feet from me started picking his nose, inspecting the catch, and gobbling it down. This wasn’t a one-off thing either, and for the next half-hour, I watched his technique carefully so I could best understand where he was failing at what should have been a stealthy action. Well, he wasn’t failing, as he wasn’t even trying to conceal his booger-picking/booger-eating Frühstück of Popel und Kaffee.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve witnessed such behavior in Germany, but it was the first time I was able to point my camera at a person and snap away as he was too deeply engrossed with finding those annoying nostril obstructions to pay attention to me. So I looked things up online to find out how socially acceptable this is here in Germany, and it seems as though it’s not. The first search result was for Joachim Löw, who’s taken the German national team to win the FIFA World Cup and himself to shame for not only eating his Popel (boogers) on national TV but also sticking his hand in his armpits, under his balls, and into his butt crack before sniffing his fingers. As far as I can tell, these behaviors are not normal for Germany, though I also learned that Dutchmen seem to pick their boogers in public more than any others, though they take pleasure in rolling and flicking them.

Now, I’m afraid to venture out into the city as I have no idea what I’ll see next, but after four hours here at an extended breakfast, it’s time to get going.

Bike horn in Frankfurt, Germany

To any of those people who might have read about my previous visit to Germany back in May and June, just because I’m posting this bike horn doesn’t mean I’ll be diving back into the diversity of bike bells as I did on that particular day in June.

Graffiti and call to action poster in Frankfurt, Germany

It’s voting season in Germany which also means it will be demonstration time too. You need not read German to hopefully be able to see #fridaysforfuture is the theme of this “Climate Strike.”

Jutta Engelhardt and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Let’s say you have an extra four hours where you’re hanging out in Frankfurt with nothing better to do as your significant other is somewhere else, doing god knows what, and you were too lazy to jump on another train to a place like Stuttgart or wherever (actually I was too busy trying to catch up on some writing) so you find yourself at a loss of what to do. Oh, I know, I’ll go and see Jutta because my mother-in-law can be entertaining in funny ways, plus I know she likes spending time with family.

Frankfurt, Germany

Because I showed up without Caroline, Jutta assumed Caroline wasn’t in Germany with me and that maybe it was June all over again. When I told her that Caroline would be visiting tomorrow, she asked if her daughter was on the plane already. Nope, she’s in Köln. Jutta followed with, “What’s she doing there?” Visiting a friend but not Claudia, who probably doesn’t live in or near Köln. Maybe 20 minutes later, Jutta asked where Caroline was and was surprised to hear that she was in Köln and not in Arizona. Can you figure out for yourself how the remaining three hours played out?

All of that is of no serious matter except to remind Caroline and me that one or both of us may be facing a similar future and that, like Jutta, we need to laugh at the silliness of the situation and accept that, “It is what it is.”

Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

After more than two hours for lunch at Schwarzer Stern, we ambled along at old-lady-with-walker speed to the nearby ice cream shop. Jutta asked for something with fruit, so I got her the €9.50 Deluxe Fruit Boat (about $12). When they delivered it, she was certain she couldn’t finish even half of this giant of the ice cream world. Well, this champ at eating sweets left barely a morsel when they came to take the dish away. Okay, maybe it was a tenth of what was there, but I swear that my mother-in-law can enjoy a good dessert with the best of them.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

After walking Jutta back to Lebenshaus, I took a look at the church next door. St. Leonhard Catholic Church had been closed for nearly nine years before finally reopening recently. The renovation was a major undertaking and surely, attending a guided tour and paying a visit to the nearby Historical Museum would help to put the full picture of the effort together.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

As I entered the church, there was a lady up at the organ practicing, which I chose to appreciate as a free concert. She added the appropriate ambiance to my visit to yet another beautiful little church.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

A man named Karan was watching over the church and offered up some details about the renovation. He noted that St. Leonhard is the second oldest surviving building in the Frankfurt area; the other is St. Justinus over in Höchst, where we were yesterday.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

Walking through Frankfurt is like weaving across time. I see so many iterations of myself, Caroline, situations, fashion, and variations of themes I’ve experienced before during my life. I don’t see this in New York City, Los Angeles, certainly not Phoenix, and yet this is a composite of those and a hundred other places I’ve been. From singing beggars, thugs, sexy and conservative women, boring business people, addicts, homeless people, foreigners, young people trying to fit in with peers, kids with balloons, all with faces from around the world and ages from all years.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

With this comes a certain melancholy as I witness so many eras of my own life replaying here in each successive moment. Maybe it’s the density of people combined with the fluid integration of all economic corners in constant movement. Old meets new, and from no-tech to hi-tech, a generation glides by on electric scooters; some walk, others ride bikes, weaving between the heavy pedestrian traffic, too many smokers, and an endless parade of those who glean trashcan after trashcan just minutes after the last person on the hunt for anything refundable. Between those gleaners are the pigeons picking up every morsel of dropped crumb and fry they can run to and snatch before one of their flying rat brethren beats them to it.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

The music comes and goes as one street musician gives way to another. Busking and bottle collecting might be the most legitimate forms of begging here in Frankfurt. Guys, and I do mean mostly guys, have boxes strapped to their backs and scooters under their feet as they speed by to deliver some food or other across town. The woman who was offering prayer songs had given way to an accordion player who was too much competition, or she had made as much money as she was looking for. I suppose if I spoke better German, I’d get into trouble by asking people about their activities, such as I did when I ran into a member of MS-13 earlier.

How did I know his gang affiliation? The facial tattoos were the first indication. I spent a moment studying his face as we walked along near Römer, making eye contact he gave a look acknowledging his awareness of me staring at him so I said hello. It was enough of an opening that I was able to learn of his Mexican and Moroccan heritage while we walked along, talking in the bit of German I could muster. It took me a minute to gather enough details out of the intricate tattoos before my eyes fell on the area below his bottom lip tucked between his heavy black beard that said, “Stay Away.” Oops, I apologized for not staying away; he laughed and said, “Kein Problem” before we parted directions. Yes, I absolutely wanted to ask for a photo but felt it inappropriate. I regret my timidity in this situation.

Stumbling Stones on Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

The old-school punkers who’ve set up camp nearby, while kind of silly looking, archaic even, would probably not disagree with their photos being taken, but if history is a good indicator, they will want a nice donation to the beer fund, and they are not so original to warrant even a Euro. The beggars that walk up and present their card in German, offering some plea for money, are the worst as they tilt their heads in some sympathetic nod while muttering “Bitte,” an act I’ve grown tired of.

It’s belly season in Frankfurt with many young ladies showing midriff; more than a few are sporting solid six-packs, to my surprise. Guys looking for those girls are just as likely to have the most incredibly chiseled beards and sharpened hairlines that must certainly slice through the bullshit of flirting and just draw each other in.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

In America, I feel like I’m on the cultural sushi belt of all-you-can-eat banality being performed on a 30-second loop, trying to induce nausea by repetition. Maybe it is all the same here, but my eyes have difficulties finding it, and my ears cannot pick up on it either; that’s a luxury of my limited German for sure. I have to wonder how long it would take, sitting here watching people on Zeil before it grew old, and I’d run low on inspiration and finding entertainment in the play of life. Just then, the two guys who’d been sitting across from me, eyeballing the girls from Wiesbaden on my right, made their move and approached them. I’m probably smiling too much as the guy who mustered the courage strikes up a conversation. And then it turned a bit creepy when, after trying to exchange info, he enquired where they had parked their vehicle, and it started to feel like a stalking situation. With no interest being offered, the guys moved on, or so I hope.

Central Grill in Bahnhofsviertal Frankfurt, Germany

Here I am back in Bahnhofsviertel, feeling leary as usual as I’ve seen crazy in this area, and while much has been gentrified, there is still that element of tension. I’m at the Central Grill for some solid Turkish food. I know it’s solid, as this isn’t the first time I’ve eaten here. The last time I visited, I wanted lamb, but they were out; tonight, I feast on an order and a half of lamb chops.

While I wait on my dinner, I’ll add this to my blog: my history here near Kaiserstrasse dates back to 1985 when, three days after landing in Frankfurt (courtesy of the US Army), I was introduced to the red light district that was thriving here back then. Since then, only fragments of relics really continue to hold on. How they’ve maintained their spaces during COVID-19 is a mystery, as I can’t imagine hooking is a legit gig during a pandemic. Back in the day, the open use of heroin was just a thing that was going on while pimps patrolled certain areas as women in their control worked illegally on the streets. Legalized prostitution was limited to houses licensed to offer such services. The last time I held my breath and entered one of these old decaying buildings, the charm as it was, was long gone and replaced by trepidation. I never had felt things were all that sketchy, although I had watched all manner of things unfold, and here I am today, possibly feeling vulnerable due to my age but all the same, I’m still drawn into the underbelly.

Bahnhofsviertal Frankfurt, Germany

Then, when I’m exposing my inner-sissy, I watch a couple of older people walking by two young women are out for a stroll, another old guy on his e-bike rides down the street, and here’s this overweight aging American conditioned to suspect anything that looks different to be potentially hostile. This realization eats at my ass as this idiotic fear has been planted long ago, and every time I’ve confronted it when as a young teen walking thru Skid Row in Los Angeles, visiting squatters’ flats here in Germany, looking for the goods in various red-light districts across Europe, or buying drugs from some shady characters, and even striking up the conversation with a member of MS-13 just today, I find that my anxiety wanes as soon as I confront this BS.

Here at 8:00 p.m., Caroline just reached out that she’s on her first connection that will bring her from the area where Claudia lives to Cologne for the transfer to a high-speed train that will zip her back to Frankfurt and into my hugging arms. In the meantime, I sip my Turkish tea, work on finishing the bottle of mineral water, and fret that I only have 71 minutes left on the battery for this notebook. I suppose that as I finish this and settle my bill, I can go people-watching at the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and hope that I don’t encounter stoma lady again.

It’s only 90 minutes before Caroline arrives, but then again, it’s 90 minutes.

Today was our 7th day in Germany, and it feels like it was nearly a month ago that we left Phoenix. Watch how I change my tune when, in two weeks, we are about to board our flight back to the US, and I lament how it all went by too fast and that we barely had enough time to do much of anything. Maybe our next trip we’ll finally take in Paris or Amsterdam, which for some reason seem to hold a lot of weight in measuring if we went far enough and saw all there was to see. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel cheated as our time spent anywhere is usually deeply immersive, and this certainly qualifies for that, but the more we pack into our limited schedule seems to burst the experience quotient.

Have you noticed that on a day without my wife by my side, I’m a verbose guy with nothing better to do than write? Yeah, I’m noticing it too, but you’ve got to appreciate that when we’re together, I’d rather spend time with her than with my computer. Time to call a server over so I could pay the bill and use their toilet, which is not a toilet at a train station.

Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

Seriously? The next bit will be hard to believe as I was just worrying about such a thing at dinner. I headed down Munchenerstrasse towards the main train station, and as I started to round the corner, a group of 7 or 8 men was crowding the sidewalk as I tried sliding between them and a woman with a stroller, one of the guys with his back to me stuck his leg out behind him, catching my left foot and as soon as he did he and a couple of others turned around and joined their buddies leaning against the wall. I’d imagine that had I gone down, there would have been three or four guys helping the old guy who just fell down back to his feet. Only then, I’d be minus a thing or two, such as the computer bag over my shoulder or the camera I had wrapped around my wrist and gripped tightly.

This pumped my adrenalin hard as I’ve seen this very thing happen years ago, but the guy that had been brought down was pummeled to disorient him. Situated in a sketchy part of the train station, it could easily have been deduced that the victim must have been drunk or on drugs and was simply suffering from his own stupidity. Such is the danger of walking alone on a street I knew I should have left but didn’t want to be paranoid about.

Now, in the train station, sitting at track #20 waiting for Caroline, I have to contend with the occasional beggar asking for “Kleingeld” or loose change. My answer is always the same, “Ich hab keins” (I have none). With a notebook in my lap, my phone/hot spot in my pocket, and a DSLR on my side, I always wonder when someone might run by and grab something. This, too, happened when I was 16 or 17, leaving a concert in Los Angeles as someone tried grabbing my SLR (back when film was still the thing), but then, like now, my camera strap was wrapped a couple of times around my wrist, and the lens gripped tight. The guy didn’t get my camera, but I went down and damaged the lens.

Thinking about these moments, I remember when my 1969 Chevy Nova was broken into at Huntington Beach in California and all of my cassettes stolen or the time in Amsterdam after visiting the Van Gogh Museum when I got back to the car and found I couldn’t open my trunk. It had been forcefully opened, and the key no longer worked. Feeling nauseous about why this would be, I stuck an arm into the trunk through a hole where a speaker used to be before I had torn it out, and my searching hand found nothing. That nothing included a very expensive (for the time) Sony Hi-8 pro video camera. The idiot who stole it probably got $50 to $100 for it so they could score some heroin, and the buyer picked up a useless NTSC camera that wouldn’t have worked on any European television as they used a system referred to as PAL that was incompatible with the American system.

Damn it, I’m tired of these panhandlers and need to put the writing to the side and go walking around in the busier areas.

Caroline Wise at the Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

And here she is, finally, and on time: Caroline, returning from a lovely day with her friend. The colorful bag is a caddy for craft items hand-sewn by Claudia. The backpack contains a travel spinning wheel that only weighs 3.5kg and should fit in an airplane overhead compartment. Overjoyed, we hugged and made our way to the U-Bahn. I would like to say that the rest of the night passed uneventfully, but the weirdness returned once more. On our last leg out to Heddernheim, a young man tried to pass by a couple of old guys who were hogging the space in the middle of the train. He asked one of them politely to make space, and the old man, for no apparent reason, went ballistic, shouting insults and ranting about Auslanders (foreigners). Just as I considered the necessity of getting involved, a tall younger man slowly moved between the angry old man and the young guy who was defending himself verbally yet dignified. Eventually, the old guys left the train, and the tension was released. The day, in some ways, was “Too weird.”

Another Day Another Bike Ride

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Because 40 miles yesterday wasn’t enough, we are out on bikes again today for a quick 25-mile trek from Frankfurt to Höchst. Okay, that’s not exactly the truth. It’s more like Klaus, and I had so much fun, and the girls had so much ice cream we felt we needed to take them out for some exercise to work some of those calories off. Oh wait, that’s not the truth of it either; we really wanted to share the e-bike experience with Caroline and Stephanie and let them see the city of Frankfurt in a way that is different from any other exploration any of us have done prior.

We picked up the extra e-bikes near Lokalbahnhof in the south of Frankfurt and not far from the Main River. The place is called Frankfurt Bike Tours should anyone else be interested or I need to remember in the future.

I already know I have a fat head, but when taking selfies where I’m on the far edge of the camera, I feel like my head grows twice as large. No lens correction can repair this illusion unless the truth is that my head really is this inflated watermelon of a thing. From left to right, Stephanie, Caroline, Klaus, and Mr. Melonhead.

You’ll never see a fraction of the city you live in if you don’t get out of the subway or out of your car. Seeing things by foot, scooter, or bicycle opens up a few of the world you might not have been aware of. Crossing a small side canal of the Main River on a footbridge, we spotted this overgrown old houseboat.

Our ride is taking us west of Frankfurt, though our destination is essentially a part of the city. For the better part of our trail, we are never very far from the Main River on yet another beautiful late summer day.

Good thing I’m wearing a helmet as I turn my attention away from riding and focus on taking photos cruising along at about 20 kilometers an hour or 13 mph.

Frankfurt is nothing if not a city of a lot of graffiti street art…

…and good advice.

Like the Valkyries, we ride and ride.

You are now looking at Höchst, which is effectively our destination, except we do have a little further away from Frankfurt to travel, and before we continue with that we’ll head into town for lunch, but first…

…we have to cross the Main River on a tiny ferry that only takes pedestrians and bicyclists across the way. Back in June of 2018, we made a similar crossing, except on that visit, we came into town via the train and crossed from the other side.

With nearly 12 miles of the ride finished and after dozens of stops, it’s nearly four hours after we left home in Heddernheim and more than that since breakfast: we are ready for this lazy stop in the old town square.

We are taking a detour from our route as a sign directs us to the Schwanheimer Dünen (dunes), but before we arrive at the beginning of the trail, I spot a bunch of fruit on the ground from a nearly empty tree. While no one else was interested, I had to turn around to investigate. Caroline joined me and was able to identify the ripe fruit as Mirabellen, which is a sweet and slightly tart type of plum. The few fruits in the tree were far too high to pick, so I had to find the best specimens I could on the ground that hadn’t been stepped on or ridden on and dust them off. We bit into them, and I swear they were the best I’d ever had. The hunt was on to identify more relatively undamaged Mirabellen and eat my fill before we continued into the dunes.

A boardwalk led us in and over the dunes area that was formed during the last ice age about 10,000 years ago.

A portable sheep enclosure fence was set up with maybe 70 animals happily grazing on the variety of grasses that commanded their full attention.

Part of our ride today follows the steps of the “Spaetlesereiter.” Back in the 1700s, a courier from the abbey in Fulda would carry the bishop’s permission to start the harvest on horseback to the abbey’s Johannisberg wine estate near Geisenheim in Rheingau. In 1775, the rider was delayed for two weeks, and the grapes had started to rot. They were harvested and processed anyway, and the resulting wine was surprisingly good and sweet – the “Spaetlese” or “late harvest wine” was born. The 230km-long Hessian cycle route R3 loosely tracks the rider’s path from the Fulda area to Rheingau, and we’re on it for just a few of them.

We are in the forest of named paths, and this one is Agendawaldschneise after the Agenda 21 initiative from the United Nations aimed at “combating deforestation, protecting fragile environments, and conservation of biological diversity.” The forest here was planted in accordance with Agenda 21 and is therefore also named Agendawald or “Agenda Forest.” An old friend of ours in the US thought Agenda 21 was something evil, well, I’m finding these forest paths and preservation of open lands simply charming.

This is not the Germany of old; people didn’t stop and talk with strangers, but that’s what’s happening today. The fluffy white Great Pyrenees caught the girls’ attention, and the owner was happy to tell them about the breed’s history and temperament.

Remember that reference to the Valkyries earlier? Well, we’re still playing that.

We ride and we ride into the green and into infinity or maybe just to the end of the trail.

Does it look like Caroline just worked incredibly hard at getting to this part of the ride? Well, it turns out that her e-bike computer malfunctioned and that she only had sporadic electric assistance, as in about 5 minutes in total so she had to put some serious effort into her pedaling while the rest of us just cruised along.

We dropped off the bikes, got a small refund for Caroline’s broken bike, and started walking towards a specialty ice cream shop in the Sachsenhausen area. Not that I know what marijuana looks like, but what the heck is the devil’s weed doing growing here streetside in Germany? Isn’t this still illegal? Now, if this were hash, well, I probably have more than a little experience with that.

A gaggle of paddle boarders on a sunset float on the Main River reminds me of, well, nothing as I’ve never seen this before here in Frankfurt, and at the time of this writing, I have nothing to compare it to.

Sculling on the calm waters of Frankfurt’s riverway is a popular repast, at least during seasonably appropriate weather. Caroline has voiced her interest in giving this a go someday, but it’s not going to happen this trip as though we can afford a good deal of spontaneity such as this day, we have a fairly heavy schedule for the next couple of weeks, or so I think.

What a conundrum this is, as I can’t be certain there’s ever really a sustainable and cruelty-free way to bring animals to our tables. It’s troublesome as I’m well aware of the violence committed on my behalf, so I can eat various types of meat at my convenience, and if I think about it too long, I’d be forced to reconsider my willful ignoring of animals’ grotesque suffering. If you can read the URL at the top of this photo and you haven’t seen the worst of animal harvesting practices, you might want to watch it, but be forewarned, it’s harsh.

The geese that call these riverbanks home are some seriously chill birds as I’ve never seen one of them charge a person, ever. The downside of so many geese is the voluminous amounts of squishy green finger-sized poops that dot the path and stairs along the way.

And so, this was another day, another bike ride as we celebrated the 6th day of a vacation that was shaping up as perfect.

The Tale Of Two Quests

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

This is the tale of two quests. In one, brothers-in-law John and Klaus head out on their own adventure, and from the looks of our heads, you would rightly surmise that we are off for a bike ride. Meanwhile, the sisters will putz around at home for a good long time, in part fixing my leather computer bag, before venturing into their own quest for Frankfurt’s best ice cream.

With me riding a rented e-bike and Klaus pedaling for real, we are heading to the Westend of Frankfurt, and on the way, we pass Fernmeldeturm. This is the closest I’ve ever been to this tower. One used to be able to take an elevator to a restaurant and a viewing platform (the two rings of windows), but unfortunately, they have been closed for a while now.

Klaus figured out our trail using the Komoot app, which I’ve now downloaded, too. He told me where we were going, but I couldn’t figure out what or where that might be; it’s just nice to be out for a long ride.

I snapped this photo from Holbeinsteg, which is a footbridge over the Main River. Interestingly, the bridge was designed by Albert Speer Jr., son of the former Reich Minister for Armaments and Ammunition, Albert Speer. Well, I had no idea the role Albert Speer Jr., played in many architectural and design elements found around Frankfurt.

Before reaching this point in the city, we had to pass through a particular corner of the Bahnhofsviertel that might be a shade darker than Skid Row in Los Angeles, though that is uncertain. It’s likely equal, but coming out of the perfect sterility of the surrounding area, the abrupt encounter with depravity in this concentration is jarring, and things are feeling worse somehow. Two women sharing an open-air urinal, taking a squat in public, and the man who looked awfully dead lying behind a car on the street added to the sense of squalor.

Out of the city and into the countryside, we are entering the place of big green.

I was told beforehand that our ride south would take us about 30 kilometers (nearly 19 miles) from the city, but with Klaus and I both carrying our cameras and making frequent stops, this could take all day, not that I’m complaining.

Other than the occasional sound of birds, there’s little observable wildlife out here. Riding up on this small pond was one of the rare opportunities to see a bird up close.

There are so many bike- and footpaths sliced throughout Germany that I think I could spend the rest of my life traveling them and still never see but a fraction. Here, we are crossing over the A3 Autobahn using a bridge that is only for pedestrians and bike riders.

It didn’t feel like we’d left all that long ago, but here we are, entering farmland and way off in the distance is a glimpse of the Frankfurt skyline.

Leading like a champ across Hill and Dale, we ride and ride.

Out in the middle of nowhere, we rode up on this sealed mine that at one time was a source of heavy spar. This mineral was used at one time as a counterweight in elevators, which made me wonder why lead wasn’t used instead, so I checked the weight of heavy spar. This mineral weighs in at 4.5 grams per cubic centimeter compared to lead at 11.3 grams per cubic centimeter. I can guess that the mineral only needed to be mined while lead required processing, thus making it more expensive.

A nearby honor box invited people to pick sunflowers and pay 50 cents per flower or €5 per dozen. There was nothing posted about taking photos, so I grabbed a few.

There is no passing of horses anymore without thinking about Katharina (our niece), who loves horses, a lot!

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, the unfolding of the second quest has been underway. Stephanie and her sister, a.k.a. my wife Caroline, got a late start and have finally sent us a photo to assure the husbands that they actually left the house instead of gabbing all day over tea and yarn in Stephanie’s attic/yarn warehouse. 

City, farm, forest, it’s all so charming.

And if all of that wasn’t enough, we started passing blackberry bushes. I couldn’t resist sampling the wares and got a few sour berries for each sweet one I found.

Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Returning to Quest #2, the ladies have stopped for what they claim are salads, but considering the infamous ice cream prepared to look like spaghetti, I have my doubts that what we are looking at is indeed lettuce, onion, and tomatoes, instead of some wickedly accurate-looking carved ice cream.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

I have to admit surprise that they were eating healthy when we’d discussed them going out on an ice cream binge.

We’ve arrived at our furthest southerly point, the Kulturhistorische Erlebnisstätte Auf der Bulau, also known as the Cultural-historical experience site on the Bulau, for my fellow English speakers.

At one time, there were 25 burial mounds (tumuli) here; today only two reconstructions remain. Like the Celtic area we visited yesterday, this one too, is from the Middle Hallstatt period (700 – 450 BC). Next to the mounds is a reconstructed Roman road that once ran through the area from Dieburg south of here to Dietzenbach, where we are going next.

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when we found a place for lunch in the charming village of Dietzenbach. I can’t really say it’s charming, as I’ve only seen a tiny corner of it this afternoon, but what I saw wasn’t bad. When I lived in nearby Frankfurt during the end of the last century, Dietzenbach had a terrible reputation, though I think that was primarily based on the probably mistaken idea that only welfare recipients and immigrants lived out here. Anyway, as you can see, I opted for an American-style burger and fries. While it was okay, the Germans don’t really know how to do this right.

If this looks like the direction back to Frankfurt to you too, you’d be correct in your assumption.

These free green apples yelled, “Pick me!” as I passed; well, that was until Klaus read the sign, “Do not pick the apples and do not leave your trash.” Had I then tossed back the apples I had just picked, I would have been leaving trash, so I figured one instance of breaking the rules was enough for one day. Then again, I think I crossed at least one street while the light was red and might have ridden on a sidewalk when I shouldn’t have. How I got away without any tickets today is beyond me.

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

While the guys are out stealing apples, the women have dipped (pun intended) into an ice cream shop called Antipodean, which Stephanie recently learned was a highly-rated stop on the map of Frankfurt. The pink scoop was “Red Dragon,” a raspberry sorbet spiced up with chili, and the white scoop was “Miscake,” a mix of carrot cake, vanilla, and caramel. Miscake was definitely the winner here, and with that, the sisters were off to the next stop.

I’m in love with traveling over Germany by forest trail. A couple of years ago, while I was in Berlin, I’d cross the Spree River in the morning and walk through the woods to the location of the event I was attending. In the evening, I’d walk the same path back to my Airbnb. Initially, I felt trepidation because of the anxiety that had traveled from America to Germany with me, but I quickly adapted to the idea that there was nobody waiting in the forest to attack me, such as the evil Giftzwerg I’d been warned about.

We are now nearly 50 kilometers (about 31 miles) into this adventure, with 14 kilometers (9 miles) to go before returning to Heddernheim.

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Oh, they were apparently serious about making this an ice cream social, as here we are at stop number two, Lolli Eis, just down the street. Just as with Antipodean, a long line of patiently waiting mask wearers is lined up before the store. Since there was no free table, the sisters shared table space with two regulars. The flavors sampled included passionfruit, pomegranate yogurt, dark chocolate on the left, cassis (blackcurrant), blood orange, and stracciatella on the right.

After a false start where Komoot wanted us to cross the Main River next to an Autobahn for us to circle around Frankfurt via Bornheim, we decided we still had some autonomy left and diverted our path to travel along the riverbank. The river is to our right, and pictures of it are up next, but it was the tree-lined path with these beautiful shadows I had to share first.

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Life, even in parallel universes, is not all about the sweets. There seems to be a need for the occasional tea/coffee break. I’m pretty sure that tea runs in Stephanie’s veins while Caroline’s flows with a slurry of coffee and rye bread dough. Coffee and tea were enjoyed at Harvey on Friedberger Platz.

While I just posted an image of this two months ago, I’m finding it difficult to find new things to photograph.

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Oh my god, seriously? A third stop for ice cream in half a day? They have no shame. While Klaus and I pedal our asses off, riding our bikes through mud, rain, snow, sleet, wild dogs, desert, thistles, angry crowds, the horde, barbarians, minefields, and a pit of mustard gas, they dare send us smiling faces with cheeks full of ice cream giving them the appearance of chipmunks stuffed on acorns. The last sampling included flavors such as Frankfurter Kranz, tonka bean, lime, and quince.

Since it was Sunday, the path along the river was packed, and getting through with bikes was too uncomfortable, so we left and headed over to the Untermainbrücke (Lower Main Bridge) to begin the last leg of our ride.

Frankfurt, Germany

This was the ship that transported Caroline and Stephanie between our world and the Universe of Gelato. Obviously, the rules of Earth don’t apply where they went today, as how does anyone eat that much ice cream?

My brother-in-law Klaus has been a terrific trip planner and leader today. I believe he commanded the weather to act cooperatively in order that nothing should blemish our amazing experience. He and I agreed that this was the textbook definition of a perfect day.

Frankfurt, Germany

This wasn’t apparent to me either so let me enlighten you why Caroline found this photo cute. Look at the license plate on this small car; it reads RIESE, and in German, that means giant. So, do you get it? Giant on a tiny car, maybe this is a German thing for those experiencing a sugar overdose from eating 40 or 50 scoops of ice cream? Shortly after this, the two quests merged, and the ice cream fest was over…for now!

Somehow, Klaus still had the energy to barbecue dinner for the four of us. He prepared a mixed grill of lamb, pork, chicken, and beef with grilled sweet potato, mixed olives, and a tomato salad. Plus, I forgot to mention that he arranged and presented our breakfast of Brötchen, various jams (I’m eating his entire supply of homemade apricot-vanilla jam), and coffee. He should win the award for being the perfect host, as I feel indebted to him for contributing to a seriously uber-wonderful vacation day here in Germany.

Bike Route to Bulau

When we finished our ride, we logged about 64 kilometers or 40 miles, which had us in the saddle for nearly 4.5 hours of the 8 hours we were out riding. This is the map of today’s route.

Bread, Celts, and Vineyards

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

The mighty Brötchen (literally: small bread) is a fixture in how our days start in Germany. This breakfast staple has evolved since I first encountered it back in 1985. Back then, you could buy it in two versions, round white and triangular white. Since that time, the bakeries have pushed into exotic territories using all types of flour, seeds, whole grains, and various ingredients: the Brötchen on the left has small pieces of carrot in it.

Way back when, breakfast might include a plain Brötchen or two, some cheese, salami or ham, a soft-boiled egg, and a couple of tomato slices, but here at Haus Engelhardt, we dive into half a dozen varieties of fruit jams (many homemade), a slab of butter, and hot coffee to start the day. Maybe the greatest luxury is that the bakery makes deliveries, so usually, before we wake, an orange bag left on the front door magically is refilled with fresh Brötchen.

After breakfast, we didn’t have long to wait around as at 9:30, we were picked up by Caroline’s godmother, Helga. Our destination today is Keltenwelt am Glauberg, which translates to Celtic World on Glauberg. During the ten years I lived in Europe, from 1985 to 1995, I don’t believe I visited even one Celtic site, and here I am, visiting my third site this year; the two previous ones were in Heidelberg and Taunus back in June.

What was buried here on Glauberg (Berg means mountain as opposed to Burg, which means castle – this is our German lesson of the day) was an Oppidum. What is an Oppidum, you might ask? I had to ask; they were Iron Age Celtic settlements. This Oppidum was occupied approximately 2,500 years ago.

The Keltenwelt Museum up on this mountain is home to artifacts found in burial mounds. A tumulus (for a single one or tumuli for plural) is a burial mound, and the ones found here in 1988 were nearly invisible due to erosion and farming over the millennia. Amateur historians flying over the site discovered them, and excavations began in the early 1990s. This jug was one of the items.

In one of the mounds, an unlooted grave was found and removed as a solid block along with the soil to be examined in a lab. This is the remnant of a shield, and as you’ll see in a photo below, a similar shield was featured on a statue also found on the site.

This torc was also found in the burial site; look at the neck of the statue below to see the three main elements that are similar between this neck jewelry and that on the statue.

Interestingly, in person, you cannot really make out the colors of the stonework in the sword’s handle, and then again, you can’t zoom in with your eyeballs to see this level of detail. Speaking of what can and can’t be seen and done while at this museum, none of the descriptions posted with the exhibit pieces are in any other language besides German.

This is the real treasure found in one of the burial mounds (tumuli): the Celtic Prince of The Glauberg. While fragments of other statues were found, this is the most complete, with only his feet missing.

While difficult to make out in this photo, a tumulus (burial mound) can be seen in the center of the photo. The settlement of the Celts would have been on the Glauberg hilltop right behind me, near where the museum currently sits.

Time for a lunch break at a small tapas place next to the road in Altenstadt. But John, this is only a glass of water? Well, yes, but it is also a small reminder of how common mineral water is in Germany and how if the server senses you are a foreigner, they’ll ask if you want “still” or “mit Sprudel?”

Off on the next leg of today’s adventure of hanging out with Helga.

We are heading into one of the famous wine regions along the Rhein River called the Rheingau.

We’ve arrived at Schloss Johannisberg in Geisenheim and are visiting the Catholic church as our first stop because Caroline and I are on a church deficit.

Schloss Johannisberg or Johannisberg Castle is the “First Riesling Wine Estate of the World” and is where the concept of the Late Harvest Dessert Wine was discovered when, because of a delay in communication, the wine harvest only commenced after the grapes had started to rot on the vines. A fungus from that rot called “Noble Rot” became essential for sweetening subsequent harvests.

Helga and Caroline enjoying a glass of wine with Noble Rot.

The view east from Schloss Johannisberg with the Rhein River out there somewhere.

I thought we were leaving…

….as it was getting later in the day…

…but first, a view from this side of the caste.

Oh, time for another glass of wine. As our final toast of the day was had, we were shortly about to collect three onions and bacon Flammkuchen, which is more like a lavash though the translation is “pancake.”

It was a beautiful day visiting a Celtic site and sitting atop of hillside overlooking the Rhein with Caroline’s godmother, Helga. It felt extraordinary as I’ve only ever known Helga to be one of the busiest people I’ve met, she always seems to be on the go. As a matter of fact, we only had a brief window when she’d be in town without something already scheduled; tomorrow, she leaves for a few days in Stuttgart. Thanks, Helga, for such a wonderful tour of places we’d never been before.

Without enough steps for the day, Caroline and I needed to head out for some walking. We took the train down to Dornbusch for a visit to a Döner shop, as I was still hungry, and then we walked back to Heddernheim. This train stop is not where we traveled from but is an S-Bahn station we pass on our way but it does hold a special place in our hearts. There used to be a small footbridge over this track a little further into the distance, leading to the Batschkapp nightclub I’ve written about before. This was where Caroline and I sat to talk for a while prior to my giving her a ride to her apartment. Hours after that, we fell in love, and the rest is history.