Friends

John Wise, Steve Alt, and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

You might remember that a few weeks ago, we picked up Scottish friend William “Willy” Mather from the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport here in Arizona and brought him to Flagstaff to start his rafting trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon? Well, today we are back at the airport, but this time we are picking up Steve “Sarge” Alt who finished a rafting trip down the same river just a few days after Willy finished his. Sadly, schedules didn’t allow for Willy to join friends Sarge and Frank “First Light” Kozyn on their trip and so while they were probably less than 50 miles apart at any given point during the past few weeks, their paths didn’t cross. But our paths did cross and even if we only have the opportunity to visit for a few hours, it’s well worth the time spent with these guys.

Sarge was on a seven-hour stopover which allowed us to pick up sandwiches and head over to Papago Park where we could pull a shaded picnic table and sit back to hear a few stories about this most recent river trip and a bit about the Selway trip up in Idaho that we had to bail out of this summer. While a small part of me wants to lament that Caroline nor I were on any white water river trips this year, I’d have to admit that I have nothing in the world to complain about.

Natasha and Aaron Go To California

Note: Today, guest novice blogger Natasha Peralta adding a story here. A little background: Natasha works at King Coffee I frequent often, as in every day, and I’m encouraging her to try her hand at sharing with her future self what she was doing during her early adulthood. Without further writing from me, I’m turning the keyboard over to her.

The night before we left, I went up to Chino Valley to pick up my younger sister, Jackie. We were supposed to leave at 6:30 in the morning, but Aaron forgot his wallet at work, so seeing we were over near Indian School, we decided to stop at Reap and Sow Coffee, which at night is a club for concerts. At 9:00, we were on our way to California. This was my first time driving to California, and I was really anxious. I was taking it out on Aaron and Jackie, which had everyone in a shit mood. In between picking up Aaron’s wallet and getting to my older sister Reigna’s house in Altadena Aaron had lost his wallet again, but this time it was lost for good. Despite a very stressful morning, none of it really mattered once we were there.

Here we are on Saturday morning at Disneyland. I would compare my feelings to how I felt when I went for the first time at eight years old. We were giddy. A week prior, when we checked the weather, it was supposed to rain both days we were there, but the weather was perfect.

This is us on Matterhorn. The few times I have been to Disneyland, this ride has been closed. I’m happy I got to experience it with them.

No one wanted to get wet. We only had to wait 10 minutes for Splash Mountain. This is the last time I’ll get to ride Splash Mountain. Soon, they will be changing to a Princess and the Frog ride.

Me, Aaron, and Jackie on the Guardians of the Galaxy ride in California Adventure.

This is another photo on the Guardians of the Galaxy ride, but with all of us. I might look excited, but I was scared. I’m not a fan of rides that drop. It’s embarrassing to admit, but other people on the ride noticed were assuring me it was not scary. It ended up being one of my favorite rides.

The Cars Ride in California Adventure. This is our second day at Disney. I was never a fan of the movies, but the ride was cool.

Aaron’s first Disneyland turkey leg.

The Dumbo ride was even more enchanting and special at night. I wish I had a picture of all three of us packed on the little seat.

John told me about San Pedro Fish Market when I started planning our trip to California. We got the shrimp tray. Eating seafood on the harbor was an incredible experience. We were lucky, and the mariachi band was there. None of us had been somewhere like it. Thank you, John.

Monty’s Good Burger. A hip vegan burger joint with several locations all over LA. I’ve been wanting to go for a while and am so glad I did. The best vegan burger I’ve had. Even Aaron, who rarely eats vegan, loved it.

Scottish Farmer Ruins Our Adventure

Caroline and John Wise with William Mather in Flagstaff Arizona

On this beautiful Saturday, we were tricked into bringing this Scotsman to Flagstaff, Arizona, after he flew in via Canada from his farm in Scotland. We don’t normally offer Uber services, but this guy convinced us via email that he was a descendent of William Wallace and had recently come into his inheritance. He was inviting us to raft the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon at his expense if we’d take him up north. We took the scenic road from Phoenix via Payson which I originally thought was so we could dip into one of his bottles of whiskey while underway, but apparently, he was nervous about an encounter with US Immigration and Customs Enforcement which makes sense now that I think about it, as Europeans are not allowed in America yet due to the pandemic. When I asked about that, he said that Post Brexit he was no longer part of that filthy horde of barbarians and so was allowed to be on our shores. By that time I was just drunk enough to believe him. Pulling into Flagstaff, we stopped at a local Haggis Shop where he was going to grab a couple of haggises and a pack of oatcakes, one haggis for this evening and one while we are out rafting the Colorado. Well, this was the last we saw of this crafty Scots outlaw as he must have left through a back door. Without hotel reservations and proof that we were booked for a Grand Canyon adventure, all we could do was head back to Phoenix looking like the rubes we are.

The truth is far more mundane as Flagstaff doesn’t even have a Haggis Shop nor did we drink a bottle of whiskey while on the road. This is our friend Willy whom we met years ago on a different rafting trip and we were simply bringing him to Flagstaff for his own adventure rafting through the canyon, without haggis and without us. We did enjoy our scenic drive through the largest stand of Ponderosa pines in the world and all the conversations that entailed.

Familie und Freunde

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Caroline Wise in Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Hindenburg Bridge in Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

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

Hanns Engelhardt in Geisenheim, Germany

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

Vevie Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Geisenheim, Germany

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

Geisenheim, Germany

How quickly two hours pass.

Hanns Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Geisenheim, Germany

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

Römer in Frankfurt, Germany

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

Frankfurt, Germany

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

Sylvia S. and Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

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

Olaf F. and Sylvia S. with family in Frankfurt, Germany

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

Olaf F. and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

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

Homeless in Sachsenhausen Frankfurt, Germany

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

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

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

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

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

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

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

Frankfurt Vacation – Day 3

Today, on our way to see Caroline’s mom, we move through the same streets, arriving to find a mother-in-law, a bit disoriented. To minimize any confusion, I excuse myself and leave Caroline to talk with Jutta as we’ve recognized that she can become overwhelmed when dealing with two people simultaneously. When lunchtime rolled around, Caroline brought her mom to the dining room and joined me downstairs so we could head to our next meeting.

Returning the way we came, a sticker announcing Photography & Philosophy caught my eye; it turns out that this is a print magazine named Soul of Street that comes out of Cologne, Germany.

We had some time before our 1:00 meeting and so we took a walk over towards the opera. During my previous visit, this square was empty, and I photographed the Alte Oper with nobody between me and it.

Most of the tourists that would normally be in Europe during the summer are still missing from the streets, but other than them, things appear mostly back to normal as far as crowds are concerned. I’d estimate that maybe 1 in 10 on the streets are wearing masks, but for all shops and trains, masks are still mandatory.

Walking around the opera we discovered a new building we’d never seen before, the Wave or Die Welle as it’s known in German.

This is an old friend of ours, her name is Angela, she’s a nurse, and this was about the only time she could find to meet with us as tomorrow morning she leaves for Formentera, Spain to visit her boyfriend, Ruben.

Our loose plan was to visit an open-air market, get a bit for lunch, and sit a while talking over coffee. That’s exactly what we did.

After a few hours of sharing plans for the future and talking about love, Angela needed to get going to do some shopping and packing for tomorrow’s flight. Having only had the bratwurst and wanting to beat the Friday dinner crowd, Caroline and I headed off in the direction of a small German restaurant Angela recommended.

Across the Main River on our way to Sachsenhausen. Our destination was Eichkatzerl restaurant for some traditional local cuisine and a small bembel of Apfelwein for Caroline.

All that Apfelwein (apple wine) Caroline drank had to find an exit. To her regret, she decided to try one of these portapotties, and from the afternoon sun that beat on it all day, she knew she’d made a mistake. You may not be able to see it quite clearly but her face is reflecting the stench she’s emerging from.

There’s a strange realization as we walk along here on the Main River: we are about the oldest people around. It’s not late, maybe 7:30, as we stroll along, but the older people of the city are nowhere to be found. I should point out that if we are on the train between 6:00 and 9:00 in the morning, it’s mostly younger people, but after that, the old folks head out into the city, but by 3:00 p.m., they are disappearing as young people once again dominate the scene. It’s strange to me that old people appear to be carving out a time of day when they can avoid young people, but that’s just my observation.

Back on Eisener Steg, a.k.a. Iron Bridge and on our way back to the main shopping area where we’ll catch a train out to Heddernheim. Another day for friends and family.

Day 12 – Boris In Heidelberg

Up at 5:30 to catch a train at 6:56 to Heidelberg, and still, I was nearly late. Why Germany, are the trains less frequent on weekends? I know the answer it’s because Germans are moving slowly, and before anything else, they’ll have a late breakfast. If I lived here, that would be seared into my head, but I reach the weekend, and it might as well be Monday, and I’d think for retirees, it would be much the same. I’m on my train, in my seat, and ready to go with minutes to spare.

The ICE to Mannheim, where I’ll switch trains to Heidelberg Hauptbahnhof, arrived down south much faster than I thought it would. Sure, I knew how many minutes it would take, but time, in my perception, operates at a different level. Ten minutes after arriving at my first stop, I was on another train and should have connected with a third, but decided that I could use the steps. Plus, it was a 20-minute wait for the next train, and Google was telling me it would be only a 28-minute walk to Boris’s.

It was only yesterday that I decided I’d alter my plans and visit this old friend I’d not seen in 27 years because he gave me a heads-up that he’d be in the hospital from the 8th until the 23rd. I had known he’d be out of town for part of my visit, but I didn’t know why today, I learned that he was heading to Mannheim for surgery that was going to remove his cancerous bladder. I had to see him as soon as possible.

I was hoping to finish writing yesterday’s blog entry on the way down, but I ended up working on it later this day as with so many photos, I was going to need to keep on squawking about what that stuff was, because in less than two years I’ll be 60, and I’d imagine that I’ll need all the help I can get to remember such things in my old age.

I walked down Main Street in Heidelberg, imagining which German restaurant I’d eat lunch at, and occasionally, I felt that I could remember the look of things as I strolled along. I kept looking for the castle that I knew was somewhere on my right, but it turned out that it was further on than I could remember. Thinking I’d walk back mostly along the Neckar River, I didn’t bother taking a left for a short walk over there, but oops, I didn’t expect I’d get out of Heidelberg so late that I’d take the Old City train stop to save the half an hour walking back.

Heidelberg is in the German state of Baden-Württemberg just south of Hessen, so food is definitely on my mind, especially because a couple of years ago, I finally tried cooking from the Thuringia region and I’m now interested in trying the local cuisines from all 16 states found in Germany. Besides my culinary curiosity, I’m also equally intrigued about who Boris has become over the intervening quarter century.

Arriving at Boris’s front door, I was all smiles as I was astonished that this was the exact same place I’d last visited him. It feels so rare that anyone should live at an address for more than 30 years that I’m left a bit speechless. In front of a table loaded with food (Boris had made us breakfast), it took us forever to sit down and finally eat. While social media has kept us loosely connected, we’ve not exchanged a lot there, so we had some serious ground to cover, and of course, that would have to be politics and manipulation/management of information for the masses.

Some things never change, such as this sign over Boris’s toilet, though he informs me it is, in fact, a new one. All the same, I remember something quite similar from my visits years before. It always struck me as peculiar this idea of men sitting down to pee, but then again, I’m not sticking around to clean the toilet or wash the floor, so I suppose I need to respect these wishes.

This apartment contains a series of time capsules that document the period from 1976 to 1999. I think the shift in the collection of artifacts must have begun with the arrival of the internet when much of what was to be referenced was now in digital format. Similar to Torsten Kuehne is the sense of the space serving a purpose as a home beyond what I see in the US. These are places to find oneself and share with visitors a part of your character that is removed from pure consumption of perfection, these abodes are magical dwellings where living takes place, not just existence.

On that note, Boris and I went out for a walk, but first a drive up the mountain on the other side of the Neckar River. We are visiting Heiligenberg.

High up on the mountain is the Thingstätte, built during the Third Reich for the Nazis as part of the Thingspiel movement. Hitler never ended up speaking here, which I’d imagine was a good thing, as I think it would have been blown off the mountain if he had.

Until recently, it was used as a party place for Walpurgis Night. Saint Walpurgis had a feast day held in her honor back in the 8th century that coincides with May Day. To nearly 20,000 bonfire-worshipping revelers, it seemed this was an ideal location to revive the feast day, and with no small amount of drugs and peaceful action, this celebration happened for years without incident until the local authorities decided to shut it down. I like Boris’s explanation of what passed, “The authorities wanted mayhem and violence to give cause to shut down the yearly event as so many people assembling peacefully might give them ideas that personal freedom was something worth cherishing.”

Friedrich von Hirsau, according to this slab, died in 1070, but the internet, which is never wrong, says his death was in 1071.

The Michaels Cloister lays in ruins these days, but back about 1,100 years ago, in 890, this monastery was built to ward off the pagan energy of the dragon spirit as prior to Christianity moving in, the Celts were sitting up here watching the earth from high above and deep below. This is according to Boris, but it sounds plausible to me, so I’m going with it.

The site of the cloister is a beautiful one that seriously kicks at the imagination to fill in the blanks. The buildings fell into ruin over 500 years ago, but enough remains to enchant visitors, such as this overgrown moss-and-lichen-covered cistern.

The longer I’m in Germany and the more I’ve visited over the past years, the more I’d like to know about what life was like, from about 800 to 1,400. It goes without saying I’d like to go further back but the amount of time required to begin understanding any period takes a serious investment in time.

While Boris has been here many a time and has even played a key role during many of the Walpurgis Nights, this is my first time here with not much of the day available to learn more.

Ten’s of thousands have by now walked through this archway, some before modernity and many who came out of curiosity as they sought out a sense of the past that I often find myself searching for in churches and cathedrals.

I don’t know if I’ve ever witnessed snail sex; maybe this is the essence of Celtic practices atop the Holy Mountain.

Apparently, if my rudimentary translation skills are functional at all, there is an ancient wall here that has grown over but is still detectable. It was erected 400 years before Christ by Celts to hold back Germanic tribes. What a different time when villages would battle tribes instead of nations attacking other countries. It was this level of warfare that necessitated walled cities such as Frankfurt so many years ago.

Not my favorite photo of me I’ve ever taken, but Boris’s smile was priceless so I had to swallow a bit of pride and go with this one. I probably look more or less like this all the time, but as we are all apt to do, I see things out of place that bother me. I know, who cares? If you should care to understand why Boris has played such an important role in my life, you simply need to look at the theme I list at the top of my blog that spells it out but you will have to decipher the puzzle.

A castle in one form or another has stood here since at least 1214, but more than one was destroyed before another took its place or it was rebuilt. While the castle may look amazing in appearance from the opposite mountain, it is actually in ruin. General Tilly, during the Thirty Years War, took Heidelberg and, a few days later, the castle. I mention this because Caroline and I read this tremendous book about that war, and General Tilly featured prominently. However, while the castle was damaged and only narrowly escaped total destruction during the Thirty Years War, French soldiers dynamited it in 1693 in the course of the War of Grand Alliance (yet another war to read about), and it has been a ruin ever since. Victor Hugo visited in 1840 and fell in love with the city, so much so that he wrote a book titled, “Heidelberg: You would have to live here!” I would have ordered the book as I write this, but I cannot find it in English! Come on, this is the same author who penned Les Misérables

This deep, as in 180 feet deep “Heathen Hole” is called Heidenloch. Nobody really knows its real purpose, but some have speculated it was a cistern or a well; Boris and I are in agreement that this seems silly as our intuition suggests it was a place from which to watch the evening stars, to note their location in a small, consistent spot so as to be able to interpret the movements of celestial bodies.

Back in Heidelberg, Boris decides to get the first COVID test he’s ever had in order for him to join me for a bite to eat. While he waited to get the test and the 15 minutes before the results were done, I walked over to a bridge to have a look over the Neckar River.

Maybe not as broad and elegant as the massively famous bridge in Prague, this is still a wonderful place to visit that, for the first time during all of my trips down here, is quite empty. Who says there’s not an upside to pandemics?

This is the Heidelberg Castle, not where we were going to have a late lunch, but the place we wanted to eat at closed during mid-day. How, in a city seen by so many tourists, could a restaurant offering regional cooking close for 2 or 3 hours in the middle of the day? Well, Boris knew of another small place he thought might meet our needs, and he was right. For another 90 minutes, we talked about the beauty of life and our precious time here on Earth.

Having talked about as much as two people who’ve not seen each other in so many decades could talk, combined with my knowledge that by late afternoon, Boris found himself exhausted, it was time for us to part ways. Boris walked me to the Old City Train Station I was supposed to arrive at earlier in the day before I’d opted to walk to his place.

On Tuesday, Boris Hiesserer, a.k.a. Pyromania Arts, will enter the hospital where he’ll spend 15 days, as I said above. I wish him all the best and an effective and speedy recovery. Cancer always changes people; I just hope he can escape with a smile, just as I’m doing as I leave Heidelberg.

We are likely doing something close to the speed of light as we careened into a universe of smeared green and yellow; that’s how fast we were going.

My 1st class seating arrangement on the InterCity Express (ICE) back to Frankfurt, the entire car was mine alone.

While I love the incredible ride on these fast trains, I also love watching them speed by at 185 miles per hour.

Back in the city, I walked over to Olaf’s and buzzed his door to see if he’d like to join me for a coffee; he was up for it. Over to the small Imbiss across the street we went. He opted for a Pellegrino with blood orange and I for a coffee to help me keep going. As for the pizza we shared, I don’t think it was all that helpful for wakefulness. Parting company, we agreed that the high chance of rain should push us to delay the barbecue we had planned for Sunday night.