Day 15 – I’ll Probably Do Something Or Other

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

There are no fixed plans for the day, though there are things that will certainly be done. I’ll discover what I’m going to do as I fall into them. Now that yesterday’s writing chores are finished, I can go on with experiencing this Tuesday, June 8th, 2021.

Putting things in their place and sorting others so they may be where they need to be. Emotions and artifacts, the past and the present, all have their purpose in time, but like moments in time, they tick by, and everything moves forward. Our work is to resolve our needs to be present and learn what’s important due to the ephemeral nature of lives that are always in a state of change.

I’m feeling a sense of conflict regarding what I thought I might be doing in Germany and what I find myself doing. While I understood that my mother-in-law would enjoy my time with her, I thought I could manage with her seeing four or five times a week. Knowing that I’ll be gone in a few weeks, I feel that I’m cheating her if I don’t afford her every moment I can, as July and August might prove quite lonely for her as visitation is reduced to once a week when Stephanie makes time for her mother. The hope is that Caroline and I will be back around the middle of September, but now I’m re-evaluating our need for part of that visit to be split between vacation and family time or if we should give it all to family.

Enough has been said in my previous blog posts about my refamiliarizing myself with Frankfurt, so maybe I’m giving that a break though there’s a lot I’ve not done yet and might warrant some sharing, such as a visit to the Gallus area, Palmengarten, and some museums. Though I may not share much on that side of things doesn’t mean I’m not deeply engaged. When my senses were tuned to dropping into Germany, they are now focused on what it means to eliminate many of the traces of our lives and what ends up being important as a life heads for the exit.

So much of what’s in my mind feels like nascent fleeting sparks of potential where I can’t even see the light but sense that it’s there, kind of a quantum inspiration I hope to discover.

Am I still shocked to see cigarette vending machines on the street? I suppose I am, as they’ve been gone from America for so long now I can’t remember when streetside smokes were last available or if they ever were. But what’s really shocking is that a pack of Marlboro is just under $10. While this price is about 50% more than what Americans pay, there is no shortage of smokers; I’d venture a guess that there are comparatively far more smokers in Germany than in the U.S.

So while children could buy cigarettes on the street and the alcohol laws are pretty lax, for example, In Germany, there are three drinking ages: 13 – minors are allowed to consume beer or wine with their parents or legal guardians. Age 16 – minors are allowed to consume beer or wine without their parents or legal guardian. At 18 – adults are allowed to consume distilled alcohol. There is no dialogue currently going on about legalizing marijuana, while in America, recreational weed is starting to be available in more and more places. One problem with legal weed in Europe would be the population density as the smell would infiltrate everything, and while Germans have accepted cigarette smoke in their presence, I’m not sure how the pungent smell of grass would go over.

I had written something totally other that was meant for this image of the train tracks that just end here while about 100 feet away on the other side, the track begins, an old line no longer in use with the rest of the track already removed. That text was sliced out of here and saved in another document that is still being hammered out. In that potential post are my observations about Jutta and how someone born ten years before the end of World War II in Germany experiences adolescence in a devastated post-war environment trying to navigate a derailed national identity. Returning to momentum after you’ve been brought to a full stop requires figuring out new paths. So there, while I won’t share the entirety of my thoughts over there, I’ve not simply baited and dropped you off.

I’m experiencing a Germany that is unique at this time; everything is mine. Being vaccinated and a foreigner, while strict travel restrictions are still in place, offers me some benefits such as always being able to get a table in an uncrowded cafe, the churches, and museums are still empty, with many people working from home the trains are never filled to capacity. I don’t wait to take photos as there are no tourists jockeying for the same view. This is offering me a perspective on Germany that will likely be unique in my lifetime.

Compare this to America, where people across the country and within their own states are traveling everywhere right now. It seems to me that the only Germans who want to visit big German cities are those who live rurally; otherwise, the German people want to visit other countries to escape what they must perceive to be a lack of striking differences within their borders aside from those who travel to the German Alps and up to the Wattenmeer, the two exceptions. So Germany is mine, though my time to poke my head into all the places I might want to visit is limited.

This says everything you ever need to know about the differences between Germany and America.

Tunnels, like life, go places, but you cannot see the destination. As you enter, you are shrouded in darkness (ignorance), but along the way, you harness light (knowledge) to illuminate the way. When you arrive you might integrate with those on the other side and make bonds, discover another culture, and leave better off than you were before (wisdom). Sadly, most never seem to enter the tunnel and are happy to stay within the confines of what they know.

I’m already in a new day, on the other side of the glass, up the stairs. What I mean to say is that I look at this image from another day while also trying to write the first paragraph for Day 16 before a nice 77-year-old lady strikes up a conversation. We speak about her daughter’s love of America and her mother’s American boyfriend after the war, while she recommends Oberursel as a nice place to live should we retire here. But that’s tomorrow, and I shouldn’t be writing about the future while trying to maintain the illusion of being in the here and now about Day 15.

A walk away from Saalburgstrasse took me to Saalburgallee and over to Eissporthalle before I turned into Ostpark for a walk towards the Main River and an encounter with Skatepark Osthafen, full of skaters too!

The first bridge I crossed is called Honsellbrücke, and this bridge, which picks up where the other leaves off, is called Osthafenbrücke. I’m now on the south side of the Main River with a good idea of where I’m going compared to when I started this walk, not knowing exactly which direction I was traveling. After living in Phoenix, Arizona, for so long, it sounds strange not to know which way I’m going as I live in a grid with roads that only go east/west and north/south. While there are landmarks in Frankfurt that could act as markers of direction, they are difficult to see on the streets of a city where you are surrounded by four- and five-story buildings.

Just as I’m repetitive in my words, I can be repetitive with my use of images too, especially when we are talking about this view of the Frankfurt skyline I’m so enchanted by.

Speaking of enchanting, these are Bembel, earthenware jugs used for serving apple wine, and are a sight and taste that delights Caroline. You should be able to guess by now what I’m about to do.

I’m taking a dinner pause after my long nine-mile (15km) walk around Frankfurt. I’d like to leave the following details to the margin, but I’ve been waiting for Fichtekränzi Restaurant to open, and now I’m here. It, like so many other restaurants that didn’t feel they could maintain their reputation and quality of food with take-out only, closed eight months ago and just reopened this week. Strangely, I’m the only person sitting inside; admittedly it’s beautiful out, but even the patio isn’t full yet. Before the pandemic, I dare you to try to get a table in less than 15 to 30 minutes.

I’m not sure that the two-mile walk back to where I’m staying is going to be possible; I’m tired here at 10:30 p.m.

My tram stop is at Dom/Römer, where the U4 will have me delivered in minutes, but of course, there’s time for a photo or two.

The words Deutsches Reich are what caught my eye; I had to take a second look to see the date 1910 and Drei Mark below, letting me know that these floor decorations were based on an old coin, not Nazis.

Minutes later, I’m onboard and zipping across town. Being in a hurry to get anywhere is a disappointment as there’s so much to take in when moving at a snail-like pace. Time to find tomorrow and be done with today.

Day 14 – Shelter

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Rain, rain, and more rain. I could run outside under the shelter of my umbrella and fetch something to eat, or I could sit here in this mostly empty apartment with the window open, listening to the rain, wishing I could have something to eat. The rain didn’t use to present such a problem back when we used to live here, but we’d have had food on hand, and if we knew it was supposed to rain in the morning, we could go to the store the day before to pick up a package of croissants. I don’t have that luxury today as I’m practicing minimalism and trying to make the best of it.

While I’m sheltered from the weather, I stare out the open window, looking for a break in the downpour, but the water just continues to fall from the sky. Checking the radar, I can predict that this storm cell should be passing in the next 15 minutes or so. Until then, I’m forced to contend with my bible (I mean my laptop) in seclusion, although this limitation creates a small amount of resentment. I sit in front of this computer day and night when I’m not on the move and have nothing else to turn to as I’m here without wife, books, synthesizer, car, or the basic amenities one might enjoy in the place they live. All I have is this screen and the wide-open window looking out on the street so I can judge how heavy the rain is; that’s it. I’m starting to get the idea I would not have made a good monk living in a monastery.

At last, I brave the great outdoors of a wet Frankfurt after learning that the storm would be here to stay through 10:00 p.m. At the bakery, I was reminded that today is the day that those of us vaccinated or recently tested for COVID are allowed to sit indoors. After these two weeks of standing outside and then sitting outside, we are now moving quickly to the old normal. Here I am, seated in a dry, warm dining area, connected to free WIFI instead of my hotspot, with access to a toilet should I need it, and I’m feeling like a fully participating member of society. Is this my reward for following the rules?

Maybe an American reading this might think, “But John, you’ve had this in America for some time now.” The difference is that I didn’t want to go to restaurants in the United States due to the angry belligerence of a vocal minority who wanted to flaunt any safety protocols. Here in Germany, the adherence to respecting others offers a sense of shared sacrifice and the protection of a dense population with vulnerable people among them. Hopefully, the next step is no more border controls that question what my purpose is in entering another country.

Funny how we all desire shelter from freezing, wet, and hot weather. We’ll voluntarily wear the clothes best suited for the environment and utilize transportation that best meets our needs. We seek out food that satisfies our hunger and strive for work that guarantees some small part of our happiness and allows us to protect ourselves in our homes. But then a pandemic strikes, and it can only have come from the evil intention of those who want to control us and steal our rights as though they also might want us to voluntarily live in homes with locked doors and windows where we pay rent, mortgages, and property taxes to wealthy landowners and banks, wear clothes that shame us for having sex organs, garments made by exploited immigrants in faraway countries, and have to buy food from an agricultural-industrial complex that serves the elites with trillions in profit. But supposedly, this one thing, the mask, was the final straw that made the charade transparent and the intentions to defraud us of liberty so very obvious to the well-informed who watched information of questionable source material unfold on the internet that offered us a Grand Truth. Whatever truth you’ve found on YouTube, keep it to yourself as I find mine in my immediate reality, the books I’ve read that span history covering science, philosophy, and sociology, and from my sense of fitting into nature as best I can.

Enough of that and on to something different. The German language is something I can’t adapt to fast enough. I obviously leaned hard on Caroline during the years I lived in Germany and while I could make my way around the country, I made do with this limited resource I had. Today, I’m suffering from this ignorance. My needs and desires are far more nuanced at this time in my life, and I have some fairly strong ideas of how I want things to be. I’m not able to easily bring these wishes across to the person I’m in front of attempting communication, especially when they are performing a service that requires them to move through those of us in line in the most expedient manner possible. So I just have to agree to almost every question and accept whatever the default options are. My rudimentary German also opens me up to others, now testing how far that knowledge of German goes; it’s not very far. As I struggle, some will offer a helping hand by bringing their limited English to the floundering foreigner, but I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with this equation

“Noch mal einen Kaffee, bitte,” (another coffee please) followed by, “Zum Mitnehmen?” “Nein, fur hier zu trinken” (To go? No, for here). For a language I use on such rare occasions, I’m surprised that I get by, but I want more than that. Caroline will be happy to read these words because should we move back to Germany one day, I’ll need a better proficiency in this language if I’m to get a visa that will allow me to stay longer. Should you wonder why my wife doesn’t teach me German, seeing how she’s German, well, Caroline’s over-analytical mind will answer me with the most common way of saying something in German, and then like someone with Tourette’s, she has to blurt out the other four ways it could be said unless you are in Rhineland-Palatinate where it’s said these two different ways. Okay, she’s not that bad, but you get the idea.

If a vacation is measured by doing what you want when you want, then I live on a permanent vacation, and this trip to Germany is simply a change in geography. Here I am, two Brötchen (btw, Brötchen is the diminutive of Brot, a.k.a. bread), two coffees, and two hours into doing just what I want while the weather does what it wants. I wonder what Jutta’s doing?

I arrived at Lebenshaus and found Jutta in the dining area with her fellow residents, cutting up fruit for a champagne-based fruit punch being prepared for the afternoon’s music appreciation hour. I’ve told my mother-in-law that it’s like she’s living at the Schatzalp on the Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann, except she’s not in the mountains of Davos, Switzerland, but right next to the Main River in a valley, close enough. In this kind of sanitorium where shelter is found for those who are growing weak, Jutta has adapted very well to life in her small room, and she’s just incredibly happy to see me so often.

A short visit in the morning that will be followed by a second one in the afternoon after I have lunch should put a nice spin on the day for Jutta. Maybe I can even get her out for a short walk over to the river if the weather continues to improve.

My lunch bears mentioning as it was a strange play on traditional items I’ve been eating for the past couple of weeks. Here at Leib & Seele, I tried their mashup of veal schnitzel stuffed with green sauce herbs, an egg, and Handkäse served with Bratkartoffeln. I found it to be an abomination, but it will sustain me. Continuing with a theme I plan on wearing out, it is as though the hand cheese and egg took refuge in the schnitzel as a way of finding shelter. Yeah, I went there, as why not hammer at the inane for the sake of a groan?

And, of course, I’m inside because I can be. For Germans, it’s been seven months since they could sit in a restaurant, and takeout has been their only option. It is nice outside, and under normal circumstances, I would have gladly sat streetside for the people watching but nothing is yet quite normal. Then, while I’m here considering what I might write next, a song that will become a featured track from my 2021 trip to Germany starts to play. It’s called Save Your Tears by The Weeknd. Why do the cheesy songs in heavy rotation always seem to find my ear is a mystery?

I should drink this espresso and pretend to eat the Apfelstrudel I’m not having, but if I had, I’d certainly need to get out of here for a serious walk to work that off. Should you, too, be growing bored of these food reports, I’m right there with you and realize I need to move on to something, anything else.

QR codes are everywhere and on everything as the pandemic inched us closer to a contactless society. With the opening of restaurants and shops, some QR codes are quickly being removed as menus are put back in customers’ hands, and appointments to enter certain stores are no longer needed.

What will be around for some time to come are COVID tests until the population of Europe is vaccinated to the point of herd immunity.

Churches were closed for a time, and then when they did open, they were only there for services. Now, as I walk by the wide-open door of a church in Frankfurt, I feel invited in. Every state and city has its own schedule for reopening, dependent on their infection numbers, so while I was able to visit churches in other cities, their incidence of COVID had already reached manageable numbers. This is the interior of St. Catherine’s Church (St. Katharinenkirche), which I’ve photographed a couple of times already on this trip, but only from the outside.

Walking, walking, and more walking. Added three miles as I walked from Konstablerwache to Westend and Palmengarten. I walk and look, I walk and listen, and as I walk, I realize I’ve missed so much of the city back in the day because I was always on my way somewhere instead of nowhere in particular. So, I walk some more.

Walked into St. Paul’s Church (Paulskirche) for the first time ever and found myself alone. This mural on the ground floor represents the procession of the elected German and Austrian representatives into Paulskirche, who in 1848, presented a Charter of Basic Rights and a Constitution trying to bring a unified Germany into democracy.

As I walked upstairs, the pattern from the chair legs and the cleanliness struck me, but now you know what this abstract image is.

John F. Kennedy spoke here back in June 1963, where he commemorated the “German cradle of democracy.”

During World War II, this church was mostly destroyed. In rebuilding it, the outside remained true to form, but the interior was greatly simplified.

There’s a lot of history shared on the ground floor about the democracy movement that started right here in Frankfurt for Germany, along with the Goethe Prize from the city and the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade.

This dragon guards the Standesamt, which is the German civil registration office responsible for recording births, marriages, and deaths. Unless you’ve studied German history, you probably don’t know that the country of Germany was created in 1871 from the previous collection of German states. The Standesamt was established across the country, taking effect on January 1, 1876.

Hello again, Jutta. Another walk to the river with my mother-in-law, enjoying a short video call with Caroline and a coke. Life is good.

Back to walking with a good amount of extra walking. Walked into the Church of Our Lady (Liebfrauenkirche) and then back to Bornheim-Mitte.

Time for some domestic chores so I can keep this going as I drag my laundry to a nearby laundromat that I hope I can use without too much frustration of getting change and figuring out how the soap goes in and the dryer works. Oh, you think it’s so easy? You’ve never visited a German laundromat. Though I will admit that the last time I did, I probably was mighty stoned.

Longest kilometer walk I’ve taken today, likely due to the sense of dread eating at me as I made my way to the Eco-Express Waschsalon, where I sensed panic awaiting me. The worst thing that was going to happen was that I’d have to Skype Caroline in to decipher what I was brain farting on, but I got through with it, and my stinking clothes are in the washer and presumably getting clean. No matter, they are being spun around in soap and water and will have to be cleaner once they are out. It wasn’t until my clothes were in the washer and I was sitting down that I noticed the British flag on the screen, signifying English instructions were available. Oh well, I’m improving my survivability in Germany this way.

I skipped picking up a Döner kebab on the way as it looked closer on the map, and I thought I might throw in my laundry and then go fetch something easy, but it’s a good way back, so I’ll hope my clothes are done before they close at 10:00, it’s 8:20 right now. I shouldn’t concern myself with my clothes being left alone as already a few people came in, stuffed their things in a machine, and took off. There are other machines where the wash is long done, but no one is here tending to it; maybe they went home for dinner? I’m so negatively conditioned by the American experience that I’m too paranoid to leave my dirty, wet laundry alone as though some underwear sniffer will come and drag all my clothes away.

The laundromat itself is immaculate, unattended, and without a bunch of sketchy freaks in the place. If you’ve ever used a public laundromat in the United States, you know exactly what I mean, and the idea of using them at night should send shivers up your spine. I’m hungry after having walked nearly 7 miles after lunch.

Nice, it’s only 8:35, and my clothes are in the Trockner trocknering. I see Döner in my future. Hmm, four levels of heat; I hope I don’t light my clothes on fire. Three minutes already passed; I’m wondering if I should check it. Four minutes, this might be the proverbial watched pot. The great thing is that my stress level has gone way down.

I was greeted by four smiling and laughing guys at Döneria at the corners of Weidenbornstraße and Seckbacher Landstraße. I thought I was over-posting about food but the Döner sandwich I had was seriously the best of the half dozen or so I’ve enjoyed while here in Germany.

The king of Döners.

Day 11 – What To Do?

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

I see the moment coming when I have little more to say about what will become routine here in Frankfurt. I’m yet to visit the west side of the city or test how far I can walk along the Main River before I’ll want to catch a train back, so there are options. There are also pending dates with family and friends on the calendar and visits to cities well outside of Frankfurt, but I need to get a few nights of proper sleep so I can wake up at 5:00 a.m. or so in order to get an early start. Then there’s the weather to contend with because if there’s a downpour, there is nowhere to dip into other than underground train stations, but those are not always nearby.

Regarding the weather, this is the one obstacle I’m not really prepared to contend with. Sure, I have my rain jacket and an umbrella, but if I decide to stay in, I have very little to entertain me. I do not have unlimited bandwidth, nor do I even have a kitchen. The forecast shows rain and thunderstorms for the next five days, and I’m paying attention to travel restrictions within the EU. As of early June, a visit to France may not be in the cards. Speaking of weather, places to go, and things to do, I need to get out before the rain starts again.

Finding bakeries are offering tables outside again so that we can sit down and enjoy breakfast is a welcome relief. The tables and chairs had been stacked and locked with cables running through them, letting people know that they were not welcome to sit there, and so that’s just what I’m doing this morning. Not having to grab something to go and eating it underway is far more civilized in addition to allowing me to spend another small part of the day not trapped inside an apartment.

This brings me to the question I hear a lot, “Why isn’t Caroline with you?” This is not a vacation, and as much as I was hoping prior to leaving the United States that I could carve out some of that, it just isn’t possible yet. Vacations are times when we move away from routines to assume temporary new ones while we are out traveling. The key, though, is that we are allowed a broad amount of spontaneity, spontaneity that is difficult to come by during a pandemic, as enforced in Germany at least. Some of the inconveniences look awkward to me, such as waiting in line to enter a department or electronics store or maybe even having to make an appointment first. I hope I don’t need an article of clothing or a USB cable while I’m here.

In the last few days, museums started opening for those willing to make a reservation first, and while this is possible due to falling infection numbers, they are going up in Frankfurt again, which could bring new restrictions. How does one vacation under these conditions? So, Caroline is at home, and it is looking less and less likely that maybe I could bring her over before the end of June. When Europe opens for travel, it will be for the people of Europe first, and those travelers will have to provide proof of their vaccination or having had COVID. America is nowhere close to offering our citizens certification of proof. This means that while Europe may want U.S. tourists to return, they will have to resolve the issue of our belligerence regarding the issuing of certification that meets any security requirements against forgery. On the other hand, my CDC card has been accepted everywhere without much friction at all.

There’s nothing like the arrogance of youth and the angst that comes with it to blind a person to the importance of being present in their space and not just their head. I lived in Frankfurt and the surrounding area for ten years and somehow, I missed that the former wall that surrounded the city here had mostly been turned into parks and green areas. Back then, I could have been reading in a cave and been as happy and aware of what was around me as a hermit who spent his life under a bridge.

Now, here I am in the later stages of life, and I kick myself for not being more aware of my surroundings, but maybe I’m fooling myself, and the necessary awareness was there while the mind needed more attention due to neglect suffered early on, inflicted by those who didn’t themselves possess the intelligence to know how to guide a child. Flowers, in this regard, are lucky; they pass on genetics, pollinating insects are naturally drawn to their vibrance, and the human eye takes delight. We, on the other hand, are difficult and messy; we are certainly not flowers in any sense of the idea.

No matter what we build, will people ever construct a building that can cast shadows as beautiful as this display in the park as the sun spills through the leaves? I do admit that stained glass can have an equally appealing nature, but that’s the exception until I find something else to contradict me.

I’ve been walking through Bethmann Park, part of which is a Chinese Garden,  and I already might have to change my mind about human construction, as light traveling through a pagoda does hold a lot of intrigue.

It was just a few days ago that Caroline was serenading me with a ukulele and her sweet voice from so many thousands of miles away with her own rendition of “You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine.” Seeing this put a smile on my face as it felt nicely serendipitous.

Masks, baseball caps, hijabs, branded clothing, makeup, hairstyles, types of clothing, and preferred methods of travel are all masks for the masses. The only difference is which cultural hegemon is dictating what will be stylistically acceptable. Here in Europe, there’s no small uproar regarding Islamic headdresses for women. Some in the West look at it as oppression of women’s free will, and yet when a major bank or corporation dictates that their workers conform to particular styles of uniform, be it shirt and tie or a smock, we’ve deluded ourselves into believing that this is still freedom. Cultural style is fluid; if it weren’t the average peasant would own a single pair of clothes, only the wealthy would be the only ones allowed to wear purple, and strict rules would govern how much hair is to be seen. When we pander to the angry who don’t like what they see, we empower them to ask for more intolerance.

It’s now two minutes past the time that severe thunderstorms were supposed to arrive. I’ll blame their delay on the train service because Deutsche Bahn is probably behind everything that’s broken here in Germany. What’s not broken though, at least from my view, are the plentiful green areas. There’s a serious need for housing in Frankfurt, and yet the green areas have not been sold off to build another billion Euros worth of highrise apartments and shopping. There are areas such as Gallusviertel that have been dramatically renovated due to reclaimed land previously used by the freight train system, and while I’ve not been over there to explore it, I’d wager that quiet green spaces have been included in order to improve the quality of life.

This is in comparison to where I live in Phoenix, Arizona. In the desert, our money-grubbing money lords only see green when it is available in the form of cash. Every bit of desert that can be covered with profit is used. If you want nature, you have your car to jump into and go find it somewhere else. Our neighborhoods are dead zones not meant to be livable unless you consider staying in your backyard and not being able to walk anywhere else, living. Tourism is not happening right now in Germany, and yet the streets are full of people walking around at 11:00 in the morning, seemingly just meandering. There’s time to stop and look at fountains, smell the flowers, or have a beer at a nearby park bench.

My eye is on the sky, looking for the approach of dark clouds so I can make my way over to the Historical Museum of Frankfurt, but I think my stomach is starting to hint at having an early lunch. Meanwhile, my brain is asking, what’s wrong with sitting right here next to the fountain at Bockenheimer Anlage? I’ll tell you what’s wrong: I’m still an American and haven’t deconditioned myself yet to accept that I can just sit here doing next to nothing. I say next to nothing because here I am with my laptop in said lap, and I’m writing, though, at the same time, I’ve been watching a family of swans traverse the pond while nearby birds sing to me. I think my stomach will win this one.

Even at midnight, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the Alte Oper (Old Opera) with so few people here. If you look at many of the photos I’ve already shot on this journey through the pandemic in Germany, you might notice how deserted everything feels.

This is the Paulskirche (St. Paul’s Church). It played host to the 1848 legislative body, which was the first time in German history that government leaders were freely elected.

I have a bad feeling about my choice for lunch here at Haus Wertheym at Romer, but I’m just around the corner from Jutta’s, and so if rain arrives during my meal, I’ll have but a short walk to get out of the potential downpour. I’m having five different sausages on sauerkraut with Bratkartoffeln. I’m also next to the Historical Museum which is open until 6:00, so maybe I’ll make it in there today. Eating out three times a day is becoming tiresome.

Lunch was quite okay while the humidity was becoming oppressive. I’m overhearing conservations about how restaurants will open their dining rooms to those with vaccines or current COVID tests and that outside seating will be open to all this coming Monday. Yet another iteration of normal is on its way.

Another day, another photo of Jutta. That’s the face of someone happy to have just been the recipient of hugs.

The rain started falling, and those earlier forecasts of severe thunderstorms had me on guard, so now was the time to visit the Historical Museum of Frankfurt.

Caroline saw this as I populated this post with photos; she made a few guesses but was wrong about its exact purpose, though she knew what its relative purpose was. So, to correct her, it is not a butthole dilator. But that’s close: it was used for helping a pregnant woman dilate the birth canal while in labor. To be honest, I don’t know why these aren’t sold at sex shops for hanky panky.

The father of a young Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart effectively scratched into the window where he and his children were staying in Frankfurt, “Mozart slept here.” If you think this is hard to see, you should have tried finding it among the eight panes of glass that make up the window that was saved. Leopold Mozart carved this using a diamond ring back on 12 August 1763.

There’s no denying among the intelligent that a holocaust happened here in Germany and the surrounding countries that the Nazis occupied. The attempted mass extinction of Jews was the primary aggression, but many, many others were being swept up for the cause of slavery and the “cleansing” of society. A dark chapter for sure, but one I’m happy to see Germany putting on display to acknowledge the savagery.

The Allied bombing of Frankfurt destroyed much of the city; the ensuing fires destroyed even more. One family donated to the Historical Museum a lump of glass that was once their dishes which melted in their cupboard during one such firestorm. Strangely enough, a teacup and sugar bowl remained intact, though locked in what remains of their dishes.

Zyklon B, the notorious “Gift” gas used to kill 100’s of thousands if not millions. “Gift” in German is poison, so there’s no cheeky nonsense from me regarding what this was. It was death in a can, and it came from right here in Frankfurt. The name of the company that made this product was Degesch, part of the industrial conglomerate known as I.G. Farben.

This soldier is celebrating Victory in Europe Day on the 8th of May 1945 in front of the I.G. Farben headquarters building. At the end of the war, it became the Command Headquarters of U.S. Forces Europe for the duration of the occupation

This guy stood outside some building on Kaiserstrasse, and if it weren’t for all the time I spent in the redlight district of Frankfurt in front of the Hauptbahnhof, I may have never seen him

I’ll likely be heading back to the Historical Museum of Frankfurt as there’s much to see, and a few hours wasn’t enough to truly see the 2nd and 3rd floor of the new part of the museum, and consequently, I didn’t get to visit the older side of the museum.

The stack of books in the back of the photo represents the German National Library, and the five books standing up is the old I.G. Farben building, now a branch of Goethe University.

I wasn’t a graffiti artist before I left Germany in 1995, but today, I leave my mark on Frankfurt.

Is this the sign that the dreaded severe storm of the century is approaching?

This photo is only here because it represents a distant part of our past from a club we used to visit called the Batschkapp. In front of that club was a smaller bar and music venue. Elfer Club is now located in Sachsenhausen and even if it were open, there’s no chance we’ll ever see a need to visit, but isn’t that the nature of memories that are better left behind us?

In my ongoing journey into Grüne Sosse and Handkäse mit Musik, Caroline directed me down a series of small streets to some places popular with the apple wine crowd, which automatically suggests traditional Frankfurt food. The first place I came to was Frau Rauscher and they made space for me. Five German lads sitting near the entry acted as the welcoming committee and spent about 15 minutes talking with me. While they played their dice game we talked about what brought me here and life during the pandemic.

This is the spitting Frau Rauscher, which Caroline should tell you more about as she asked that I be sure and snap a photo of her, so here’s her contribution: “Rauscher” is the name for apple cider as it is in the process of fermenting into apple wine. Frau Rauscher refers to a legendary drunk female who was known for stealing punters’ drinks and, when challenged, would spit the drink back into people’s faces instead of returning the glass. A popular ballad in the local dialect describes how one day, she was seen with a big bump on her head, and police were called to figure out whether she had knocked her head while drunk or whether her husband had hit her. The fountain was erected in 1961.

I could have a dozen photos of Frankfurt’s skyline before I leave Germany, and I don’t think I’d ever grow tired of enjoying it.

This monument to Caroline and I has been here for a number of years, but who wants to brag that they’ve had a monument built for them in their lifetimes? Yeah, Frankfurt loves us, and we love Frankfurt.

Day 9 – A Day With Jutta In Frankfurt

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

In the campaign to persuade Germans to wear masks, there is an ad campaign that asks questions such as the one above, “Do you want to visit foreign countries again?” And the answer is, “Then you must wear a mask.” Another does the same regarding going out to clubs where DJ Ata asks you to wear your mask and get COVID under control. In the last weeks, as Germany gradually opens up, there are benefits that come with constant testing or being vaccinated because people can shop in stores in which they are otherwise not allowed, and they get to sit down outside at restaurants. Once infection numbers go down, more of those restrictions will go away, but the government has them now in place to help manage behaviors. This is important as Germans have a much more limited supply of vaccines compared to America, so vaccinations are moving a bit slow. Should Germany get to a point where there are people who want to avoid the vaccine due to some kooky conspiracy theater, all they need do is lower the acceptable number of new infections and restrict people from entering anything other than the grocery store without negative test results or vaccine. From what I’ve heard, no one really likes the swab up the nose.

Seventy pounds is what my eyes measure of Spargel (white asparagus), and it’s in this photo as it’s my second Wednesday in Germany and over where my mother-in-law used to live; it’s one of the two weekly, open-air markets on Bergerstrasse.

As I’m here measuring things, I feel it’s time for an update regarding my personal statistics. Over the previous eight days, I’ve walked 74 miles, climbed 168 floors, and written 23,000 words about my time in Frankfurt as well as my visits to Wiesbaden, Marburg, and Gelnhausen. The regimen I’ve set for myself has become a little taxing with trying to have an adequate number of photos that I feel best represent the activities of my waking wandering hours. This, combined with my desire to not fall behind in writing about these impressions, which are now averaging nearly 3,000 words a day, makes for some sacrificing of adequate sleep. While I don’t want to fall down from exhaustion, I also want to use my time to the best of my ability so this opportunity is fully recognized.

It took Jutta and me a good while to finally leave her room because I was sharing some of the photos of my time in Germany so far. There’s a lot of reminiscing that goes on as my mother-in-law loves basking in her fondest memories and taking special note of how surprised she’s been that she and I should get along so amazingly well. More than once, she’s conveyed the nervousness she had when we used to embark on our mother-in-law/son-in-law road trips that saw us exploring some corner of the western U.S. without her daughter. Today I smiled with her that this was exactly what we’re doing again today, only this time on a smaller scale. Just around the corner from Römer and across the street from the Main River is where Jutta lives now, so the walk to our destination is not a long one.

We are going for lunch at Zum Standesämtchen for some traditional Frankfurt food. With a table in the shade, Jutta comments on how long it’s been since she last ate here. She and I both forgot that her reading glasses were in my bag, so I ended up reading the menu to her. I didn’t get far as I started with the special, and by the time I got to the fourth item, she had her heart set on ordering the white asparagus (Spargel) with boiled ham and boiled salted potatoes, but it was the asparagus that is the star of this entree. Seeing how I’m stuck in the creature of habit mode right now, it was back to Schnitzel with grüne Sosse. Our meal would not have been complete without a starter of Handkäse mit Musik (hand cheese service with a relish made from onion, cumin seed, oil, and vinegar). And then there was the matter of my mother-in-law and her love affair with a cold Coke; she had two with her sumptuous meal, almost a full liter’s worth, which, as it went in, would have to get out.

In this photo above, I can see Jutta across all the years I’ve known her. Even here in her 86th year, I can sense the little girl yearning to have fun behind those eyes. How do I offer her enough hugs and my time to let her know how much she means to me?

There was no chance I was going to let Jutta try navigating a steep spiral staircase to the basement at Zum Standesämtchen to use the facility, I’m here to spend fun time with her, not recovery time from a broken anything. So I needed to find a nearby facility that could accommodate her; I was in luck with a coffee shop just across the way.

While not a scorching day like in Phoenix, Arizona, it’s still a hot and humid afternoon here. I asked Jutta to push her walker over to this old drinking fountain so she could splash some cold water on her arms and face. As I expected, she daintily splashed water on her arms and almost managed to get eight or nine drops on her face. I remedied this with a good handful splashed on her face and another handful down the back of her shirt. Was this mean? Not if you judged by her laughter.

Back across the square, it was time for dessert and coffee, and just in time to join us was Jutta’s granddaughter Katharina (not to be confused with Caroline). I point this out as Jutta often calls Katharina by her aunt’s name (and vice versa). The three of us all found our favorite treat and chatted for an hour before walking Jutta back to Lebenshaus, her assisted living facility. From there, Katharina and I headed over to the river for a walk along its banks.

Can there ever be enough musicians playing for the public? I don’t believe so, as I think we are lucky to have so many people dispersed across a city practicing their craft while maybe also collecting a few Euros for doing so. When I first encountered buskers (street musicians), I thought it was a form of begging, and maybe sometimes it is, but I now tend to believe that it’s simply musicians wanting a good reason to keep their craft alive and well. The box or plate for offering donations is simply there because there are those of us who want to share our appreciation for the serenade.

Along this walk next to the Main, Katharina and I talked of Jutta, Caroline, horses, photography, and life at university. We also had to stop from time to time for her to play Pokemon; I suppose this is the situation with many people her age nowadays.

My treasures were found in real life among the shadows, spots of diffused sunlight, the sound of birds, and light shimmering off the surface of the river. Then there’s one of my all-time favorite sounds, the ring of bicycle bells. New to the soundtrack of Frankfurt are the scooters, but what is missing is the sound that accompanies throngs of tourists who are using taxis, shooting photos, and tour guides trying to corral their charges. But I wasn’t here to indulge my senses for these aesthetic charms; I was out here to share a moment with my niece.

Our walk east terminated at an Indian restaurant where we could sit down and have something cold to drink. It wasn’t long before Katharina would have to head to a train stop for her hour-long trip back to Darmstadt, where she was studying. Lokalbahnhof was the nearest station, about a kilometer or so away. Ten minutes after we arrived, she was gone, and I returned to walking along the Main.

Here I am, moving into the golden hour at nearly 8:00 p.m. While this building isn’t all that interesting, it takes on a much more impressive appearance as its red bricks glow against a deep blue sky, sporting clouds that begin to look like the wings of this tower.

You’ve probably noticed by now that I enjoy using the sun and its reflection to push the exposure time to levels that allow the image I capture to begin moving into silhouette territory or emphasize the golden quality of sunlight as I underexpose a photo for dramatic effect, such as in the next image. The building on the right is the European Central Bank.

I’m becoming addicted to the energy that is Frankfurt. With COVID quickly losing its grip on the city and the weather turning nice, people are outside celebrating life. There is no aggression or underlying tension. The passion for enjoying the day is vibrant while the pandemic is temporarily pushed aside.

On my walk home I passed a dozen people dancing at Römer while Colombian music blared to their enthusiastic flair with dresses flying. This was all in the cause of bringing awareness to rising violence in Colombia. I can’t say I know of the issue, but it was great to see their passion pulling people in.

From the river to Zeil over to Konstablerwache and then Bornheim Mitte, as the sun set over Frankfurt and it edged closer to 10:00 p.m., there were still thousands of people on the streets drinking, eating pizza, meeting with friends, and this was all happening on a Wednesday night. Sometimes, I just love Frankfurt.

Day 7 – Is It Sunday Again?

JWise Food, Photo of the Day, Travels

Rhubarb Danish from Frankfurt, Germany

I swear, Caroline, I did not eat this rhubarb Danish! I only used it as a prop to show you one of your favorite treats here in Frankfurt at the end of spring and early summer. After I was done photographing it, I probably threw it to some pigeons. Yeah, that’s probably what I did.

Okay, the truth is that I woke shortly before 5:00 and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I got up and started hammering words into yesterday’s 2,800-word entry. Nearly starving by 6:30 due to my Herculean efforts, I dragged myself over to Eifler for a Vollkornbrötchen with meat and a meat sandwich that was being sold as “diabetic friendly.” And somehow, that Danish, which I don’t even like, fell into my bag. I SWEAR! That and I had a gluten-free, zero-calorie cup of black coffee in a recyclable paper cup made from recycled paper.

Klaus in Frankfurt, Germany

This is the last thing I saw before I was knocked unconscious by the malicious driver in this moving van. I mean, come on, laughing as he is about to hit me? Because I was in Germany, nobody stopped to help me, but as I did for breakfast, I was able to drag myself where I needed to go, this time to the hospital. I got free socialist health care, was slapped on the back and told to “have a good life, comrade,” and was on my way.

Okay, the truth is that this is Klaus, and I paid him to hit me so I could collect the insurance money because I’m broke, but after the police arrived, they called a Frankfurt city agency who reviewed the video footage of the intersection, and they told the police to arrest me because I was probably committing fraud. I took off running [right because this fat old guy can run], ok so maybe I took off walking briskly, but because the Frankfurt Police are government stooges paid by the ill-gotten gains of the communist state, they went back to their rhubarb Danishes and let me go. I SWEAR, this is exactly what happened.

Dortelweilerstrasse in Frankfurt, Germany

Yesterday, I was speeding past Dortelweil, which I’d never heard of before, and today, it turns out that when Klaus pushed me out of the moving van, it just so happened to be at Dortelweilerstrasse. We had just finished delivering Jutta’s furniture to her assisted living facility when the police turned on their lights and siren behind us, and Klaus screamed, “They’ll never take me alive!” and pushed me out of the passenger side, hoping my heft might stop them.

Okay, the truth is that I didn’t have my seat belt on, and Klaus was already drunk at 8:30 this morning, took a corner too sharply, and I fell out. Just then, the cops confused me with someone who was scamming insurance companies and wanted to talk with me. Well, I don’t speak German, but I had the universal cop language translator with me in the form of a Rhabarberplunder (rhubarb Danish), and, like hypnotized zombies, they forgot all about me and so I quantum-teleported to Dortelweil where I was free to keep writing silly blog entries. I SWEAR!

My Temporary Desk in Frankfurt, Germany

I SWEAR it wasn’t me that started Slugs Against Slut-Shaming, but I did sit along a lush green pathway and wrote part of yesterday’s blog here.

John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Not a bonafide member of Slugs Against Slut-Shaming yet, as I’m still waiting for my badge, but when I get it, I’ll wear it proudly.

Frankfurt, Germany

This was the very bench along the path where I sat writing and dreaming of the Rhabarberplunder Caroline can’t have while thinking about new strategic plans for S.A.S.S. because sluts need not be shamed unnecessarily.

Frankfurt, Germany

You might question my state of mind after reading the above, but the fact is, I’m experiencing a second lazy Sunday here on Monday, and I don’t really know why. After Klaus, Stephanie, and I moved a bunch of Jutta’s stuff to her assisted living facility, I felt like enjoying the sunny day wandering around. Klaus returned the rental van to the intersection shown above, and then I chose a different direction to walk wherever. Little did I know that I was headed right for Günthersburgpark, which is more or less across the street from Saalburgstrasse, where Jutta once lived and where I’m currently staying.

Geese in Frankfurt, Germany

I’ve been enjoying walking around like a goose, just going wherever I please until I have to turn to a map to figure out where I’ve been and where I need to go.

Frankfurt, Germany

Through my wandering in the city, I’m trying to stay away from the trains as I can figure out where they go, and I’d like to continue walking into areas I’ve never been before. Hmm, I wonder where this train goes?

The Zoo in Frankfurt, Germany

I’m at the Zoo again. Frankfurt is a strange city with all roads seemingly making circles around the center. Once I was here, like the other day, I knew my way to Konstablerwache and figured this might be the perfect opportunity to visit one of the hopping Turkish restaurants I passed on Saturday. So, that’s just what I did. Was it great? Nah, nothing had Grüne Sosse on it. Oh My God! I was just looking up the spelling of green in German; you know Grün? Well, I just learned that there’s a Grüne Sosse Denkmal, a.k.a. The Green Sauce Memorial. I believe I’ll be making a pilgrimage to this holy shrine of the Frankfurt Grüne Sosse.

My Temporary Desk in Frankfurt, Germany

In keeping with lazy and unfocused, while still trying to write yesterday’s blog post, I took up a table at Coffee Fellows between Alte Oper and Hauptwache for a coffee and a rhubarb Danish I needed to deny having, so I kept it off-camera. As for the ashtray, sure I smoke while visiting Germany and trim my mustache to a little thing under my nose and dye it black. Tomorrow I’m getting a haircut, a fade, because I don’t give a shit about FCK NZS. I SWEAR!

Hauptwache Subway Station in Frankfurt, Germany

I have no idea how to sandwich something witty about this subway station between the previous paragraph and what comes next. I’ll think about it and maybe edit it in the future, but probably not.

Torsten Kühne in Frankfurt, Germany

I don’t know this guy, but I’m into the buttholes behind him.

Okay, the truth is that this is the artist Torsten Kühne at the Schirn Museum, which just reopened this past Friday after a year of being closed. The featured exhibit presents the works of Gilbert and George! We were just chatting to set up a meeting for the two of us over coffee on Thursday morning. I hope he doesn’t plan on showing me his butthole, but if he does, I’ll be sure to get a photo to prove that he did.

Olbia Pizzeria in Frankfurt, Germany

It took an entire week before I dipped into Olbia Pizzeria for a number 5 salami with mushroom pizza. I wanted to order rigatoni diavolo at the same time because my pizza is only 6.50 Euro so how filling can that be? But these pizzas were always satisfying when Caroline and I lived about 175 meters away around the corner. There are more than a dozen of us waiting outside for our pizza, with more walking up while others are leaving with their paper-wrapped dinner. I’d like to say this is the best pizza I’ve ever had but, to be honest, it’s at least the best in Germany I’ve had, and it seems that many in Frankfurt agree with this assessment as they’ve won many Best Of awards here at North End of Frankfurt.

Frankfurt, Germany

Afterward, I’ll see if I can’t get another couple of miles of walking in to work off the indulgence I’m about to enjoy. Before taking off, I needed to share that for the first time ever; I’m sitting in Glauburgplatz, which is a little playground and park about a minute and a half from where we lived on Gluckstrasse over two decades ago. There’s a WWII bunker here that, like so many bunkers in Germany, proved too difficult and costly to tear down after the war, so they were left standing. They are built so heavy that they make great band rehearsal spaces, but this particular one I believe, is being torn down as housing is more important these days. Just before I left Arizona, we heard of a 500-kilo bomb that was found right next to the playground, buried under 6 feet of earth, and needed to be detonated. The mountains of sand they brought in to cover the explosion still sit in place.

I’m sitting in the park because Olbia doesn’t have outdoor seating, so no one can eat at Olbia. It turns out that quite a few of us pulled up one of the seven park benches or a stretch of wall to enjoy our dinners outside. What’s so normal to me after having lived in Germany for ten years is something that I hardly even notice anymore: most everyone here has an open bottle of alcohol with them. When customers walk up to the window at Olbia, a few of them are carrying open bottles of wine they sip from while waiting. How strange it is that this is perfectly legal here and in America, it would probably give rise to melees, which would have more people drawing guns in their drunken belligerence, but here, nobody is checking the IDs of anyone enjoying a beer or bottle of wine while chilling at a playground.

Frankfurt, Germany

Walking around relatively aimlessly, there’s a lot to notice, smell, see, and listen to here in Frankfurt. Bikes, scooters, carts being pulled down sidewalks, tires rumbling over brick streets, birds, conversations of friends walking along, many women heading somewhere, sometimes in pairs and just as often by themselves. As I make my way through this environment, I can’t even consider running into someone I know, nor can I imagine starting up a spontaneous conversation. The language, more often than not, is only one more part of a soundscape that creates a bubble where I’m relatively alone in my thoughts and observations. Getting used to this again is not so easy as there’s this tie to my best friend in Phoenix, who is not here to share these extraordinary moments with me.

So, I am totally anonymous and somewhat unattached to the typical requirements that are put upon those who are making a living and working to accomplish some traditional task or challenge that is a normal part of life. I live outside of that normal, aloof, and able to observe to my heart’s content. The potential for nothing to intrude into my peaceful wanderings is certainly a luxury afforded to few. Like sitting in a church, I’m streetside waiting for the external to make itself known, and instead, I watch some silly teenagers flirt for a moment and just as quickly part ways as if it was just a chance encounter.

Frankfurt, Germany

It’s after 10:00 p.m. here on a Monday night, and there’s no slowdown on this relatively quiet street. An Italian man riding a bike talking loudly to himself passed by just after half a dozen young women were heading somewhere. The sound of clinking glass, footsteps, and even the occasional drag of a cigarette can find its way to my ears. If I had to try to keep track of how many bikes pass by I’d guess it to be something around 10 per minute with an equal amount of scooters zipping over the street and sidewalks. Slavik, German, Italian, Spanish, and Turkish voices are heard, along with a host of accents behind those learning German that I can’t identify. Finally, a drunken German, barking loud, aggressive, heavily punctuated, cigarette-destroyed, non-sequential words that just bolt out of his mouth randomly, almost threateningly.

I’m not feeling like I’ve walked off much of my pizza yet as words don’t offer a sense of consuming many calories, but then again, what’s driving the fingers and brain to participate in the expenditure of energy in this attempt to say something that I believe I want to share with myself and my wife? Then it dawns on me, yes, I’m using the food I ate to assist in this process, but it is the motion of walking and the peristalsis that comes from that, which commands my bowels, kidneys, and other organs to perform more efficiently so that my spike in blood sugars might be kept in check. Time to keep walking.

Day 5 – Frankfurt

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Frankfurt, Germany

This is the view out of the bedroom window on Saalburgstrasse 46, where I’m staying in Frankfurt, Germany, also known as Jutta’s apartment. The last few days, this view has been dark and wet due to the rain, but here we are starting a day in beautiful sunlight. Oh, and it’s Saturday, which in Frankfurt means everyone will be out.

Frankfurt, Germany

Okay, where is everyone? It’s not like I left a few minutes after I took that previous photo, as I had some writing chores to tend to, namely yesterday’s blog post. While I write here and there over the course of the day, some things aren’t written until I decide what photos will be posted.

Frankfurt, Germany

Ah, this is where everyone is. Well, not everyone who is someone, but a lot of those who are planning on being part of everyone. Huh? Crowds are lining up for their free COVID tests so they can go shopping, eat at outside tables, and otherwise find their social life. Once they have their results, provided they are negative, they’ll go line up to get in stores. Grocery stores don’t require negative tests, but almost everything else does. These test centers seem to be everywhere, from empty shops to tents, and again, I’d like to reiterate that this version of free is without any cost other than the patience to wait.

Frankfurt, Germany

Guess what mistake I made while considering Anal Fantasy VII – Remake? I didn’t scan the QR code to see where it takes me, but do I really want to end up with some Goat.se-inspired images? Well, I guess I don’t mind because next time I walk by, I’ll be sure to bring up my phone, and if something gripping is found, I’ll share it.

Frankfurt, Germany

I suppose this is as good a place to report on the fact that while I’ve spent five days in Frankfurt and a short while in Wiesbaden, I’ve not been able to find a single homeless encampment yet. As I criss-cross the city, I’m always on the lookout for obvious signs of homeless people, and although I’m confronted with beggars every day, I’ve not seen a single shopping cart of belongings, a car stuffed to the roof with what someone has left, a tent or makeshift shelter crafted from whatever trash can be scrounged from the area.

You have to remember that Frankfurt is like America’s New York City and Berlin like San Francisco, and yet, from my trip to Berlin two years ago or this visit to Frankfurt during a pandemic, there are no homeless shelters or, worse, homeless camps. This isn’t to say that I’ve not seen people who appear to be homeless based on certain physical aspects such as hygiene and clothing, but the visual signs planted across a city, such as in the United States, those I’ve not found yet.

Frankfurt, Germany

This old jail has been abandoned for more than ten years, according to a couple of guys nearby who also told me that new condos are supposed to replace it, but nothing else could be found about its usage or origins. Strange that I only found one other photo on the internet of it.

Frankfurt, Germany

Back when I was living here in Frankfurt, I felt that the markets were a kind of festive celebration of food and socializing as people came out to celebrate the sun and good weather. These open-air markets are experiential explorations on the way to culinary enlightenment, allowing shoppers to sample things that might not be at their local grocery. While out here at the public square, a glass of wine and some hot food likely help erase the blues that can be a part of a city that is often cold and wet and, in winter, has short days and long evenings. Maybe my relationship with food has an unhealthy, obsessive quality, and I need to idealize life around our gastronomical adventures, but it is such a large part of our existence that I think it deserves a pedestal.

Frankfurt, Germany

This photo is for Caroline to share with her boss; she’ll understand the humor.

Frankfurt, Germany

I’m sitting on Töngesgasse while Stephanie talks with Jutta. Prior to this, we were in an amazing vinegar shop called Frankfurter Fass, where at normal times, I’d be able to sample their offerings, but we are not in normal times. This is only a fraction of the vinegar they have on hand and doesn’t include the olive oils and liquors.

It took Stephanie and I a good long while to reach Jutta’s as Stephanie first grabbed some lunch, and we talked for a while. and then we walked on and took another break to talk some more. Finally, we arrived at a happy mother-in-law smiling at the sight of the two of us showing up at her door together. For the next three hours, we talked; well, we did take a few minutes to explain and then showed her some cat videos, you know, those ones with cucumbers, and then we shared Denver The Guilty Dog with her, too. The small egg custard sweet Stephanie gave to Jutta and I, didn’t carry me very long, and shortly before 6:00, I told the ladies I had to go eat because I had found a restaurant on Römer that was not only open but was serving German food. Not just any German food either; I needed Grüne Sosse, and that’s exactly what I had.

Frankfurt, Germany

I was able to get a table under the awnings on the left at Zum Standesämtchen. I might have to mix things up sooner or later, but right now, I’m far away from growing tired of this Frankfurt special green sauce (Grüne Sosse) and Handkäse mit Musik. While I’ve described it before, I’ll share again: Handkäse (Hand Cheese) is called such because it’s formed by hand as opposed to scraping a cheese-like substance from between people’s fingers.

Frankfurt, Germany

What do potatoes and bread have to do with this photo? Other than everything in Germany being built by people who live on these German staples, it was my consumption of these forbidden food items that, for me, the diabetic, requires immediate exercise to exorcise the demons of carb-rich, sugar-creating molecules that want to kill me. Walking helps keep them at bay, while people-watching has its own benefits, though I can’t make a claim of just how that helps me.

Frankfurt, Germany

Then there’s the part of Frankfurt I love, the diversity. Sadly, most of the ethnic groups are just that, grouping. Rarely and usually only among young people do I see mixed ethnicities chatting and hanging out. Like America, Germany needs immigrants to fill the jobs that young Germans don’t want, but sadly, these new growing communities among their ranks are viewed with dismay and suspicion.

The cutest women here are experimenting with fashion, trying to find their own style. They are eclectic and often unique in their own way. How that’s squashed out of them is a function of this culture that I don’t understand. Is it their job requirements, their parents, or some genetic programming that quickly kills their curiosity? Of course, I can only compare this with my wife, who has managed to keep alive her sense of not meeting anyone else’s requirements but her own. With clothes from Sweden, Germany, America, Japan, India, and Croatia, she blends things with her old standards that also allow her a laziness that would see her also happy in a Gopnik style: Adidas and sunflower seeds, it’s a Slav thing.

Frankfurt, Germany

Conformity by playing age roles here in Germany as opposed to America where, as people age, they try their hardest to play the role of appearing perpetually younger. On one side is the tragedy of people giving up the semblance of originality, and on the other are those who appear silly as they give up their middle-aged appearance for a more youthful version. [Photo of Turkish Gopniks]

Frankfurt, Germany

After just five days back in Germany and for the first time in 26 years, I’m walking around studying Frankfurt with an eye towards examining what life is like here now. I mentioned earlier that older people are playing roles; when I arrived back in 1985, those who are currently 70 were only 34, and I saw them all around me every day. At concerts, restaurants, grocery stores, and generally out and about, they were not wearing such practical clothing. Like all of my generalizations, this is not a rule, but it is a thing. Maybe they are just trying to fit in with their elderly peers.

Frankfurt, Germany

My day on the streets of Frankfurt is about done with the continuing effects of jet lag still being felt. I need to make a note to myself to return to the end of Zeil, not far from the old jail, as there are three restaurants next to one another that are extremely popular with the Turkish crowd, the wealthy Turks or at least those that appear so on a Saturday night.

This reminds me that I wanted to share one other observation about life in Frankfurt today: there’s nowhere to go out and party. This hasn’t stopped people’s need to socialize and, if lucky, find someone of potential romantic interest to talk with, so to that end, they are out en masse in the main shopping area here known as Zeil. From the packed Turkish restaurants near Konstablerwache to the square at Hauptwache, thousands of mostly young people meandered about. I was wondering if this was normal here every Saturday now or if this is a response to not being able to go clubbing later and staying out all night.

Well, I’m not looking for a club, nor a bar, just a bed and a good night of rest so I can get going in the morning to visit Worms.