Jutta Zeit

Caroline Wise and Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

So many days on vacation and so many experiences potentially lost to the fog of being busy all the time. But here I am to write these posts letting us account for each day covering the important moments. Maybe, like Jutta, we all suffer from a kind of dementia where the new information coming in takes precedence as we try to figure out how to deal with the new day. If yesterday was packed with things relatively mundane, why put importance on them and elevate them into long-term memory? But when we can return to even a fragment of the minutiae, it often happens that a flood of impressions arrives with the hint. We’ve seen with Jutta how an old photograph or piece of music aloft forgotten memories, how will this work when blogs with hundreds or thousands of photographs along with the text accompanying them can bring context and intense reminders to people?

Caroline Wise and Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

Our lunches with Jutta are never brief affairs, as we typically end up spending between two and three hours camping out at our table. This being Germany, nobody cares how long a customer occupies their place in the restaurant as it doesn’t affect a tip when everyone is earning an hourly wage that isn’t dependent on our largess. There are differences in service for sure, but one difference I don’t miss over here is the server absolutely ignoring you once you’ve settled your bill. So, we just sit in the sun, take our time, order more water, Coke, or coffee, and enjoy chatting. By the way, the talk rarely takes aim at the weather other than maybe the briefest of observations regarding the current moment. Sports and TV are also off the plate unless the ladies are talking about a documentary or something from the news. We do talk a lot about family, travel, and the people we are watching.

Caroline Wise and Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

After three hours on the first course, it’s time for ice cream, more coffee, and mineral water over at a corner Eis Cafe (ice cream parlor). I think we only spent about 90 minutes here before starting the slow walk back to the assisted living center. While Jutta has greater mobility with a walker, she’s still nearly as slow as any sloth or snail, moving nearly imperceptibly, requiring nearly 30 minutes to get her somewhere that it would take anyone else maybe 5 minutes to walk. Writing this feels like an exaggeration, but I’ve made the walk of 100 meters (300 feet) to the Main River and 260 meters (850 feet) to the restaurant we visit so many times that I have a pretty good sense of the average to get between places.

Frankfurt, Germany

And with that, it’s time to make the walk back to the facility, passing this bear we pass nearly every day we’re in Frankfurt.

Frankfurt, Germany

That giant teddy bear has a friend nearby who, weather allowing, is blowing bubbles non-stop.

Frankfurt, Germany

We are dropping off Jutta back in her room, where, in one relatively small room, she’s hanging on to the mementos that bring her joy. From the photobooks I put together of some of her travels to the map of Indigenous peoples across America, including the Navajo rug, she wove herself on one of her many visits. There’s some furniture she cherishes, along with various photos of Stephanie, Klaus, and Katharina, just enough to warm her heart that her family is out there, hopefully doing well.

Frankfurt, Germany

With the portable toilet that’s been ever-present on the right side of the street now gone, I just had to take one more photo of this sight. We walk by so often, and both love how the old-fashioned bridge connects the two sides of government offices that occupy this area.

Frankfurt, Germany

Time for shopping now instead of waiting until the last day as we usually do. The first stop was at Blutsgeschwister for a bag to replace our worn toiletry bag and a new umbrella, both with the same gnome design.

Frankfurt, Germany

Well, this is embarrassing. It’s December 2023, and I’m moving through a bunch of old posts, rechecking them for grammar mistakes and links that have died, when I discovered something wrong with this post. That part of what’s wrong is that from the bag above, there was some missing text, and all of the subsequent photos and text from here down. The photos had been uploaded, meaning that there was text here at one time, but inexplicably, it’s all missing. I searched for cached versions and checked Archive.org, all to no avail. I do know that we were in MyZeil near Hauptwache with Caroline searching for a perfume that was beguiling her as she smelled it on the streets as people walked by.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

I’d know these clothes anywhere; we could only have been shopping at Gudrun Sjödén.

Frankfurt, Germany

The guy who worked here at Red Wing Shoes was incredibly helpful in doing a thorough measuring of Caroline’s feet, both of them. Unfortunately, they didn’t have her size of the Iron Ranger boot in stock and couldn’t have it in before we were to leave Germany, but the service was amazing nonetheless.

Frankfurt, Germany

My memory is thin here, but the photo was likely chosen as I  had something positive to say about the festive nature of this busker ensemble that was getting their groove on here in the main shopping area.

Frankfurt, Germany

No photos of dinner, family, or anything else followed this billboard in the subway advertising cigarettes. While it’s tragic that we apparently lost about six hours of a day on vacation in Germany, in the scheme of things, it’s nothing as our documenting of over a thousand other travel days is a treasure trove of otherwise forgotten moments.

A Walk Around Frankfurt

John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

While Katharina and Caroline are spending a day together, I’m using the sun and nice weather to take a walk around Frankfurt. Be forewarned here that this blog entry is going to be a lengthy post due to the inclusion of 60 photographs taken along the path I walked. Even if I should go lightly on the text, you have a lot of scrolling ahead of you.

U-Bahn in Frankfurt, Germany

Before I got on the U-Bahn at Zeilweg, I studied the train map and was considering heading to an outlying town or even jumping on a train to Koblenz, but at the last second, I decided for this large circle around Frankfurt to see even more of the city I lived in for years and in some ways hardly knew. I exited at the Dornbusch stop and needed to head underground below the street in order to find my way to the part of the intersection that was going to be my starting point.

U-Bahn in Frankfurt, Germany

From Eschersheimer Landstrasse and Dornbusch, I turned to the west, and I was soon on Wilhelm-Epstein Strasse in the direction of Ginnheimer Landstrasse. I’ve not zoomed in far enough into the map to know yet where I’ll turn, but somewhere out there, I’ll continue my walk south until I cross the Main River before turning east and figuring things out once I make it that far. To the north, some heavy rain clouds loom, but I’m hoping they remain out there or dissipate over the course of the day. On with my walk…

Frankfurt, Germany

As I said, the weather is on my side so far. I’m not looking to photograph monuments or even unique views from various points around the city but only share some of its character as seen on a continuous trek, taking a wide berth around the city center.

Frankfurt, Germany

Mundane things like the sidewalk are shared as I often fail to capture these unique footpaths that are typically so very different than their American counterparts.

Frankfurt, Germany

Residential neighborhoods often change quickly and can have a very different character, even from one side of the street to the other.

Frankfurt, Germany

Frankfurt has integrated a judicious amount of green space into the layout of the city, making walking all the more pleasant. On my left and over the short wall nearly out of sight is the Bockenheimer Friedhof (Cemetery), where I’m turning south.

Frankfurt, Germany

There are so many pathways crisscrossing Frankfurt where, for a time you leave the big city of business and banking.

Kleingarten in Frankfurt, Germany

Skirting a cemetery on one side and small garden plots (the formal name is Kleingarten) seen across Frankfurt, I stop for a photo of a garden when a very friendly older man offers to open the gate for me to grab some better photos. I was surprised at the gesture and need to put that in the column of “Germany Improving For The Better!”

Graffiti in Frankfurt, Germany

Sure, there’s a lot of ugly graffiti scrawled across Frankfurt am Main (Frankfurt on the Main River), especially the scribbles and curses on apartment buildings, but there is also some beautiful work that is often allowed to stand a good long while before some knucklehead comes along and disrespects it. [I did some follow-up on this mural, and it turns out that Helga Wally, pictured above, was a deeply respected and trusted person in the Frankfurt street art scene. She passed away in 2019, and this is her memorial – Caroline]

Frankfurt, Germany

By this time I’ve been walking along some train tracks for a while now.

Frankfurt, Germany

There’s a certain fluidity of economic status sprinkled across this city, and while there are pockets of incredible wealth, there are also diamonds in places you’d never suspect. At first blush, the casual visitor might not recognize the diversity of architectural treasures in Frankfurt, ranging from the Fachwerk (Half-Timber) of Römerberg to the high-rises (nearly unique to Europe), it’s easy to be overwhelmed by the big picture. Getting out on foot or by bike, one can peer into the tiny corners of this city.

Frankfurt, Germany

This is the train stop for Frankfurt am Main West that I traveled to often when Caroline and I had an office nearby on Volta Strasse.

Frankfurt, Germany

Keeping Google Maps open on my phone is eating my battery, so I’m reluctant to do any serious route searching that would keep me in green areas; plus, I wanted my walk to represent some of the many facets of this city. So, on occasion, I’m walking along larger roads or on narrow sidewalks I’d prefer to avoid, but this is the only way to share a diversity of views I suppose.

Frankfurt, Germany

I can no longer remember the street name, or if this is the main road that connects to the A3 Autobahn as it’s been far too long since I drove these streets regularly, but if my memory isn’t betraying me, that’s exactly what this thoroughfare is doing.

Frankfurt, Germany

This area through Gallus just south of Messe is the work of a massive undertaking where Frankfurt reclaimed railyards in order to build an entirely new area of apartments, offices, and shops that stretched behind me and over to the highrise in front of me.

Lunch at Central Grill in Frankfurt, Germany

Around the West End of Gallus, I end up at the intersection of Hufnagelstrasse and Mainzer Landstrasse for lunch at another location of the Turkish restaurant Central Grill. I’ve ordered a Tantuni Teller based on a photo that looks like something I’ve never tried before. Chopped meat, tomato, parsley, and onions wrapped in something a bit thicker than a tortilla covered in a yogurt sauce with a side of spicy peppers and a couple of wedges of lemon, lecker (yummy).

Frankfurt, Germany

This is the old gate tower in Galluswarte that once helped control traffic in and out of the old walled city of Frankfurt. The gate tower in my head that directs writing has to multitask at times like this when I’m actually writing this paragraph on the morning of September 14, two days after I embarked on this walking tour. Earlier, on this day in the future, when this is being penned, I was writing of the events of September 11 as we were leaving Geisenheim. I’d finished it before arriving in Marburg, where I was going to spend the first part of the day, but that became a boondoggle you can read about two days from now and so I wrote a bit about that failed adventure before turning to this post which is far from done. But enough of this half-hearted lament, let’s return to the walk around Frankfurt.

Frankfurt, Germany

This stretch of road feels bleak. Maybe it’s from being below things, or maybe it’s the industrialesque environment near the rail lines that run nearby?

Frankfurt, Germany

On bicycles and scooters, you see a lot of people with Wolt and Lieferando boxes on their backs as they race around delivering food.

Frankfurt, Germany

There’s more to the story here than meets the eye. Yes, this is a blackberry, and yes, I ate it, but this wasn’t where I wanted to be. I took a path hoping there’d be a trail where I wanted it to be, but fate would have it that I found a dead end. It didn’t have to be, but I’m 58 years old, and crossing four rail lines and hopping a fence to reach the pedestrian side of a rail bridge didn’t seem like the brightest of ideas and telling others that in old age, we should be cultivating no small amount of wisdom seemed to fly in the face of my advice.

Graffiti in Frankfurt, Germany

So I turned around and took the proper trail down under a bridge and over to the other side where I could practice adulting.

ICE Train in Frankfurt, Germany

It’s strange how someone can live in a city for years and never have crawled over a fraction of the places that are available to touch upon. From all the years I lived in the area to our multiple visits here in the intervening years we’ve been calling Arizona home, I’ve never walked over the rail bridge on the west side of Frankfurt. By the way, back when I was in my 20s, I never gave a second thought to running over the tracks and flirting with death, though I was pretty conservative as to when exactly I’d make a run for it.

Frankfurt, Germany

This area near the main power plant for Frankfurt has undergone a dramatic transformation since we left the city in 1995 and has seen some high-scale upgrades along the river with million-dollar apartments the rule.

Frankfurt, Germany

Millionaire or pauper, everyone has access and the need to travel the same pathways through the city.

Frankfurt, Germany

It’s not every day you see a sailboat on the Main River.

Frankfurt, Germany

I had to skirt the bulwark of a university hospital that runs next to the river before turning south in Sachsenhausen.

Frankfurt, Germany

Another new find on my exploration of streets never walked before, there are more than a few consulates in this area, this one being Pakistan’s.

Frankfurt, Germany

Don’t want to forget the small things as I focus on the bigger ones.

Frankfurt, Germany

There’s a line drawn between high-rise apartments that are desired and those that must be avoided. All too often, these midrise addresses are relegated to affordable housing that, just as in all cities, draws in some unfortunate souls, often prone to aggression due to their limited intellectual capacities to see a future. Shit parenting is the same everywhere.

Frankfurt, Germany

Besides being a haven for an incredible number of bees, this bush-covered multi-story tower of dubious utility belongs to a Korean church; nothing else is known.

Chestnut Tree in Frankfurt, Germany

Try to find food growing wild in America, other than blueberries in Maine and some rare berry finds in California and Oregon; we’ve been hard-pressed in our efforts to sample free things across the United States. Here in Germany, outside of traveling by car, we are stumbling across berries, apples, apricots, and now chestnuts [Sorry, John, these are an ornamental variety. – Caroline].

Frankfurt, Germany

While I know that my entire walk will have come in just over 24 kilometers (roughly 15 miles), I don’t know where I was in that distance at this point. I’ve been on Mörfelder Landstrasse for a while now, that much I know.

Frankfurt, Germany

Two people, age unknown, are memorialized here after they died back on February 13 of this year. I can only imagine they were trying to cross this major thoroughfare and that someone traveling way too fast didn’t see them. A sad and tragic moment along my walk.

Frankfurt, Germany

Street trams are known by numbers such as this one numbered 18, as opposed to U-Bahns that run underground and above ground but have a “U” designation before their number.

Frankfurt, Germany

Visiting a friend? You’ll have to find their name on one of the buttons and press it to buzz them, and then they can unlock the door from their apartment and let you in. Most of these apartments that are less than six floors do not have elevators so tenants and visitors often get a good amount of stair climbing in per day. Add to those stairs that the train system also features platforms that require people to scale heights and climb down into the depths of subways so legs are always getting a good workout.

Frankfurt, Germany

While much of central Frankfurt north of the Main River was destroyed in World War II, I have the impression that a lot of Old Sachsenhausen remained intact. Maybe this is due to the area being permanently drunk, such as the man who’s drunk himself into such a pickled state that when he falls down, he simply bounces a while before settling into his stupor. Yep, I am suggesting this part of the city is that inebriated.

Frankfurt, Germany

If this is postwar architecture and I was wrong about Sachsenhausen, or this was all rebuilt, we’ll let Caroline weigh in on the matter. [Definitely not postwar, John – Caroline]

Frankfurt, Germany

Let me not forget that shopping is distributed throughout Frankfurt; even in residential areas, there are small shops here and there or, at a minimum, a small kiosk, which is a small convenience store.

Frankfurt, Germany

Spring, summer, and early fall streetside dining is often an option in Germany especially these days of the pandemic. There’s one downside of eating out in the fresh air: it’s not fresh as Germany hasn’t given up smoking in areas where people eat. It’s not uncommon for four people at the next table to light up just as your food is being delivered. Back when we lived here, people smoked everywhere except on trains, and even that wasn’t always observed.

Frankfurt, Germany

Of course, there’s no need for anyone else to walk 24 kilometers around a city as with so many options to get to where one wants to get, Germany is nothing if not convenient for options. From car-sharing, scooters, bike rentals, subways, trams, taxis, inter-city trains, and, of course, feet, it’s easy to travel these lands.

Frankfurt, Germany

Need a free book? Small libraries packed with donations from people in the neighborhood are hosted across the region. I’m not sure Germany’s Little Free Library is part of that system, but it’s effectively the same thing.

Frankfurt, Germany

On a Sunday morning, you’ll see a lot of evidence of the festivities held the night before. It’s quite common to see young people walking around with open bottles of alcohol, getting tipsy as they stride into the night. The next day, empty bottles and broken glasses litter the landscape.

Frankfurt, Germany

I’m losing steam as I reapproach the Main River. Caroline and Katharina are done visiting Jutta, and while Katharina needs to head back to Darmstadt, Caroline and I are going to meet for dinner.

Frankfurt, Germany

With Caroline coming from Römer and where I was on Schweizer Strasse, it made sense to meet in the middle.

That middle was on Eisener Steg over the Main River.

Frankfurt, Germany

Our dinner date was at Apfelwein-Wirtschaft Fichtekränzi in Sachsenhausen; not the first time we’ve eaten here.

Frankfurt, Germany

I’m tired but not willing to call it quits yet; I’m going to drive on with our path going by Eis Christina as I’m drawn in by the promise of my favorite spaghetti eis.

Frankfurt, Germany

Can you smell the reek of piss and beer? They call that Old Sachsenhausen.

Sunset over Frankfurt, Germany

Back over the Main River with a view we never tire of, sunset over Frankfurt.

Frankfurt, Germany

I’ve seen a lot of things on the street, but never a growling, unintelligible woman living in a cage. I thought I’d be stealthy and zip around the front of her after walking behind the sidewalk-blocking enclosure so I could snap a photo of the creature that lives within but she was having none of it. Armed with a sharpened stick, she gave me the finger and raised her weapon; I thought better of my naive move and retreated as I wasn’t in the mood to risk losing a testicle.

Frankfurt, Germany

No part of some stinking Democratic or Republican party, Flora Gessner is full-on part of the Pirate party and is running for office, taking no prisoners.

Frankfurt, Germany

Ooh, my lucky day as the yarn store is closed, but hey Caroline, at least you have this photo of what you couldn’t buy.

Spaghetti Eis in Frankfurt, Germany

Oh yeah, spaghetti eis a.k.a. vanilla ice cream pressed through a spaetzle doohickey onto a layer of whipped cream and topped with strawberry sauce and parmesan cheese, I mean white chocolate pieces. I can’t tell you why the appearance of spaghetti makes this better, but it does.

Frankfurt, Germany

Sure, there was a temptation by now to jump on this train and speed our way to Dornbusch, but with so little to go on my long walk around Frankfurt, I’m not about to quit now.

Capri Restaurant in Frankfurt, Germany

When I first arrived in Germany in 1985, the American Post Exchange, or PX, was just down the street from here. While the U.S. military presence is long gone, Capri Pizza soldiers on. Serving burgers, pizza, and more, it’s been here so long that the phone number on the sign reflects an age gone by as it’s listed as 59 95 95. Those days are gone, and from the recent reviews of Capri, they should be gone, too.

Frankfurt, Germany

Across the street from here is the Hauptfriedhof, or main cemetery. I’ve never visited it and won’t find the time to do so on this trip unless we scale the wall here late in the evening.

Frankfurt, Germany

Meet Onkel Otto wearing his mask to lend weight to the need for Germans in the Hessen area to wear theirs. Uncle Otto is the mascot or was the mascot for Hessischer Rundfunk (Hessen TV).

U-Bahn in Frankfurt, Germany

And here we are where I started earlier today, having made a full circle. With almost 32,000 steps, 24 kilometers (15 miles), and more than 6 hours of registered activity on my Fitbit, this was my view of Frankfurt.

Walk around Frankfurt

If you’d have asked me 30 years ago if this were possible, I would have thought absolutely not. In my perception of Frankfurt, it was as big as Los Angeles or any large city I’d been in, but the truth is that density, architecture, and street size deceive the naive mind. This opens up the crazy idea that the 34 days needed to walk from Flensburg in the north to the southernmost German town of Sonthofen could be a possibility.

Tante und Nichte

Brot und Freunde Bakery in Frankfurt, Germany

Part 1 of this entry will be published shortly, but for now: here we are on the other side of the same day. Everything began as usual with breakfast; though with Klaus and Stephanie out of town spending some days in Konstanz with a side trip to Zurich, we had to walk over to Brot & Freunde to fetch our morning meal. With this being my first visit to this nearby shop, I was astonished at the variety of Brötchen as in 19 choices not counting pretzel variations. This, from a small shop away from all major shopping areas, is a non-descript tiny place, and this doesn’t even take into account the more than a dozen sweet pastries on offer too! If that weren’t enough, they have an espresso machine to make us hot drinks too, which we need to take advantage of as we don’t know how to operate the coffee machine at home.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

While Caroline’s smile suggests a staged photo, she was editing my entry about the Popel eater (boogers) and was having a laugh at my description and, of course, the use of the word Popel, which is probably the first-ever use here on my blog. We are taking things slow this morning as we’re waiting for our niece (Nichte) to arrive around 11:30. This also turned out to be a good opportunity to do laundry as even we need to stop on occasion in service of the mundane.

Jutta Engelhardt of Frankfurt, Germany

Between things, Caroline spotted a photo album that she was curious about and grabbed it. It turned out to be old photos of Jutta and classmates from the late 1940s to the early 1950s. My mother-in-law, at age 14, can be seen in the top left photo, front row, far left. From that, you might be able to identify her in the other three images.

Jutta Engelhardt of Frankfurt, Germany

As is typical with people with dementia, Jutta was able to identify nearly everybody in these images, including first and last names, without thinking twice. As for me, days later, I have zero recollection of who she mentioned, but I suppose that’s not all that important.

Jutta Engelhardt of Frankfurt, Germany

Here’s Jutta at age 17 in 1952.

Jutta Engelhardt of Frankfurt, Germany

From the 60 or so photos in the album, these were the ones we felt were a good representation to set aside for digital posterity.

Caroline Wise and Katharina E. in Frankfurt, Germany

Almost perfectly punctual, Katharina arrives to find these two strangers in the place she grew up in. Our niece is living in Darmstadt, where she attends university. Katharina and I had some time together back in June, so I’m leaving the Tante und Nichte (aunt and niece) for a day with each other. You can follow what I did in the blog entry A Walk Around Frankfurt.

Venus Fly Trap in Frankfurt, Germany

Katharina took a quick look at the potted plants in the kitchen and living room and applied water where needed. She clearly inherited Klaus’ green thumbs. Caroline sent this photo of the Venus fly trap to Klaus to assure him that it had survived his absence. The girls watched a fly hovering around the plant and even landing on one of the traps in suspense, but the fly was able to escape, maybe because the plant was not in need of fresh nourishment.

Caroline Wise and Katharina E. in Frankfurt, Germany

Shortly thereafter, after looking up the local vegan lunch options, niece and aunt were on the way for their own fresh nourishment at Dominion Food Revolution on Gruneburgweg.

Frankfurt, Germany

Not realizing that the vegan shawarma with hummus would be such a gargantuan portion, Caroline was happy that Katharina’s burger was small enough to allow her to share the dish.

Katharina E. in Frankfurt, Germany

Both took photos of the dishes and enjoyed their conversation in the warm sun. Afterward, dessert was in order.

Frankfurt, Germany

Katharina picked a brownie and Caroline a Middle Eastern pudding with rosewater, coconut, and pistachio crumbles. Since Katharina still had some time before her return train to Darmstadt, they decided to swing by “Oma Jutta” at Lebenshaus for a short visit. Criminally, Caroline missed the opportunity for a selfie of all three, but since my middle name is “forgiveness” (among others), I won’t hold it against her for long. When it was time for Jutta to head over to the dining room for supper, Caroline walked over to Eiserner Steg to meet me and pursue our own dinner plans.

Familie und Freunde

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

After moving out of our wine barrel from last night, we ended up in a room at the main hotel that offered us this view of Drosselgasse. What is this place I refer to? Drosselgasse is a famous cobblestone-lined narrow street that slices through the old town, so if you find yourself chilling one day on the Rhein River and are wondering where to stay in Rüdesheim, you too might consider Hotel Lindenwirt. By the way, a very nice breakfast buffet is included with Champagne or wine.

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

Not certain I had enough images to give a great impression of Rüdesheim, we stepped out to grab a few more, but time was short as we had a train to catch back to Frankfurt at 1:00 p.m.

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

Not sure I’ve pointed this out before but it’s a convenience I’m in love with: menus posted outside restaurants that make it easy to see what is on offer. There’s always something embarrassing about entering an American restaurant, asking to see the menu, and then walking out as though they aren’t good enough just because you didn’t see something that resonated with you at that moment. It feels like we often compromise and figure it’s good enough rather than turn our backs on a friendly host or hostess. Maybe that’s what is intended?

Caroline Wise in Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

We ain’t leaving Germany without some cheesy gifts after staying in a town many Germans consider declasse and only fit for “Spiesser” or typical commoners below contempt. Well, we’ll own that title, as life isn’t all about snobbery without laughter. Tea towels with prints of German landmarks and mini bottles of Asbach Uralt (the local brandy wine) are coming with us.

Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

We needed to make quick work of the walk along the Rhein back to Geisenheim as every lost moment lingering in the scenery was minutes not spent with family.

Hindenburg Bridge in Rüdesheim am Rhein in Germany

But I’m a photographer and this old Hindenburg bridge ruin is not failing to enchant me every time we pass it. This will certainly be the last image of it until the day we return to the area. The stairs on both sides of the part of the bridge that is still intact lead to a steel gate topped with barbed wire; a drone would have come in handy here.

Hanns Engelhardt in Geisenheim, Germany

We’ll only have a brief two hours here with Hanns and Vevie, but taking advantage of the opportunity to spend time over the course of three days with them lent a deeper quality than dipping in for a few hours and being gone again for a year or two.

Vevie Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Geisenheim, Germany

And, of course, once more, a toast was raised to Our Lady of Geisenheim.

Geisenheim, Germany

How quickly two hours pass.

Hanns Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Geisenheim, Germany

Father Hanns walked us back to the train station and expressed a superabundance of appreciation for our visit, as did Vevie before we left their apartment. There’s a sadness in leaving, knowing that we won’t be visiting again before the next year at the earliest. If the people we spent time with were less enthusiastic, it would be easy to recapture our time and spend it selfishly on ourselves, but with how warmly we are greeted, we can only wish to spend time with everyone weekly if it were possible.

Römer in Frankfurt, Germany

An hour later, we are back in Frankfurt, about to spend a brief hour with Jutta. Chasing through the day, I get sloppy with remembering to take photos, and somehow, I bungled snapping an image of my mother-in-law with Caroline, but I didn’t forget to take yet another shot of Römer.

Frankfurt, Germany

On to our next date, this one in the Bahnhofsviertel.

Sylvia S. and Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Early in my previous stint of living in Germany, I met Olaf F. tonight; we are having dinner with him and his wife, Sylvia S. On previous visits, we caught Sylvia at inopportune times when we’d maybe have minutes with her, but that is not true this day. It turns out that Caroline and Sylvia have a load in common and hit it off, spending every second of the seven hours we’ll visit talking, talking, talking.

Olaf F. and Sylvia S. with family in Frankfurt, Germany

This is Olaf and Sylvia with their son and daughter, Johnny and Lucy, more than a dozen years ago. As I’d never seen it before, I asked to take a photo of it for our blog of scrapbook memories.

Olaf F. and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Olaf F. and John Wise on the way to dinner in Sachsenhausen with our wives, who are quite effectively ignoring us as they are lost in gab.

Homeless in Sachsenhausen Frankfurt, Germany

This was our designated meeting place for the other two old friends we were supposed to meet up with, but they were drunk and passed out on the street. We tried rousing them, but they were nearly dead to the world. So the four of us had to eat alone.

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

After dinner, the ladies wanted to walk back to Bahnhofsviertel while Olaf felt like the tram, so I accompanied Olaf and Sylvia and Caroline continued their conversation with a stroll along the Main River.

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

Well, this was quite the surprise as neither Caroline nor I have ever seen a floating Döner Imbiss, but here it is satisfying the late-night munchies of those out on a walk. America may have created a food truck phenomenon, but maybe it’ll be Europe that creates the food boat wave.

On the Main River at night in Frankfurt, Germany

It’s almost impossible to fully appreciate how safe it is to walk through this city late at night, considering the conditioning that comes with living in the United States that there’s always an element of danger lurking in the back of one’s mind. America has fostered the conditions where people walk with trepidation in our big cities as there seems to be a constant threat to safety with every step. Untreated mental health issues, drugs, easy access to weapons, and a mostly broken, half-functional safety net make for a perfect breeding ground for those on the margin to act in desperate ways, thus putting everyone’s peace of mind into the toilet.

Gott und Wählen

Can’t forget that we’re in a pandemic, though we are thousands of miles from home on vacation as occasionally the explosive numbers and widespread movement of a new variant in America take hold. While trying to avoid current events, people want to talk, and headlines pop up in the subways on animated billboards. So, we’re going home later this month to the breakout of the COVID variant called Mu. Germany will vote on a new chancellor a few days after we leave, and a note or two about Afghanistan made it to our eyes. Enough of that stuff; I only mention it because today I’m opening with this photo of us on the subway that has us in masks. In previous days, I’ve tried to keep masks out of the picture to offer a semblance of normal as it existed before the age of the Pandemic.

Yesterday, I visited St. Leonhard church and learned of the oldest building in the area, St. Justinus church in Frankfurt-Höchst. Ironically, we had just cycled past it the other day on our family bike tour, and I had no idea. As I brought this up with Caroline, she pointed out casually that this had been one of her many “Fun Facts of the Day” at work but hadn’t thought of it until I mentioned it. With some time available this morning, we took the train out to cross this important historical building off our list of places to visit.

Well, that was the plan. Little could we have guessed that a Catholic church would be closed Monday through Thursday due to the pandemic. Maybe we can come out to Höchst on a subsequent visit to see the Saint Justinus church that’s been standing here and in continuous use since 830, and I do mean the year and not 8:30. I posted a photo of the church from the river the other day during our bike ride and I can’t find a better view from where we are now so I snapped this image of Jesus on the Cross at the side of the church where two gentlemen informed us about the closure much to our disappointment.

Nothing left to do but make the best of a poor situation and return to the square where we had lunch the other day (under the blue umbrellas) and grab a bite to eat before going to see Jutta.

Our very German meal at Gasthaus Zum Schwan of pork variations with bratkartoffeln and cabbage was on order. Caroline opted to supplement the food with a hefeweizen.

Though we couldn’t commune with Gott (God) in his house here in Höchst, we could take some time to appreciate the old town.

There’s so much being said here with stickers that go beyond personal brands and veer into politics and social commentary, but with me falling behind in my blogging, I don’t really have time to decipher the sticker about Bolsanaro, Fuck Peter Booth, or FKTN which is not Fukutin a.k.a., a protein-coding gene.

While this distant suburb of Frankfurt has some quaint and historical qualities, there’s something provincial I sense here, making the place unappealing. I should blame this squarely on my own bias as there’s something about the inflection of the working-class Germans and their chain-smoking that gives them the appearance of blunt dullards on the verge of losing their humanity as they slide down the evolutionary ladder.

Caroline most certainly let out a loud groan reading this last sentence, but to ignore Germany’s class awareness is to simply stick one’s head in the sand, just as Germans are apt to do. I’ve written before about how Germans do not vacation in their own country unless they are skiing in the Alps or visiting Sylt up on the Wattenmeer. This, in my summation, is because, in those two locations, Germans will encounter other wealthy Germans, while in nearly all other locations they risk running into those fellow citizens that embarrass them.

Enough of picking at scabs; time to get on the train and return to the big city.

I walked with Caroline over to Lebenshaus, where Jutta lives; they have a nice clean toilet that’s free. From there, the plan was for me to catch up on writing.

As I headed away from the ladies, I ended up going to the coffee shop I knew they’d be visiting so I could surprise my mother-in-law.

And here they come.

We are at Einstein Kaffee on Römer, where mother and daughter are having a slice of Johannisbeeren cake and coffee while I try to focus on the writing. Once the cake was devoured and the last drop of coffee gone, the ladies headed back to Lebenshaus.

A little later, Klaus joined me for a short time, and when Caroline returned from Lebenshaus, they walked off to meet with Stephanie for a rice bowl dinner at a nearby favorite joint while stayed on to finish my writing for the day. A crowd had been developing in the center of the square outside Einstein; it was a political rally held by the Green Party.

People in the cafe were complaining about the size of the crowd and how last year’s Christmas market had been canceled due to expected crowding, and yet, for politics, the authorities are afraid to impose restrictions as they find that their own voices being heard face to face with the electorate is too important. Whatever serves power is allowed; whatever serves the individual is tertiary after power and money. I do not mean this ironically, as with Germany being in the driver’s seat of the Europan economic engine, they better keep the balance of governance in top form if the EU is to survive.

Too Weird

Caroline Wise on train to Cologne, Germany

Dropped Caroline off at the main train station at 6:00 this morning for her visit to Köln. That all went well, but after that, things got too weird. I’d like to share why she went into the area of Cologne (Köln), but it was a secret mission to collect “special” equipment and meet someone who shall remain anonymous. Hi Claudia 🙂

Woman with open stoma in Frankfurt, Germany

The photo should say it all but it wasn’t taken under the best conditions as I wasn’t of my mind (or stomach) as I first passed this person. Coming down the escalator the first thing that grabbed my attention was that a woman was sitting topless at a subway stop. That was nothing compared to what I saw next when she stuck her finger in her stoma and flicked what she cleaned out of it on the ground next to her. I had to look up what that technical name was, as I only knew that the abdominal exit thing was her forward-facing new butthole from a colostomy. My stomach turned hard as I grew instantly nauseous, and what the hell was up with the two old guys sitting a couple of seats away from her? That’s the price Germans pay for ignoring the world around them. Finding it rude to look upon people who are “out of sorts” they are in denial of BIG details like this, where a half-crazy person is flicking shit at their feet. I was approaching the valley of hurl and had to avert my eyes. As I boarded the train that had finally pulled in, I saw my opportunity to snap a photo or two, but my camera settings and the lighting weren’t perfectly coordinated, so this was the best I got before the door shut.

Breakfast at Eifler Bakery in Bornheim Mitte of Frankfurt, Germany

With that out of sight, I made my way over to Bornheim Mitte so I could have breakfast at the Eifler Bakery I had been frequenting regularly back in June. All was going well; my nausea had faded, and I got to writing about Klaus and my trip to the Celtic burial mounds at Bulau. Meanwhile, Caroline and I were chatting back and forth about her ride to Köln, her looking for the train bathroom, the train running late, her first sighting of the famous cathedral (Kölner Dom), and, of course, how much we love each other.

Man eating boogers in Frankfurt, Germany

Then it had to go and get weird. This guy sitting just on the other side of the glass a few feet from me started picking his nose, inspecting the catch, and gobbling it down. This wasn’t a one-off thing either, and for the next half-hour, I watched his technique carefully so I could best understand where he was failing at what should have been a stealthy action. Well, he wasn’t failing, as he wasn’t even trying to conceal his booger-picking/booger-eating Frühstück of Popel und Kaffee.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve witnessed such behavior in Germany, but it was the first time I was able to point my camera at a person and snap away as he was too deeply engrossed with finding those annoying nostril obstructions to pay attention to me. So I looked things up online to find out how socially acceptable this is here in Germany, and it seems as though it’s not. The first search result was for Joachim Löw, who’s taken the German national team to win the FIFA World Cup and himself to shame for not only eating his Popel (boogers) on national TV but also sticking his hand in his armpits, under his balls, and into his butt crack before sniffing his fingers. As far as I can tell, these behaviors are not normal for Germany, though I also learned that Dutchmen seem to pick their boogers in public more than any others, though they take pleasure in rolling and flicking them.

Now, I’m afraid to venture out into the city as I have no idea what I’ll see next, but after four hours here at an extended breakfast, it’s time to get going.

Bike horn in Frankfurt, Germany

To any of those people who might have read about my previous visit to Germany back in May and June, just because I’m posting this bike horn doesn’t mean I’ll be diving back into the diversity of bike bells as I did on that particular day in June.

Graffiti and call to action poster in Frankfurt, Germany

It’s voting season in Germany which also means it will be demonstration time too. You need not read German to hopefully be able to see #fridaysforfuture is the theme of this “Climate Strike.”

Jutta Engelhardt and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Let’s say you have an extra four hours where you’re hanging out in Frankfurt with nothing better to do as your significant other is somewhere else, doing god knows what, and you were too lazy to jump on another train to a place like Stuttgart or wherever (actually I was too busy trying to catch up on some writing) so you find yourself at a loss of what to do. Oh, I know, I’ll go and see Jutta because my mother-in-law can be entertaining in funny ways, plus I know she likes spending time with family.

Frankfurt, Germany

Because I showed up without Caroline, Jutta assumed Caroline wasn’t in Germany with me and that maybe it was June all over again. When I told her that Caroline would be visiting tomorrow, she asked if her daughter was on the plane already. Nope, she’s in Köln. Jutta followed with, “What’s she doing there?” Visiting a friend but not Claudia, who probably doesn’t live in or near Köln. Maybe 20 minutes later, Jutta asked where Caroline was and was surprised to hear that she was in Köln and not in Arizona. Can you figure out for yourself how the remaining three hours played out?

All of that is of no serious matter except to remind Caroline and me that one or both of us may be facing a similar future and that, like Jutta, we need to laugh at the silliness of the situation and accept that, “It is what it is.”

Jutta Engelhardt in Frankfurt, Germany

After more than two hours for lunch at Schwarzer Stern, we ambled along at old-lady-with-walker speed to the nearby ice cream shop. Jutta asked for something with fruit, so I got her the €9.50 Deluxe Fruit Boat (about $12). When they delivered it, she was certain she couldn’t finish even half of this giant of the ice cream world. Well, this champ at eating sweets left barely a morsel when they came to take the dish away. Okay, maybe it was a tenth of what was there, but I swear that my mother-in-law can enjoy a good dessert with the best of them.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

After walking Jutta back to Lebenshaus, I took a look at the church next door. St. Leonhard Catholic Church had been closed for nearly nine years before finally reopening recently. The renovation was a major undertaking and surely, attending a guided tour and paying a visit to the nearby Historical Museum would help to put the full picture of the effort together.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

As I entered the church, there was a lady up at the organ practicing, which I chose to appreciate as a free concert. She added the appropriate ambiance to my visit to yet another beautiful little church.

St. Leonhard Catholic Church in Frankfurt, Germany

A man named Karan was watching over the church and offered up some details about the renovation. He noted that St. Leonhard is the second oldest surviving building in the Frankfurt area; the other is St. Justinus over in Höchst, where we were yesterday.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

Walking through Frankfurt is like weaving across time. I see so many iterations of myself, Caroline, situations, fashion, and variations of themes I’ve experienced before during my life. I don’t see this in New York City, Los Angeles, certainly not Phoenix, and yet this is a composite of those and a hundred other places I’ve been. From singing beggars, thugs, sexy and conservative women, boring business people, addicts, homeless people, foreigners, young people trying to fit in with peers, kids with balloons, all with faces from around the world and ages from all years.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

With this comes a certain melancholy as I witness so many eras of my own life replaying here in each successive moment. Maybe it’s the density of people combined with the fluid integration of all economic corners in constant movement. Old meets new, and from no-tech to hi-tech, a generation glides by on electric scooters; some walk, others ride bikes, weaving between the heavy pedestrian traffic, too many smokers, and an endless parade of those who glean trashcan after trashcan just minutes after the last person on the hunt for anything refundable. Between those gleaners are the pigeons picking up every morsel of dropped crumb and fry they can run to and snatch before one of their flying rat brethren beats them to it.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

The music comes and goes as one street musician gives way to another. Busking and bottle collecting might be the most legitimate forms of begging here in Frankfurt. Guys, and I do mean mostly guys, have boxes strapped to their backs and scooters under their feet as they speed by to deliver some food or other across town. The woman who was offering prayer songs had given way to an accordion player who was too much competition, or she had made as much money as she was looking for. I suppose if I spoke better German, I’d get into trouble by asking people about their activities, such as I did when I ran into a member of MS-13 earlier.

How did I know his gang affiliation? The facial tattoos were the first indication. I spent a moment studying his face as we walked along near Römer, making eye contact he gave a look acknowledging his awareness of me staring at him so I said hello. It was enough of an opening that I was able to learn of his Mexican and Moroccan heritage while we walked along, talking in the bit of German I could muster. It took me a minute to gather enough details out of the intricate tattoos before my eyes fell on the area below his bottom lip tucked between his heavy black beard that said, “Stay Away.” Oops, I apologized for not staying away; he laughed and said, “Kein Problem” before we parted directions. Yes, I absolutely wanted to ask for a photo but felt it inappropriate. I regret my timidity in this situation.

Stumbling Stones on Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

The old-school punkers who’ve set up camp nearby, while kind of silly looking, archaic even, would probably not disagree with their photos being taken, but if history is a good indicator, they will want a nice donation to the beer fund, and they are not so original to warrant even a Euro. The beggars that walk up and present their card in German, offering some plea for money, are the worst as they tilt their heads in some sympathetic nod while muttering “Bitte,” an act I’ve grown tired of.

It’s belly season in Frankfurt with many young ladies showing midriff; more than a few are sporting solid six-packs, to my surprise. Guys looking for those girls are just as likely to have the most incredibly chiseled beards and sharpened hairlines that must certainly slice through the bullshit of flirting and just draw each other in.

On Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

In America, I feel like I’m on the cultural sushi belt of all-you-can-eat banality being performed on a 30-second loop, trying to induce nausea by repetition. Maybe it is all the same here, but my eyes have difficulties finding it, and my ears cannot pick up on it either; that’s a luxury of my limited German for sure. I have to wonder how long it would take, sitting here watching people on Zeil before it grew old, and I’d run low on inspiration and finding entertainment in the play of life. Just then, the two guys who’d been sitting across from me, eyeballing the girls from Wiesbaden on my right, made their move and approached them. I’m probably smiling too much as the guy who mustered the courage strikes up a conversation. And then it turned a bit creepy when, after trying to exchange info, he enquired where they had parked their vehicle, and it started to feel like a stalking situation. With no interest being offered, the guys moved on, or so I hope.

Central Grill in Bahnhofsviertal Frankfurt, Germany

Here I am back in Bahnhofsviertel, feeling leary as usual as I’ve seen crazy in this area, and while much has been gentrified, there is still that element of tension. I’m at the Central Grill for some solid Turkish food. I know it’s solid, as this isn’t the first time I’ve eaten here. The last time I visited, I wanted lamb, but they were out; tonight, I feast on an order and a half of lamb chops.

While I wait on my dinner, I’ll add this to my blog: my history here near Kaiserstrasse dates back to 1985 when, three days after landing in Frankfurt (courtesy of the US Army), I was introduced to the red light district that was thriving here back then. Since then, only fragments of relics really continue to hold on. How they’ve maintained their spaces during COVID-19 is a mystery, as I can’t imagine hooking is a legit gig during a pandemic. Back in the day, the open use of heroin was just a thing that was going on while pimps patrolled certain areas as women in their control worked illegally on the streets. Legalized prostitution was limited to houses licensed to offer such services. The last time I held my breath and entered one of these old decaying buildings, the charm as it was, was long gone and replaced by trepidation. I never had felt things were all that sketchy, although I had watched all manner of things unfold, and here I am today, possibly feeling vulnerable due to my age but all the same, I’m still drawn into the underbelly.

Bahnhofsviertal Frankfurt, Germany

Then, when I’m exposing my inner-sissy, I watch a couple of older people walking by two young women are out for a stroll, another old guy on his e-bike rides down the street, and here’s this overweight aging American conditioned to suspect anything that looks different to be potentially hostile. This realization eats at my ass as this idiotic fear has been planted long ago, and every time I’ve confronted it when as a young teen walking thru Skid Row in Los Angeles, visiting squatters’ flats here in Germany, looking for the goods in various red-light districts across Europe, or buying drugs from some shady characters, and even striking up the conversation with a member of MS-13 just today, I find that my anxiety wanes as soon as I confront this BS.

Here at 8:00 p.m., Caroline just reached out that she’s on her first connection that will bring her from the area where Claudia lives to Cologne for the transfer to a high-speed train that will zip her back to Frankfurt and into my hugging arms. In the meantime, I sip my Turkish tea, work on finishing the bottle of mineral water, and fret that I only have 71 minutes left on the battery for this notebook. I suppose that as I finish this and settle my bill, I can go people-watching at the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and hope that I don’t encounter stoma lady again.

It’s only 90 minutes before Caroline arrives, but then again, it’s 90 minutes.

Today was our 7th day in Germany, and it feels like it was nearly a month ago that we left Phoenix. Watch how I change my tune when, in two weeks, we are about to board our flight back to the US, and I lament how it all went by too fast and that we barely had enough time to do much of anything. Maybe our next trip we’ll finally take in Paris or Amsterdam, which for some reason seem to hold a lot of weight in measuring if we went far enough and saw all there was to see. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel cheated as our time spent anywhere is usually deeply immersive, and this certainly qualifies for that, but the more we pack into our limited schedule seems to burst the experience quotient.

Have you noticed that on a day without my wife by my side, I’m a verbose guy with nothing better to do than write? Yeah, I’m noticing it too, but you’ve got to appreciate that when we’re together, I’d rather spend time with her than with my computer. Time to call a server over so I could pay the bill and use their toilet, which is not a toilet at a train station.

Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

Seriously? The next bit will be hard to believe as I was just worrying about such a thing at dinner. I headed down Munchenerstrasse towards the main train station, and as I started to round the corner, a group of 7 or 8 men was crowding the sidewalk as I tried sliding between them and a woman with a stroller, one of the guys with his back to me stuck his leg out behind him, catching my left foot and as soon as he did he and a couple of others turned around and joined their buddies leaning against the wall. I’d imagine that had I gone down, there would have been three or four guys helping the old guy who just fell down back to his feet. Only then, I’d be minus a thing or two, such as the computer bag over my shoulder or the camera I had wrapped around my wrist and gripped tightly.

This pumped my adrenalin hard as I’ve seen this very thing happen years ago, but the guy that had been brought down was pummeled to disorient him. Situated in a sketchy part of the train station, it could easily have been deduced that the victim must have been drunk or on drugs and was simply suffering from his own stupidity. Such is the danger of walking alone on a street I knew I should have left but didn’t want to be paranoid about.

Now, in the train station, sitting at track #20 waiting for Caroline, I have to contend with the occasional beggar asking for “Kleingeld” or loose change. My answer is always the same, “Ich hab keins” (I have none). With a notebook in my lap, my phone/hot spot in my pocket, and a DSLR on my side, I always wonder when someone might run by and grab something. This, too, happened when I was 16 or 17, leaving a concert in Los Angeles as someone tried grabbing my SLR (back when film was still the thing), but then, like now, my camera strap was wrapped a couple of times around my wrist, and the lens gripped tight. The guy didn’t get my camera, but I went down and damaged the lens.

Thinking about these moments, I remember when my 1969 Chevy Nova was broken into at Huntington Beach in California and all of my cassettes stolen or the time in Amsterdam after visiting the Van Gogh Museum when I got back to the car and found I couldn’t open my trunk. It had been forcefully opened, and the key no longer worked. Feeling nauseous about why this would be, I stuck an arm into the trunk through a hole where a speaker used to be before I had torn it out, and my searching hand found nothing. That nothing included a very expensive (for the time) Sony Hi-8 pro video camera. The idiot who stole it probably got $50 to $100 for it so they could score some heroin, and the buyer picked up a useless NTSC camera that wouldn’t have worked on any European television as they used a system referred to as PAL that was incompatible with the American system.

Damn it, I’m tired of these panhandlers and need to put the writing to the side and go walking around in the busier areas.

Caroline Wise at the Hauptbahnhof in Frankfurt, Germany

And here she is, finally, and on time: Caroline, returning from a lovely day with her friend. The colorful bag is a caddy for craft items hand-sewn by Claudia. The backpack contains a travel spinning wheel that only weighs 3.5kg and should fit in an airplane overhead compartment. Overjoyed, we hugged and made our way to the U-Bahn. I would like to say that the rest of the night passed uneventfully, but the weirdness returned once more. On our last leg out to Heddernheim, a young man tried to pass by a couple of old guys who were hogging the space in the middle of the train. He asked one of them politely to make space, and the old man, for no apparent reason, went ballistic, shouting insults and ranting about Auslanders (foreigners). Just as I considered the necessity of getting involved, a tall younger man slowly moved between the angry old man and the young guy who was defending himself verbally yet dignified. Eventually, the old guys left the train, and the tension was released. The day, in some ways, was “Too weird.”

Another Day Another Bike Ride

Because 40 miles yesterday wasn’t enough, we are out on bikes again today for a quick 25-mile trek from Frankfurt to Höchst. Okay, that’s not exactly the truth. It’s more like Klaus, and I had so much fun, and the girls had so much ice cream we felt we needed to take them out for some exercise to work some of those calories off. Oh wait, that’s not the truth of it either; we really wanted to share the e-bike experience with Caroline and Stephanie and let them see the city of Frankfurt in a way that is different from any other exploration any of us have done prior.

We picked up the extra e-bikes near Lokalbahnhof in the south of Frankfurt and not far from the Main River. The place is called Frankfurt Bike Tours should anyone else be interested or I need to remember in the future.

I already know I have a fat head, but when taking selfies where I’m on the far edge of the camera, I feel like my head grows twice as large. No lens correction can repair this illusion unless the truth is that my head really is this inflated watermelon of a thing. From left to right, Stephanie, Caroline, Klaus, and Mr. Melonhead.

You’ll never see a fraction of the city you live in if you don’t get out of the subway or out of your car. Seeing things by foot, scooter, or bicycle opens up a few of the world you might not have been aware of. Crossing a small side canal of the Main River on a footbridge, we spotted this overgrown old houseboat.

Our ride is taking us west of Frankfurt, though our destination is essentially a part of the city. For the better part of our trail, we are never very far from the Main River on yet another beautiful late summer day.

Good thing I’m wearing a helmet as I turn my attention away from riding and focus on taking photos cruising along at about 20 kilometers an hour or 13 mph.

Frankfurt is nothing if not a city of a lot of graffiti street art…

…and good advice.

Like the Valkyries, we ride and ride.

You are now looking at Höchst, which is effectively our destination, except we do have a little further away from Frankfurt to travel, and before we continue with that we’ll head into town for lunch, but first…

…we have to cross the Main River on a tiny ferry that only takes pedestrians and bicyclists across the way. Back in June of 2018, we made a similar crossing, except on that visit, we came into town via the train and crossed from the other side.

With nearly 12 miles of the ride finished and after dozens of stops, it’s nearly four hours after we left home in Heddernheim and more than that since breakfast: we are ready for this lazy stop in the old town square.

We are taking a detour from our route as a sign directs us to the Schwanheimer Dünen (dunes), but before we arrive at the beginning of the trail, I spot a bunch of fruit on the ground from a nearly empty tree. While no one else was interested, I had to turn around to investigate. Caroline joined me and was able to identify the ripe fruit as Mirabellen, which is a sweet and slightly tart type of plum. The few fruits in the tree were far too high to pick, so I had to find the best specimens I could on the ground that hadn’t been stepped on or ridden on and dust them off. We bit into them, and I swear they were the best I’d ever had. The hunt was on to identify more relatively undamaged Mirabellen and eat my fill before we continued into the dunes.

A boardwalk led us in and over the dunes area that was formed during the last ice age about 10,000 years ago.

A portable sheep enclosure fence was set up with maybe 70 animals happily grazing on the variety of grasses that commanded their full attention.

Part of our ride today follows the steps of the “Spaetlesereiter.” Back in the 1700s, a courier from the abbey in Fulda would carry the bishop’s permission to start the harvest on horseback to the abbey’s Johannisberg wine estate near Geisenheim in Rheingau. In 1775, the rider was delayed for two weeks, and the grapes had started to rot. They were harvested and processed anyway, and the resulting wine was surprisingly good and sweet – the “Spaetlese” or “late harvest wine” was born. The 230km-long Hessian cycle route R3 loosely tracks the rider’s path from the Fulda area to Rheingau, and we’re on it for just a few of them.

We are in the forest of named paths, and this one is Agendawaldschneise after the Agenda 21 initiative from the United Nations aimed at “combating deforestation, protecting fragile environments, and conservation of biological diversity.” The forest here was planted in accordance with Agenda 21 and is therefore also named Agendawald or “Agenda Forest.” An old friend of ours in the US thought Agenda 21 was something evil, well, I’m finding these forest paths and preservation of open lands simply charming.

This is not the Germany of old; people didn’t stop and talk with strangers, but that’s what’s happening today. The fluffy white Great Pyrenees caught the girls’ attention, and the owner was happy to tell them about the breed’s history and temperament.

Remember that reference to the Valkyries earlier? Well, we’re still playing that.

We ride and we ride into the green and into infinity or maybe just to the end of the trail.

Does it look like Caroline just worked incredibly hard at getting to this part of the ride? Well, it turns out that her e-bike computer malfunctioned and that she only had sporadic electric assistance, as in about 5 minutes in total so she had to put some serious effort into her pedaling while the rest of us just cruised along.

We dropped off the bikes, got a small refund for Caroline’s broken bike, and started walking towards a specialty ice cream shop in the Sachsenhausen area. Not that I know what marijuana looks like, but what the heck is the devil’s weed doing growing here streetside in Germany? Isn’t this still illegal? Now, if this were hash, well, I probably have more than a little experience with that.

A gaggle of paddle boarders on a sunset float on the Main River reminds me of, well, nothing as I’ve never seen this before here in Frankfurt, and at the time of this writing, I have nothing to compare it to.

Sculling on the calm waters of Frankfurt’s riverway is a popular repast, at least during seasonably appropriate weather. Caroline has voiced her interest in giving this a go someday, but it’s not going to happen this trip as though we can afford a good deal of spontaneity such as this day, we have a fairly heavy schedule for the next couple of weeks, or so I think.

What a conundrum this is, as I can’t be certain there’s ever really a sustainable and cruelty-free way to bring animals to our tables. It’s troublesome as I’m well aware of the violence committed on my behalf, so I can eat various types of meat at my convenience, and if I think about it too long, I’d be forced to reconsider my willful ignoring of animals’ grotesque suffering. If you can read the URL at the top of this photo and you haven’t seen the worst of animal harvesting practices, you might want to watch it, but be forewarned, it’s harsh.

The geese that call these riverbanks home are some seriously chill birds as I’ve never seen one of them charge a person, ever. The downside of so many geese is the voluminous amounts of squishy green finger-sized poops that dot the path and stairs along the way.

And so, this was another day, another bike ride as we celebrated the 6th day of a vacation that was shaping up as perfect.