I know I have mentioned this before, but in June of 1984, my parents and I moved from the U.S. to Germany.  At that time, it was called West Germany because the country was still divided by the wall erected after World War II.  My father took an international assignment for four years with IBM under contract with NATO and we lived in a lovely city in the Taunus mountains north of Frankfurt am Main.  The city is called Bad Homburg vor der Höhe and is renown for its spas and casino, but as a young American girl, I was particularly fond of the PALACE – Schloss Bad Homburg. That might not sound like such a big deal to you because many European cities have castles or ruins thereof.  However, the palace (yes, it is a palace) in Bad Homburg v.d. Höhe was actually the only residence of the last German Emperor and King of Prussia, William II and his wife.  So there!

In any case, Germany has a special place in my heart as it was my first international destination and residence. Further, I spent a big part of my adolescence and “formative years” in Germany, and I adopted many German habits and customs that are still with me now, years later. I learned to speak German, and even French, as a student living here and frequently found myself shopping, playing sports, attending concerts, and otherwise exploring the fascinating nearby metropolis, Frankfurt am Main. I even had my first ever real job in the city – although I won’t tell you what it was (cheeky, I know). 

For me, Frankfurt am Main is a place full of memories that I enjoy savoring from time to time.  I appreciate the way the Main river winds through the city like an elegant woman sweeping through a ballroom, and the city wraps around her carefully; yielding with respect. I love the AltStadt with its cobbled streets and colorful, ornate buildings including the old city square, Römerberg, and Frankfurter Römer (Rathaus), city hall with balcony.  Did you know that Neue Altstadt literally means “new old city” and the rows of townhouses destroyed there in the war were rebuilt again in their original style, thus “new” but “old”.  You have to appreciate the way Germans think – efficiently and logically! I especially enjoy walking across the Eiserner Steg (Iron Bridge) to Sachsenhausen, having some Apflewein, and then wandering back again over either Altebrücke (oldest stone bridge over the Main River) or Untermainbrücke (built three times in history).  If you think Bilbao (The Bridges of Bilbao) has some lovely, breathtaking bridges, then you need to go to Frankfurt and cruise the Main.  The sheer beauty of German engineering and functionally artistic architecture will blow you away.  

So, when my only child said she wanted to celebrate her Sweet 16 by traveling to all the places that were on her must-visit-while-living-abroad list, but due to the pandemic had to be indefinitely delayed, I naturally responded with “Let’s start in Frankfurt!”.  

I want to take a moment here and venture down a different topic path for a bit.  It seems to me that nearly every culture has some rite of passage, some coming-of-age, or some celebration of sorts that recognizes a time when a child is no longer a child.  For Jewish girls age 12, it’s a Bat Mitzvah. For Mexican girls age 15, it’s a Quinceañera.  For the Amish at age 16, it’s a Rumspringa (bet you didn’t know that one).  For Americans, well, some of us anyway, it’s your Sweet 16.  The magical year when you are legally allowed to drive your own car.  A time when you finally, literally possess your freedom – well, if you are lucky enough to afford a vehicle, insurance, gas, etc.  The point being, for some Americans, celebrating your 16th birthday is something special.  I mean, in the 80s, Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall even made a movie, Sixteen Candles, about it.  Remember?  Anyway, all this boils down to one thing: this year is Allita’s 16th year and instead of a car, insurance, gas, driving school, etc., she decided she wanted to celebrate by traveling.  How cool is that?  (Although it also means that I will remain the family chauffeur for a longer period than I had originally planned)

So, it begins.  One month in Europe with my girl.  Exactly 30 days of travel.  We will go to a special place in Poland where crooked trees grow – a place she has wanted to visit since third grade.  We will journey through northern Germany, up and across Scandinavia exploring Viking festivals, Viking markets, Viking museums, Viking ruin stones, and all things Viking (you get the picture).  We will make our way to the British Isles to the city of York then Stonehenge, and London with Sherlock’s museum, the Graffiti tunnel, Churchill’s War Rooms, the London Eye, and a local cheese bar, among other places. We will bike, hike, bus, cruise, fly, ferry, ride trains, drive cars, walk and wander to our heart’s content, and we will start it all here, in the home of my heart, Frankfurt, Germany. 

PS. Special shout-out to my lovely mother who agreed to stay home during the monsoon, continue some ongoing remodeling projects, take care of Toby, and miss out on this whirlwind trip across Europe. It feels strange to travel without GG, and we miss her already.