It’s 11:00 pm when we wake; well, it is in Arizona; here in Frankfurt, it’s 7:00 am, and I feel like I could have slept another couple of hours. More important than sleep is my need to get outside and see the city. Not far from the front door of my sister-in-law Stephanie’s house is the train stop that will bring us to Hauptwache, one of the main train stops when traveling through Frankfurt. Stephanie brings us to a small food cart, informing us that this lady makes some great sandwiches. It is a good sandwich, maybe even as great as we were told, but is it a special way they cook their eggs? I don’t think so; it must be the bread, jaw-strengthening German bread, the kind that leaves little time to talk because concentration and a big effort must be paid to the satisfying chew.
Steph goes to her connecting train. We need to re-explore the underground area of Hauptwache to see what’s changed before popping up at ground level next to Katharinenkirche – St. Catherine Church. It’s cold up here; funny enough, a sign reads 4c (39f) here on 4/4 – my birthday. The familiar smell of the underground train system is replaced with the smell of bakeries. Most everything looks about the same. Some businesses that were landmarks to us 18 years ago are now gone; in some cases, nothing has replaced them.
Not far from the Römer, we approach the Main River (pronounced “Mine”). We won’t cross it yet this morning, as we are trying to pay attention to the time, so we turn around and head back to Zeil. The shopping area stretches from the Alte Opera through Hauptwache, on the side streets paralleling Zeil, over to Konstablerwache – our present destination.
Along the way, we are distracted by an encounter that was bound to happen sooner or later – Caroline spots a yarn store. This being a special day, I must indulge her, and so we enter, not to leave the way we came. Armed with new project material, we can now finish our walk to Konstablerwache. We were supposed to get on the train here, but as it’s Thursday, there’s an open-air market taking place. Not able to resist, we peruse the offerings. Something has changed in Germany; the choices on offer are well beyond what our memories remind us of what one could buy at these markets. Internationalism and the demands of a growing consumer market have obviously had their effect on staid old Deutschland.
Into the underground, we are looking to board the U5 train. We do not want the U5 going south, we are looking for the direction of Preungesheim. With my day pass and Caroline borrowing her mom’s yearly train pass, we are quickly on the train, listening to the still familiar female voice that informs us that the next stop is Musterschule, which means the stop after that will be our old neighborhood – Glauburgstrasse. The distance between stops feels shorter these days; the expanse we once knew has been replaced by familiarity with distances as defined by the American West, where things are truly on a grand scale.
We walk around our old stomping grounds with a strange feeling, not a deja vu kind of moment, but more of a kind of surreal, “Are we really here?” Things are slightly different here on the corner of Glauburgstrasse and Eckenheimer Landstrasse. The old corner building housing a chicken and egg shop with a veggie stand as its main shop fronts has been replaced by a new building that now has a bank on the corner. A bakery we shopped at frequently is gone, but we know exactly where we are.
At Gluckstrasse, we turn right, the apartment building we lived in (#8) is the only building that retains its original color. We go to the front door to see if there are any familiar names – none. I push the door; it’s open, so we go inside and check if our old key still works. Just kidding, but I do get a photo of Caroline in front of the door. As we go back downstairs, Caroline sees that the basement door is open, so we have to check that out, too. Besides the nostalgia, we see little else of interest.
Time to continue on our route towards Preungesheim to see my mother-in-law Jutta, who was just up the road one more stop at Bürger Hospital. At the front desk, we are directed to the 6th floor, N wing, room 614. Jutta’s smile was waiting for us, jumping out of the door before a word of hello could be shared. Next, her eyes told us just how big the hello would be as she was able to exclaim an enthusiastic greeting of how thrilled she was that we were here. With Jutta’s roommate still sleeping, we did our best to speak quietly, but the moment carried us away, and our voices soon filled the quiet with happiness. For the next couple of hours, we visited until lunch showed up. With a big hug and a promise to return soon, Caroline and I went to get some lunch for ourselves.
Caroline thought we should jump on the train, but I opted for walking. Over Händelstrasse to Eckenheimer Landstrasse, we walked along looking at the architecture we’ve been long away from. Along the way, a bakery demanded Caroline come in for an almond horn – the best one we’ve ever had! Back in the area of Glauburgstrasse, we started looking for more of the familiar, and there it was. Not only was ‘it’ still here, but it was open too; ‘it’ was our favorite ice cream shop – Eis Christina.
And what made it our favorite? Spaghetti ice cream, that’s what. To be clear, there is no pasta in “Spaghetti Eis.” This concoction starts with a large dollop of fresh whipped cream – the real stuff, no squirted out of a can foamy cream-like fluff. Next, vanilla ice cream is pressed through a sieve, producing what looks like spaghetti. Covered with strawberry sauce in lieu of tomato sauce and a bit of shredded white chocolate shaken on top of that, replacing the need for Parmesan cheese, and now you have an amazing Spaghetti Eis.
To work off the dessert we’ve placed before our proper meal, we continue our walk with the idea we’ll go to Sachsenhausen across the Main River. My brain works hard to find the way. As close as Sachsenhausen is, it wasn’t somewhere Caroline spent much time, so she’s of little help. During the American occupation of Germany, Sachsenhausen was a hugely popular spot with soldiers and tourists, too. Now, those military personnel with a healthy thirst for drinking are mostly gone. Sachs has to survive on the Germans and the still plentiful tourists that venture onto this side of the river.
I had been looking for Europa Grill, but where I thought I’d find it, I only found Caspian Grill. A guy standing across the street from “Europa Grill” told us that the place was sold five years earlier. Lucky for us, a few doors down is A’mir Sandwich, a Lebanese cafe that’s still in business. Back when I lived here, I would have one of their chicken shawarma weekly. We split my old favorite and then heaped a ton of gratitude on the owner for the yummy food and then he even pulled Caroline into the kitchen to pose with him for our photo.
From here, it was time to make our way back to the hospital, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t do a small amount of sightseeing on the way. Before crossing the river, we came upon a church that neither of us had visited before, the Gothic Aisless Church of St. Mary. How could we have missed this before? Caroline had lived in Frankfurt for 28 years, I 10, while this church has been here since 1309, and we just happened to miss it. Oh, the things we take for granted.
At the river, we hesitated to cross it and instead walked along the bank until we reached the next bridge. Swans, ducks, seagulls, geese, and other aquatic birds moved along with us, obviously accustomed to others who pass by to feed them. At the pedestrian bridge, we are greeted by a guitar player on one end and an accordion player on the other. These are all reminders of things we truly do miss from our time living in Europe.
Back through Römer to Zeil, but again we are detoured.
This time, it is Klein Markt Halle, another marketplace, except this one is not open-air but still has many small vendors selling their wares almost every day of the week.
We had understood that this place had closed down long ago, but lucky for us, it is still here, and it’s looking better than ever.
Now we are finally walking up Zeil, passing Dunkin Donuts on the way (this was definitely an OMG moment) to Konstablerwache and back in the U5 to the hospital. While Caroline talked with her mom, I sat nearby and wrote and wrote and wrote so I might stay up to date with my blog. Jet lag has been complicating my efforts, as this will not have been posted on the 4th, which was my plan, but days later. When I finish my writing, I join the ladies, and we continue to talk through Jutta’s dinner until we, too are hungry. We bid Jutta well and offer that we’ll be back in the morning. Again, she beams in, telling us how happy she is that we are in Frankfurt to visit with her. It feels good to help her feel so happy.
Dinner for us will be at the place I have dreamed of visiting again someday; today is that someday. We are going to Wielandstubb, and nothing else can replace that. On the corner of Friedberger Landstrasse and Wielandstrasse, this restaurant was a favorite that is just around the ‘ecke’ of our old apartment. Walking into the place, it wasn’t too busy yet; we picked a table and sat down – we were all smiles. We look into all corners, at the other visitors, and finally at the menu.
Not that we needed to check out the menu, but nostalgia demanded it. I’ve known for years what I would order should I ever get here again. We are starting with Handkase mit Music. This dish is a soft cheese soaked in brine (Handkäse) served with chopped onion (music – maybe the combination of cheese and onion is responsible for the ‘music’) and a basket of dark rye bread. For our main course, I’ll be having Jaeger Schnitzel and Bratkartoflen – schnitzel in a mushroom sauce with fried potatoes. Mine was easy enough to describe, Caroline’s won’t be as she’s having Grüne Sosse. This uniquely Frankfurt dish is relatively simple, consisting of boiled potatoes, two boiled eggs halved, and four scoops of grüne sosse (green sauce). What makes this so special is this green sauce, which is no less than seven fresh herbs chopped fine and mixed into ‘dickmilch’ – a kind of thick milk. Caroline orders an apple wine with her meal, another Frankfurt specialty.
Dinner couldn’t be better. Actually, it could; I should have ordered the Grüne Sosse; it is amazingly better than my fried pork. Don’t get me wrong, Wielandstubb makes a terrific schnitzel, but the veg option was a thousand times better. Probably an age thing, or maybe I’m more in love with veggies today than I was 20 years ago. This was the greatest birthday dinner ever.
Back on the train, we are soon at Stephanie’s, but she isn’t home yet. She wouldn’t arrive for another 45 minutes after our return. Now almost 9:00 in the evening, and probably a smart thing to get to sleep; instead, we talk into the middle of the night. Waking up in less than six hours won’t be easy, but I’m a young fifty.
