Caroline and I had to leave Frankfurt relatively early today for a drive to Geisenheim. Our date is with Vevie Engelhardt, Caroline’s stepmother. It took nearly an hour to get out here; it would have taken longer if we could have stopped at all the places along the Rhein River we drove along, but we didn’t get away from Frankfurt at 8:00 like we wanted to. Once in the small village where Vevie lives, we picked a parking spot and started walking through the fussgänger zone (pedestrian area – no cars allowed) until stumbling upon her street. This didn’t work out as perfectly as it sounds; once on the street, we easily found house numbers 2 through 8 on the right but couldn’t find numbers on the left. Towards the end of the street, we turned left to see if maybe there were backside entrances, only 1 and 5, we needed number 3. So we returned the way we came, certain that we were missing the obvious. Once more, we checked the back of the building and found that number 3 was out of sequence. Great, in a moment, we were at Vevie’s door being greeted with some mighty big hugs.
We spend a few minutes seeing Vevie’s apartment, having a drink of some homemade? Berry syrup she made before she put lunch in the oven and took us on a walk of her neighborhood. It’s another beautiful day here in central Germany, though a touch on the cool side.
As Caroline and Vevie catch up on a couple of decades of conversation, I linger behind the two and enjoy the sights, concentrating on the photography.
I’m in love with these small villages. They are quaint, old, full of character, and while occasionally tagged by a graffiti hoodlum, as opposed to graffiti artists, they are not run down, dangerous, or falling into decrepitude as so many small towns in America are. How these places remain vibrant is nearly beyond my ability to comprehend.
We cannot pass an old church without trying the door. Sadly, the Lutheran and Protestant churches are closed all days except Sunday, where the Catholic church’s doors remain open every day.
I’d like to wonder out loud if a street-side display like this would survive 24 hours in New York City, or would the plants and containers quickly find themselves scattered around town at other people’s properties? Don’t get the wrong idea about my kvetching about America. I love the land I live in, but I’m saddened by our nearly silent acceptance of decay, crime, and lack of education that afflicts so many.
After our walk around town, we returned to Vevie’s place and sat down to lunch, and we talked. And we talked some more. Time for espresso and more talk. Along the way, we got a commitment from Vevie that she’d like to come visit us and see some of the beauty of the Grand Canyon, the Redwoods, and Yellowstone. We agree that next May or September would be best; a loose date has been set.
As we talked through the afternoon and were not quite ready to part company, we followed Vevie to a local Italian Eis Shop (ice cream) for a sweet. Awesome, spaghetti eis is on the menu; see earlier entry for an explanation of this amazing treat. Caroline and Vevie opt for a fruity eis. The ice cream was great as long as the sun bore down on us, but some pesky clouds kept sweeping by, throwing a chill down upon us. With it getting later, we had to bid adieu to leave us enough time to visit Jutta. It was a bittersweet farewell, although it was tempered with the hopes we’d meet again in little more than a year; our fingers are crossed.
Not an hour later, we were back in Frankfurt and arriving at Bürger Hospital much quicker than we’d anticipated; it was rush hour. As it has been every day we’ve been here, Jutta is thrilled to see us. We spend a couple more hours talking with Jutta and laughing with her, too, before the fullness we left Geisenheim with starts to fade, and I start thinking about what we’ll find in this city for dinner tonight.