In the campaign to persuade Germans to wear masks, there is an ad campaign that asks questions such as the one above, “Do you want to visit foreign countries again?” And the answer is, “Then you must wear a mask.” Another does the same regarding going out to clubs where DJ Ata asks you to wear your mask and get COVID under control. In the last weeks, as Germany gradually opens up, there are benefits that come with constant testing or being vaccinated because people can shop in stores in which they are otherwise not allowed, and they get to sit down outside at restaurants. Once infection numbers go down, more of those restrictions will go away, but the government has them now in place to help manage behaviors. This is important as Germans have a much more limited supply of vaccines compared to America, so vaccinations are moving a bit slow. Should Germany get to a point where there are people who want to avoid the vaccine due to some kooky conspiracy theater, all they need do is lower the acceptable number of new infections and restrict people from entering anything other than the grocery store without negative test results or vaccine. From what I’ve heard, no one really likes the swab up the nose.
Seventy pounds is what my eyes measure of Spargel (white asparagus), and it’s in this photo as it’s my second Wednesday in Germany and over where my mother-in-law used to live; it’s one of the two weekly, open-air markets on Bergerstrasse.
As I’m here measuring things, I feel it’s time for an update regarding my personal statistics. Over the previous eight days, I’ve walked 74 miles, climbed 168 floors, and written 23,000 words about my time in Frankfurt as well as my visits to Wiesbaden, Marburg, and Gelnhausen. The regimen I’ve set for myself has become a little taxing with trying to have an adequate number of photos that I feel best represent the activities of my waking wandering hours. This, combined with my desire to not fall behind in writing about these impressions, which are now averaging nearly 3,000 words a day, makes for some sacrificing of adequate sleep. While I don’t want to fall down from exhaustion, I also want to use my time to the best of my ability so this opportunity is fully recognized.
It took Jutta and me a good while to finally leave her room because I was sharing some of the photos of my time in Germany so far. There’s a lot of reminiscing that goes on as my mother-in-law loves basking in her fondest memories and taking special note of how surprised she’s been that she and I should get along so amazingly well. More than once, she’s conveyed the nervousness she had when we used to embark on our mother-in-law/son-in-law road trips that saw us exploring some corner of the western U.S. without her daughter. Today I smiled with her that this was exactly what we’re doing again today, only this time on a smaller scale. Just around the corner from Römer and across the street from the Main River is where Jutta lives now, so the walk to our destination is not a long one.
We are going for lunch at Zum Standesämtchen for some traditional Frankfurt food. With a table in the shade, Jutta comments on how long it’s been since she last ate here. She and I both forgot that her reading glasses were in my bag, so I ended up reading the menu to her. I didn’t get far as I started with the special, and by the time I got to the fourth item, she had her heart set on ordering the white asparagus (Spargel) with boiled ham and boiled salted potatoes, but it was the asparagus that is the star of this entree. Seeing how I’m stuck in the creature of habit mode right now, it was back to Schnitzel with grüne Sosse. Our meal would not have been complete without a starter of Handkäse mit Musik (hand cheese service with a relish made from onion, cumin seed, oil, and vinegar). And then there was the matter of my mother-in-law and her love affair with a cold Coke; she had two with her sumptuous meal, almost a full liter’s worth, which, as it went in, would have to get out.
In this photo above, I can see Jutta across all the years I’ve known her. Even here in her 86th year, I can sense the little girl yearning to have fun behind those eyes. How do I offer her enough hugs and my time to let her know how much she means to me?
There was no chance I was going to let Jutta try navigating a steep spiral staircase to the basement at Zum Standesämtchen to use the facility, I’m here to spend fun time with her, not recovery time from a broken anything. So I needed to find a nearby facility that could accommodate her; I was in luck with a coffee shop just across the way.
While not a scorching day like in Phoenix, Arizona, it’s still a hot and humid afternoon here. I asked Jutta to push her walker over to this old drinking fountain so she could splash some cold water on her arms and face. As I expected, she daintily splashed water on her arms and almost managed to get eight or nine drops on her face. I remedied this with a good handful splashed on her face and another handful down the back of her shirt. Was this mean? Not if you judged by her laughter.
Back across the square, it was time for dessert and coffee, and just in time to join us was Jutta’s granddaughter Katharina (not to be confused with Caroline). I point this out as Jutta often calls Katharina by her aunt’s name (and vice versa). The three of us all found our favorite treat and chatted for an hour before walking Jutta back to Lebenshaus, her assisted living facility. From there, Katharina and I headed over to the river for a walk along its banks.
Can there ever be enough musicians playing for the public? I don’t believe so, as I think we are lucky to have so many people dispersed across a city practicing their craft while maybe also collecting a few Euros for doing so. When I first encountered buskers (street musicians), I thought it was a form of begging, and maybe sometimes it is, but I now tend to believe that it’s simply musicians wanting a good reason to keep their craft alive and well. The box or plate for offering donations is simply there because there are those of us who want to share our appreciation for the serenade.
Along this walk next to the Main, Katharina and I talked of Jutta, Caroline, horses, photography, and life at university. We also had to stop from time to time for her to play Pokemon; I suppose this is the situation with many people her age nowadays.
My treasures were found in real life among the shadows, spots of diffused sunlight, the sound of birds, and light shimmering off the surface of the river. Then there’s one of my all-time favorite sounds, the ring of bicycle bells. New to the soundtrack of Frankfurt are the scooters, but what is missing is the sound that accompanies throngs of tourists who are using taxis, shooting photos, and tour guides trying to corral their charges. But I wasn’t here to indulge my senses for these aesthetic charms; I was out here to share a moment with my niece.
Our walk east terminated at an Indian restaurant where we could sit down and have something cold to drink. It wasn’t long before Katharina would have to head to a train stop for her hour-long trip back to Darmstadt, where she was studying. Lokalbahnhof was the nearest station, about a kilometer or so away. Ten minutes after we arrived, she was gone, and I returned to walking along the Main.
Here I am, moving into the golden hour at nearly 8:00 p.m. While this building isn’t all that interesting, it takes on a much more impressive appearance as its red bricks glow against a deep blue sky, sporting clouds that begin to look like the wings of this tower.
You’ve probably noticed by now that I enjoy using the sun and its reflection to push the exposure time to levels that allow the image I capture to begin moving into silhouette territory or emphasize the golden quality of sunlight as I underexpose a photo for dramatic effect, such as in the next image. The building on the right is the European Central Bank.
I’m becoming addicted to the energy that is Frankfurt. With COVID quickly losing its grip on the city and the weather turning nice, people are outside celebrating life. There is no aggression or underlying tension. The passion for enjoying the day is vibrant while the pandemic is temporarily pushed aside.
On my walk home I passed a dozen people dancing at Römer while Colombian music blared to their enthusiastic flair with dresses flying. This was all in the cause of bringing awareness to rising violence in Colombia. I can’t say I know of the issue, but it was great to see their passion pulling people in.
From the river to Zeil over to Konstablerwache and then Bornheim Mitte, as the sun set over Frankfurt and it edged closer to 10:00 p.m., there were still thousands of people on the streets drinking, eating pizza, meeting with friends, and this was all happening on a Wednesday night. Sometimes, I just love Frankfurt.