We arrive. Fresh off the train we are greeted by the bussel of shuffling footsteps, a whole bunch of words I did not understand, and an ornate ceiling over head with Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof etched across the glass. I squeeze my eyes closed at first to concentrate on the words being spoken, hoping id make out a few, but then realized it was feat to open them again due to my extreme lack of sleep (see lost ipod and tina fay).
Frankfurt is not what I expected. Like Stendhal, I wanted to be taken into a “daze of delight,” demanding beauty and culture each way I looked. Neglecting to consider the location of our disposal, I gazed around and thought…Well here goes my journey.
Before I go on, I’ll say it first…I am not a writer. I’m an observer, a dreamer, a lover, a thinker, a musician and an artist at most, I can tell you what I am thinking with one look, you can feel my heart through my music more than under my right hand pressed across my body, but for some reason, not a writer. When I try to put my thoughts into the words they jumble together like a misformed clause that my 3rd grade teacher Ms. Chesney would yell at me for. If you want good writing turn to my other chootrain and have him translate for me…but since I am embarking on this journey on my own, allow the bits and pieces, the videos and pictures to speak on behalf of my sluggish tongue. And my hope is that I can stretch just a speck of culture across this historically drenched dreamcloud back to yours.
If you ever thought it’s a good idea to wheel around a bag in Europe, it isn’t. The cobblestone streets and stairways made it nearly impossible to function, acting as an awful roadblock towards my unification with Hotel Leonardo. We finally reach the hotel and decide to take a stroll around the city. We are instructed not to nap. Stay awake and be alert for class in a few hours.
Not to complain, I know I know, buuuut telling me not to nap is like telling me not to breathe, either will produce the same effect...I’m done for. But I push through, we explore the downtown area and do our best to fit in with the passerbys. I think we thought we were doing a great job, muttering guten morgen and entschuldigung to each person we casually graze past. Feeling on top of my game, when a women asked me if I could read scribble from a crumpled piece of paper back into English I quickly exclaimed ja ja, alles klar.
“ Am I travel from Ukraine, need of funds of money or cash money if please, God Bless…..”
It was too late to say, "No I do not speak English," because like the typical tourist, apparently I stuck out like a sore thumb. I handed her my last US dollar and felt like I was back in Waco, waiting in line at Wendy's.
Lesson learned: pretend to not know English while pretending to know German
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