I arrived in Frankfurt about 9 pm, completely sleepy and not having eaten in 10 hours (if you’re reading here Mom, remember that you can’t kill me from 9 time zones away). I grumpily managed to find the Metro and even found the South station, due to a lucky conversation I’d had with Paul that afternoon about the meaning of the word “sud.” My wonderful host Lena was waiting for me, and hauled me back to her flat in the party zone of Frankfurt.
Speaking of party zones, I managed to rally and we headed out to explore the district that night. Following the universe rule of Irish pubs, there were 2 in a 5 block radius of Lena’s house. And one had karaoke night. Guess where we went? Why yes, the bar with drunk Germans and foreigners trying to sing American music. One of the drunk Aussies was trying to get thrown out of the bar, by annoying the bartenders with constant high fives, singing “I’ll be there for you” at them, and begging for free drinks. He gave up, and bought me a tequila shot, yum yum. Lena and I eventually bailed, about 2-3 am, with the plan of actually being awake the following day (also with the plan of not being thrown from the bar along with the drunk assholes).
My day in Frankfurt was wondrously cold, full of paintings, sandwiches and coffee. A note: because I am a traveling bum, I didn’t realize that it was Good Friday until I noticed that NOTHING was open besides tourist attractions. And that included all the cute clothes shops, booo!
So I went to a museum and drooled over the amazing collection of avante garde oils, some that escaped from Hitler’s “Deviant Art” purge! When my brain was full of art, and I’d gotten sick of the too-bright abstract expressionism paintings, I went in search of food and better things to look at. Enter the center. It was full of tourists, surprise, and yummy sandwich shops. However, the buildings were gorgeous and I wandered around with my beer-soak camera for hours. And then I decided to check out the sky-scraper section of downtown. And promptly got lost, couldn’t locate myself on the map and ended up in front of a giant banking building.
Naturally, this was confusing and annoying, as the entire town was either at church (yeah right) or still hungover–so, no one to ask for help. However, I wandered a bit and guess what? I found myself in a red light district on a lovely Friday afternoon. It smelled like piss and was a lot like the creepy part of downtown Portland (you know what I mean, Rae). I then tripped over the Frankfurt Occupy camp, which yeah, still exists. It looked like the Saturday Market, minus the tie-dye and with fewer port-a-pots, eww. After escaping from that, I found an old church with a tower, which I’m starting to think is a thing in Germany. And I climbed up, got a bunch of lovely pics, and headed back to my house for a rest that didn’t involve being surrounded by tourists.
That night, I hung with the amazing Lena and her roomies, discussing politics, Occupy, and the meaning of life with Germans and a Dutch guy. It probably goes without saying, but we drank beers and wine while philosophizing.
The following morning, I hauled my butt off the couch at 5:30 a.m. (ewwww) and got down to the Main Station (known as the Hauptbahnhof, German is weird) to get on a bus to the Frankfurt Hahn Airport. Two hours later, I was waiting for my flight back to Spain, until I learned that the snow had delayed things for an hour. Grrrr, I could have slept a little longer, was my first thought. Eventually we got in the air, and I could try to ignore the Ryanair flight attendants and sleep a little bit. Yeah, right.
To Be Continued…