After a leisurely start to the day in Wiesbaden, we boarded the train for the airport in Frankfurt, where we wanted to drop our bags before going into town. So you think the airport is a nightmare as you try to get to your gate, right? Try finding the airport hotels, for which there is no single sign until you’re within 50 yards. We were repeatedly misdirected, and spent over 30 minutes looking for the damned Marriott. Finally at our goal, we found a brand new hotel that closely resembles…a dormitory. But it was clean and entirely functional, so who’s to complain?
During all my years of training and teaching, I was a Germanist who had never been to the Goethe house in Frankfurt, so we set out to rectify that lacuna. Like much of Frankfurt, the house had been bombed flat, but the furnishings had been stored in a safe place, and the building was lovingly reconstructed after the war.
It’s quite a house for the 18th century–Goethe was born in 1749 into one of Frankfurt’s most prominent families–with five floors and lovely gardens.
If you look closely just to the left of the far cherub you’ll see a young ginkgo tree in a pot. The ginko was the great poet’s favorite tree; and he even wrote a love poem to a married woman using the tree as structural metaphor!
In my garden’s care and favour
From the East this tree’s leaf shows
Secret sense for us to savour
And uplifts the one who knows.
Is it but one being single
Which as same itself divides?
Are there two which choose to mingle
So that each as one now hides?
As the answer to such question
I have found a sense that’s true:
Is it not my songs’ suggestion
That I’m one and also two?
With plenty of culture under our belts, we paused to add some nourishment to the brew (soup for both of us) and went off in search of gifts for the grandchildren. Unlike a similar hunt in London, we were able to find some things that were ostensibly made in Germany.
Frankfurt is city of contrasts. You can stand on one spot and look one way and see the old opera building.
And turn around and see this.
But the city gets a bad rap, especially by the wannabe anti-capitalists in Berlin. We’ve spent a pleasant couple of days here, and nowhere more than “down by the river.” Both banks of the Main are lined with parks, perfect for barge and people watching!
We ended the trip with a fabulous dinner at a small, very modern restaurant called Heimat. They have the best German wine list I’ve ever seen. And we had the best German Pinot Noir I have tasted, made by a woman with the very un-German name of Simone Adams. We split an order of Folie Gras Terrine with rhubarb; Sue had sea bass and I had veal chop, with cheese to finish off the wine.