Friday, March 1, 2019

In which we see some snow (Frankfurt part III).



The next day's adventure was reminiscent of this glorious day that Jules and I both fondly remember, hiking around Tegernsee back when she lived in Munich. Though, on second thought, "reminiscent of" is a little unfair, as it was wonderful in its own right and will also be fondly remembered by all parties for years to come.

The first "mountain" we had to scale was the one of buttery oat pancakes on the breakfast table.


The second "mountain" took some driving to reach, so I sat back and enjoyed the hazy sunshine on the Hessian countryside, as we tuned our way through the local radio stations.


When we finally reached our destination, we were surprised to find the Vogelsberg forest still covered in a thick layer of snow. A silly thing to be surprised about in February, yes, yet the last few days in Frankfurt had been so deliciously sunny and warm that I'd rather forgotten about the concept of snow in general. So off we went, walking,  slipping, sliding in a winter wonderland, and wishing we had skis.


There were a lot of other people (and just as many dogs bounding through the snow) around, and this little bear in particular was so tuckered out that he'd fallen asleep like this, which was particularly funny seen together with the very awake sibling on the sled next to him. His parents let me take a picture. "Sure, whatever. It's not like you can see his face -- is this going to show up on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow?"











This adventure was partially a quest to find the source of the Nidda, the river near Jules and Imm's apartment in Frankfurt, and in the end we did make it to the proclaimed source. There was a bench and a sign and a trickling stream, though none of the mystical pomp I had secretly been hoping for, except for this one glowing orb sighted through the trees...









On the way home, we stopped in the fachwerky village of Schotten for dinner, quaint and quiet and quite out of the blue.




The sun rose aflame in the neighbor's chimney the next morning, and I had a good deal of laze (and another bowl of Imm's Special Porridge) before packing my things and heading back into the city.



-- We pause this broadcast for a moment of Very Deep Refrigerator Magnet Poetry --



Back in town, the sun played hopscotch on the windows as I walked through Frankfurt West.




There were still a few hours before my train, so I moseyed (yes, apparently that is the past tense of mosey) over to the hotly recommended Palmengarten. First it got a few points for cute literal translation work:


And then a whole boatload of points for being generally spectacular:






All the outdoor gardens in the complex were under construction (see: still February), but the greenhouses were a perfect place to spend a couple quiet, Monday hours before my 5-hour train ride home. 

From what I'd read and been told, Frankfurt am Main has a less than stellar reputation, and in the time spent walking around there, I can see where this comes from. The income disparity between the bankers and homeless population was absolutely visible and even shocking at times, seeing people begging or clearly on drugs against this background of shiny skyscrapers. The city feels like it's in flux, on the move, somehow figuring out a new identity, with a lot of construction work, a sky full of airplanes, and one of the most diverse makeups in Germany. There were different languages and cultures being represented in neighborhoods all over the place, and maybe it was the delirium of sunshine and approaching spring, but it seemed to be working out alright. Frankfurt has a lot to be proud of, and it'll be interesting to see how this new identity takes shape in the next years.