We had no specific itinerary. We wanted to roam. We wanted to enjoy a sunny, although very windy winter day in this beautiful city bisected by the Rhein, which often unjustly gets reduced to “oh, yeah, where the cathedral is!” We wanted to share this joy with whosoever we happened to run into.
We had a lovely crash conversation with two Canadian girls inside the Hohe Domkirche St. Petrus on how frequently they see brown bears pass through the far end of their yard, photobombed backpackers from Turkey who were modeling their bodies in imitation of the statue figures above us, chatted away with an Italian-Ghanaian 19-year-old while basking in the 15°C sun, ran alongside local joggers for pranks and finally, after a long and eventful day, found the perfect Kneipe to rest our dog-tired joints.
Neither of us speak much German, but when an elderly lady walked up to where we were elbowing over our drinks, we were ready to strike. Possibly due to the painful absence of any granny-care in the past few months, we embraced her and wouldn’t let go. Our toddler’s German posed no boundaries. We waved in the air, drew on notebook sheets, brought shame to all Italians by outdoing them in gestures, summoned up all the words from the recesses of our Unbewusste and, not least of all, had a lovely time.
I kind of regret not doing this let-it-happen-make-it-happen trip right at the beginning of my stay. Or not doing it every day. It would be extremely zen.
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