One of the beautiful things about my trip to Cairo was the fact that, along with the airplane ticket, I was able to add a train ticket. For just 19 € (euros), I was able to take any train I pleased to and from the airport in Frankfurt. However, there was one remarkable twist.
When I received the train ticket in the mail, it read:
Departure: (blank)
Arrival: Frankfurt Airport
Same thing on the return ticket:
Departure: Frankfurt Airport
Arrival: (blank)
Very interesting, I thought. I would use these blanks to my advantage, I decided, when I came back to Germany. Instead of taking the 45 minute train ride back to Würzburg, I decide to visit a friend four hours to the north, in good old Hamburg. Four hours on a very fast German Intercity Express train for 19 €? Yep, a great bargain. Thanks for the memories and the blanks, Deutsche Bundesbahn.
Hamburg is always worth a visit. Hamburg is to the north what Munich is to the south. A huge metropolis built around the Elbe river and its subsidiary, the famous Alster. Hamburg was completely leveled during World War II, courtesy of the British Royal Air Force. It was rebuilt with the usual German thoroughness, retaining the old world architecture that dominates the city center, including the town hall and numerous churches featuring those high towers with the long triangular roofs that alone dwarf most highrises in the vicinity.
My host, Peter, and I have known each other since we were both in seventh grade back in Bavaria. Today he is the fitness coach for the ice hockey team, the Hamburg Freezers, as well as for the cult soccer club in these parts, FC St. Pauli. This weekend I am in for a special treat: Sunday is the day of the Hamburg 'CityMan', the triathlon that would occupy the lion share of downtown Hamburg, where Peter himself would participate. A 1.5 km swim in the Alster lake, followed by a 40 km bike ride, topped off by a 10 km run. Impressive. Even more impressive are the 8,000 participants. It requires superb organisational skills to pull off an event of that magnitude in any city, and Hamburg is more than up to the challenge. I am still jealous when I think about it. I still think I could have participated, even on such short notice, and done well.
Later, we dine at a St. Pauli restaurant near the 'Rote Flora', an old building that now hosts concerts, flea markets, and, most notably, protests from any political group - just like that evening, as our luck will have it. 400 policemen and women in full battle gear quietly watch the demo unfold in front of the Rote Flora, ready to charge at any minute. Luckily, this never happens, and we are able to eat our food and drink our beer outside in relative peace and quiet.
The next day, I decide to run around the famous Alster river myself. Although people in town call it the Alster 'lake', the Alster in the heart of Hamburg is an actual branch of the Elbe river nearby. It is an incredible sight by any standard. Even the water reservoir I jogged around in Central Park in Manhattan can't hold a candle to the Alster route, which measures 7.4 km once you've completed it. When I leave the appartment in nearby Eppendorf, the weather is a solid 85 degrees, and dropping. Perfect weather for six p.m., I'd say.
Of course, there's a reason that any waterhole town in Spain or Italy will outrank Hamburg in popularity among tourists, and that's, you guessed it, because of the weather, the rain, to be more specific. Of course, the rain waits patiently until I have reached the halfway mark of my route, and then comes down with a vengeance. Dozens of joggers, including myself, are soaked within seconds and run quicker than they had at any point till then to seek shelter.
The place I pick for a shelter is the Lombard Bridge, which also happens to be the temporary living quarters of about 30 homeless people, and I decide to wait there with them, watching the flashes of lightning in the distance and the millions of raindrops dancing on the surface of the Alster. I politely decline the offer of a beer from one of the homeless guys. There are still miles to run (there's a unique chance to re-write that Frost poem) till I can get home and shower. I watch a flock of geese confidently swimming down the Alster, utterly ignoring the weather, as confident as US aircraft carriers patrolling the Persian Gulf.
When the rain subsides, I bid my farewell to my new companions under the bridge and continue to run. As luck will have it, the rains wait until I emerge from the protective canopies of the Alster park and then reward me with another downpour. I ignore every red light until I reach home, grateful I've made it. I haven't been that drenched since I volunteered at the dunk tank the year before at an Embassy party.
As I look outside now, it is about five pm here in Hamburg, the perfect time again for a run around the Alster. Although the sun is shining, there is also a little shower aiming to make the leaves of those oak trees outside of my window greener than they are. Too much of a tease for me. I think I will pass for today.
When I received the train ticket in the mail, it read:
Departure: (blank)
Arrival: Frankfurt Airport
Same thing on the return ticket:
Departure: Frankfurt Airport
Arrival: (blank)
Very interesting, I thought. I would use these blanks to my advantage, I decided, when I came back to Germany. Instead of taking the 45 minute train ride back to Würzburg, I decide to visit a friend four hours to the north, in good old Hamburg. Four hours on a very fast German Intercity Express train for 19 €? Yep, a great bargain. Thanks for the memories and the blanks, Deutsche Bundesbahn.
Hamburg is always worth a visit. Hamburg is to the north what Munich is to the south. A huge metropolis built around the Elbe river and its subsidiary, the famous Alster. Hamburg was completely leveled during World War II, courtesy of the British Royal Air Force. It was rebuilt with the usual German thoroughness, retaining the old world architecture that dominates the city center, including the town hall and numerous churches featuring those high towers with the long triangular roofs that alone dwarf most highrises in the vicinity.
My host, Peter, and I have known each other since we were both in seventh grade back in Bavaria. Today he is the fitness coach for the ice hockey team, the Hamburg Freezers, as well as for the cult soccer club in these parts, FC St. Pauli. This weekend I am in for a special treat: Sunday is the day of the Hamburg 'CityMan', the triathlon that would occupy the lion share of downtown Hamburg, where Peter himself would participate. A 1.5 km swim in the Alster lake, followed by a 40 km bike ride, topped off by a 10 km run. Impressive. Even more impressive are the 8,000 participants. It requires superb organisational skills to pull off an event of that magnitude in any city, and Hamburg is more than up to the challenge. I am still jealous when I think about it. I still think I could have participated, even on such short notice, and done well.
Later, we dine at a St. Pauli restaurant near the 'Rote Flora', an old building that now hosts concerts, flea markets, and, most notably, protests from any political group - just like that evening, as our luck will have it. 400 policemen and women in full battle gear quietly watch the demo unfold in front of the Rote Flora, ready to charge at any minute. Luckily, this never happens, and we are able to eat our food and drink our beer outside in relative peace and quiet.
The next day, I decide to run around the famous Alster river myself. Although people in town call it the Alster 'lake', the Alster in the heart of Hamburg is an actual branch of the Elbe river nearby. It is an incredible sight by any standard. Even the water reservoir I jogged around in Central Park in Manhattan can't hold a candle to the Alster route, which measures 7.4 km once you've completed it. When I leave the appartment in nearby Eppendorf, the weather is a solid 85 degrees, and dropping. Perfect weather for six p.m., I'd say.
Of course, there's a reason that any waterhole town in Spain or Italy will outrank Hamburg in popularity among tourists, and that's, you guessed it, because of the weather, the rain, to be more specific. Of course, the rain waits patiently until I have reached the halfway mark of my route, and then comes down with a vengeance. Dozens of joggers, including myself, are soaked within seconds and run quicker than they had at any point till then to seek shelter.
The place I pick for a shelter is the Lombard Bridge, which also happens to be the temporary living quarters of about 30 homeless people, and I decide to wait there with them, watching the flashes of lightning in the distance and the millions of raindrops dancing on the surface of the Alster. I politely decline the offer of a beer from one of the homeless guys. There are still miles to run (there's a unique chance to re-write that Frost poem) till I can get home and shower. I watch a flock of geese confidently swimming down the Alster, utterly ignoring the weather, as confident as US aircraft carriers patrolling the Persian Gulf.
When the rain subsides, I bid my farewell to my new companions under the bridge and continue to run. As luck will have it, the rains wait until I emerge from the protective canopies of the Alster park and then reward me with another downpour. I ignore every red light until I reach home, grateful I've made it. I haven't been that drenched since I volunteered at the dunk tank the year before at an Embassy party.
As I look outside now, it is about five pm here in Hamburg, the perfect time again for a run around the Alster. Although the sun is shining, there is also a little shower aiming to make the leaves of those oak trees outside of my window greener than they are. Too much of a tease for me. I think I will pass for today.
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