July 25, 2005
I had been afraid for months that the Fulbright Commission was going to call me or send me a letter saying they had made a mistake, that my name had appeared on the accepted list by accident. But as I looked out the airplane window and watched the ground get closer, I knew there was no mistake: I was—I am—a Fulbright Fellow. As the plane touched down at the Frankfurt am Main Airport, I was overcome with excitement. The anxiety and nervousness of the past weeks were gone, replaced with an irrepressible giddiness. This was actually happening!
My passport stamped, I caught the next train to the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof. I couldn’t actually get my luggage close to a seat (did I really pack that much?), so I stood just near the door. I was surrounded by two older German couples, who smiled at me and told me the train station was just one stop away. Then one of them said something else and they all laughed. Their conversation went back and forth, and I quickly became lost. So much for knowing German. Feeling more than a little stupid, I turned to watch the approaching city.
Frankfurt, the capital of Hesse, is the economic heart of Germany. Nicknamed ”Mainhatten” for its numerous skyscrapers, Frankfurt sits on the Main River, near the geographical center of the country. My Fulbright orientation will be here in Frankfurt, in two weeks. I’d come early to travel a bit and see the rest of Germany—as well as Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and Belgium—on a Eurail pass.
I’d booked a night at a private hostel, the Stay and Learn Residence, just across from the Hauptbahnhof. I’d decided to go with a private room for the night, just in case I was wiped out from the journey. I dumped my suitcases in my room, locked up my laptop and valuables at the front desk, and made my way out into the city.
Foolishly, I hadn’t brought my map book along, and I hadn’t done a lot of research on Frankfurt. I knew the train station sat at one end of the center of the city, but that was all. As I walked down the Kaisterstrasse, I assumed I’d find something. After 15 minutes, I turned right, and found myself standing just outside the Goethe House and Museum. I paid the 5-euro admission and walked in. The house was virtually destroyed during the war, and the only remains of the original structure are the first four steps leading to the upper floors. No matter: those steps were enough for me. Just thinking that Goethe—whose poetry I have sung for as long as I have been singing—had run up those steps as a young man gave me chills.
The rest of the museum had displays and drawings, and different rooms, but I was too tired to really pay attention. I decided to leave and make my way to the river. I walked to the south, through the oldest part of town, the Römerberg. It looked like what I thought Germany should, with a large cobblestone square, old buildings, a church, statues and small clusters of people. If not for the digital cameras, Starbucks cups and white iPod headphones, I could imagine myself sitting in the square in the middle of the 18th century, waiting for friends.
As I made my way south, the 21st century returned, in the shape of cars, buses, and trucks on the Mainkai. On the other side of the road was the Main. I chose a bench under a large shade tree and sat down. A wide pedestrian path followed the riverbank, populated with runners and cyclists. Most made their way to the Eiserner Steg, or iron footbridge, to cross to the south side of the city. Across the river, there was a children’s fair, with games, rides, and concessions. The sounds of laughter traveled the width of the river and, together with the gentle breeze, lulled me to sleep.
I awoke an hour later, refreshed. The temperature had dropped and the wind was picking up, and I decided it was time to get some food. Earlier, I’d noticed a little beer garden just outside the train station. I ordered and sat down to a sausage, pommes frites, and my first genuine German beer. Satisfied, I headed for the hostel. Its proximity to the station was ideal, but I didn’t want to be near the surrounding businesses after dark—I’d somehow picked a hostel right in the middle of Frankfurt’s red light district. I got to my room, and decided I had stayed up long enough.
A smile on my face, my eyes quickly closed, and I dreamt all night of Germany.
