Even before leaving Arizona last Monday, I had planned that today (Friday) I’d head out to Wiesbaden and that this is exactly what I’ll do. Since I only slept less than 5 hours last night, I have an abundance of time. I wonder when this all catches up with me. Hopefully, I won’t fall asleep on the train. Time to go.
The rust is showing in my train-catching skills as I walked right up to one leaving for Wiesbaden and failed to pay enough attention to details to get on board. Good thing the next train was only 15 minutes away, and I’m in no hurry. After a short while on the S9 – Richtung Wiesbaden, I was getting quite the shock; the next stop was Gateway Gardens, the old U.S. Military housing area outside the Frankfurt Airport.
My original plan was to spend the entire day out in Wiesbaden, but with the combination of poor weather still threatening rain and how much Jutta appears to enjoy my visits, I’m more than likely going to cut my time short so I can visit my mother-in-law before her dinner time.
While I’m inclined to put on my headphones and listen to music, I’m also enjoying the sound of the train accelerating, the doors beeping when they are about to shut, and the soothing voice of the person announcing stops along the route. Once we leave the airport station it’s nice to see that there are still woods next to the track, at least for a stretch until we reach Kelsterbach. Oh, I almost forgot to mention the sound of backpacks being taken off and set down.
I recognize nearly nothing at the Wiesbaden main train station. Again, the attempt to return to the familiar and celebrate nostalgia has been foiled. With that realization coming on so fast, the idea jumps into my head that maybe I should jump back on a train and beat a retreat, but I walk on.
I do love the sights here in Germany, and what’s better than red stone contrasting with deep blue skies? This is a corner of Wiesbaden’s main train station.
There’s nothing left in my memory of how I once navigated these streets, so I have to bring up a map and ask for a location that I know still exists, the Wartburg Theater and concert hall. When I see the street name Schwalbachstrasse, a ping of recognition rings loudly. I now try to recollect if there was a particular path I walked to the shops and clubs I’d visit out this way, but nothing looks like it used to. As I walk by this old church, I draw a blank and wonder if I’ve ever seen it before. With plenty of time, I figure I’ll walk back on a different route, and maybe that will kick my memory into recollecting where I’d been.
Now, on Schwalbachstrasse, I’m looking for a hint of an old club I used to love. Its name was Dschungel, a.k.a. the Jungle. A small place that was underground with more progressive/aggressive music compared to the Batschkapp or Cookies over in Frankfurt. I think I found the door with a sign about something to do with music now called The Basement; it kind of fits in the place my memory says it should, just down the street from the Wartburg! It sure seemed further away back then.
A mere few doors down is the Wartburg, where I saw my first two concerts in West Germany, Einsturzende Neubauten and Psychic TV. Those shows were quickly followed by Test Department and Front 242 in the same place. Formative memories for sure, but the experience of seeing the Wartburg again brings me nothing at all.
Seeing that I’m in town, I may as well follow my nose. I’m looking for a Döner shop, and I think I might know where it used to be. The neighborhood it’s in appears to be a kind of Middle East Quarter, and the shop is called Berlin Döner, but is it the one? I talked with the current owner, and he says it’s been here for 50 years, and he’s owned it for the past 13. It’s a good thing he doesn’t open until 10:00, giving me the chance to not ruin what, at one time, I thought was the best Döner I’d ever had. Now, it gets to remain that way.
Since I mentioned that this area had become a predominantly Middle East-influenced neighborhood: I’m reminded why immigration is such a great thing. If it wasn’t for Europe accepting so many immigrants, the diversity of culture here would not be developing the way it is. Yes, there are problems with integrating peoples of other countries, but what it ultimately offers is indispensable. There must be a good dozen small Middle Eastern groceries in the area, while the Harput and Günay families have opened a serious number of businesses along these streets.
What kind of neighborhood has a dozen barbershops? Apparently, this one. My experiences years ago remind me not to be so quick taking photos in places where a bunch of men with black hair and leather jackets are outside smoking and drinking coffee. I had learned pretty quickly after being run off a couple of times by angry people hollering at me. So, I made sure that those around me could see I wasn’t trying to take anyone’s photo. Just what original French tacos are I have no idea, but the logo suggests it’s ice cream. If they were open, I’d walk right in and ask for a carne asada taco and see how far I get.
After a brief couple of hours here, I feel that I’m ready to leave. While the architecture is different than that of Frankfurt, the rest of the businesses are nearly identical. Not much is open and I can’t imagine what else might be found if I continued exploring the city center, which is actually quite small.
By the time I reach the Hauptbahnhof, I’m hungry, but before I find food, I spot a man I’d seen earlier not far from the Wartburg screaming at someone. I figured it was a racial insult at the time, but seeing this guy here, I thought I would get confirmation. Getting his attention, it was apparent he was still a bit agitated, but realizing I had a real question, he asked if he could help me. So I asked him what happened back at the heavy confrontation and he told me that his issue was the man who asked him for money. He also explained that this is one of the young men who are part of the Beggar Mafia that fans out from Frankfurt to beg in the surrounding towns. He sees these people at parties all the time, arriving in expensive Audis doing loads of cocaine. Well, now I know.
Regarding my hunger, a Döner & Pizza shop was close at hand, so I nabbed a chicken Döner as that seems to be the popular choice these days. I’m guessing the meat is cheaper and so they go with that. I should have gone for a traditional Döner while I was in the Middle Eastern Quarter. My stomach is full; I’m on my way to Frankfurt a lot earlier than I could have guessed. The sun is shining, and now I’m overdressed. Here’s to hoping it’s not raining and cold back in Frankfurt.
Whoa, it’s beautiful in Frankfurt, and it’s drawing people out.
This was my view in the opposite direction.
Needing a coffee and a sweet, I revisited Kleinmarkthalle, picking up a couple of hundred grams of cherries and an oat milk latte. Exiting, I saw the Cuban busker I ran into the other day while it was raining; we nodded hello to each other. I threw him a few Euros and sat nearby, sipping my coffee and eating cherries. Life is good.
A solar halo touching the cross of the Frankfurt Cathedral; I can’t say I’ve ever seen a solar halo or sun dog in Frankfurt. I’ll take this as being a first and that it portends good things.
I want to photograph everything in the city on my way to Jutta’s, as who knows if I’ll get another sunny day in Frankfurt? Just kidding, as bad as the weather is here, I know there will be many more beautiful days as we move into June.
Half-timbered old buildings, socially distanced people, and blue skies, what more could be wished for?
A photo of two not-socially distanced people enjoying it all is what could be wished for and realized.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with Jutta along the Main River. We just finished crossing Eiserner Steg (Iron Bridge), with Jutta telling me it’s been a long time since she had last been on this side of the river. Well, we need proof then that you made it over here. I know; let’s take your photo with those two cherubs so others might know of the day that One-Eyed Jutta crossed the Main River. Why she felt the need to grope its butt is a mystery.
By the way, as my mother-in-law tells it in her thick German pirate accent, “The river was churning dark and cold back during the winter of ’42 when my parrot attempted to pluck my eye from its socket. I pulled that still-connected eye from the beak of what would soon be a dead bird and shoved it back in my skull; I am a doctor, after all, but damned if I’d ever see from it again. That’s how I went blind in my left eye, and it’s the tale as I know it.”
Okay, that’s not what Jutta told me, nor is it how she lost sight in that eye, but so what? We were out here to laugh and have fun.
Buying Jutta an ice cream is a surefire way to have fun. I had a coffee and sparkling water as we just continued to sit in the sun. The day has turned out beautiful but I’m starting to melt. From freezing cold to hot from one day to the next. People watching was working out well with all the Frankfurters needing to leave their caves to soak up all of this vitamin D. After nearly four hours with my mother-in-law, it was time to take her back home and for me to head back to my side of town.
But first, I needed to get food out of the way. Going to dinner proved a bit difficult as I’d originally planned on dropping in on Sachsenhausen for an outdoor seating establishment serving good old traditional German fare, but nope, not tonight; they are all still closed. Back across the river, I was hungry enough not to be too choosy and looked in on a place called Naïv, which has lots of beer, Handkäse, and burgers. Well, at least they have “Hand Cheese”.
Pulling out my computer to write some of this down is super awkward as everyone else here is having beers and meeting with friends, while I’m the single solo visitor and the only one with a giant digital device open. Spoke too soon as another English speaker across from me just opened hers. Then, in a flash, my dinner is delivered, and so it turns out I have no time to write anyway. I’ll definitely feel better putting this thing away.
Returned to Saalburgstrasse early tonight as I’m exhausted. Didn’t sort much other than books, and I spotted Jutta’s driver’s license from 1957. She was only 22 years old in this image and ten years away from giving birth to her second daughter, my wife, Caroline. Jutta had already lived through ten years of war and 12 years of recovery and rebuilding following the conclusion of World War II. Her mom was bitter at her losses, including her cherished son, and marriage to someone she didn’t really love was on the horizon.
On one hand, the woman in the image above is just another random human being, but more importantly, she was becoming the person who would most influence my best friend. Even after ten visits to America and the over 30 years I’ve known Jutta, I can’t ever really know her from the formative years she struggled to try and make sense of a chaotic society that was forced into broad sweeping changes that would alter the culture of Germany and have the Germans looking deep within.
From her books, I found The Book of Mormon, gifted to her by a friend named Marianna back in 1988. An old book about San Francisco and a couple about various Native American tribes were buried in her collection. They all appear to pre-date her trips to America unless she bought yellowed old copies from a used book store at some time, but based on her other books, it looks like Jutta always bought new copies of what she was interested in. Stranger yet is an old “School Atlas” from 1927 with markings on the map of the United States. Notes on the edges of the map point to things about the Ozarks, tides, and islands, things a student might write as reminders from their lessons, but the markings that draw a line between Denver and Phoenix are the most curious.
I cannot believe that Jutta would mark up an heirloom that might have belonged to her father in order to remind herself of her last trip to America when she flew into Denver, and I picked her up for the drive to Phoenix. Maybe she did, but I like the mystery of believing that someone out of her past was foreshadowing a page out of Jutta’s future.
No longer able to keep my eyes open and brain reeling from exhaustion I was able to fall asleep at 10:30 and sleep all the way through to morning when I picked up again to finish this post.