A Walk Along The Rhine

*** I’d like to take a moment to explain something regarding a conversation Caroline and I are having regarding these posts in Frankfurt. She feels that my socio-political-economic musings are interrupting the flow of the travel narrative and that maybe I should have carved out these diatribes into their own entries. The issue for me is that these intellectual situations were where I was in my head when we were on trains or sitting down for a coffee. The difference between this week in Frankfurt and the previous two weeks is that I was alone and had nothing to share about time spent with things or people that were familiar to me so it was all selfishly centered on whatever I wanted to rant or wax on about. Should you find these abrupt interludes jarring….well, too bad.

Frankfurt is the only city in Germany with a skyline dominated by highrises. It’s also the financial capital on the continent, and with London about to potentially exit the European Union via Brexit, Frankfurt only stands to win if England and the rest of the United Kingdom abandon the ship of integration. I won’t mince my words here; the utter stupidity of the old and undereducated that were exploited in order to kickstart the dismemberment of the EU is a kind of fuckery that only serves the xenophobic ambitions of powers afraid that their military superiority is going to be eclipsed by benevolent power that risks the hegemony of the West. If the United States, with the help of its long-term ally England, cracks the EU back into fractured powers, those entities will have to act as solo players and build alignments based on military commitments instead of America needing to find agreement from a bureaucratic EU that has to take into consideration social cohesion across the Union and find consensus on financial and military commitments.

If America believes there will be a clash of cultures and that a war on the scale that would be required to contain non-white players into a more historical subservient role that has been being played for the past 100 or so years comes to pass, it will be an extremely violent conflagration that will eclipse the level of destruction seen in all previous wars combined. In order to rationalize such a conflict, the United States will have to count the number of allies it has in recognizing the necessity of such action. By eliminating the EU, which would collectively be only a single ally, it would be able to align with governments moving to the right and maybe find 15 of the 27 current EU members to join its front. The appearance of having a dozen complicit aggressors instead of going it alone might nudge others on the fringe to back a coalition instead of risking isolation.

Frankfurt, Germany

As I move through Germany on the eve of European elections while the American Right agitates and implicitly backs anti-immigration right-wing policies of intolerance with hostility towards open borders, I can’t help but focus much of my attention on the future of these lands that have avoided war for over 70 years.

The very idea that the West might contain Asia and freeze immigration from Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East by creating conditions that are absolutely detrimental to being from one of those land areas is going to sound very appealing to an electorate afraid of the influx of people “stealing” their jobs. If I think longer about the conditions that a conflict could play out, I can see a situation where America works in complicity with China. Matter of fact, when considering how China is currently trying to contain its Muslim Uighur population, I have to wonder if this is practice for what we as a society will have to start accepting as containment moves to a global scale.

Frankfurt, Germany

The trains, they go everywhere. The longer-distance trains have wifi. Most have plugs to charge mobile devices. There are helpers if you need assistance finding your seat. There are areas for bikes. Toilets are frequently larger than airplane facilities. With solid tracks, there are no click-clack sounds. It’s about $10 to travel 40 miles, which is a fairly significant distance in a small country like Germany. If you are running late on longer-distance trains, it’s often possible to buy your ticket on board. Train stations in big cities are like malls but only with important stuff for travelers. The main station is often the center of town, and landing there will take you directly into the most important places you might want to visit.

Frankfurt, Germany

Trains, the economy, and the social fabric of our cultural constructs are all moving by in a blur, making them impossible to grab hold of and, consequently, to fully understand. The fragments I’m able to glean on my excursions are biased interpretations that flow through the filters of experience that have created my flavor of knowledge. My musings are like a train car that pulls into the station, loading up people, but in this case, impressions flood into my senses, which I carry forward like this speeding train going forward over the landscape. When it arrives at the next station, the view of the next location will come into view, and I will carry what I’ve collected and considered, applying those lessons to how I interpret the new impressions. The day my train comes to a permanent halt, I will have likely died, but until then, I should continue picking up new passengers, new thoughts, and new ideas.

Geisenheim, Germany

I know what you are thinking about now: “This doesn’t look like Geisenheim to me.” You are right; we are in Oestrich-Winkel, where we left the train about 6km before reaching our destination.

Geisenheim, Germany

We traded 15 minutes of a train ride for 90 minutes of walking in order to better see our environment and move slowly among the impressions that should linger in our memories instead of joining the blur. It’s not every day that Caroline and I stroll past villas with vineyards on gently rising slopes that stretch up hillsides away from the river that makes this region a German treasure for cultivating grapes in the making of wine.

Caroline Wise next to the Rhein River in Germany

That river is the Rhine. From Switzerland flowing north through Germany into the Netherlands, this 1,230km (760 miles) river is second to the Danube in length regarding Central Europe but is a distant third when compared to the Volga at 3,530km. This highly navigable and vital waterway has spawned many a city along its banks, with a fair share of castles dotting outposts overlooking the lush and fertile lands that try to contain it. Today, the river is running high, and in some places, we have to detour as the trail is well underwater.

Geisenheim, Germany

Our path is not a straight line as we zigzag from a flooded river path back towards a small town in the hopes of passing quaint storefronts or admiring a large vineyard that holds the promise of a wine that might become a classic.

Geisenheim, Germany

If you are going to walk by in the early morning, you might not always be able to dip into the places that hold appeal, and so it was as we passed Weingut Jacob Hamm here on the Hauptstrasse here in Oestrich-Winkel. Heck, they don’t even open until 18:00 today (6:00 p.m.), but their courtyard is pretty, and maybe one day we’ll wander back through for a 4-course dinner with wine pairing from their winery. Not that I’ll be sampling the wine, but that doesn’t mean that Caroline won’t be indulging.

Geisenheim, Germany

This is the Basilika St. Ägidius in Mittelheim of Rheingau. Wouldn’t you know it, the doors were locked this morning. Well, it’s been sitting here since the 12th century, so it’ll probably be waiting for us on a future visit where we better plan where our path takes us.

Geisenheim, Germany

Every beautiful little village across the European landscape talks to us that this would be the perfect place to make a part of our retirement. Take, for example, this town; I’ve found rental properties for short-term stays from about $550 per month, which would certainly fit within our budget if our savings aren’t wiped out by some medical catastrophe. We will continue to dream and hope that one day we’ll be chilling next to some river and walking the hillsides while holding hands, still in love after a lifetime of exploring happiness.

Caroline Wise and FeFe in Geisenheim, Germany

We’ve reached Geisenheim, where Caroline’s stepmother Vevie lives. Last year when we wanted to visit her she was over in Prague, so we missed her, this year we were able to spend half the day with her. Our visits with this shrinking family who are happy to see us are far too short, and so it will be today, too.

Caroline Wise and FeFe in Geisenheim, Germany

A short stop at Vevie’s home and a coffee later we were off to the Rhine for a leisurely riverside walk. Lunch will be had with Bingen in the background and the flooded river running swiftly past us here at the Bootshaus Restaurant. While Caroline and her stepmother enjoy a midday glass of wine, I’m here with the sparkling water and computer open to try and add something to the blog for the day.

Geisenheim, Germany

With Caroline and I together and the time spent with family, it’s rather difficult to find writing time, and she has even less time to give to editing my musings to ensure I don’t embarrass myself too much. The original plan, like yesterday’s, was that I’d make myself scarce while Caroline and Vevie met, and then I’d join them at a later time for lunch or a sweet. Instead, I find myself spending the afternoon with them. There’s a slight problem regarding my German language skills as the talk moves beyond the basics that deal with travel, and they explore details of daily life. This level of German is far beyond my ability to understand, and so being absent for at least part of the day would have let them converse without worrying about trying to include me, thus allowing the talk to be more spontaneous, but as things work out I’m ever-present, and they oblige me with the occasional translation so I’m not too far away from the conversation.

Geisenheim, Germany

The section of the river we’re sitting next to draws in quite a few couples who take up a spot next to the water and sit awhile. A dozen or more barges have trundled by but only one private craft. There were a couple of dozen people setting up all manner of tents, food carts, and even a stage for this weekend’s festivities. The big event is called Besser als Nix or Better Than Nothing. With food, drink, and live music next to the Rhine, I know where I’d love to be, but if I’m not mistaken, this type of popup party is likely happening in hundreds of locations across Germany and then another thousand other places throughout Europe.

Just before leaving Vevie and Geisenheim, we had quite the surprise: Hanns Engelhardt. Turns out he didn’t know we’d be visiting Vevie today, and so after taking care of business in nearby Wiesbaden, he thought he’d drop in on her, but she wasn’t at home, so he waited for her return. What a surprise it was to see him a day early, so now you know who we’ll be traveling to see tomorrow. Unfortunately, we had to excuse ourselves as we still had arrangements to tend to later in the day, and so off we went.

Caroline Wise in Rudesheim, Germany

Should you wonder if I miss this type of lifestyle, the answer is unabashed: of course I do! So why are we not living in Europe? This celebration with beautiful weather is just getting underway as Germany emerges from six months of gray, cold weather and short days. If we could live anywhere here on the continent from June 1st until September 15th with a two-week return from the middle of December until after the New Year’s festivities, then we’d certainly opt for that. Cost of living is another difficult part of remaining in Europe for an extended period of time, with gasoline costing roughly $7 to $9 a gallon, rents in bigger cities starting at $1500 a month for something that would be about half the size of what we get in Arizona is also a factor.

Rudesheim, Germany

Maybe one day we’ll figure things out, and in retirement, we can live along the Oregon coast from October through early May and then make our way to Europe for the summer. While this would be a luxury to us, we’d have to do this economically, and as long as we can keep rents in both locations to under $1000 a month with electricity and water, it almost starts to seem possible. And you can trust that if we can find a rental property for only $650 a month a mile or two away from the ocean and then rent an Airbnb for a month at a time and stay in four different cities across Europe for about $30 a day, we’d be right on it.

Olaf Finkbeiner in Frankfurt, Germany

This is kind of extraordinary meeting up with an old friend twice on one trip, but that’s just what we’re doing tonight as we head to Harvey’s to check in with Olaf Finkbeiner and Torsten Kühne. These two leave indelible impressions on Caroline and me if for no other reason than their passion for being present and engaged in life has all of the rage and fire they had 30 years ago when we all met. To be honest, we know very few people who embrace life in quite the same way. Sure, we know successful people, ambitious people, and adventurous ones, too, but it’s rare for us to find two of the more intriguing qualities that are important to us, and those are political and intellectual engagement that borders on fervor. Not only are they actively working and concerned about the social conversation Europe is having, but both are creative forces that have refused to let their idealism take a rest.

To Kuehne in Frankfurt, Germany

After drinks, hanging out, and talking a bit, hunger took over, and the guys suggested a different place to get dinner. We strolled down the street to Eckhaus. If anything makes us miss living in Europe, it is having these times with friends who’ve not betrayed their dreams to become characters that are poor representations of the people we knew when we lived around the corner from Olaf and To. Realistically, we’d probably see each other less if we were living in Frankfurt again, but that doesn’t diminish our fondness for having time to catch up with these two Menschen.

The Long Walk To Bad Soden

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Living in Germany during the last century it never occurred to Caroline or me that we could possibly ever walk from Frankfurt to Bad Soden in the Taunus mountains. After my recent walk from Pankow to Charlottenburg, our long walks around Budapest last year, and previous lengthy strolls through New York City and Washington, D.C. I thought I should at least check the distance from Heddernheim to Bad Soden, and at 13.8km or about 9 miles, we realized that this would be a relatively easy walk. Google found a nice route for our walk and estimated it would take about three hours to cover.

Frankfurt, Germany

The roughly 19,000 steps across the German countryside through farmland, protected wild belts, and an arboretum made for a beautiful walk to visit Caroline’s godmother Helga in Bad Soden.

Frankfurt, Germany

Through fields of wheat, rye, and barley, we walked over farm plots divided by the trail that often branched off in other directions which piqued our curiosity as to where those paths go off to. Soon it started to feel like one might easily walk across Germany on these small foot and bike paths that crisscross the landscape.

Frankfurt, Germany

It’s surprising how quickly our view changed from being in Frankfurt to being so far outside of Frankfurt. Because Caroline and I had only ever used motorized transportation to move about in this city, it always felt that the city was a lot larger than it turned out to be. It was on a previous trip for vacation over here when we walked from the north side of Frankfurt all the way to Sachsenhausen and then to the main train station that it started occurring to us that this place was not as big as we’d once thought.

Frankfurt, Germany

An old U.S. military airstrip that had fallen out of use has been turned into a state park that also serves as an arboretum. With protected lands hosting a variety of plant and animal life, we have yet another reason to wonder about what other localized biomes exist across the German landscape that are currently being protected or are slated for the return to a more natural state of existence.

Frankfurt, Germany

A chestnut tree has taken root from an acorn taken from Ukraine by a former prisoner of war.

Frankfurt, Germany

The speed of travel Caroline and I dream of takes us as slowly as this snail lugging his home on his back to wherever such treks take one.

Frankfurt, Germany

The small garden plots called “Schrebergarten” are also known in England as allotments. With many people never having the opportunity to own their own land, there are these small plots people can rent to tend a small garden, put up a covered awning attached to a hut where they can invite friends for cookouts, or just hang out in their garden having a drink and admiring the tranquility. Renting one is no easy feat, as these small plots are highly sought after.

Caroline Wise and Helga in Kronberg, Germany

We were only about 20 minutes later than Google’s estimation, likely due to my needing to stop for photographs. Once in Bad Soden, we had to reckon with the hills we’d not considered when planning this walk. After the first 18,000 steps, we were no longer in a condition that motivated us to trudge up hills that only worked to fatigue our worn-out legs further. We first saw Helga checking her mail as we started coming down a hilltop, and so I yelled out to surprise her that we, in fact, were arriving on foot. After a break and something to drink at her old flat, we headed to her new place just down the road in the town of Kronberg. Fortunately, she was driving.

Caroline Wise and Helga in Kronberg, Germany

Helga has been aware for years that such a move might one day be a necessity, and she had joined a community nearly a decade ago, so she’d have priority on acquiring one of the rental units that specifically caters to retirees who when living alone can suffer from the burden and isolation. Because she’s still transitioning to the new place and things are not fully unpacked yet, we squeezed in around the dining table while Helga made us lunch in a kitchen that was barely big enough for her to turn around in.

Caroline Wise and Helga in Kronberg, Germany

The park in front of three mid-rise apartment buildings has a beautiful park with views of Frankfurt’s skyline in the distance. On Helga’s side of the building are great views of the Taunus mountain range. At the park, there is a pagoda, a meeting space, and some exercise equipment. Like most people her age, she’s ambivalent about whether this is the right thing to do as, on one hand, it feels as though a certain amount of freedom is being sacrificed while, on the other, accepting that one is getting older steals an amount of dignity when we want to believe we’re not really all that old.

Caroline Wise, Helga, and John Wise in Kronberg, Germany

Here I am, still sitting with Caroline and Helga for what turned out to be a great visit. I sincerely believed that, at best, I’d say hi to Helga and move on down the road to a cafe so I could once again indulge my selfishness in writing while those two caught up with each other while speed talking in German. Turns out that Helga enjoys both of us as visitors as she feels reassured in seeing firsthand our happiness in being together. Knowing that just makes the visit all the sweeter, and I don’t have to feel like an intruder. After spending the better part of the day with her well into the late afternoon, we accepted Helga’s offer to drive us back to Heddernheim. I have to admit that I’ve rarely known of another lady in her early 80’s who moves down the road at nearly 100mph but Helga wasn’t shy at all about getting down the road.

Caroline Wise and Stephanie Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

The question of whether I could take a photo of these sisters was met with a bit of disdain from the one who just arrived huffing and puffing in need of water due to her putting some oomph into her step to reach us on the agreed-upon time of sitting down to dinner. We are at Speisekammer in Heddernheim, which is about a 15-minute walk from the Engelhardt’s home and is currently rated the #2 restaurant in the region for Frankfurter Grüne Soße.

Frankfurt, Germany

This was Stephanie’s main dish, but her appetizer was a half-portion of the exact same thing because who doesn’t love green sauce? Klaus wasn’t joining us tonight, as business responsibilities took him to Budapest until tomorrow afternoon.

Hanging Out With Jutta

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

This is the type of vacation day I like to claim we do not indulge in: we are moving along at a snail’s pace, but that’s just how it’s playing out. It’s after nine before boarding the train into town. There’s no walking to the city center today as we are trying to dedicate as much time as possible for Caroline to visit with her mom, and considering how late it is before we are underway, it’s best we take the quickest way possible.

Frankfurt, Germany

We could have gotten closer to the Bergerstrasse area, but we’d not had anything to eat yet, and I spotted a place that was highly recommended in North End, our old neighborhood. The Frühstück at Glauburg Cafe was worth the acclaim this former Konditorei (pastry cafe) has gotten, although it is a bit on the pricey side. From here, it’s only about a 10-15 minute walk to Jutta’s.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

A skirt in a shop window at a second-hand store caught both of our eyes and while Caroline at first asked why I was going in, she was soon walking out with the skirt you see here.

At Jutta’s, I said a quick hello and explained my need to go write, just a clever excuse to give Caroline and her mom the time to talk German without Caroline having to explain more than half of what they were talking about. The first cafe I stopped at surprised me with two things: free wifi, and they are open 24 hours a day; nothing is open 24 hours a day in Germany. So, did I set up shop? Nope, the joint also features all of the stale cigarette smoke you might or might not want.

Around the corner, at Saalburg and Bergerstrasse, I’m sitting at the Eifler Bakery, which claims to have free wifi, but I can’t get a connection to the internet, so I have to use my hotspot. I’m sitting outside, so I’m in the de facto smoking section, and with a guy behind me taking heavy drags on his cigarette and the guy in front of me with his pipe. I have plenty of smoke to enjoy; at least it’s not stale smoke mixed with sour beer that I walked into at the other place. Then there are the sex shops I’ve eschewed on this visit, well, those and the whore houses, but it’s the smell of the sex shops that hold special memories in my olfactory. I’ll leave that for another day, but knowing my ability to overshare, there’s a chance I wrote about those experiences in a previous entry years ago.

Frankfurt, Germany

Meet Horst, who’s not altogether happy with the sad state of intellectual affairs. He’s seen enough history to know doom when he sees it repeating itself. Okay, so this is not really Horst. I have no idea who he is, nor do I care. While I was sitting outside this cafe watching others in their routines, I found myself inspired to start writing what appears to be fiction, which is a writing style I’ve not really indulged in yet.

Frankfurt, Germany

Meet Heinz, the postman. His full name is Karl-Heinz Fischbach, and well, that’s not really who he is either, but for the sake of my nascent storytelling, he will suffice to help me flesh out one of the character ideas I’m considering.

Frankfurt, Germany

After a couple of hours and 1800 words written, of which I’m not ready to share much more than I have already, Caroline swung around the corner, nearly missing me before we took off for a walk while Jutta napped. The picture is a humorous reminder for her of the sign that says, “Cornflakes are God’s apology for spinach.”

Some shopping and just hanging out for a while is all we did. There’s really nothing else to share about the uneventful time we spent here on Bergerstrasse.

Caroline Wise and Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

With Jutta awake again, it was time to take a stroll in Gunthersburg Park, which is effectively across the street from Jutta’s apartment. While it’s not sunny out, it appears that the rain is finished. Caroline and her mom shuffle along, talking about stuff in their mother tongue, while I’m along for snapping the occasional photo of the two of them and generally looking for things that will stick in my memory to spur some thought or other for writing. Maybe all I’ll take from the walk are further ruminations about foggy things that reside in the back of my head, with nothing much at all moving to the forefront.

Frankfurt, Germany

What do you easily remember seeing when you are traveling? The big significant things that you could easily find by searching the internet for nothing more than the city name of the place you visited would likely turn up most of what you saw. With that in mind, I try to make an effort to photograph those little things that are easily forgotten or unseen as incidental extras. I look at a lot of graffiti and stickers, and if my blog were about those two subjects, I’d be able to share hundreds of impressions instead of relying on a couple of dozen images while trying to find hundreds of verbal impressions to accompany the photos.

Frankfurt, Germany

A statue of a naked woman lying in a supine position might be the last image I’d expect to find in a children’s park, but that’s what’s here, and she wasn’t the only one. While I’ve been on the hunt for a “giftzwerg” or poison dwarf to send to a guy in the Seattle area who, if he could obtain an image of one or, better yet, somebody would offer him a hand-carved fetish of one, I think I can talk on his behalf that he’d pay a good price to obtain an authentic poison dwarf fetish, maybe even a totem if that’s all that’s currently available.

Caroline Wise and Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

My dwarves, on the other hand, are sweet.

Frankfurt, Germany

While it’s not rainy, it feels far from sunny, and though the sun attempts to show its face from time to time and there are occasional glimmers of golden light, it remains gray and cloudy in the city in which I had long ago grown accustomed to not seeing our nearby star on a regular basis. Just because it’s gray doesn’t mean things are not interesting to look at, though; this is my version of turning lemons into lemonade.

Frankfurt, Germany

This is a bull, and there is no ambiguity about that fact as it is anatomically correct in every way, including something that resembles a butthole on its backside. My mother-in-law asked that I not share its balls or an intimate photo of its Schließmuskel.

Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Slow and difficult. This is the best description of my mother-in-law. She’s still sweet in her own way, but her days must be her own way regardless of the troubles she’s putting on her other daughter, who does the bulk of the heavy lifting regarding taking care of an aging old lady. I can’t say I blame Jutta for her belligerence as she’s made it to 84, and, well, if you make it over 80 I suppose you get a free pass to do things whatever way you want. Unfortunately, getting stuck in being lazy creates a poor situation for the person who is losing mobility, but it also causes hardship for the family, who must keep a close eye on the person who is at risk of malnutrition, wasting, and the potential to fall.

While Jutta was in senior care during Klaus and Stephanie’s vacation, and when Caroline can now offer some assistance in dealing with a few things her mom needs, it ends up being a gift to my in-laws that they have yet one more weekend off from the taxing obligation to help keep Jutta in her apartment and living as independently as possible.

Frankfurt, Germany

This cat perched atop a wall was in the process of giving the proverbial zero fucks, or is that null ficks gegeben as the cat is German? Makes one wonder if German mice taste like sausage or like chicken as in America.

Frankfurt, Germany

Cafe Wacker for coffee is a classic place to go as it’s an old-fashioned kind of place with dark woods, tiny tables, cramped quarters, and an abundance of originality and flavor that you are looking for. You are meant to dip in, get your caffeine on, and maybe enjoy a sweet or some cigarettes if you are here on a day with favorable weather conditions and are outside where smoking is allowed.

Frankfurt, Germany

I really wanted the rhubarb crumble to be a slice of perfection, and while it was very good, as it wasn’t too sweet and it did have rhubarb, it wasn’t something that would be dreamed about on a return visit.

Frankfurt, Germany

Off to Sachsenhausen for dinner. After bidding Jutta a good night, we had to cross the Main River on our way, and while this wasn’t a truly photogenic moment, it does show what the skyline looks like on an average day in Frankfurt. Once in this southern area of Frankfurt that has traditionally been a corner of merriment, we tried getting a table at Apfelwein-Wirtschaft Fichtekränzi, who couldn’t seat us, over at Ebbelwoi Unser who might be able to seat us at some point, and then over to Gaststätte Atschel to get our fix of German cooking that delivered some great Handkäse mit Musik along with some wild game sausage in lingonberry sauce for Caroline and Tafelspitz with green sauce for me. Walking back to Hauptwache, I just had to stop at the Hauptwache Cafe for some apple strudel with ice cream because it’s a seriously good one, not as amazing as the one we had at Café Landtmann in Vienna, Austria, but it’s a close second.

Sonntag

Bayreuth, Germany

The emptiness of Sunday is alive and well in Germany. There’s magic walking out in a city on an early Sunday morning to find its streets without people. Then, around 9:30, the bells start ringing, and parishioners start to move towards the church of their choice. Others walk with a quick purpose, having snuck out to fetch some bread because they likely forgot to visit the bakery yesterday. There are not a lot of bakeries open on Sunday, while cake and sweet shops will be open, but that won’t happen until around 10:00.

Bayreuth, Germany

Pigeons, John, trees, and a maypole are the only things present. That’s not correct, is it? This was a kind of Waldo statement as the maypole is not like the others. Plus, there are people who pop in and out of some of the businesses as they get ready for the reduced hours of a Sunday, and I should mention that those are only establishments that deal with food, as everyone else will remain closed.

Bayreuth, Germany

Getting these photos even on a Sunday morning without people sometimes takes a moment of waiting for someone to finish walking through. Other images I’d like to capture are spoiled with the presence of construction signs, such as a couple here that I felt were unobtrusive enough while yet other photos are skipped due to a looming crane overhead or scaffolding wrapping a building.

Bayreuth, Germany

The Hofgarten here was the busiest spot I’ve found so far today, with people running through, riding bikes, or walking dogs. Just look at them all; if you look closely at the bridge in the distance, you might see someone standing there.

Bayreuth, Germany

This is the final resting place of Richard and Cosima Wagner at Wahnfried House in Bayreuth. Now, I don’t know if they are in the same casket, but this would be awfully romantic in my book if they were. Even if they’re not cozied up to one another, I’m just gonna go with the assumption that they are.

Bayreuth, Germany

As you might guess from the name behind the statue, this is Wahnfried House, or more accurately, the villa shared by the Wagners. I didn’t take the time to visit for much the same reason I didn’t go to any museums while here in Germany without Caroline: she’s not here with me. Behind the villa is where I took the previous photo of the Wagner grave.

Bayreuth, Germany

Why should I be so enamored of this old-style architecture when, in many ways, it’s just plain old German stuff built in the previous centuries, as is common in many cities across the landscape of Germany? I think it has something to do with how temporary architecture feels in America. Nothing in the States feels permanent, not our iconic buildings, not our nature, not our coastlines, not people’s civility. Regarding this idea of civility, Germany had about 28 murders committed during my stay of the past two weeks (five of them by crossbow), while in America, that number was approximately 663. Go ahead and point out that America’s population is three times larger than Germany’s, but my math says if America and Germany had similar murder rates, America would have had only 84 murders, which is still too many, or Germany should have had 180 homicides instead of its paltry 28: amateurs.

Bayreuth, Germany

The Margravial Opera House is on my list of places to visit and to bring Caroline. This classic example of Baroque architecture features performances quite regularly, and while I would have loved to take a concert in, I just can’t do it without my bestie.

Bayreuth, Germany

The Schlosskirche was filling up, and nothing is more frowned upon on Sunday than tourists dropping in on services to treat the congregation as a bunch of animals in the zoo there for our entertainment. This from the guy who drops in on random weddings, huh?

Bayreuth, Germany

The cleaners here at Disneyland are a stealthy bunch coming out at night to wash away the day’s festivities. Nary a sign of the merriment that was happening on the streets into the wee hours of the night. By the way, found free breakfast today at a Bed and Breakfast Hotel. I walked in, went upstairs, looked around where I should pay, but couldn’t find anyone, so I joined the queue for the buffet-style gathering of guests; and upon finishing my breakfast, I scouted where I should pay and still found nothing. Not able to find someone to clear my bill, it felt perfectly acceptable to enjoy my gratis meal.

Bayreuth, Germany

I did something rare this morning: I went back to the room where I’d left my bags, not with the intent of grabbing them and heading to the train station but to prepare the photos I’d already shot and get them uploaded to the blog. With Caroline coming in at 5:00 p.m. this afternoon, I don’t anticipate having much time to do the bloggy thing later today. Matter of fact, I may just remain in a perpetual hug with her until we pass out, which for her will probably be much sooner than me, seeing my jet lag is a relic of the past.

Nuremberg, Germany

The train left Bayreuth at 12:30, arriving nearly an hour later in Nuremberg. With a 38-minute stopover, I needed to figure out where the train I was taking to the Frankfurt Airport had moved platforms to and try to find out which car I was in as that determined where I needed to be on the long platform. It’s now 70 minutes until I arrive at the airport and about two hours before Caroline does. Good thing I have all this writing and editing I need to try to finish before falling further behind.

I’m now at the airport, sitting in front of exit C1, and Caroline’s flight is delayed by 25 minutes. I guess I’m practicing my smile for when I see her because since stopping at the Hauptbahnhof before heading out here to the airport, I’ve been smiling a lot. Though I know she doesn’t arrive for another 35 minutes, I can’t help but glance up at everyone who emerges from those automatic doors. Once she landed the process of passing through customs and retrieving checked bags went incredibly fast as when I landed, I felt like I was off the plane and approaching the train within about 15 minutes.

This is strange as she approaches from afar and is still in the air on the final approach; I think she’s bringing her jet lag to me, and somehow, I’m sensing it’s on its way. After two weeks of being on the constant go, I’m sitting here at the airport, and I’m overwhelmed with feelings of sleepiness. I’d better do the right thing and go over to this cafe next to me, fetch a coffee, and continue to wait with a smile on my face because who can possibly fall asleep while grinning, right?

Caroline and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

My German has arrived in Germany. Nothing else needs to be said besides, better together.

Caroline and John Wise with Stephanie and Klaus in Frankfurt, Germany

After not being in a car for two weeks and then getting in with a taxi driver who was intent on moving fast, I wasn’t quite ready for how quickly we pressed into 100mph. In about 15 minutes, we were already approaching Heddernheim where we’ll be staying with Stephanie and Klaus for the next week. After a quick hug and stepping into their house while a thunderstorm approached, Klaus was soon busy making Frankfurter Grüne Soße. This is the food of happiness during springtime here in Frankfurt, where it has become a serious contender for the official food of the city, well, at least in my version of reality. Green sauce for you English speakers is a combination of the fresh herbs parsley, chives, chervil, borage, sorrel, garden cress, and salad burnet. These finely chopped herbs are then mixed with yogurt or sour cream and served cold with boiled new potatoes and hard-boiled eggs.

Frankfurt, Germany

Reintegration with people I needed to communicate with after a two-week break in the Berlin area on my own wasn’t as smooth in my head as I tried to make it appear on the outside. Within, I could feel a heavy sense of passive-aggressiveness brought on by the need to be polite and to remain in one location. My only salvation was to excuse myself and take a fast walk around the neighborhood. This opens up the potential for another experiment in intentional behavior and perspective shift, and that’s to go on a one-month walk where I don’t make contact with anyone I know. Note to self: read “Of Walking in Ice: Munich-Paris” by Werner Herzog which chronicled his walk from Munich to Paris during the winter of 1974.

Looking back at my earliest days in Germany decades ago, I knew no one, but I started to establish contacts out of fear and anxiety that I would otherwise be alone. In those days, I couldn’t understand the luxury of me time in quite the same way. Sure, when I traveled, I mostly did so alone, which opened the window for me to read more than I ever had, and it gave me the exquisite opportunity to indulge in people-watching on a regular basis. That type of time was lost again until Caroline and I hit the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon back in 2010.

I have to wonder if part of the magic found in Caroline’s and my travels is related to the idea that we are leaving behind certain familiarities and routines that limit our perspectives. Is this heading into the removal of one’s self from accountability to others the key to realigning the poles of our personality and curiosity and where we go doesn’t necessarily even matter?

Entering Another Dimension

John and Caroline Wise

I’m at Sky Harbor Airport Terminal 4 as I write this. The flight I’m catching is taking me to Frankfurt, Germany. The selfie above was taken before my Uber driver pulled up to whisk me away. Caroline will follow my path in two weeks. You’ll learn more soon enough.

In and out of line, through security in seconds, and over to my gate when I come upon Cowboy Ciao, and I know what I’m having for dinner: the Stetson Chopped Salad. This salad is famous here in Arizona, but I thought it was gone as the location in Old Town Scottsdale is out of business. Now I’m at the gate and have minutes to go before we start boarding.

Tonight’s flight is about 11 hours non-stop to Frankfurt. I’m missing Caroline already; the separation anxiety is huge.

Condor Airlines to Germany

Thirty minutes out of Phoenix with only ten and a half hours to go. The flight crew said something about the evening meal and then another meal two hours before we land in Frankfurt. Seems like a late dinner and the next meal feels like an intrusion on dinner in Frankfurt. As is usual, I’m kind of pissy about being squeezed in here, though I should try to bring my focus to the incredible luck of being 33,000 feet above sea level where the air temperature eight inches to my left is -58 F. We are flying northeast at over 550 miles per hour, and I have a computer in front of me, a phone with a hundred hours of music on it in my pocket, and we successfully took off.

Words are being hard fought for, but I’m compelled to write as a large part of this journey into Europe earlier than Caroline is for me to exercise my word-smithing skills. Part of the struggle tonight is in part due to the fact that I’m writing at night and I never write at night. When we approach Frankfurt, it will be shortly after 8:00 a.m. Phoenix time, which is normally the hour I sit down to start writing, should I be so inspired. I foresee a problem with this arrangement as, by that time, I’ll likely be out of sorts from the shifted sleeping/night/day cycle that is about to happen.

I find that as I age, I’m dealing with jet lag differently than I did when I was younger. Though I might also suggest that when I was in my 20’s I didn’t much care about mental agility when I was flying over the Atlantic as I was consumed by the reality that I was either falling into Europe or returning to the United States. I worked on the adrenaline of being excited to travel; now, I look forward to the nuances of being in a place and finding appreciation in different ways than my young mind cared to consider.

We are crossing over the southeast corner of Utah and entering Colorado airspace. It’s 10:00 p.m. now so it’s as dark as a cave out there without a moon to illuminate the sky and outline of mountains. I’m guessing that we’ll start to encounter hints of daylight in about 3 to 4 hours. Luckily, we weren’t requested to shut the window coverings before we departed, so maybe we’ll get to experience the flight into the sunrise.

I’m taking a break in anticipation of my second dinner being delivered soon. I’ll offer a rundown of Condor’s premium meal upgrade after I’m done with it.

A mere two hours into the flight, I’m sleepy; of course, last night’s restless sleep, and now, with my stomach full, I have some food-induced coma waiting to happen. To fight the drowsiness, I’m listening to Rammstein, hoping some heavy driving beats and grinding guitars will help push me to stay awake.

My meal was okay, with the appetizer ending up as the best part of the presentation and quality. Just as last year, I had a shrimp and smoked salmon salad, while this time, the entree was a chicken teriyaki that was what it was. Some bread, cheese, and a dessert rounded things out while a KitKat was sent back. Coffee is now in front of me, trying to fight my inclination to drift into a nap.

In between trying to write, eat, and stay awake, I’ve been reading The Soundscape by R. Murray Schaffer. It’s too early in the book for me to offer much of an opinion yet. On the map, we are aiming for Winnipeg, while to our east is Fargo, North Dakota. I’d say more than half the passengers are asleep. The debate if I should try to get an hour’s nap is going on inside of me as I look at the global map in my seat back and see that dawn should start in about two hours. Meanwhile, Mein Herz Brennt, and so do my eyes.

Flying over the Atlantic

Four and a half hours in this jet, and we are still over North America. The dawn arrived an hour ago, and the first rays of the sun are now bouncing off the ice crystals on my window. I don’t know who closed the shades as I was certain I was never really asleep, but whoever reached right by me to close them did so so stealthily that I never stirred. The cramp of trying to sleep has gotten the best of me, and I’m hoping Petite Meller is energetic enough to supply me with a jolt of caffeinated sounds.

Only a bit more than six hours left before we land. That sounds like forever right now. If I could leave the window shade open, I could be hopeful that the daylight would help get my brain thinking daytime thoughts, but the majority of my air companions are sound asleep.

From the book The Soundscape, “Hearing is a way of touching at a distance, and the intimacy of the first sense is fused with sociability whenever people gather to hear something special.” (page 11) This was an aha moment for me as I’d never considered just how effective music is at touching the inside and outside of the body and how at concerts, the movements of the crowd create a swarm of syncopated sensuality and community. How might I one day create music if I knew that my ultimate goal was to reach out and stroke the listener with my sounds?

The eye points outward; the ear draws inward. Is everyone looking and failing to listen? I often am drawn to looking after hearing the absurd where I’d like to recoil. It was pointed out in The Soundscape that the eye has the ability to turn off the visual by closing a flap of skin; the ear has no such mechanism. I recently bought the best earplugs I could find to turn off the outside world as the noise level of banality is becoming overwhelming. What is the negative impact of those who I’m forced to draw inward due to their proximity?

Flying into Germany

As I head into Europe, I go to listen. I go to listen to myself, though, not to listen to others. I’m going for music and instruments that make the sounds I desire to hear. I want to listen to history and listen to the whispers of the prayers that echo out of the past in the cathedrals. I do not wish to listen to the sound of war or death that has plagued the continent but to find myself at peace. The language barrier helps erect a sound fence as my primitive German skills make it easy to blur the sound of voices.

Funny that this is the first time in all of my flying years that I’ve been listening to music nearly non-stop since we departed some six hours ago. The isolation has allowed me to withdraw from the other passengers without the hope of finding some random conversation. I’m not tuning in the coughing, snoring, crying, or rustling of papers, blankets, or the seats when people use them as leverage to push their obesity out of the chair. Everyone moves by in silence; the drink and food carts glide by with bottles releasing their pressure upon opening for others, but not me.

It’s 4:45 in the morning, and the majority of passengers continue to sleep. We are under three and a half hours until we land, where all of these well-rested people will land at 5:00 in the afternoon and will likely not be very tired come 11:00 p.m. I, on the other hand, am exhausted and hope to pass out around 10:00 p.m. central European time.

Our place on the earth is approaching a point over the Atlantic south of Reykjavik, Iceland. It’s much colder out here at -80 F, and we’ve slowed down to 490 miles per hour. While we could have maintained our speed eastward, I’m guessing that arriving early is not an option when gate space is such a limited commodity at this incredibly busy airport. I peek out the window, and I’m momentarily blinded by the broad daylight being reflected off the clouds below us. Inside the plane, it is still the middle of the night. Too bad there’s not a cabin on board for those of us who’d like to transition to the day earlier.

Frankfurt, Germany

From touchdown to customs, fetching my bag, withdrawing some Euros from an ATM to boarding a train to take me to the Frankfurt Bahnhof, where I walked out the front of that massive building and a few blocks east to check into my former house of prostitution now remodeled as a Ramada Hotel; this was all done in less than 90 minutes.

John Wise in Frankfurt Germany

It’s 19:19 as I sit down on a wall at Hauptwache to do what I should have been doing 35 years ago: I’m writing. The punks are long gone, though a few homeless people are nearby as though they never left. It’s a bit cold, and I’m hungry, but I had to stop right here across from Hauptwache Cafe to sit on this particular wall because back when I first came to Frankfurt with the U.S. Army, I wouldn’t dare sit here. The soldiers are gone while, in some way, they were replaced by Chinese tourists.

Black is still the primary fashion choice, and it doesn’t much feel like anyone has stopped smoking, though I’m spotting more vapes than on previous visits. Strange to think that nearly 35 years ago, there was no internet, cell phones, unified Germany, the EU, a common currency, digital cameras, Starbucks, or bike-sharing services. While much has changed, I’m struck that, in many ways, nothing is really different from back then. Let me correct that; diversity is greater today.

Frankfurt, Germany

Crazy is alive and well here, with my stroll over to Konstablerwache not failing to disappoint me. The only difference now is in regards to the number of people talking on phones with Bluetooth devices plugged discretely in their ears, allowing them to seamlessly blend in with those who are simply talking to themselves.

Eating at Ebbelwoi Restaurant in Frankfurt, Germany

From the end of this shopping pedestrian zone, I turned south towards the Main River, where I walked into Sachsenhausen, intent on having some traditional German dinner. Apfelwein-Wirtschaft Fichtekränzi is amazing, but tonight, it is amazingly busy, and impossible to get a table. Next door is Gaststätte Atschel, who won’t be able to seat me this evening, even though I’m just one person. Lucky me, as Ebbelwoi Unser said, they’d squeeze me in. Fifteen minutes later, I’m at a table with eight other diners.

Handkäs mit Musik is a Frankfurt tradition of a cheese that is marinated in vinegar and oil and served topped with onions and caraway seeds. The “joke” of “mit Musik” is that by eating this concoction, you’ll be making music later. While I was eating, an old friend answered yesterday’s question I texted him about restaurants to eat near the main train station; he’s too late on his reply for me to benefit from his answer. He’s surprised when I tell him where I am in Sachsenhausen and we agree to meet after I finish.

My main course was two schnitzel cutlets served with Bratkartoffeln (fried potatoes) and, of course, green sauce. Better known as Frankfurter Grüne Soße, this regional treat has grown in cult status, with festivals now celebrating it; I cannot come to this city without indulging. I hope that I will never grow bored of eating here.

Frankfurt, Germany

The friend who contacted me was Olaf Finkbeiner. He’d asked if I would arrive at our meeting point in Elbestrasse by train or taxi; I told him I would be walking. He thought me crazy, but to me, Frankfurt is a tiny place easily walkable. A sunset walk along the Main was far more interesting on my first evening here than getting on a subway. Along the way, Olaf let me know that Plank Bar was closed; he’d forgotten it was Sunday night.

Olaf and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

We walked back towards the Hauptbahnhof and went to O’Reilly’s Irish Pub, which might not have been the best place to meet, but it was open. Crowded and loud were the negatives; meeting with Olaf after not seeing him for the past five years made up for any inconvenience. Talking about technology and politics for the next couple of hours went by incredibly quickly before I cajoled this guy into stopping for a selfie to prove to Caroline that Olaf and I had indeed met. We agreed to get together once again after Caroline arrives, and with that, I dragged my jetlagged and fatiguing self back to my former whore house, where once again, I was paying for the opportunity to spend some time in one of these tiny rooms.

Munich, West Germany 1989

John Wise and Caroline Wise née Engelhardt 21 October 1989 in Munich, Germany

Back on October 21, 1989, in Munich, West Germany, Caroline and I took the very first selfie of ourselves in the reflection of some random building. We had driven down with friends to attend Fantasy Filmfest just four months after we started dating. This is the first photo of the two of us together.

The standout film at the fest for both of us was Ken Russell’s The Lair of the White Worm though we were primarily here for the Dario Argento film Terror at the Opera that featured a soundtrack by Brian Eno. We also took in Hellbound: Hellraiser II and a second Ken Russell film titled Gothic. From here memories get foggy or maybe we were too stoned as my memory says we also saw Peter Jackson’s Bad Taste and an obscure film titled The Navigator about some guys who dig into the earth in the middle ages to emerge in modern times as they tried escaping the plague. We are both certain we watched Jörg Buttgereit’s Nekromantik down in Munich, but the film is not listed on the Fantasy Filmfest archive site so maybe it was showing in an offsite theater. Regarding Peter Jackson’s Bad Taste, it was a gateway drug to his greatest film and an all-time favorite, Meet The Feebles.

I’m 26 years old in this photo; Caroline is only 21. Little did we know that 30 years later we’d still be together and 25 of these years we’d be married.