It’s darn hard passing by all the cake shops in Germany. Wedding cakes, in particular, must be a big business. All colours and all styles! Here are a few temptations. Luckily there was a plate glass window between me and them.
Five years ago today I stopped smoking. It’s a good thing I did it long before travelling. In 2009, Africa was overrun with cigarettes. Everyone smoked, or so it seemed. And of course, the smokes were cheap. We spent some time in Spain before we started that trip, and everyone smoked there too — in restaurants, hotel rooms, in taxis.
A few years on and I expected Germany to be a bit stricter. No so. The hotel receptionist in Mainz apologised profusely because she had to put us in a smoking room (Poor John and I agreed that the smell really wasn’t that strong). The hotel room in Heidelberg was clearly marked non-smoking, but there was a huge ashtray in the room. Just in case, I suppose.
But most startling was the cigarette vending machines bolted to random fences. No need to worry about running out. Just stroll down the street to buy from your local dispenser. Credit cards accepted.
You'll never run out of cigarettes in Germany.
As an aside, the other day Kirusan said he remembered when I stopped smoking. He was living with us at the time. I bet everyone for miles around remembers when I stopped smoking.
Our first few days were in Frankfurt — staying with Maike’s family. Five years ago, Maike spent 12 months as an exchange student in Australia. She didn’t live with us, but I was her coordinator, and she had quite a few stays at our house. Her family welcomed us so warmly, and we were more than surprised to discover that we arrived in the midst of an afternoon tea for Maike’s 20th birthday. No doubt, Facebook reminded me that it was her birthday, but I was airborne when that message came through. So we shared the limelight and met all her immediate family, as well as her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, boyfriend and boyfriend’s family. We also were able to sample an impressive array of the cakes! There were at least six different cakes on offer, and I don’t mean simple, thrown-together cakes. There was a huge Black Forest Cake (made by Maike and her grandmother) along with other huge delicacies laden with butter, dried fruit, custard, almonds, cream, chocolate and much more. Apparently it is a German tradition to have a variety of cakes on one’s birthday. Nice custom. Sorry the cakes went by so fast that I didn’t get a chance to photograph any of them.
Of course, the sheer volume of cake meant it was easy to decide what to have for breakfast. So in addition to the get-some-visas challenge, we had the get-rid-of-all-the-cake-calories challenge.
Frankfurt made that quite easy. It may be Germany’s commercial centre, but it’s also really, really flat. A true heaven for walkers and cyclists! It’s also a manageable size. Even though the population is more than 650,000 (according to a 10-year-old guide book), it feels much smaller. From the top of the 200-metre-tall, 56-storey Main (pronounced Mine) Tower, we were struck by how compact the city is. We could easily see surrounding satellite cities such as Darmstadt. Trivia — the Main Tower has 250 underground parking places and 2500 windows.
Sweeping (if cloudy) views from Frankfurt's Main Tower
We walked across the Main River to Sachsenhausen, Frankfurt’s entertainment area. It’s full of taverns and eateries, but they must rely on the nightlife — in mid-afternoon there were only a handful of places open for lunch. We also visited Goethe’s House and the Old Opera House. Another Frankfurt highlight is the My Zeil Shopping Centre. No, I’m not a shopaholic, but the architecture is stunning. In two places the glass exterior turns on itself and funnels into and down through the centre of the mall. We rode the long-haul escalator (in one continuous stretch) to the fourth floor for a closer look at this remarkable structure. And Poor John had to spend quite a while visiting Saturn, an electronic/electrical gadget-type shop that covered who whole floors of the mall and reminded me of a giant Dick Smith’s or the Good Guys. He didn’t buy anything and neither did I. Also made obligatory stops at all the camping stores — Columbia, The North Face etc.
Ride the four-story escalator for a close up look at the glass funnels in the My Zeil Shopping Centre.
After the mall, we kept on walking. The problem is that you can overdo it. From the very first day, we have been on our feet for anywhere from five to nine hours. I’m foot sore. My feet hurt, my calves hurt, my hips hurt. I don’t really have any blisters, but my legs are complaining. Those of you who know me also know that my legs are pretty robust — every now and then complete strangers will tell me that I have ‘great calves’! Right now they aren’t the happiest of calves, but my attitude is okay.
Once we had exhausted the highlights of Frankfurt, we decided to explore the neighbouring areas while we waited for the Uzbek visas to be ready.
Thanks for your patience, but it’s about time I got this blog started.
The title ‘Where to Next’ has been inspired by my mother. Over the years, as I flitted around the globe, I would call her when I could.
After I’d say hello, her first question was always ‘Where are you?’
So where am I? That’s what this blog is all about.
Once again, John (my husband, who from now on will be referred to as Poor John) and I have set out on a long-haul overland journey. The last expedition was in Africa in 2009 — but more about that later (I’ll weave in some of those tales as appropriate). This time, we’re tackling the hippie route of London to Sydney. Can everyone our age (or somewhat younger) have already done this trip? Every time I explain our plans to anyone over the age of 45, they say ‘oh I did that in the 1970s’. Where was I then, what was I doing, why did I miss it that time around?
Oh wait, I was in Nebraska. Later that decade I was in Egypt — studying at the University of Cairo, meeting Poor John, and travelling in the Middle East and Africa.
So now we’re catching up. We’ve started our travels in Germany. Not a logical choice — unless you realise that we can’t get some critical visas in Australia. In particular, we are on the hunt for five visas, especially those needed to enter the Stans — as in Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan etc. We looked into having a British company obtain them, but that was going to cost about $1000, so we decided to spend that good money on a do-it-yourself approach in a place that we wanted to visit.
So far the visas are proving to be easy. Monday we arrived unannounced at the Kyrgyzstan Consulate in Frankfurt. Ten minutes later and only 110 euros poorer we left with visa-embellished passports. We had expected it to take up to seven days. First victory. Instead of buying a lottery ticket, we decided to try the Uzbekistan Consulate. We knew they wanted a Letter of Introduction (LOI), which we didn’t have yet, but we also knew that outlying consulates often — ahem — adjust the rules. The fellow at the counter took our passports and applications, and said he’d ask his Foreign Office if it would be okay.
‘Come back Monday,’ he said.
‘How sure are you that your Foreign Office will say okay?’ we asked.
‘Pretty sure.’ he replied with a pretty-sure smile, and followed by instructions on how we would have to deposit the visa fee at the bank and bring a receipt.
Soon now we’re travelling until Monday. Back soon with more news. As an aside, it’s been hard to get online here. Guess it’s the visa trade-off.
Where to next? 