We’ve seen this movie before. Two sisters get on the train to shop at the open-air market at Konstablerwache.
Along the way, they make a detour to Hugendubel bookshop so Caroline can pick up her book of sheet music from Rammstein.
Not in the mood for shopping, the forlorn husband turns to something sweet in the form of raspberries to help in dealing with the bitter reality that Frankfurt is disappearing.
People go about their business oblivious to the fact that two people among them, while happy being here, must exchange this place for the one that pays their bills and makes amazing vacations possible.
The protesters who begged us to stay had no impact on our decision to follow through with our original plans and leave by the 10th, regardless of how our hearts may have thought otherwise.
Caroline tried to assuage the horror of facing the airport and the 11-hour flight home by buying even more Gudrun Sjödén clothes, but I can’t be sure that really did anything other than giving her more stuff to make her look cute.
Maybe Papier Kraemer or the library can fight these blues?
I know we’ll eat sausages because sausages can heal everything.
A happy face in the sea of shoppers. By the way, I hope you notice the glitch in the Matrix as somebody behind Caroline is wearing her shirt that was bought years ago at REI, so this cannot just be a coincidence.
We are obviously in the Matrix otherwise; how did we just have elderflower pancakes for the first time ever in Croatia, and here we are on our first full day back in Frankfurt, and they are being cooked right here at the market as if the Matrix coded this very moment.
The orange of apricots is a happy color and is helping in this transition to America.
When all else fails, there’s always grown-ass-man-sucking-a-pacifier-wearing-green-rubber-gloves-selling-hugs-and-kisses (I opted for hugs) to make me feel better. How much better did I feel for my two Euros? It was so much better that I almost kissed him for free.
We are back at Jutta’s apartment because Jutta loves seeing us.
Jutta also loves sharing a laugh with her daughter, though she half-heartedly complained that I was photographing her clutter. Reality hurts; just ask the two people who are leaving Germany in 48 hours.
Maybe you’ve noticed this recurring theme across the breadth of this European vacation, where I tried capturing the place where I sat down to write.
Greta Thunberg is one of my heroes; she should be one of yours too.
Leaving Jutta’s to meet with the other Engelhardt’s with whom we have a dinner date for the “BEST” green sauce in all of Frankfurt!
The Ebbelwoi-Express is a reminder to Caroline and me that we’ve never ridden the “Apple-wine Express” train that meanders through Frankfurt while the passengers get drunk on apple wine and forget where they are prior to stumbling off the train and trying to find their way home in a stupor. We’re making a date to get on the train and ride this iconic beacon of debauchery before we’re dead.
Dinner at the Argentinian steak house that won this year’s “Best of Grüne Soße Festival” was great. The pairing of green sauce with steak wasn’t my idea of perfection, but it’s what we asked for. Next time, I go for the traditional presentation with boiled eggs and potatoes.
I’ve whined about it before, but it bears whining about again; Frankfurt has too damn many cultural events, while Phoenix, like the desert that surrounds it, is a wasteland. I look at these walls announcing stuff going on over the next 60 days, and I want to pound my head into them, though I’d likely not hurt myself as the layers of posters are dozens thick, making for a nice soft cushioning surface to absorb my frustration, kind of like my wife.