Goethes Geburtstag

Today is the birthday of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, probably Germany's most celebrated writer, poet, playwright and all-round literary deity (he would be 261 today, if people lived that long).

Baby Johann was born in a house on Großer Hirschgraben in Frankfurt am Main. You can go for a look at the Goethehaus (in the city centre) and have a tour. However, it's not actually the same house. It is in the same location and looks just the same, but it had to be rebuilt after the original was destroyed in WWII (this goes for most of the 'old' things in Frankfurt actually; the 'Alte Oper' isn't really so 'alt' at all, having been finally rebuilt in 1981).

Crowds assembled outside the Goethehaus

Goethe is also commemorated with a Straße:

A Platz with its own Parkhaus:

and a fancy statue:

Amongst other things.

Frankfurt is very proud of its famous son, so please raise your glasses and join me (and no doubt the rest of the city) in saying:

"Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Goethe!"
Happy birthday, Goethe!

Donner und Blitzen und Popstars

The rain is falling hard over Frankfurt. At about seven o'clock the sky dimmed and it started to pour with rain. I heard thunder and saw the flash of lightning and a little girl was running along the street outside the kitchen window and squealing as her umbrella wasn't quite as good a protection from the elements as she had hoped. And it was supposed to be 27 degrees today.

I decided to use my time indoors productively and watch 'Popstars: girls forever', which is the German version of  'Popstars' of course. Here it is not a talent show, but a 'Casting-Show' and from the subtitle you may also have gathered they are trying to form a girl band this year.

http://www.prosieben.de/tv/popstars/

The panel has its own version of Paula Abdul, Marta. During one candidate's rendition of 'Beautiful' by Christina Aguilera, she crouched behind the desk and danced among the jury's chairs, while lip-synching to the the song.

There were of course the usual stories and oddities as on any Casting-Show. There was the punk who told the presenter she was her ideal woman and then it cut to a VT of her telling her sob story of how she used to do drink and drugs. The jury liked her but not her singing.

A girl called Marie arrived dressed in her Oma's old frock and 70s sunglasses and then sang "the only song I like from the charts", 'Soul Sister', to great effect. At the call-back somehow her Facebook profile had been sourced and it was revealed she was just an actress and didn't really dress in Grandma clothes at all (I don't see the problem myself of course) and the choreographer man on the panel shook with rage that the jury had been used as an experiment.

It is still raining in Frankfurt and now I think it is time to go to sleep, with the not so gentle pattering of raindrops on the windowsill. Gute Nacht!

More Adventures with Saturn and bureaucracy

I needed to buy a mobile phone. After two and a half weeks I realised maybe waiting until another weekend when I would inevitably make plans/forget to purchase one, I hit Saturn after work.

After some time comparing the Handys (mobile phones) on offer, I decided a Samsung on T Mobile looked like the best choice. So I took it to the till (somewhat logically, you might think). However, it had to be registered first. So I took it to a sales assistant in the phones department. I asked them about the tariffs and another salesperson kept trying to tell me about mobile Internet, but I wasn't intreseted.

So I asked if I had to register the phone. I did. The salesperson asked if I had ID. I offered my driving licence. This isn't classed as ID in Germany. I went home.

On the way home I got a little lost in the music I was listening to, and consequently a little lost in Frankfurt. I missed the turning I would usually take so think I added about a kilometre to my journey. Oh dear. But I got to see a different part of the city which is always good.

The next day I went back to Saturn after work. I had my ID and had fortunately packed my Anmeldungsformular (registration form) in my handbag too, so I could prove not only my identity but also my address. I am not sure why mobile phone companies need so much information, perhaps it is to stop people buying mobile phones and using them for evil means, like they always seem to do on CSI. They can never track down those unregistered Pay As You Go mobiles! And that Germans don't seem too fussed by the amount of personal information you have to give to people (ok, Saturn employees) to do anything also seems a little at odds with the recent German fixation on the evil that is Google Street View, and that Google is becoming, basically, the new Stasi.

The cover of this week's stern magazine:

How the Internet company wants to traffic pictures and details of our lives

So my phone was registered, after some initial problems the salesperson had finding 'Großbritannien' on the list of countries, after looking for 'England' and 'Vereinigtes Königreich' beforehand. I took it to the till, got some rubber stamps and took it home. I opened up the packet and found some PIN numbers behind scratchcard-style panels, but didn't need them in the end.

Meine Pflanze fährt schwarz

My plant is skipping the fare


Yesterday I woke up at 0845 after my housemate advised we should get up early to have time to go to IKEA and the Wiesbaden wine festival. I didn't get out of bed until 0930 though and I was the first one up. She decided she didn't need to go to IKEA in the end, but me and my other flatmate still did. So I got myself ready and made a checklist of what I would need to buy from IKEA, and then I checked how we would get there:

table lamp, scissors, wastepaper basket, rug?, coat hangers, mirror, storage?

We made sure we knew where we were going and then set off. We felt we were sensibly dressed in our jeans and cardis, until we left the front door. It was 27°C. Nonetheless we proceeded to Grüneburgweg U-Bahn station (yes the site of my recent fright) and got the U2 in the direction of Gonzenheim (not Gonzenhem as I managed to write, above). Kalbach was the 11th stop. We discussed Germany's love of dubbing television programmes and films. They're dubbed well but we'd still rather watch the originals.

We got of the U-Bahn at Kalbach. It already felt like we were a long way out of the city. The skyline was on the horizon and there were fields the other side of the tracks. We went to wait for our bus. The carpark next to the station had a strange feel and parked right in the middle was a mushroom-coloured car that was at least 30 years old. It was a little too much like looking at a scene from a late 70s cop show and that car would explode at any moment. The 12 minutes until the bus arrived could not pass quickly enough.

Three teenage boys (let's say they were about 13) were also at the bus stop. They asked us if the bus went to McDonalds. "Keine Ahnung" was my response and they went back to studying the route map. Surely they could just go into town for a McDonalds?

We boarded the bus and sat down. We went round the semi-rural streets and stopped at the McDonalds. We got to Gewerbegebiet Nieder-Eschenbach and alighted. IKEA was obvious enough but the entrance wasn't so we just followed the other alighting passengers across the car park and hoped they had more of an idea than we did. We found the entrance and got our yellow bag and trolley and skipped the furniture displays.

IKEA is pretty much the same everywhere, as far as I can gather. The prices are in Euros in Germany though, and the lingonberry drink is fizzy not still. We got very confused by the self-service tills and I was saddened it would not accept my IKEA Family card because it was not German. Then I forgot to pay for my mirror so had to use the self-service machine again, and this time it did a different process with my bank card which was rather confusing. Next time, we are going to a proper till.

We went up the escalators to the restaurant and got our portions of köttbullar and lingonberry drink (as previously mentioned). It was a pretty scenic view for an IKEA as well (beyond the car park at least):

After we bought our Swedish godis (and I bought some plain crisps as I genuinely don't know where else to buy them in Germany as yet) we headed back downstairs to try and get out of the shop. We ended up walking half way around the Markthalle again and then had to show our receipts as we once again walked past the tills, to show we were not ostentatiously stealing two bags of homewares, a mirror and a plant. The lady told us to use the lockers next time. 

We waited in the baking heat for the bus. I used my mirror as a sunshade. Then we got back on the bus and couldn't work out which tickets you needed so decided to be Schwarzfahrerinnen (fare dodgers) for the short stretch to the U-Bahn, where we would once again acquire legitimate tickets back into Frankfurt. I was slightly terrified. We were hardly inconspicious with our outsized IKEA purchases and I started to convince myself this was the one day that the northern suburbs of Frankfurt would have a crackdown on those riding without tickets.

Die Schwarzfahrenpflanze
The fare-dodger plant

Of course, that did not happen and we got to Kalbach (the mushroom-couloured car had still not exploded), bought our tickets and resumed our journey back to Grüneburgweg. A lady sat next to me and commented on the sun. It was very warm. By the time we were back at Grüneburgweg we couldn't wait to get home and drink some iced water. Luckily we still had some ice left from my 'welcome party' so we got our iced water and then had a little rest. 

On keeping up to date with local news

"Did you hear someone got shot at the central station on Thursday?"

"What?!!"

While enjoying some evening drinks with co-workers on a balcony on Friday, the conversation came upon this shooting incident. One of the people there had been walking by the station and heard the two shots. She said the police shot two men as they tried to rob a bank. What an exciting tale!

However, the events which actually went on seem a bit less exciting.

http://www.fr-online.de/frankfurt/festnahmen-nach-schiesserei/-/1472798/4573198/-/index.html

Shots were fired in front of a bordello in the area of the main station. One man has a poorly arm. Several people have been taken into custody. SWAT (die Sondereinsatzkommando) were called out. Around 15 people (mostly prostitutes) were taken to the police station as witnesses. No-one's life is in danger. Some other people were arrested, but not in connection to this shooting.

Don't worry, I don't hang around the area by the train station. And I will start reading the local news.

Das Vokabelheft

Yes, I really have learnt something since coming to Germany. In fact, I have learnt some German. Despite beng well prepared on the language front (so I liked to think), there are still a lot of German words I do not know. But I'm getting there.

At work, there is a lot of computer-related vocabulary to learn, like der Reiter (tab, as Internet browsers have), das Laufwerk (hard drive) and Spalter and Zeilen (columns and rows on Excel). Then there are the more everyday words you thought you must surely already know, like erhalten (to receive) and gegebenfalls (if necessary). There are the words you need to know for official purposes, like die Lohnsteuerkarte (wage tax card), the ones you want to know to explain that it rains a lot in Sheffield because it is in a valley (das Tal) and the ones you want to know so you can find out what the witnesses on the cop show claim to have heard as the shots were fired: they thought the 'strange tock tock tock' was a woodpecker (der Specht).

Deutschland: Land der Stempel!

Germany: Land of the rubber stamp!


I thought I would 'pop in' to Staurn, the electronics megastore on the Zeil, in my lunch break today to swap a faulty (and somewhat moustache-like) headphone/microphone headset. My first error. I went to the till to tell them that the item was faulty and I would like to bring it back. "Sorry, you have to talk to a salesperson in that deprtment."

So I trotted apparently miles across the vast shopfloor to Computer Zubehör (accessories) and asked the salesman there if I could return the faulty item. "Sorry, you need to go to the service desk."

So I trotted more miles across the vast shopfloor to the info desk (another error on my part). I asked them if I could return the item. "Sorry we can't help you but the security man there will give you a form."

So I went over to the security man who looked at the item and looked at the receipt and filled in a form to say I had brought the item with me and it wasn't stolen. He signed it and stamped it so I asked the lady on the counter if I could return it now. "Sorry but you will have to ask a salesperson in the department you bought it from."

So I trotted off across the vast shopfloor back to Computer Zubehör. "Can I return this now? I have a form!" "Sorry no, you need a bigger form, go ask at the service desk."

So another epic journey across the vast shopfloor, back to the info desk. "Can I return this?" "Sorry you need the service desk over there." Cue another expedition through the aisles of electronics.

I reached the service desk. The queue was very long and not moving anywhere. I had to get back to work.

Work finished early so I decided to 'pop back' to Saturn - surely the service desk would sort this out and I would have a Gutschein (gift certificate) in no time at all!

I queued up at the service desk. I was first in line but both staff members on the desk were occupied: one by a man having an in-depth call on his mobile about what to do about the item he was returning, the other by a family arguing with him and his manager about the finer points of German retail laws. I waited.

I considered the German love of forms and rubber stamps

Another position opened and I was called to the desk. "Can I return this please?" "When did you buy it?" "Saturday" "Oh yes, definitely a gift certificate." The man looked at the form and photocopied the receipt. Then I had to write my name and address on the paper. Then my form got another rubber stamp. "Now you need to take this to a salesperson at the department."

So I trudged what seemed like miles across the vast shopfloor. When would this end?! I was back at Computer Zubehör once again. A different salesman was at the counter this time. There was a form to fill in on the computer. He said he spoke English but I said I needed to practise my German and he seemed happy enough. I had to give him my name and address. I almost forgot how to say "drei" which wasn't the best start. He printed out the form. Then realised it was the wrong form. Then had to fill it all out again. Then he went to check with is boss it was all right. "So is this a gift certificate then?" "Oh you can get your cash back if you want, you just have to take this to the till."

So en route to the till I picked up a different brand of headset. I went to the till. I gave the cashier the form. I paid the 3,00 EUR difference. I had to sign the form to say I had had my refund. I finally left Saturn.

Was it really worth all that for 9,99 EUR?!

A whole week in Frankfurt

So I have now been in Frankfurt for a whole week! It seems to have gone quite quickly (this is a good thing I think) so I feel this may be a good point in time to be a little reflective. I haven't planned much to say in this post, so excuse the thoughts-straight-to-type which will follow.

It's been a busy week. I've become a registered citizen of Frankfurt, opened a bank account, started my first proper job, been for after-work drinks, sampled several glasses of Äpfelwein, tried Frankfurter Grüner Soße, told the bank they forgot my house number, tried to buy postmen and, come to think of it, started a blog. Having just typed and looked over that list I seem to have achieved a lot but still not everything is quite perfect yet.

Even though I am in Germany, sometimes I forget that fact. When I am lying in bed in the morning particularly, there is the usual half-awake disorientation which is somewhat exacerbated by being in what is still a foreign country rather than really feeling like home. I don't think it helps that I did a lot of travelling around in the week or so before moving here and have got a bit used to not being in my bed at home. And after two years of university and having half the year in Leeds and half at home, a certain amount of confusion is probably the norm.

Being in Frankfurt and living with flatmates who aren't German are two other things which mean it can sometimes slip your mind that this is Germany. As well as not going a day without hearing and having conversations in English, even when I'm out and about there are English, American and a range of voices to be heard. It's nice to live somewhere so cosmopolitan (especially in comparison with Lincolnshire) but sometimes I think I would be using more German if i had been posted in some rural German backwater. Though if that were the case I think we could cue the rant about the commute to work, the lack of shopping and lack of difference to the semi-rural backwater I have moved from.

I haven't spoken as much as German as I was expecting. Though I think that is partly due to still feeling a little disoriented and having got so out of practice with my German over the summer. However, when I have been speaking German, it's not been too shabby (Briefträger episode excepted) so perhaps I really should not worry about the slight rustiness. And after the training at work I will have the opportunity (in fact, the neccesity) to speak a lot of German so I shan't get too worried about this. The year is still young!

Alone at Grüneburgweg U-Bahn

On Friday, we didn't have to get to training until 12pm, so I took the opportunity to pop into town before work. I thought I would save myself some time and take the U-Bahn from Grüneburgweg to Hauptwache. I descended the stairs from the sunny street to the gloom of the U-Bahn station.

An organ grinder was playing a jaunty but unsettling tune (something like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVm241fA_Xg ).

I checked the network map, worked out which ticket to buy and checked the network map again before descending an escalator to the platform.

The clear, totally empty platform.

The music still drifted down from the station above.

I heard steps somewhere, and a man appeared on the platform on the side I was stood. He wore tracksuit trousers, a hooded top and a cap pulled far onto his face. He kept his head down and kept sauntering further towards me. I walked towards the other set of steps, with the pretence of looking at posters on display. The mysterious man edged futher towards where I was standing. I edged a little further towards the steps again and the organ grinder music got louder as I planned my escape. The man edged a little closer. I heard footsteps.

A woman had come down the other set of steps. Some passengers alighted the train going the other way. My train came. I got on and went to Hauptwache.

Some days you are just happy to be alive at the end.

Road safety the German way

Today, I have a little activity for you before I begin. Count the police officers!

Yes that's right, there are five police officers in the photograph. 'But why such a heavy police presence?', I hear you ask (err not really that would be creepy to say the least). As far as I know, there was no crisis or catastrophe in Frankfurt city centre yesterday lunchtime, but yes, there are five police officers to be seen in this photograph, all congregating round this one pedestrian crossing.  The only reason for this I could discern was that, and perhaps you are not aware of this, it is illegal to jaywalk in Germany. If anyone crossed on red, they were stopped by a friendly local Polizist and made to show their Ausweis. I don't know how the conversations ran, or what the penalty is for this terrible Verbrechen (crime), I am a very dilligent pedestrian. 

So if you are in Germany (or, in fact, any country) and decide to cross the road, I suggest you follow the example of these Kinder and their faithful Hund:

...we're waiting for the green!

Excuse me, do you sell individual postmen here?

A valuable addition to any German text/phrasebook.

Bei der Post
In the Post Office


Ich: Entschuldigen Sie, verkaufen Sie hier einzelne Briefträger?
Me: Exuse me, do you sell individual postmen here?


Postarbeiter: Errr..nee, wir verkaufen aber Briefumschläge, aber nur in den Paketen
Postal worker: Errr...no but we do sell envelopes, but only in packets


Ich: Also...Briefumschläge (Gedanken: Ich bin Idiotin)
Me: So...envelopes (thoughts: I am an idiot)




However I did tell the lady at the bank my address was wrong to no ill effect, so it wasn't all bad.

Finally an honest day's work and becoming a citizen

Today was my first day of work. I was to be there at 0800, which meant leaving the house at 0750. When I arrived, I found out I wasn't meant to be there until 0900 so I got to read a lot of company literature while I waited for the training to begin. I won't write about work as you can be sacked for such things you know! So I will focus more on other exciting things for you.

At lunch time my flatmate took me and the other new starter (from Poland) to the Bürgeramt (citizen's office) to anmelden (register) as citizens. We took our number (2131) and waited for it to come up on the screen. It was showing 1589. Fortunately, a few series of numbers were running in parallel so we were seen to in a mere 25 minutes. Fortunately the city of Frankfurt am Main lays on some great entertainment for its soon-to-be Bürger. After a fascinating documentary on the wildlife of Frankfurt airport, we were treated to a film about ants moving grains of sands (or, as I prefer to call them, rocks) around in the desert. After not knowing how much more excitement we could take (though a baby being sick on its mum's shoulder did break up the monotony somewhat) we were called to the desk to anmelden.

The lady took our passports and our addresses (just on trust, we did not need bank statements or anything), filled in some forms and stamped some stamps. Alongside the desks lined with stationery, the rows of uncomfortable chairs and the printed-out nameplates, the Bürgeramt was the most bureaucratic place I have ever seen. Amazing. After registering I was presented with a red folder full of information, a leaflet with a welcome from the mayor and a discount brochure for the city. Aww.

After a delicious belegtes Brot (sandwich, but more delicious) we hit the bank to set up bank accounts. As I won't make enough money for a normal account, I am now the proud owner of a young person's account at the Frankfurter Sparkasse. But I think they forgot to put my house number on the forms. I hope this is not a recurring theme.

After work it was time for a trip to the supermarket. We had to use the terrifying machines to recycle our bottles and get the Pfand (deposit) back. We made over €7 which covered the household items which needed buying. I was so tired my shopping was awful, but I now have food in the cupboard in the kitchen and Nivea shampoo and conditioner on the shelf in the bathroom.

Schlager at 200km/h

On the plane I drank an apple juice. The man  and woman on my row both had tomato juice with salt and pepper. The woman claimed to the man it was delicious but I don't believe her.

We arrived at Frankfurt somewhat 'surprisingly.' So there was noone to drive the Luftbrücke (bridge from plane to terminal) for us. So we sat on the plane for 15 minutes (I enjoyed the view of the bags being unloaded) until they decided we weren't getting a Luftbrücke after all and we would go in busses. From the bus I saw five Volkswagen Golfs all parked next to each other in a row.

I was going to get the train into town and then get a taxi and then realised I was pulling along two suitcases and carrying an overfilled laptop bag and thought better of it. I got in a taxi. I managed to tell the driver where I wanted to go but stumbled over the house number. After nine years I was hoping I could pronounce numbers but apparently that is not always the case.

The driver decided to try out his English and despite our tutors' warnings not to fall into the trap of speaking English, I was a bit tired and I didn't mind too much. "Which way should I go?" I said to go whichever way he thought was quicker. We went on the Autobahn. As Schalger hits blared from a golden-oldies station we hit 200km/h (124mph) and I feared that ,Ein knallrotes Gummiboot' would be the last thing I would ever hear.

Ein Knallrotes Gummiboot

We got to the house and I was met by some German revellers, one of whom carried my heavier suitcase up the steps - what a gent! My flatmates were hosting a party (partly as a welcome) and apparently I didn't need to worry about not knowing everyone, as neither did they! I was presented with a Mojito and unpacked a couple of things before joining the party. I have to say I was a little tired to be fully in the party mood but I did have a good time and met people from at least 7 different countries. Frankfurt is a very international city.

The journey to Manchester and an open letter to Manchester Airport Designers

The day arrived to move to Frankfurt. I got up at 0830, but I'm not really sure why. I didn't have to be at the train station until 1330. I think the logic behind it was in case I suddenly realised I had to buy something and so would have time to hit the shops. My main concern, however, was that someone, or something (for example a very discerning pigeon) would steal my passport and it would be gone as I looked for it on Saturday morning. Rather predictably, that did not occur.

After Mum had gone to check she was allowed to park in the station car park and Dad arrrived bearing M&S sandwiches, the time came to board the 1336 to Manchester airport. I found myself a table, used my laptop to charge my phone and read some Sherlock Holmes. I overheard a woman who was going to meet someone for a date in Doncaster and another telling strangers about she and her partner's break up. A man sat opposite me after Sheffield and drank two cans of M&S cider while listening to metal music before Manchester Piccadilly. 

I tried a caramel mocchiato from the Starbucks at the airport on a friend's advice and rather enjoyed it. I also noted a number of poor design features of Manchester Airport, Terminal 1. They are detailed in the open letter below. 

Dear Manchester Airport Designers,

What were you thinking?

I had the 'pleasure' of flying from your Terminal 1 on Saturday, and I have to admit the design is not ideal. In fact the poor design features (detailed below) actually created more stress before an already stressful journey. I am sure I am not the only traveller to have endured the following:

• it is split over a number of levels and there are only two lifts from the station, which are a bit dodgy to say the least. The doors of one opened and closed three times before it actually went anywhere. 
• from the station you have to use the escalators or lift if you have heavy baggage/other issues. Ever heard of ramps?
• the Lufthansa desks are way round the corner so you have to go back on yourself to go to Security
• the toilets are poorly designed. The handdryers are right next to the door so people standing there (to dry their hands) are in the way of anyone with any luggage. And people at airports usually have luaggage.
• Although there are a fair number of seats, they are so placed that one cannot always see the departure boards, which is rather inconvenient. 
• The arrivals hall smells of soup (noted from previous visits).

These were a few of the matters which most alarmed me during my visit to the airport. Please address as many of them as soon as you can. 

Yours faithfully, 

V x

My last week in the UK

My last week in the UK seemed to involve seeing as much of the UK as possible, travelling over 1000 km and being being a totally shameless toutrist in London and Harrow.

I also saw both of Jens Lekman's shows in Britain. A Googling of Jens Lekman sandbar will reap wonderful rewards.

However, as I sat between a man who didn't dance and a woman who didn't smile on a wooden pew at the Union Chapel, and considered I only had four days left in the UK, this track seemed somewhow to fit the bill. I don't really know why.

 Jens Lekman - The End of the World is Bigger Than Love

The interview

Apologies for any factual errors contained in this post, but I am writing it three weeks after it occured. I will try to be a little more punctual in future.

So I seemed to suddenly be in Frankfurt. I found my luggage on the conveyor belt, found the train station and got a ticket. Which had strange red ink on it.
"A strange way to validate a ticket," was my initial thought. Until I realised the RMV ticket induced paper cut on my little finger. Nicht cool.
Despite this terrible injury, I found my way to my hotel, but not before more bad omens involving a rickety lift at the Messe U-Bahn station. Needless to say after that, escalators and heavy luggage suddenly seemed to suit each other much better.

The hotel was lovely. I managed to check in in German (once I remembered to tell the receptionist I wanted to check in) and a Swedish lady in the lift told me how to work the swipe card (I knew she was Swedish after hearing her tell her husband when the pizza shop was open, in Swedish. She wasn't wearing a badge or something). The room had a bath (complete with rubber ducky), a selection of faiths to choose from (Christian and Buddhits texts) and digital TV, so I could watch 'Das Perfekte Promi Dinner' (Celebrity Come Dine With Me).

However, I needed to do a recce of the city to find the office, and to get some food. After a successful mission to find the office and a look at the lovely Alte Oper, it was time to find some food. Of course everywhere was shut on a Sunday so I headed to that classiest of shopping and dining destinations, the Hauptbahnhof. I bought soem magazines, including ,InTouch', the classiest of the trashiest, and some fruit and other food from a convenience store. I then feasted on M&S jaffa cakes and orangeade while watching Wallander and avoiding watching Kommissar Beck (have they ever even read the books?!).

On Monday I got up at half six and headed into town. I found the office, had coffee with the boss and saw the flat. After leaving the flat, I realised I had left my iPod there (we were to be reunited three weeks later). I headed into town and wandered down the Zeil, getting lunch on the roof terrace of Galeria Kaufhof. Definitely the life! I also spent far too much time looking at beautifully-designed kitchenwares, trying to find Romy Schneider films with English subtitles and considering which crime novel to buy from the bookshop.

Frankfurt airport was slightly confusing, but the ticker board of destinations almost made up for that. I flew back to Manchester, seated between two German businessmen and braved the soupy smells to get a hot chocolate in the arrivals coffee shop before heading home on the train. I was interrupted from .Mord im Orientexpress' and my Haribos by the boarding of Laura at Doncaster, all in all a pleasant trip. Apart from creating one more Haribo Balla-balla addict.