Frankfurt/Lindau—city rhythm and country melody

Bright and early, we set out for Frankfurt.  I experience the autobahn for the first time, it’s exhilarating.  I normally hate driving, but even I would enjoy driving in Germany.  The roads are smooth, and the drivers obey traffic laws—what a novel concept!  The autobahn has no speed limit.  We are in the fast lane, going on average at 200km per hour (125MPH), occasionally going up to the 220 range (that’s almost 140MPH!).  In no time, we make it to Frankfurt.  The city is brimming with pedestrians.  There is a diversity festival going on.  Everywhere we go, music plays loudly.  We go past the city opera to see the stock trading center—supposedly this is the biggest one in the European Union.  Nice place, but it’s got nothing on Wall Street.

Germany is all about preserving historic architecture.  Even in downtown Frankfurt, new buildings can only be added onto, not replace, the centuries-old houses.  The building in the photo below is a perfect example of the extreme measures they are willing to take.  When the city had to construct an underground train station in this spot, they tore down the house but numbered each brick.  Upon completion of the station, they rebuild the house with the original bricks in the exact same order.  Mad props to Germany.

We walk by the newest city galleria, or shopping mall, and I notice something interesting: a giant hole in the wall!

Our stroll takes us to a town square.  This area was destroyed after WWII and later rebuilt to look exactly like it used to.  I suddenly hear loud traditional Chinese music.  Whoah, definitely unexpected.  Turns out this is part of the diversity celebration. 

Finally, we get on the pedestrian bridge on the Main River and cross halfway to admire the city skyline.  After that we stop by a cafe to eat some Frankfurt sausage  and head back to the car.  In comparison to Paris, where there are also large crowds of people on the street, I think the difference is that in Paris, I saw mostly foreign tourists; where as in Frankfurt, most of these people are local residents or tourists from other parts of Germany.  Germans seem to really know how to enjoy life.  I admire their balanced work/play lifestyle.  Of course it’s easier to achieve that balance when you are blessed with beautiful weather and awesome beer everywhere you go.  I can see myself living in Germany happily—this, in my book, is one of the highest compliments for a country!

  

Karen and her husband drop me off at the train station.  I thank them profusely for being such gracious hosts and showing me the best of Aschaffenburg and Frankfurt.  I hope they will visit me, so I can show them the best of Baltimore… on second thought, scratch that, we’ll go to DC.

Onward to Lindau I go! What do you know, the train is late again.  This time, I only have 6 minutes to transition to the second train at Ulm.  I get in at 6:15, I curse a little under my breath, preparing for the second train, scheduled to leave at 6:12, to be already gone.  Luckily, it’s still there!  I sprint (ok, maybe it’s more like a jog, by now my luggage has gotten heavier) to the train and as soon as I get on, doors close and the train starts moving.  Whew.  I think my expectations for German trains were too high.  I’ve heard too many people boast that the trains here are ALWAYS on time, like on-the-dot on time.  I just have to realize that yes, in general they are punctual, but they are people not robots, so a ±5 minute is forgivable.

I reach Lindau just past 8p.m.  The walk to my apartment is easy.  When I get here, I don’t see the landlady.  She is supposed to meet me here to give me the key—we arranged it 2 months ago.  Uh oh, this is another classic Grace mistake—scheduling something weeks or months in advance without a confirmation the day before.  Fortunately I run into one of the media coordinators for the conference (forgive me if you read this, I don’t know how to spell your fancy European name), who helped me call the landlady.  In a few minutes she arrives and shows me the apartment.  She tells me that until my roommate arrives the next day, I am all on my own.  The rest of this building are business offices, which don’t open on Sundays.  She bids me goodbye but promises to come back the next morning to bring me a map. 

After she leaves, I unpack a bit and hop in the shower.  Literarily, as soon as I start to soap myself, I hear a knock on the door.  I completely freak out—ohmygawwwwwd, I thought there is no one else here, who is it how did they even get in the building?  I panic and don’t know what to do next.  Should I ignore it?  Oh, can’t, this person continues to knock.  Should I get dressed first?  Well, that takes at least 10 minutes since I have to dry off first.  So of course I do what in my mind is the most reasonable thing—wrap myself up in a towel and go answer the door.  Why I thought this is a good idea at the time is beyond me.  Had this been a bad person, how would I defend myself?  With my bare hands?  Alas, I am not Chuck Norris.  Fortunately, it’s my landlady dropping off the map. 

I finish my shower in peace, and head out to find dinner.  For a small island town, there sure are a lot of Asian cuisine choices: Thai, Chinese, Japanese.  I choose an Italian restaurant because they are playing the US-Ghana game on a projector.  The food is good, but the game not so much.  After dinner I go on a stroll by myself.  There is a live music performance by the harbor, but for the rest of the island, darkness has brought silence.  Under night sky, tranquility permeates the air. 

 

I stop by the harbor one more time to get a picture of the light house—the symbol of Lindau.  The moon is up, its reflection dances and sparkles on the water. 

I head back to the apartment to get some sleep.  Tomorrow is going to be a good day.