Four hours of sleep wasn’t going to be enough, but waking at 2:30 in the morning was when the cock crowed in my head. By 5:30, I started feeling I’d finally be able to snag a couple more hours of shut-eye, but sleeping in until after 10:00 was not my plan. I was now running late and needed to call Jutta to let her know I wasn’t going to be showing up between 9:00 and five minutes ago. She told me not to worry and enjoy a nice breakfast along the way.
I was momentarily distracted by those things that were precisely the reason for my being in Germany, the effects left behind by Jutta as she went into assisted living. Strange how when she lived here, I never really gave a second thought to what she’d amassed over her lifetime, but looking over her artifacts now, I start to see part of her story arch based on literature she’s read, though I have no way of giving it a proper timeline. Already late; I have to save this for later and get going.
I’ll travel this path a few times during my stay, walk down Saalburgstrasse to Bergerstrasse, and get on the U-Bahn to areas further on. The bakery on the corner winked at me, telling me it had quick calories to jump-start my energy supply. Nothing like an Erdbeerplunder (strawberry Danish) to do just that. As I left the shop and noticed that the Wednesday open-air market was taking place, I had to at least check out some small corner of it. Good thing I did so as I was able to alleviate some of my guilt of indulging in those empty diabetic-unfriendly sugars by balancing it with a grilled Thuringer sausage.
Standing there on Bergerstrasse, I got to thinking about how many people were just launching into German conversations with me. Thirty years ago, during the Cold War and with so many Americans in occupied West Germany, I felt that the population had developed a natural sense of who the Americans were, even when bearded with long hair as I had been during much of my time here. Today, that insight has faded and German is once again the only official language of this country.
People are patiently waiting outside shops where signs instruct shoppers that only one customer at a time is allowed in. While in line, they wear their masks. On the street, it’s a mixed bag of some people wearing masks and others not. I cannot find a pattern, as only those who’ve been vaccinated are allowed certain privileges, and I’m not sure they eschew masks. The reason I’m struggling is that only those over a certain age have been able to get the vaccine, and mask-wearing does not align with people’s ages.
There are a lot of elderly people in this neighborhood which reminds me of the likelihood that someday I’ll need to stop driving a car and that living in Europe would be a possible good solution to that. But then you see these seniors shuffling by slowly with walkers and canes; how they also balance the bags of food, they are out collecting looks challenging. Something else seen but not certain is that they are alone, and my knowledge of Germany suggests they may very well be all living alone. Doubt looks to creep into my thoughts of being anywhere that will be easier on an old person. I’m considering this as I see the old person creeping out of me.
Nobody is making eye contact with me; there are no silent nods acknowledging each other’s existence as in America. The beggars are out, and so are the permanently drunk who, strangely enough, still wear masks over their loud and aggressive conversations with the person walking next to them or simply talking to the universe in their lament about all that’s worthy to broadcast to everyone in earshot.
Not having to translate much of what I hear, I’m just an observer traveling with my own cultural baggage, able to concentrate on the details likely unseen by those living here. We grow a thick skin to filter out the intrusions and construct the life we want to have in an anonymous society while the visitor is often overwhelmed by all that is new to their senses, but this is not new to me. On the contrary, my moments here are quite familiar, though often far from my memories, as they don’t really need revisiting while living in Arizona.
As though I weren’t already late, I’ve been sitting in the U-Bahn station, maybe 15 meters underground writing the above as train after trains come and go. I note this just before hitting save to board the next train so I can finally drop in on Jutta. It’s noon, and the little things keep arriving in my mind.
Maybe it’s because I’m so late getting underway, but I’m not seeing many young people on the train, or maybe they are homeschooling? What I am picking up on is the idea that more people are looking directly at each other. Maybe their masks have them feeling like they are hidden behind a barrier that doesn’t allow others to notice their eyes observing them, but I’m noticing. An older lady with the squintiest of eyes and I are looking directly at each other while I hold her gaze somewhat astonished that a German is making eye contact. Funny how, on one of my last visits to Germany, I noticed how smartphones were used to lock riders’ views to staring at their device, thus easily avoiding finding somewhere else to look while on public transportation. What is it about the noonday crowd that is hardly using phones at all?
In minutes, I’m getting off at Dom/Römer, where it’s now raining. Over at city hall, family and friends of about 15 people are in a celebratory mood as a couple was just married. Signed in at Lebenshaus and given an FFP2 mask this time, I was let into Jutta’s room while she finished lunch. She and I were supposed to go out for coffee today, but with the cold, wet weather, I’m opting to stay in for my two-hour visit. Right now, her room is sparse, though she’s supposed to get a piece of furniture delivered this Friday, where some of her belongings will continue to live with her.
The reason an attendant let me into Jutta’s room while she was at lunch was that I’m not allowed to sit with the other tenants, probably due to pandemic precautions or maybe also trying to get the others to socialize a few times a day, seeing they are all neighbors.
Only about a half-hour after I arrived, a message from Caroline chimed on my phone: what’s she doing up at 4:00 in the morning? She set an alarm so she could go out and see a lunar eclipse. This allowed the three of us to have another video chat and for me to see her beautiful face smiling at me. And while I finally had slept well, I’m yawning now, so Jutta and I are going to head around the corner to a nearby ice cream cafe for a coffee…and maybe a treat.
Nope, that didn’t happen. While there was a break in the poor weather that allowed the thought of going out, from the brief time we decided to go out until we got downstairs, the rain came on a bit heavy again. We dipped back inside, but it wasn’t relenting, so we were postponing until a sunny day came along. After a couple of hours of visiting, I was once again out in the city.
Now in the rain by myself, I needed to find a bite to eat and a coffee. That was easy enough, but as is the case everywhere here, there’s nowhere to sit down, so you pop around the corner, pull your mask down, and eat once you decide just what you want.
Not yet satisfied, I remembered the sausages I’d seen at Kleinmarkthalle yesterday and grabbed one of them; it was a dried pork and paprika shriveled sausage of a thing. With the rain continuing, I lingered here at the market, paying a little more attention to each vendor than I did yesterday. It wasn’t far from there to Konstablerwache, where I knew I could find a seat underground so I could jot these things down and stay dry and warm. How strange this situation of being in Europe without a cafe, wifi, or restaurant to sit down and take a break.
I emphasize being warm as I insisted when leaving Phoenix that it would be warm enough soon enough in the Frankfurt region. I knew that I could deal with a few days of rain and cold, so I could leave my bulky fleece at home. Now comes the mea culpa that Caroline was right; I should have brought it. Also, I brought a rain jacket, but I’m waiting until I really need it. It seems like I’ve really needed it both of these days, so I’m at a loss why it’s not with me. Damn, I hope my wife wasn’t also right about bringing sunblock [or your hat, maybe? – the wife].
In this cavernous underground train station, the subway is yet further below; I’m sitting next to the coming and going S-Bahns. These trains are the much longer ones that travel between regions such as between Frankfurt and Wiesbaden, Darmstadt, and Hanau. Normally, when I’ve been down here, I’m waiting for a specific train so I don’t really pay attention to the ones I’m not going to ride but instead count the minutes until mine shows up. Sitting here at 4:00 p.m., I’m watching trains pass through at a rate of what seems to be one every 60 to 90 seconds. By the way, not all subways of the U-Bahn system perform service strictly below ground but also find themselves out on streets, such as the U5 that used to bring Caroline and me home after visiting the downtown shopping area.
My coffee is not having the desired effect, or jet lag is simply chewing through my waking energy faster than I can muster it. Judging by people’s jackets who are walking past me, it’s still raining up there, and while I have an umbrella, there’s really nowhere else to park myself…unless I catch a train over to Hauptbahnhof that could promise more people watching and maybe somewhere to sit that’s not so far under the surface of the earth.
I’m also likely in danger of dehydrating as, with limited toilet facilities available to the public, I’m reluctant to drink. I’m guessing that for Germans, the idea is to get out to pick up what you need and go right home. I’m not giving in to that, as it’s far more interesting out here where beggars can go by asking for coins or smokes.
Wandering around upstairs, still at Konstablerwache contemplating walking to the Hauptbahnhof, I spotted some open, and importantly, free toilets, which means I now have a goto location for that necessity. With the rain taking a break, I opted for a walk down Zeil and learned about a new way of shopping: scan a QR code to make an appointment to enter the shop at a later time or date. There’s obviously zero tolerance for ambiguity about how many people are in a shop, so a system was created to make shopping a little easier.
The respite from the rain didn’t last long, and my idea that I might walk to the main train station has been dashed so down the stairs I go into the Hauptwache train station.
By and large, I find Germans to be an educated populace with a giant appetite to experience the entire breadth of their freedoms. They love their long vacations, free university system, and rich cultural offerings in nearly all mid to large-sized cities. They know world history, not just their own country’s history, and they are pretty well aware of global politics. Yes, they pay high taxes in order to have a very effective social safety net, but they are of their own mind and demand justice within their borders, and that sense of doing the right thing often extends well into Europe. With that as background, I’ve not seen a single person in the train station not wearing a mask.
Train after train passes me on its way into the station, and everyone I glance at is wearing a prescribed mask. They are not wearing gators or cloth masks; they have KN95 or medical masks on, period. I’m sure if I sit here long enough or maybe if I rode the train multiple times a day, I’d see the occasional offender but not once in the underground area or on the trains themselves. It should go without saying that it’s the exact same in the shops, but on the street, it’s definitely a mixed bag.
Just as I finish writing the above, my observations are proven wrong. A drunk man took up a seat about a dozen seats away from me and has gone to sleep; his mask is down under his chin now. Another guy further down, suffering from Tourettes or schizophrenia, is wildly gesticulating in almost violent movements, but he is quiet. Watching him, I realize there are two pigeons down here at Hauptwache with us, and maybe his head movements are trying to communicate with the birds. While not likely, I’ve got nothing other than my uneducated guesses to explain him. Time to board one of these trains to make my way out to Heddernheim.
What a hodgepodge of weather in such a small region. Emerging from the bowels of the subway system, the sun is out here making me wonder if it had always been shining on this side of Frankfurt.
After arriving at my in-laws, seen above, they assured me that just two hours before my arrival, it was hailing out here and the sky had just recently cleared up. We sat down at the dining room table and started to gab. Along the way, Klaus made dinner. Well, I got leftovers, but let me tell you that these were no ordinary leftovers; this was Grüne Sosse (Green Sauce) which is a famous Frankfurt specialty you will not find anywhere else on earth. With a handful of boiled potatoes and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, this dish of cold ground herbs in yogurt sauce is an absolutely perfect preparation that takes the simple and transforms into wonderful.
The conversation continued as we lost all track of time…
…It was only minutes before 11:00 p.m. as I walked over to pick up the train heading back into the city center.
The trains run late into the night, but they are not as frequent as during the day; this gave me more time to spend looking for things in these tunnels I might have missed on every previous visit I’ve made. Heading to an important meeting for work, and your mask is getting dingy? Just stop at a nearby vending machine, and between the gummy candy and chewing gum, you can buy a fresh FFP2 mask for a couple of Euros.
I’m not alone out here, which makes me feel better as on my way into Germany I wasn’t sure how enforced the curfew is. I should have known that it was a recommendation and not something that turned people into criminals for needing to keep moving between places.
A major source of entertainment for me in the subways has always been the sections of walls dedicated to advertising upcoming cultural events. The industry surrounding the printing and posting of these large, widely distributed missives must have taken a serious hit during the pandemic, as there’s little to read with large parts of the dedicated spaces empty. This poster, at least in my translation, captured this perfectly, “Archive for Nothing.” With nothing going on and nowhere to go, this otherwise white space is offering you a glimpse into nothing.
Seeing how I no longer live off Glauburgstrasse on Gluckstrasse, I won’t be taking the U5 home tonight but instead boarded the next train, the U4, to Jutta’s old apartment. The train cars are quiet, no revelers are partying with open bottles of alcohol, nor have I seen a single homeless person or beggar on the trains yet.
I didn’t shoot very many photos today, and I won’t know for years until I read this on that future date if what I captured and shared achieved something worthwhile, but this was the best I could do. Finally, while this was only my second day in Germany, I feel as though I’ve already been here for many more days. Such is the impact of having our senses moving to fully alert from casually aware.
