Cheers, Frankfurt!

I have ended as I began with Frankfurters and Apfelwein.  The sausage here is so tasty, and not at all what people are willing to accept back in the United States.
I had a bit of adventure--not wacky--sorry.  I decided to try another stop on my way home on the S Bahn, which turned out to be a mistake.  Evidently if one gets off at the Messe Fair the only options are to attend the fair or get back on the train.  I ended up being shooed away politely from a restricted area.
I am leaving tomorrow fairly early, so I spent the day in shopping.  As always I began by my daily walk to the Hauptbahnhof.  I picked up some things and walked back to dump them off.  Then I got cash and a day ticket for public transport and went off to the Zeil.  Some of the chains any American shopper would find familiar, and H and M and Zara are in fact European.  Other stores might have different names but the merchandise would certainly appear familiar on account of Globalization.  I have the idea that the chains have taken over and you will find few independent shops now.  I shopped in department stores.  One cool thing about them besides the perfumes one can sample, is that in the basement are gourmet foods and huge candy departments for those buying presents.
In Frankfurt there is nothing distinctive about German dress.  If traditional dress still exists in Hesse, no one wears it as they do in Bavaria.  Business beings wear suits, teenagers try to look sexy or weird, the rest would not be out of place in any American city.  Except.  There is a strong and traditional Middle Eastern presence here, so women in veils and the occasional man in traditional dress are common.  They are in my dwelling.  I believe they come here to escape the pork!
Another thing.  Have you ever seen a fight attendant in a non-airport setting?  Lufthansa is a major presence in Frankfurt, and many of the flight attendants seem to stay in Mainz.  Because of their job requirements their impeccable grooming makes them appear almost freakish among the rest of us slubs.  It's as if someone had stepped out of a glossy magazine onto the S Bahn.
Germans are Always Eating.  They eat in public transport.  They walk down the street eating.  They have huge meals at mid day, but it looks like mostly Asian or Italian food.  When I went to Bologna a couple of years ago, I found big signs everywhere touting "Gluten Free!"--and this in the land of Pasta.  I have seen no such signs in Germany.
And there is no sign of a low carb movement.  Mention going wheat free to a German, and I imagine the reaction would be a hard stare and then, "Ach, zo.  Amerikaner."  Accompanied by a pitying look.
Like other Europeans Germans also smoke.  I hate especially seeing young people puff away and am horrified by folks smoking in front of children.  They follow the rules and don't smoke indoors in public places but as soon as they get off the train or leave the building, they feel compelled to light up.  Entrances and exits are littered with discarded butts.
I have had another terrific trip and have gone everywhere I meant to go and have seen most of what I wanted to see.

Am Rhein

And not just at the Rhine--across it as well.
It rained over night and the skies were cloudy.  I appreciated the cool weather as I set out.  This was a long trip, and I expected it to be an expensive one, but if you are in Frankfurt then reaching Rudesheim is cheap, and you don't have to change trains!  It poured on the journey south, but by the time we reached Rudesheim the rain had stopped.
Let us be frank--as opposed to frankfurted.  Rudesheim is a tourist trap, but on the other hand there is a Reason Why some places are popular with us tourists.  I suggest relaxing and enjoying.  So there are no historical or artistic sights here, but there is plenty of cheesy tourist fun.  Some People Actually Revel in Such Things.  Possibly you know or at least read someone like that.
The town essentially stretches along the Rhine bank although a road and the railway separate the town from the river bank.  One feature I cannot praise highly enough is the well sign posted and FREE toilets.  They are also well maintained free toilets.
Another thing I must note.  Back in the 1960s this beautiful river was known as "the Colon of Europe." Starting in the Industrial Revolution and continuing through two World Wars and beyond, disgusting crud was dumped into the water.  And then people realized this was a horrible mistake and began to fix it. The Rhine lives again--with trees seemingly growing out of the river from submerged islands and an abundance of waterfowl and even swans not to mention the fish that have returned.  So given even the barest chance Nature will heal itself.  The River is very busy as I saw, but I also believed it was a living system.
The first thing I did was catch the passenger ferry to Bingen.  In retrospect this was a mistake although not a bad one.  I thought the ferry would just zip across the river.  Well. No.  The heart of Bingen is down stream (or up stream) a bit, and the trip takes a while although it it very scenic.  Also the ferries do not run more frequently than once an hour, and my trip to Bingen was also impaired by a bunch of us being trapped by a closed railroad crossing for about fifteen minutes because of four trains in a row.  Bingen--although the adopted home of St. Hildegarde (and you really should look her up because she was a fantastic burst of light in the Early Middle Ages) is not a tourist trap.  It's nice to walk around the pedestrianized city center, but it's a pretty normal German town.  Rudesheim emphatically is not.
What I should have done--given my limited time--was head inland from Rudesheim to the Benedictine Abbey of St. Hildegard run by an apparently extraordinarily hospitable community of nuns who practice a lot of traditional crafts.  Next time.
What I did instead when I returned to Rudesheim was seek out the Seilbahn.  How do I describe this?
It resembles a Disneyland ride, and they are fairly common in some parts of Europe.  One sits in a car that hangs from a wire and is drawn up or down said wire.  If you are in Rudesheim, do not fail to do this.  For one thing it's just plain fun.  For another swooping over the vineyards and getting--words fail me but spectacular will have to do--views over the Rhine and its hills are simply wonderful.
I got a one way ticket up to the top because I intended to walk down through the vineyards.  I have to say that the views going down are just as marvelous as going up, and that it is also fairly easy.
But alas my time was--as always--all too short. I went back to the train station.  One interesting feature is that the station master only opens the door to the platforms at certain times.  The sky turned to slate gray and it poured.  But by the time I got back to Frankfurt bits of blue sky appeared.
Dinner is noodles with mustard--and I find these extremely yummy washed down with plenty of dry or as we Germans say Trocken Riesling.

The Second Time Around

Here it is Sunday.  There's a Tour de France rest day tomorrow and I have a big long trip planned, so I needed something simple and cheaper today.  I decided to give Darmstadt another chance.  I am glad I did!
Sunday is the cleaning day for my apartment, so before I left I made sure all my stuff was cleared away and the recycling was put out.  In Munich and all the other Citadines I have lived in there's been a trash/recycle room.  Frankfurt claims to have one.  I have yet to find it.  Most guests leave bags of trash in the hallways, and I can't blame them.
The weather forecast was for heat and thunderstorms, but when I left it was cool and breezy.  And when I got to the Hauptbahnhof, I did something I did not think I'd even do again in Europe.  I bought a book for myself.  Yep.  Even with the kindle.  It's called Germania by a guy named Simon Winder, and looks like the kind of book that does not get published in the United States or made into an e book.  So I bought it.

And while I waited for the S Bahn I began to read it.  I'll save the rest for the plane, but it's fun!
I had a smooth trip to Darmstadt, and, of course, this time I ignored the misleading signs and caught the tram for the historic center.  I like trams better than busses.  They seem more exotic and European.  I hopped off at Luisenplatz and walked to the Schloss.  A museum lurks within, which I had double checked would be open.  I also thought I knew what time the tours were.  Well, yes, on the former, no on the latter.  Finding the actual museum was a bit of a chore.  The palace, because it's not really a castle, has a lot of passages and courtyards, and the museum entrance is tucked away in a corner.  I was way early, so I walked around the town for forty-five minutes--mostly looking for a open public toilet--which (whew!) I eventually found.
It had begun to rain gently.  I found this lovely and refreshing.  I always have my umbrella with me, so when it begins to rain I can enjoy it and carry on.
I returned for the tour.  This is the only way you can visit the "Schloss" but it is truly value for money.  The tour lasts a little over an hour and passes through a series of beautiful period rooms. The place was bombed during the war, so what you'll see is largely reconstructed and refurnished, but it gives a solid idea of how beautiful the Residence of the Landgraves and Grand Dukes of Hesse Darmstadt was.  The tour is in German, but since there were just the two of us, the kindly guide accommodated me by also giving the explanations in English.
I also have to say that my comprehension of German is a bit better, so I got some of the jokes she told auf Deutsch.  Do you like portraits?  Gorgeous inlaid wood furniture?  Amazing wall paper?  Splendid tapestries?  Exquisite porcelain? (One figurine group I coveted especially.  It was a charming scene of a noblewoman having her hair dressed and powdered by two male hairdressers as her dog looked on excitedly). Actual court clothes of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century?  Well, I sure did.  I am leaving out the orders, fans, and musical instruments, but I liked those as well.
The rain had stopped when I emerged, so I decided to stroll up to Mathildenhohe--the Jugendstil center and I remembered the pedestrian way up, and I figured it would not hurt to revisit the place without the fatigue, jet lag, and cranky attitude I'd had before.  So I had a nice walk around, and I poked into the shops.  The latter are Very Nice and awash with beautiful and expensive Jugendstil reproductions in case any of my readers want to burn through their credit limits.
Dinner is Maultauschen dressed with the last of my precious green sauce (Yum. I'll miss it), and washed down with a nice dry Riesling.  Always drink the local wine--even it it's beer.  It's cheapest and will always be good.

Baden-Baden is Good-Good

Nestled among the rolling hills of the Schwartzwald Baden-Baden has been a resort favored since Roman times.  I went there today.  The name Baden will, of course, tip you off as to the presence of hot springs, but you may wonder why one has to say it twice.  Baden is the name of the city.  It's also the name of several states in the Holy Roman Empire, so one had to specifiy which Baden one meant--hence the echo effect.
But for one thing the Black Forest isn't black but dark green, and if you want to explore it Baden-Baden would make a good base.  The historic center is beautiful and elegant.  It reminds me of the wealthier parts of Paris with all the fancy wrought iron and graceful buildings.  There is a huge casino  to cater to the gambling crowd and several spas to cure folks of their over indulgence.  Clearly we are on the stomping grounds of the Haute Bourgeoisie.  Maybe my friend Sartorias can supply the German term.
Truth to tell I would not not mind going back there with a clear credit card and plenty of time.  It would be a great place to stay in a swank hotel and spend a day being pampered at a spa to be followed by a fine evening meal in one of the fancy restaurants around.
For the ordinary day tripper--i.e., me, it was a pleasant day out.  There are no great museums or grand historic sights to see.  But it was fun wandering around the town and visiting the parks.  I did try to see the old Roman Bath, but it was closed.  I peeked through the windows and saw enough to satisfy me.  I was also disappointed to find the drinking fountain closed where one could take the waters out of order.  The pedestrianized streets were crowded, and tourists outnumbered locals.  Street musicians played, beggars begged, and I came across a troupe that included Hungarian Dancers.
I did not have enough time as usual.  I walked down the pretty Lichtentaler Alle along the flowing Oosbach, but I did not have the time to follow the whole route.  I also suspect the presence of woodland walks
Be warned the the hills above the town, which I would have appreciated as it was a very hot and humid day historic center is quite a ways away from the train station, and you'll need to take a bus.  You will also need to figure out the ticket machines--hey I did--so anyone can--because there's no ticket office.

Happy Day out in Heidelburg

This morning I was ready to climb back into the saddle--or rather back onto the train.  I thought I'd given myself plenty of time to buy the ticket and catch the train, but the ticket office was packed.  Typically in such situations--including the post office--you go to a number machine and take a number and watch the displays.  My number was 2531.  They were on 2504.  Uh.  And it seemed like everyone in front of me had long complicated transactions, and that the Deutsche Bahn employees were choosing that time to take breaks.  The clock ticked.  I fretted.  I was pretty sure I was not going to catch my train and then--horrors--I'd have to wait and change somewhere.
Finally!

 The young attendant was evidently a trainee, so we proceeded deliberately, but I got my ticket and sprinted for the platform.
Only to find a notice not to get on the train.  Turns out they had to change platforms for some reason, and we were actually fifteen minutes late leaving.
But I got to Heidelburg just fine. I even--finally--figured out how to use the bus ticket machines.  The first time I tried the machine ate my money and I got no ticket!  The train station is about three kilometers from the city center--say forty minutes brisk walk--a walk I didn't care to take.
I got out at the beginning of the Hauptstrasse, a long--make that looooong--pedestrian street, the longest I've ever walked.  But it's pretty and there are lots of terrific window-licking opportunities.  Every other shop seems to sell chocolate.  Had I but known.
I actually turned off before the end of the Hauptstrasse because I wanted to visit the castle.  One can climb up to it.  Several (steep) paths exist.  I opted to take the funicular because I thought I would be both easier on me and fun.  The funicular ticket also gets you into the Schloss courtyard.  The castle is largely in ruins having been messed about a great deal during the Thirty Years War.  The views across the city and river are spectacular.
Heidelburg is a very popular tourist destination and on this bright, sunny day was crowded with visitors.  I walked back down to the town and made my way down Hauptstrasse.  It's a long walk!  I stopped to visit the Kurpfalziches Museum.  I think I can translate this as Art Musuem of the Palatinate.  Heidelburg was the capital of the County Palatine of the Rhine.  The museum holds a creditable collection of Late Medieval Art, and some charming eighteenth century porcelain.  I coveted one of the tea sets.  There are also some very nice period rooms to wander.
If you are European, you can visit a possible ancestor or at least part of him--Heidelburg Man, who appears to be a European Homo Erectus.  I enjoyed the Roman collection as well.  One cool thing was a reconstructed Mithraeum.
There is a lot more to do in Heidelburg than I had time for--for one thing if I had longer and it was cooler I'd go walking in the hills above the town.  There are lot of well marked pathways.
But the train schedule called, and I returned home.  Dinner this evening is a new kind of Maultauschen.  I don't know what's in it, but it's so very tasty I don't care.  Think big, thick, well-stuffed German ravioli.  And like rav very easy to cook.  I boiled them ten minutes and dumped some oil and garlic on them.  The Franconian Sylvaner makes a lovely accompaniment.

Escaping the Sizzle

This morning I woke up feeling that I'd had enough of trains and stations for a bit and resolved that today at least would be train free.  I did make one exception as you will see below.  Moreover, the forecast proclaimed hot and humid.  Hard touristing with temps in the eighties (Fahrenheit) coupled with humidity does not work for me.  But what to do?
Suddenly I got an inspiration, and though I say it, it was brilliant!
After doing some errands, i.e. getting cash and buying some floss because I'd run out, I went to the Palmengarten--Frankfurt's botanical gardens, and on a day like today, it was just perfect.
I anticipated and found cool shady walks under trees combine with a fresh planty smell.  The blooming flowers showed splendid, vibrant colors.  Fountains played.  Ducks and what looked like catfish swam about the lake.  I followed trickling streams and had short woodland walks.  There are a lot of information placards--in German, so it didn't help me, and many of the shrubs and trees are labeled.  There are a lot of places to sit, in sun or shade, by lakes or fountains or among roses.  The park boasts two more formal cafes, but there are also snack bars.
I had a lovely time wandering, enjoying not being in a hurry or worried about schedules.  Although the traffic noise never entirely went away, I heard plenty of bird song, and the chirp and hum of insects--and also happy noise of children running through sprinklers thoughtfully provided.
In the midst of one stroll I came upon tracks--a narrow gage railway! I love them and feel a strong compulsion to ride if I can.  I began to look for the station.  Then I heard a chugging noise. The train came by.  I tried to follow, but lost it among the trees.  I kept walking and then suddenly came out to where the train was boarding.  I paid a euro and a half and was just in time for a delightful ride through the park.
Fun, was it, Pil?
You bet!
You are so immature.
Yes.  I am.  Shall we talk about food?
I had some Black Forest ham in thin slices.  This is not like ham in the United States.  The pigs eat their traditional diet of acorns, and so the meat has a unique and complex taste, which I enjoyed very much.  The wine of the evening is Sylvaner in honor of my foray into Franconia.  Oh by the way.  In Wurzburg people used "Gruss Gott!" as the greeting.  In Frankfurt, we say "Allo" in greeting and "Cheers" on leave taking.  But now the moment you have been waiting for:
The International Chocolate Faceoff.
¡Yay!
In this corner our host country the Weltmeister.  In the opposite corner, the chocolate capital of the Galaxy, Belgium.  I tried to find reasonably comparable chocs, and I have eaten, so hunger is not an issue.
Let the first round go to the challenger Belgium.  The scent is nice but not as enticing as I would expect. The chocolate coating of the praline is thin, good choc taste, and the smooth chocolate filling.  It's not over sweet so the cocoa comes out.
After a palette cleanse we turn to Germany.  Eh?  No scent.  The chocolate coating is thin, and the filling is dry.  I think it's supposed to be.  Tasty enough and good texture.
Next round:  Belgium.  I like the chocolate smell, but this is not as lush as I'd hoped.  The shell on this one is thicker, and the filling is softer--hazelnut I think.  A very satisfying piece of chocolate.
And for Germany.  There appears to be a dried current on top.  Once again there is no scent.  I find this disappointing. There's a thin shell and nougatty filling.  Nice, but nothing special.
The prize goes to the visiting challenger--Belgium.
But Germany is still the Weltmeister, so it's ok.

Speyer

So I hate changing trains.  Go ahead and scoff at my wimpiness--not going to change a thing.
But, Pil, you'd have so many more readers if you had wacky travel adventures!
I don't want any sort of wackiness, thank you.  I prefer to have smooth travels I can enjoy.  Since the weather was nice today I wanted to go to Speyer.  One thing I just LOVE on my travels are meeting what I call "old friends"--in other words works of art or buildings that I have taught in my Art History class.  There's a Romanesque cathedral in Speyer, and I just needed to see it.  What I didn't need is to spend most of my day either on a train or hanging around stations.
Speyer is worth a visit--don't get me wrong, but a consultation of the Deutsche Bahn (That's German Railway to you) website revealed limited options.  If I wanted just the one change--and not the two or (horrors!) three, then I would have to take very precise trains at very precise times.  I hate this.
So I got restless and left my room early.  I discovered that my foreign bank had a branch close to the train station.  I needed cash, so this was a good thing.  Please if you travel find out if your bank has foreign partners--because the exchange rate is hideous enough without added on ATM fees.
I got on my train--one of those fancy ICEs only to be tossed off a few minutes later since they weren't finished cleaning the thing.  Ok.  Got back on and found a good, non-reserved seat.
A pleasant ride later we pulled into Heidelburg.  Time to change trains.  I had trouble finding my platform and hurried down the stairs only to find the train pulling away.
German trains are famous for their punctuality, Pil.  Upset were we?
I almost cursed their punctuality!  Some of the trains I was on were latish.  Why couldn't this one be? Only it wasn't.  So I sought out the information desk at the train station.  The surly man at the information desk provided information ungraciously--a first for me in Germany--but he did provide information.  I took the opportunity to use the train station toilet and snoot around and made sure I was on the platform in good time.  This does not constitute a wacky travel adventure.
The train came, and I had a rather dismal ride through urban centers or blecky industrial areas or wreckyards.  And then Speyer at last!
Now because of my lack of enthusiasm for changing trains, I'd given myself a short but adequate time in Speyer.  This was now reduced by one half, and made even more problematical by the walk from the train station to the town center.
And yet when I turned the corner and saw at the end of the street--the Kaiser Dom--the Romanesque Cathedral of my Dreams, my heart lifted, and Deutsche Bahn was forgiven.  Since I had such a short time I resolved to spend it on the cathedral.  The exterior except for some added statuary is pure Romanesque.  The interior is nearly so.  The frescos have been modernized, and they have added Stations of the Cross beautiful in themselves, but I walked the aisles and the nave and reveled in the harmony of the design.  Romanesque is solid--sometimes heavy--but always magnificent.
But so little time remained!  I bought a pilgrims badge of a scallop shell.  Pilgrimage means something to me.  And the town--so pretty, so delightful and cheerful!  I walked back slowly wishing I could linger.  How fun it would be to sit in an outdoor cafe and eat gelato or sip chilled Rhine wine.
But unless I wanted to spend the night in Mannheim I had to get going--so reluctantly!
Clearly I made it home all right.  A frustrating day in some ways--but oh my--did I love Speyer Cathedral!

The Wonders of Wurzburg

Last year I gazed longingly at notices for Wurzburg.  It sounded like a terrific destination, but it was too far and complicated from Munich.  Technically Wurzburg is in Bavaria.  Even more technically it's in Franconia which is part of Bavaria now, but for one reason and another the city is more easily accessed from Frankfurt. So that's where I went today--a long, expensive journey--but so worth it.
I set out early, and this time had to buy my ticket from the ticket desk, I not having the right combination of bills for the machine.  But I got a train right away--one of those sleek Intercity Expresses whose ultimate destination was Vienna--an eight hour trip in case you were wondering.  I got off rather sooner.
Wurzburg does not appear to be sign posted, but I set off in what I thought was a good direction and ended up at the Residenz.  This is the new palace of the Prince-Bishops of Wurzburg.  For most of its history, right up until the end of the nineteenth century, Germany was what historians call a splintered state with a weak central government and a proliferation of duchies, counties, bishoprics, and free imperial cities all with their courts and palaces many in imitation of Louis XIV's Versailles. Wurzburg is one of the most splendid.
Designed by Balthasar Neumann, it ranks up there with Schonbrunn and Nymphenburg.  Fortunately I'd got my energy back and was happy to wander around the enchanting Hofgarten before taking the English tour of the palace.  These are infrequent, but it is worth trying to schedule.  For one thing tours take one to parts of the palace closed to those not on a tour, so even if you can't get on the English tour take the one in German and just gawk.
And there is plenty to gawk at.  Marble, the most elaborate Rococo stucco work I have ever seen, gilt, marvelous ceiling frescoes by Tiepolo, an incredible tapestry series on the Life of Alexander the Great, plus the usual furniture and paintings.  I can't point to a highlight.  It was all a highlight!  After the tour I wandered the north wing which was not included on the tour.
Then I wandered the town and visited the market.  I found the tourist information office and turned my nose up at overpriced postcards.  I ate some gelato--mmm hazelnut!
Now that might be enough for one day, but I had another target.  The original home of the Prince-Bishops was the Festung Marian or Marian Fortress high above the Main.  It was only after things had settled down in the eighteenth century that the Prince-Bishops felt they could move.  Uh.  No one anticipated the French Revolution.
I did not want to walk and so went back to the Resideniz to pick up the bus that would take me up that steep hill.  It was quite a harrowing ride, with us having to back up to let other buses and trucks go by on the narrow roads and then we squeezed through a couple of stone arches.
The castle is actually not very fortress-like and the battlements were closed off, so I got no panoramic views of the city.  But I did enjoy the museum.  There's a lovely collection of porcelain and pottery from the Hallstatt culture of the Celts before the Germans arrived on scene.  The heart of the museum as far as I was concerned was a marvelous exhibit of the Late Medieval wood carvings of Tilman Riemenschneider.  Apart from the amazing skill and detail, is the beautiful expression of piety he conveys.
So by that time it was hot and humid, and I was worn out.  I'd missed the bus down, so I decided to walk back to the train station.  Ha!  Mostly down hill--rather steep, and I had to recross the Main, but after all it was a pretty easy walk.
The train ride back was slow and long.  We went through gorgeous countryside of wooded hills, but we made about twenty stops as well.  I arrived home tired and hungry--but satisfied with my day out.

A Sunny Day in Frankfurt

Weltmeister.  That's the word I see displayed everywhere in great pride.  Congratulations to my host country Germany--winners of the World Cup.
I have been touristing hard, and it's caught up with me.  Truth to tell I am tired--genuinely physically tired.  Now if I had known, I would have had an easier day yesterday, and taken advantage of the sun to go to Fulda today, but feeling as I do, I decided that I had better give myself a fairly easy time of it.  There's a Tour de France rest day tomorrow, and I have plans for a major day of touristing. Stay tuned.
Today, I did set out.  I got myself a day pass for public transportation and took the S Bahn out to the town center.  I strolled down the Zeil pedestrianized street licking windows--well, not literally.   Lecher le vitrine--to lick the window--is a slang term for window shopping, I not being able to afford even if I wanted them--which actually I don't--the things displayed in said windows given the expense of this trip.  I revisited the Klein Markt and was far more tempted by the goods on display there.  One popular product appears to be artesianal pasta.  The tortelone looked good, but I am going to stick to Maultachen.  I also gazed longingly at a cheese counter featuring some lovely French cheeses (and it is Bastille Day!) that I love but cannot obtain at home.  Nevertheless, I turned away.  I'll return to Paris someday and eat them all then.
The fruit and vegetables are so brilliantly colored by expert cultivation and display as to look almost jewel like.
I made my way to the Romer and checked out touristy shops.  I like to do some birthday and Christmas shopping for some non-blog readers, but I don't think any of my friends would have any uses for beer steins or cuckoo clocks.  I refuse to give people "souvenirs."  I want to give something people can use or wear.  I'll just have to keep looking.
I crossed the Main by the Iron Bridge and paused midway to watch the water.  People who live in well-watered places will find my fascination with rivers mystifying, but freely flowing water is like a miracle to me, and I love to watch it.  I headed for Sachsenhausen, a old quarter of Frankfurt that largely escaped the destruction of the War.  It's a pretty district with handsome nineteenth century buildings and tree lined avenues.  I ended up walking quite a bit and began to feel the fatigue.
I thought it would be fun to take a tram, so I found a spot and a tram and boarded.  And it was fun!
I alighted at the Hauptbahnhof and walked around the nearby streets--carefully avoiding the ones advertising sex shows.  But I was really tired by then, so I stopped by my favorite Imbiss for--frankfurters!  And then I went home, dumped my stuff and attended the shopping center across the street.  Before going to the grocery store I took the elevator up to the roof garden and walked around and enjoyed the view.  It was pleasant and breezy.
After getting my groceries, I came home and washed my hair and collapsed.  Now I am enjoying the Tour de France, which is shaping up to be a great race.  I have no idea who will end up in the Yellow Jersey.
Dinner consists of the frankfurters eaten properly sliced with a fork and mustard and accompanied by some red cabbage.  I have some more Bitburger beer along with it.  At home I turn my little pink nose up at pork and especially sausages, but here they are so good!  It's nice to have a German meal to celebrate Weltmeisterheit!

A Rainy Day at Fulda

What to do on a rainy Sunday?  I supposed I could have bagged the blog and stayed home with green tea and kindle, but I get restless, and I need to do something--you know--historical.  I had to go somewhere, and in this weather I was not at all interested in changing trains.  But a destination beckoned, one with deep historical resonance--to me any way.

The train ride was longer than I like usually.  I mean I like train rides.  I don't like spending most of my day riding trains.  Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof offers wonderful destinations.  I could go to Berlin, or Hamburg, Brussels, Amsterdam (and ooh was I tempted!), and even Paris.  But, yeah, Fulda, a place most people have never heard of, but which means a great deal to me.

And now that I have been there--it means even more.  I adored Fulda--even in the bucketing rain!  I was only sorry that I was not staying there and lacked the time to appreciate the place properly, and I am saying this apart from the history.  Fulda is not on the American tourists' itinerary, and I say what a shame because the historic center is beautiful and charming, yes, even in a downpour. But first let's have some history.

Because there is a LOT of history. Boniface--that's St. Boniface to you--is called the Apostle to the Germans.  He was an Englishman whose family converted as a result of the mission of St. Augustine of Canterbury, and Boniface longed to spread the good news.  Fulda was an early foundation of the Benedictine Order by one of Boniface's disciples.  The saint's body was brought to the monastery after his martyrdom among the Frisians.
But the modern city shows little evidence of that early history.  Oh yes.  There's an old wall here and there, but never mind.  Come anyway.
The city center is easily walkable and pedestrianized.  I suppose my experience as a traveler gives me an instinct because I found the tourist information office easily enough, and it is very close to the historic sites I wished to see.  A clump of tourists sheltered from the driving rain outside the office, but I had an umbrella, stout shoes, the will to tourist. First of all I went to the Schloss or Stadtmusuem.  I was glad to get out of the rain and use the toilet, but I also appreciated the building and the period rooms.  The highlight for me was the Gobelins tapestries in one of the rooms.  I also gazed longingly at the beautiful Schlossgarten.  I'd put my umbrella away, and it was still pouring. Later when the rain slowed down I was able to explore a little.
My next stop was the Cathedral--a Baroque masterpiece all marble and gilt.  Then I went to the Michaelskirche, which had been advertised in my guide book as Romanesque.  I love me some Romanesque, reminding myself of Judith Starkadder and her (transferred) love of "olt churches," but this one was even better.  Not Romanesque at all but Carolingian!  St. Michaels was built in  832 on a plan I'd never seen before.  There was a short nave and then a central plan with the altar in the middle under a dome and a colonnaded ambulatory all around.  A few faint original frescos adorned the walls.  What a gem!
I spent most of my time just walking around admiring the town.  The historical center boasts a variety of buildings from different periods including half-timbered structures as well as those from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  On my way back to the train station, I pulled out my map to check my position.  A Fuldan noticed this and asked what I was looking for.  When I replied, he gave me directions--auf Deutsche--which I mostly understood.  I mention this as another instance of the kindness of the German people to visitors.

German Country Life

Each time I manage to croak out a phrase in badly accented German, I receive cordial complements on my excellent command of the language.  I perceive there is a European-wide conspiracy to give Americans--notoriously monolingual--some positive reenforcement for any effort no matter how feeble.  The last word accurately describing my assays into Deutsche. But the same thing happened in France.
Because it's Saturday, the Hessenpark, an open air museum of the sort I find irresistible, was easily accessible by public transportation.  I confidently set out and arrived in good time at the train station only to find an odd message on the display.  I did not think it applied to me or my destination, and folks were waiting on the platform.  So I waited, too.  I expected to make a connection and catch a bus to the Hessenpark.  I waited.  Nichts.  More waiting und mehr Nichts!  Maybe the notice applied to me after all!  At any rate I knew I would miss my bus, but this blow was softened by the knowledge that buses ran more frequently on this route on weekends.
I proceeded to a new platform, and there was my train ready and waiting.  We arrived in Bad Homburg far too early for me to catch my bus, but that was all right.  I strolled around the Kurpark admiring the fountains and actually wishing I had more time to explore.  The bus arrived, and I had a pleasant ride through beautiful countryside.  Germany is beautiful, you know.  The only concern was a sudden rain squall, but that soon passed.
Although I was the only passenger for Hessenpark on the bus, the park is obviously a popular sight--deservedly.  Truth to tell I wore myself out wandering the lanes and woodland and poking around the reconstructed buildings.  As much as I love castles, palaces, and the artifacts of high life, my heart belongs to the remains of everyday life.  Don't misunderstand me.  I do not long for the days without indoor plumbing or modern medical care.  But Europe often reminds me of a quieter, slower time when the car was not king, and towns were built with people and their capacities in mind.
The Hessenpark is lovely, and one can go into most of the buildings, and many of them have exhibits. Craftspeople on site give demonstrations and are happy to answer questions--if you are fluent in German, which (cough) some of us are not.
I know I would not want to live on a farm.  I am not especially fond of hard physical labor, and I hate barnyard smells.  On the other hand I enjoy seeing the animals--just so long as you don't ask me to muck out their stalls.  Pigs for example.  They stink!  There was a sow with her litter of piglets which were allowed to wander loose.  I got to pet one!  Piglets are so cute and precious. It's rather a shame they grow up to be so tasty. But as I petted the piglet I said to myself, "no sausage tonight."  So for dinner I had nuts and I also cooked some potatoes--impeccably vegan.  But tomorrow back to omni.
One can find touristy shops and places to eat, and the park also has a lot of picnic areas, and if I ever returned here with a friend or a group, a picnic would figure into the plans.  The park is also evidently a popular place for weddings.  As I was leaving I passed a wedding party posing for their post-ceremony pictures.

A Good Day for Worms

The day dawned sunny and bright, and I thought I could go further afield.  To Worms in fact.

When I was in junior high--the old version of Middle School--and we had history, there were references to something called the Diet of Worms.  It sounded disgusting, and it also made no sense whatsoever.  The text books did not bother, and the teachers probably couldn't explain that Worms (let's pronounce if auf Deutsch as vourms) was a town and "diet" in this case meant parliament. Martin Luther taking a stand there would have suddenly snapped into place.
I left early and stopped to buy some stamps.  The service desk at the post office is always packed, but there is a machine, the only problem being that one needs exact change.  The machine does give change--in stamps not coins.  Oh well.  This time I had exact change.
I got my ticket, and I knew what time the train left, but I also thought I'd have to change trains, and the Deutsche Bahn website was no help about that at all.  Neither was the ticket machine although it did helpfully print out a return schedule.  Fortunately the nice man at the information desk, not only explained it to me, but gave me a print out about my outward journey.  Next time I'll ask about the return journey as well.
I hate changing trains.  I come all over anxious even though I have done it many times before and always successfully.  Still I experience the fear that I will miss my connection or somehow get on the wrong train.  I shared my carriage with a big group of elderly Germans clearly on a an excursion. When the conductor came around he assumed I was with the group and was not going to check my ticket, but I held it out anyway.  He took it and shook his head and said something incomprehensible. What now?  The guy at the Deutsche Bahn information desk thought my ticket was all right and told me to take this very train.  I began to explain I was a tourist, etc, when my kindly seatmates, seeing my expression said, "Er macht Ihr spass."  Oh.  A joke.  I smiled and nodded.  Only if one does not speak the language, it's hard getting the joke--whatever it was.
One of the women tried to engage me in conversation.  She was awfully nice, too, but it must have been like speaking to an unusually inarticulate toddler.  Also we had to make a connection but our train was late.  My anxiety blossomed even more.  As it happened they held the other train for us and a few minutes later we pulled into Worms.
Worms is a charming town.  I found a pedestrian street and took a leisurely stroll around passing the Luther Memorial before finding the Tourist Information Office.  The town is well sign posted, and rarely had recourse to my map.
My first stop could not have been missed at any rate.  Many cities in Southern Germany boast a Kaiser Dom or Imperial Cathedral.  The one at Worms is dedicated to St. Peter and is huge and glorious Romanesque pile.  I wandered down the aisles and nave simply transfixed by the building and the wonderful deep relief carvings in the aisles and chapels.
I strolled around some more seeking out the city museum.  The collection includes some Neolithic Celtic pottery, but I was astounded at the exhibit of Roman and Medieval glassware.  It was produced locally, and I have never seen a better collection.  I also enjoyed the Germanic jewelry.  Truth to tell I share the barbarian taste.
Eventually I made my way back to the train station.  I knew--or so I thought--when my train would come, but I could find no mention of the transfer point on the displays or posted schedules.  I once again resorted to the information desk, and once again received solid information and a print out.  I found and boarded the train that would take me to a point--a different one this time--where I could catch the S Bahn home.
Except the train was late!  And those of us counting on a connection missed it.  Fine.  We had to wait half an hour, but hanging around on train platforms has never been my favorite thing.  One of the stranded passengers was a Deutsche Bahn guy, who got out his cell phone immediately and had a heated discussion with someone on the other end.
By that time I was worn out, but even when our S Bahn came, we still faced delays.  Several times we had to stop in the middle of no where to let more important trains go by.  When we got held up just outside Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof for no discernible reason, it just got to be funny.
Anyway I am home and fed now and a good thing, too.  The sky has turned dark gray, and it looks like it's coming on again to rain.

Standing at the Edge of Empire

This part of Germany was part of the Roman Empire for hundreds of years.  The vineyards tell the tale in large part.  Where Romans settled they planted vines and imported olive oil and garum, but not so very far north of here, the Empire reached its limit, and Legions, spread so thin, rarely breached the threatening forests beyond the Taunus Hills.
It looked like the rain would hold off, and I needed an easy day after a hard week of touristing, so I decided to return to Bad Homburg and go on to the Roman Fortress Museum at Saalberg.  Getting there was an easy enough process, but needed some precise timing.  I left here in good time and arrived at the train station intending first to buy some stamps.  But there was a huge crowd at the service counter and the machine would give change for stamp purchases only in more stamps.  Not on.  Then I found out the ticket machines for the S Bahn refused any Euro notes larger than ten.  I did not think I had the coins to buy the ticket and despaired for the train would arrive very shortly.  But after all I did have the Euro coins, and all was well.  Until the announcement came that the train would be late.
This is not a very common occurrence on German public transportation, but that morning--and I don't know why--one train after another arrived and departed late.  It wasn't the weather.  Now I began to fret.  I needed to catch a particular bus to Saalberg because they did not run very often.  It all worked out, however.  The S Bahn arrived in Bad Homburg with a few minutes to spare for me to find the bus stop and hop on board.
I had a pleasant ride through the town and into the heavily forested Taunus Hills.  Usually I am anxious on busses, but the stops were prominently displayed, so I had no doubts about where to get off.
The only downside of arriving at Saalberg Roman Fort was having to share the site with about three school tours--Middle School by the looks and behaviour of them!
The site is not large, but it is surprisingly lovely, and there is a reconstructed wall and buildings and displays in both German and English.  The museum holds a fascinating collection of figurines, jewelry, tools, and weapons.  I enjoyed wandering around and even got in a couple of woodland walks.
When I was finished with the fortress, I left to walk about half a kilometer north to the actual Limes,  I passed Roman stonework, and an elaborate system of earthworks sitting among the trees.  I walked down hill to find the largest earthworks, and the notice that this was the Limes--the northernmost limit of Roman power.  I have a taste for such places--although I confess they don't look like much.  Hadrian's Wall is hardly knee high now, and I would have missed the Antonine Wall--built of earth--if there had not been a sign.  I climbed to the top of the Limes earthwork.  The trees grew so thickly I wondered how the legions could guard the border of the Empire in such a spot.  I also reflected that the Germans, although fierce in their way, were not the ultimate in barbarians.  Many Germans became Romanized, and they easily converted to Christianity as well.  For Really Horrid Barbarians, one needed to go further north.
On the way home I shared my S Bahn seat with a German businessman who talked the whole way on his cell phone.  He was one of those people who never have to inhale so can keep talking and talking for half an hour at a time.  I caught a few words here and there.  Clearly he was talking about some big business deal involving finances and capital, but at one point he used the term--in English and a flawless American accent "an extreme pain in the ass."  I had to turn away and cover my mouth to hide my laughter.
On the bus back to Bad Homburg and on the S Bahn I saw wonderful views of the Frankfurt skyline. Mainhattan indeed!

There's a Hat Named After it

First of all Congratulations to my host country, Germany for their stunning victory over Brazil--although one needs to sympathize with the Brazilians over their loss in their home country after putting on such a party.
I am officially over my jet lag, but sleeping late meant getting out late--in the rain.  When one travels in Europe one must assume rainy days will occur, and since I did not experience them last summer in Munich, and since at home we experienced a thirsty Year Without a Winter, I was over due.  So I took the S Bahn out to Bad Homburg.
The element Bad in the name indicates hot springs, and this lovely town in the Taunus Hills became one of the favorite resorts of King Edward VII of Great Britain.  I don't have much opinion of him as a person, but apparently he could turn on the charm as needed and did some good diplomacy, most importantly getting Britain and France to be chums after centuries of enmity.  Also there's his favorite hat named after guess where.
As I emerged from the train station it poured buckets, but as it was not windy or especially cold, I carried on.  I saw no signs, but I did see some historic looking towers in the middle distance.  I decided to head for those using main roads, so I wouldn't get too lost.  As I proceeded up hill I also noticed a sign for a major German department store usually to be found in town centers, which confirmed my plans.  I turned onto a pedestrian street with a name I recognized.
I stopped into the department store to get some perfume.  I enjoy smelling expensive and some Chanel was set out for sampling.  I chose "Chance."  I also used the toilet--for free!  I could hardly believe my luck.  Moreover, I found a branch of the bank whose ATM--Geldautomatic in German--I use.  They are partners with my bank back home, and I hate paying ATM fees.  So I got some cash and proceeding finding much scope for window licking in the elegant shops.  Fortunately I was not in a hurry.
I found Tourist Information where the nice young man at the counter supplied me with maps and brouchers about historic attractions in the area and also gave me a bus schedule and explained it for me.  I am coming back to Bad Homburg probably twice as there are good goodies not suitable for rainy days nearby.
I strolled through the historic center.  Bad Homburg is a lovely town.  I found the castle gardens and plunged in.  Now walking in parkland on a gloomy, rainy day is not the best way to experience it, but I still enjoyed myself.  On sunny weekends I would guess the paths would be crowded, but I had the trees, lakes, and streams largely to myself.  How I reveled in the greeny gorgeousness.  This is what I come to Europe for!
After a thorough exploration, I headed back up into the town and strolled slowly back to the train station licking windows as I went.  I got the S Bahn back to Frankfurt sharing my car with some teenage girls singing Bruno Mars songs in English.
On my way home I took the short cut I'd discovered through the giant shopping mall across the street. On impulse despite my fatigue I decided to explore the mall.  Most of the stores are clothing chains and not that interesting, but they have an international food court that would not disgrace California and some intriguing gourmet shops.  But then fatigue had really set in, so I came home to share it all with you.
Dinner is potato noodles.  I had no idea such a thing existed, but now that I have tasted some--well. Of course!  I just pulled a package off the grocery store shelf.  I knew the word for noodles, and these looked interesting.  I expected that I'd have to boil them, but no, they get fried in olive oil because that's what I had.  I doused them with that grune soss.  Ha! I am getting as bad as Goethe.  But seriously these are good--something like frites.  To accompany the repast I have more Reisling.  Very nice indeed on a rainy evening.
And in other news.  Chris Froome, last years winner of the Tour de France has spent this years TDF falling off his bike--today on slick, wet roads.  The last time was too much. He was hurt and abandoned.  So sad.

Where Main and Rhine Meet

I awoke to the sound of gentle rain pattering against my window and realized that I needed an activity today that involved some being in doors.  Readers of this blog know how I love wandering through parks and woodland, but these are best left to days when thunderstorms are not part of the forecast. After making and discarding several plans, I settled on going to Mainz.

Like many very old towns in Southern Germany, Mainz was a Roman foundation and then became one of most important bishoprics in the Holy Roman Empire.  Its location at the confluence of the Main and Rhine Rivers insures that the city remains an important one.

I got my ticket making Sure this time, I had the correct date on it and took the train through the light rain.  It dripped all day, but I came equipped with my stout shoes and umbrella, and it's good I had both. I saw signs for my destinations, but I had long walk--longer in fact than it needed to be, but I had no city map and had to rely on the signage. But I ended up by the river (Rhine) and could see no sign of anything resembling the historic center.  I did come across the Natural History Museum.  I did not wish to visit it, but it occurred to me I could get directions from folks used to dealing with visitors.

And as usual, I was met with great kindness.  The ladies at the ticket desk dug up a city map for me and drew me a route.  I wandered through the pedestrian zone and suddenly emerged on a square where a market was taking place.

A market!  Even in the drizzle and with no idea where I was, my heart rose and I walked through admiring the stands of beautiful fruit, vegetables, and flowers.  Inevitably there were also sausage stands.

Then my eyes alighted on one of my targets--the Gutenberg Museum.  Mainz was the scene of one of the most significant technological revolutions in history--the European invention of moveable type--which fueled the Protestant Reformation and the Scientific Revolution among other things.  The museum has a wonderful collection of early printed books, many with marvelous illustrations.  The crown jewel is, of course, the Gutenberg Bible--the forty-two lines (per page) that changed the world.  Exhibits explained the different printing surfaces used parchment and paper for example and also explained how inks were made and the different requirements of manuscript and print.  Historic presses from different eras were also on display.

Then I visited Mainz Cathedral, Dom St. Martin, a magnificent Romanesque church in a beautifully harmonious design and containing a lot of wonderful carvings from various periods.  St. Martin lacks the heaviness often found in the Romanesque and seems to soar almost like Gothic.

I then made my way to the Landesmuseum.  Some of the Roman artifacts found in the city are there and there are very nice collections of Early and Late Medieval sculptures, Late Medieval Painting--panels portraying the life of the Virgin Mary are the highlight--and some Dutch painting.

What blew me away was the Jugendstil.  The furniture and other decorations were exquisite, but the glass work was beautiful beyond belief.  Don't miss it!

By that time I was worn out, so I made my way back home in the rain.  Dinner consisted of salad, Rinderwurst--has nothing to do with the river, it's beef sausage and wonderfully tasty.  And beer.  I tried a local brew called Bitburger a little fearful that it would not be as good as that in Bavaria.  I needn't have worried. It was the perfect accompaniment to the sausage and most refreshing to the spirit.

Not Taking the Waters in Wiesbaden

Except for the part where I screwed up my train ticket, this day went much more smoothly.  For one thing it was much cooler although still humid.  I needed an easy day out, and most museums are closed on Monday, so I chose to visit the spa town of Wiesbaden.  That element "baden" indicates a thermal spring or bath, and many towns in this area bear it.  Indeed one town on my itinerary bears it twice.

Moreover, Wiesbaden is the capital of the State of Hesse--much to Darmstadt's disgust.  Frankfurt merely shrugs its financial shoulders.  Since Frankfurt is the headquarters of nearly everything, the city can afford to be generous.

So I got my ticket from the machine and got right on the S Bahn and had a nice trip to Wiesbaden, and as we pulled into town I noticed signs of the historic center in a particular direction.  I was determined not to be fooled again.  I need not have worried. A Tourist Information Office sat right out in front of the station, but in fact Wiesbaden is so well sign posted, I seldom had to consult my city map. Needing to stretch my legs I took the twenty minute walk into the city center along tree lined avenues and handsome nineteenth century buildings.
Like many places that welcome visitors so graciously and genteely, Wiesbaden was built on vice. Most spa towns also feature casinos, and Dostoyevsky famously lost his shirt there.  The spas catered to those who needed to be put back together after prolonged and riotous self indulgence.  Today European doctors can proscribe spa treatment for a variety of ailments, and the national health insurance will pay for it.  Tourists need to shell out.  I did not, but I might have had I not been alone. Many spas forbid clothing, and some segregate the sexes.  The treatments sound lovely, but I do not fancy being naked and alone.

I strolled through the town to the main square and then down to peek inside the casino.  I had a lovely walk through the enchanting Kurpark communing with ducks and fountains.

I visited the "hot fountain," but it looked so steamy I did not have the nerve to try to drink any of the water.  All in all it was a very pleasant time walking around admiring the city.
Some general observations.  Germans appear always to be eating.  Indeed on trains, buses, and trams it seems to be a social convention.  One settles in the seat and then pulls out a bag--usually it's pastry. Yesterday I watched as a S Bahn rider sucked down beer after beer.  T shirts featuring some stylized version of the Stars and Stripes are quite popular among Germans.  I, being an actual American, take care to display no obvious signs of my nationality.
What about this screwed up ticket?   Clearly you got there and back again.
I bought my day pass from a machine, and the passenger is supposed to indicate the date of use.  I thought I'd indicated today's date, but I did not look very closely, and in fact my ticket read Gute am Aug. 1, and I didn't notice.  Yesterday I rode around, and no one ever checked my ticket.  On my trip out today on the S Bahn no one checked my ticket.  In Wiesbaden I took the bus back from the market square to the train station.  Ticket checking?  Nope.
After a short wait, I got on one of the regional trains back to Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof.  Almost immediately the conductor came around.  One can never tell when tickets will be checked, and by far most people play fair.  Being caught without a valid ticket results in a forty euro fine on the spot. But I had no worries.  I handed the conductor my ticket.
He looked at it.  Frowned.  Looked again.  He spoke to me in German.  I gathered there was some problem, but I explained that I spoke very little German and did not understand him.
Oh!  A foreigner.  No wonder.  Very likely to do something innocently but idiotic by accident.  He smiled and said, "It's ok."  Then he wrote something on my ticket. When he gave it back to me I discovered that he'd written today's date, and by being nice, he saved me forty euro!
For dinner I had the rest of the Maultaushen this time dressed with some left over grune soss for a real German experience.  The sharp, herby sauce was perfect with the pasta, and I guess that it would be great over anything starchy including non-starchy eggs.  This all got washed down with German rose.
Yeah, Pil that's my problem.  What's up with the wine?  Didn't you teach us last summer that German = beer?
That was Bavaria, meine Freuden.  This part of Germany is wine country.  I passed a lot of vineyards on the way to Wiesbaden.  But truth to tell, Germans love their beer.  Let's try some tomorrow.

Darmstadt

Sorry.  I couldn't come up with a cute title, but now that I have dined I am feeling better about life and am willing to call this a successful day in spite of numerous frustrations.
It all started out smoothly enough with my morning's walk to the Hauptbahnhof--and you readers had just better learn to love it as it will be my daily first destination.  I know how to use the ticket machines, so I was able to get a day pass for my destination.
Darmstadt.  Here it is Sunday.  I was looking for an easy day trip to a pretty place.  I had definite things I wanted to see and then I would be home in plenty of time for the Tour de France--which seriously is going to be A Very Interesting Race This Year.  And it's not that I don't appreciate the Copa Mundial, but it's a game with a ball.  The Tour purges through pity and terror.
I arrived in Darmstadt. I knew what tram or bus line to take to get to where I wanted to go.  I look for signs and tend to trust them.  In this case and in this city, it was a mistake.  I don't know if someone screwed up or it was an act of malice, but the signs sent me to the wrong exit of the train station.  I emerged and saw no bus stops or tram rails.  I walked.  Something told me that this was the wrong way.  I trust my intuition.  Now the best thing would have been to go back to the train station and go out the other side, but I spotted a tram and some bus stops on what looked like a main road and went there.  This was of limited help.  I did not want to go to Berlin.  I wanted the city center of Darmstadt. Well, I am fit enough, and I ended up walking about a kilometer and a half into town--where I found a festival going on.  Fun.  Stands offered food and drink.  Rides and games abounded.  Except I could not find what I came to town to see!  I had a futile detour on the way following another false sign. What!?
By great good luck--for a change--I found the tourist information office and also learned that the museum I especially came for was closed--only a walking tour of the city was leaving in five minutes and the kind ladies at tourist information promised to find me a toilet.  I did not want to waste the day so I signed up.
My guide was pleasant and well informed.  She spoke very good English as well.  This is my problem with tours, and it's mostly to do with me.  I have definite ideas of what I want to see and the knowledge to decide what I find intriguing.  A tour does not cater to my particular interests.  So we spent ten minutes, for example, in front of the first electric power station in Hesse. We visited a Post Modern culture center where scientific lectures occurred from time to time.  I confess I have almost no interest in the pharmacutical giant Merck headquartered nearby.  We saw the outside of the former Hesse-Darmstadt palace and heard some gossip.  I liked the gossip, although compared to the Wittelsbach, the Hesse-Darmstadt lot seem dull.
We ended up climbing to the Mathilde Hohe--something I definitely wanted to see.  And, moreover, the advantage of being on a tour appeared.  Darmstadt is famous for its Jugendstil (Art Nouveau) Artist Colony buildings.  Not only did we view the goodies from the outside, but my guide had the key to one of the original homes now inhabited by the German Society for Literature and Language. Both the exterior and interior were wonderful examples of Jugendstil with curvy lines and organic forms.  I did not want to live there, but I did like being able to experience it.
When we emerged it was hotter and even more humid.  The tour was soon over and my guide bid me a very gracious farewell, and I went off to seek the bus back to the train station.  Since I had forgotten the festival taking up the streets in the center of town, this was the futile action of a complete sap.
Eventually I realized this and proceeded--after having wasted twenty minutes--to a place where I could actually catch public transport.  THAT side of the train station was simply sick with bus and tram lines--yet the signs within--and I did check-- pointed in precisely the opposite direction.  Never mind.  I was desperately dehydrated by this time having walked and stood in hot sun and humid weather.  I got some water and caught the train for home.
For dinner I had some salad and then I cooked some Maltaushen, which is a sort of German ravioli. The kind I bought was overstuffed with spinach and pork.  I dressed them in a most unGerman way with olive oil and garlic.  But DANG! they were good and filling.  To drink I had a crisp, off dry German rose.  During the summer I like rose especially with pasta.  It was Dornfelder/Spatburgunder--not at all expensive and very nice chilled with food.  This sounds like I know what I am talking about.  Ha ha ha ha.
Guten Appetiten!

Green Eggs and Goethe

You know, Apfelwein is growing on me.  It's been extremely humid today, and when I got home and had some after my water, I found it very refreshing indeed.

Is that what the title of the post is about, Pil?

Oh, we'll get to that.  The forecast was for thunderstorms, which so far have not materialized, so I planned a town day where I would largely be inside.  Frankfurt is in fact very walkable--nice and flat with wide sidewalks and pedestrian areas.  I strolled to the train station and then on down Kaiserstrasse, licking windows as I went.  I had a two fold target.  I was eager to visit Goethe's House, but I also knew that nearby stood Der Zeil--a Major Shopping Street complete with futuristic mall and the Kleinmarkt--traditional rather than futuristic and full of Food.  As I arrived before the Goethe House was open, I strolled on to Zeil and entered the mall.  It's all curving glass and blending steel and at first blush reminded me of a roach motel in the sense that it was easy to enter and get sucked in, and very difficult to make one's way out!  I mentally complemented the designer on a strategic way to get folks to shop.

But I did find the exit, but then I got turned around and walked right past Goethe's House.  It worked out though because I found Deutsche Bank.  I use their atms because they are partnered with my home bank, and I don't have to pay pesky fees.  The exchange right is hideous enough without that.

Does the green in the eggs stand for money, Pil?

No.  Let's visit Goethe's House.  He is the towering figure in German Literature with still beloved poems, novels, and plays to his credit.  Johan Wolfgang von Goethe (the enobling "von" was a reward for his literary achievements) was both a seminal writer in the Romantic Mode, but a rather Enlightenment flavored scientific investigator of nature.  I saw the famous portrait of him yesterday at the Stadel lounging in an Italian landscape wearing his traveling hat and cloak, and looking rather like a pilgrim soul himself.  The painter screwed up though.  While Goethe's face looks intelligent and noble, the artist gave him two left feet!

The actual house was destroyed--well, you know--when the rest of Frankfurt was, but it's been faithfully reconstructed and is definitely worth visiting.  Even if you know or care nothing about Goethe's writing, you'll appreciate the late eighteenth century townhouse and the period rooms for a glimpse of how the upper middle class lived at the time and what interests they pursued.

Then I went back to Der Zeil.  The mall boasts one of the longest escalators in Europe and the World. Some People are so Immature, that when they learn of such things, they must ride up on them.  But you probably (cough) don't know anyone like that.

Now on the the Kleinmarkt.

For green eggs, Pil?

Well, not exactly.  A specialty of Hesse is Grun Sosse, which happened to be Goethe's favorite food. My purpose in going to the market was to seek it out and also to find some Handkaase.  Handkaase mit Musik is another beloved Hessan specialty.  There is no delicate way to put this.  The "music" is flatulence resulting from added onions.  I save that, but I hard cooked eggs and microwaved some potatoes, which I doused with the green sauce.  Goethe knew what he was about and so do the rest of the Hessians. The green sauce is creamy but sharp and herby.  It's great on eggs and potatoes.
The Kleinmarkt--the name means small market--may not be large, but is it ever packed.  What does your tum desire in the way of meat, poultry, fish, dairy, fruit, or veg?  If you should fancy alpine cheese or Italian pasta or even Persian nuts and herbs.  It's all waiting.  I'll need to go back obviously.

Across Bridges and Along Museum Row

Guten Tag!

One feature of European travel, at least as I do it, is figuring out the "system."  For example if it were not for the kindness of one of my fellow guests yesterday, I would still be in the elevator vainly pushing the button for the third floor.  The "system" here is different from the "system" in Munich. We have touch cards in Frankfurt.  They do not swipe.  This is easier to comprehend after some sleep. Also one has to insert the card in the card slot next to the door before the lights and utilities work. This appears to be common in Europe, so I figured it out.  And then there's the plumbing.  I got everything to work yesterday, but it was only this morning that I realized how they worked and how I could control it all.

I had a pretty first full day here.  I am responsible for my own breakfast, so I started out with a lot of strong tea and some rye bread with melted cheese, and very nice it was. Then I made my bed, swept up and did the dishes.  I am not in one of those swank rooms where this is done for me daily.

After consulting my map, I set off.  I needed to stretch my legs and I knew that if I got tired, I could take public transport home.  I walked back to the Hauptbahnhof but walked by it and proceeded down to the Main and across the bridge.  The southern bank of the Main is referred to as Museumsufer, which I have chosen to translate as Museum Row.  It's a genteel rather than bustling quarter of the city with leafy chestnuts lining the streets and fine houses--now converted to other uses.  My first stop was the fine arts museum called the Stadel after the man who made the original collection.  I got in for half price with my Frankfurt Card.  Indeed the thing more than paid for itself today.  There is a distinguished collection of late Medieval and Early Italian Gothic.  I found a small Virgin Enthroned by Jan Van Eck enthralling.  I got a good close look and saw every detail exquisitely finished and the texture portrayed so beautifully I could almost feel the velvet beneath my fingers.  Vermeer's Geographer is there as well. Amazing!  If you are a fan of Max Beckman his works are on display and very powerful they are--and very unpleasant, too.  Go if you really like art.  If you could take it or leave it, spend your time and euros elsewhere.

I also scored a free ticket to the sculpture museum, the Liebieghaus.  In the late nineteenth century, it was a luxurious neo classical villa on the banks of the Main.  Now it holds a variety of statues from Ancient Egypt on.  I found the Late Medieval polychrome wood carvings especially impressive.

Then I walked on down the Main to the Museum of Applied Art (Angewandte Kunst auf Deutsch).  Most visitors appeared to be there for the park-like grounds and cafe.  I used my Frankfurt card to get my half price admission.  One building is dedicated to Bauhaus and Twenty-first Century Post Modern and you can keep the latter as far as I am concerned.  The visit continues in a sort of eighteenth century townhouse and features period rooms and an audio guide.  Now we're talking! Germans in Frankfurt appear to conflate Baroque and Rococco and the displays include that and nineteenth century Biedermier, and well as Art Nouveau--Jugendstil in German.

By that time the afternoon had grown warm but I crossed the Main on the Eisensteg.  There's a European custom, lately imported to the United States of engaged couples writing their names on padlocks and locking them to the sides of bridges and then tossing the key into the river..  There's one in Paris, too, so weighted down by the locks, they've had to forbid any more.

I took another quick stroll around the Romer and visited the Dom. Frankfurt Cathedral was destroyed in  World War II, so one visits a reconstruction of the Gothic church where they used to crown Holy Roman Emperors.  I happened to arrive during a service, so I stood in back and looked around while the soaring music made me forget my tired feet for a while.  Some tourists were walking around. Please don't do this.  It's so disrespectful.

By that time the afternoon had grown hot, and I was worn out.  I took the U Bahn back to the Haupbahnhof and made my way home via the shopping mall for dinner and groceries.  Yay!  I found hummus for breakfast.

Nice.  What's for dinner?

That old German classic Fisch und Chips mit remoulade.  The shopping mall has a branch of the German chain Nordsee that I first encountered in Vienna.  When I got home I had some water, because it's vital to stay hydrated.  I had some apfelwein and nuts as an appetizer.  I always pack a bag of nuts.  They make a handy healthful snack.  I did not like the apfelwein any better, but I got some Reisling from the Rhine region to go with my dinner.  Shall we have a sip?  That's very nice for something I just pulled from the grocery store shelf following my five Euro rule.  It's on the dry side but not very dry.  I believe I detect notes of tropical fruit.  Seriously!  I am not being snarky for a change.

Guten Appetiten!

¡Hot Dog!

We get it, Pil,  You're in Frankfurt.  Sheesh!

You don't get it.  Hot dog--it's what's for dinner.  Yes.  I am having a frankfurter in Frankfurt!  How cool is that?  But don't go thinking this is anything like Oscar Meyer or what you get at the ballpark. This is the Real Deal.

But first.  I had a smooth trip over.  Normally I get some three hours of (bad) sleep on the plane, but this time I got none.  I tried, but I was in a noisy cabin and there were active and loud kids in the row behind me.  Kids kick seat backs.  I did when I was a kid.  So karma.

But I arrived all right.  At passport control the nice German policewoman asked me where I was going. "Frankfurt," I replied, puzzled.  Why was she asking me where I had arrived?  Then it occurred to me.  Frankfurt Airport is a major transfer point--I've gone through myself.  She was screening passengers for those who needed to go to a gate rather than out to baggage retrieval.

I obtained my bag and then went looking for a Frankfurt Card.

Oh no, another of those cards!

Yes.  Deals aren't exactly thick on the ground in Frankfurt, but even if you are only taking the S Bahn to transfer to the train to elsewhere in the Hauptbahn Hof.  The card gets you into town for less than the normal ticket, and if you have time to spare you get public transportation and reduced admission to a lot of museums.

The ride into town is fairly short, and I fetched up at the previously mentioned Hauptbahnhof and set out for Citadines.  I found it easily enough although I took the long way around.  My room was not ready, but I expected that.  I put on my contact lenses and smeared myself with sun screen and took off.  I went back to the train station and picked up the U Bahn or subway for the historic center.  I got out at Romer and was almost immediately accosted by a beggar.  My total of beggars for the day was three.
The Romer is so called because this was once a Roman Camp and the market town grew up around that site.  It's beautiful and charmingly touristy!  I had a nice walk around and ended up by the banks of the Main.  But my brain had begun to buzz alarmingly, so I cut my visit short and took the U Bahn back to the train station where I had ascertained I could obtain Frankfurter. Then I went home. . . to find my room not ready.  Fortunately cold water is available in the guests lounge, so I sipped and watched the BBC.  And then the receptionist told me there was a problem, and it would be even longer.  I went across the street to the fancy, modern shopping mall to the grocery store.  I only had my small shopping bag with me, so I could not get much--just providing for breakfast tomorrow mostly, but I did get a bottle of Apfelwein to go with my frankfurters.  So let's talk food.

Finally!

Apfelwein is ok.  I have had it before, and I was hoping it would be better on its home ground.  If you are a cider drinker--it doesn't taste like cider.  It does not have much of an applely or any taste, but if you come to Frankfurt you need to try it anyway.  But the wurst is the best!  One gets Frankfurter in pairs, and at an imbiss you get a German bun with it, but to be really authentic the bun gets left on the side and one eats the frankfurter with a knife and fork, dipping the pieces in mustard as one goes. This is what I am doing.  The "dogs" are longer and thinner than the U.S. version and the skin is snappy, and the flavor is superb.  It's very satisfying after a long, long day.

Mainhattan

Hey, Pil, I thought you were going to Europe, but it looks like you are headed for the Big Apple.
Look again!  It's more like der grosse Apfel.  My destination is Frankfurt am Main--one pronounces the name of the river "mine."  The nickname stems from the fact that Frankfurt is a business metropolis full of skyscrapers, a sky line not very common in Germany.  The city is the headquarters for the country's largest banks (and as a consequence is also known as Bankfurt), as well as the European Stock Exchange, and hosts frequent international trade fairs.  The most famous is the Book Fair held, I believe, in October.
So I could swing over after I attend Oktober Fest in Munich.
And you could, too, but unless expense is no object, I would advise not.  When the business folk descend on the city, hotel prices go through the roof.  It's the old law of supply and demand.  Dates of the trade fairs or Messe are readily available on line. That's how I was able to pick my dates and to afford coming here.
But why are you going?  The last time I heard about Frankfurt was when I read Heidi.  It's not on tourist radar is it?
Usually not.  After all look how long it took me to get here.  Frankfurt is not known for its charm, and even among Germans has the reputation of being all business.  Nevertheless, there is plenty of history and art on offer, and the city makes a great base for exploring the region.  Much of Frankfurt suffered the same fate, i.e. being bombed into rubble, as other German cities during that Unpleasantness in the early 1940s, and the historic center and many churches are reconstructions.
Frankfurt was a Roman foundation and the northern limit of the Empire's control called the Limes is not too far north of the city.  But the city got its name, according to legend, when Charlemagne arrived.  The story is that he and his pals went out hunting, and the deer they were after escaped by running across the River Main.  "Hmm," said Charles or Karl, since we are in Germany, "Must be a ford there.  What a great place for a market town."  Hence the name Ford of the Franks.  Because of its strategic location Frankfurt became the place where Holy Roman Emperors were elected and often crowned.  Its status as a Free Imperial City allowed it to flourish and begin to host those international trade fairs I mentioned earlier.
So let's leave business aside and go seeking history.  I can promise plenty of intriguing museums, glittering palaces, looming castles,as well as the romantic Rhine, and the mysterious Black Forest.
And food, Pil?  Say there's food!
Food and drink, too.  I won't let you down.  Please join me!