Auf wiedersehen, Deutschland!

It has been a very long and interesting adventure. Though, like most great adventures, I don't know if I'll fully appreciate it until I'm home, looking through photos and reliving the memories.

Appropriately, last night it stormed early in the evening, and the temperature dropped significantly. It was a beautiful cool evening, and Charlotte and I took one last pass through town -- revisiting the places and many of the people we've encountered over the past two and a half weeks.

And it has been a very long and full two and a half weeks.

Here's a before and after picture of Charlotte, comparing the way she looked on my first day to the way she looks today. I think she's grown a lot!

In fact, my first week here, we walked to the park and she squeezed between the bars on a fence by the duck pond in Kurhaus Park, leash and all. Last night she could not get her head through.

Leaving some place you've come to call home, even if only temporarily, is always bittersweet.

Much as I long for the feel of Wauwatosa grass under my feet again,

I'll miss the way the way the streets are so full of friendly people.

Impossibly beautiful women bicycling to work in the morning in impossibly short skirts.

Children in the park kicking a soccer ball against a wall.

The cafes filled with people.

The excitement of running into a family speaking English and asking where they're from.

And I'll never forget the picture-perfect moments.

The view of the city from the hill at the Neroberg vineyards.

The brilliant gold towers of the Russian Orthodox church sparkling in the sun.

Coming around the beautiful Biebrich palace on my bicycle to catch my first look at the Rhine.

Watching the old men play chess in Warmer Damm park.

Walking Charlotte through Kurhaus Park in the cool twilight.

Fellow dog-walkers I met so frequently that they were practically friends -- and people who recognized Charlotte and introduced themselves as Cookie, Cheri, Humphrey, Blacky and Charlotte exchanged kisses and sniffs.

And, above all, I'll remember my dear friend Charlotte and our countless walks down narrow German streets and deep into tree-lined neighborhoods.

It's going to be strange not to have her at my feet as I work.

To those of you who've joined me on this adventure, I thank you for coming along. This blog, and e-mail, have been my best friends while I was here. A chance to interpret and share what I've experienced here. A chance to review and record each day's adventure.

Thank you, Glen and Betina, once again, for your generous gift of this great adventure. Thank you for sharing your home and your city. Thank you for sharing dear Charlotte. Thank you for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

It has indeed been a Gute Riese.

Wiesbaden

These past 16 days have been such an adventure -- full of interesting emotions and unique experiences.

My time here has been first and foremost, of course, about Charlotte, the adorable puppy I have had the privilege of getting to know (and likewise, I'm sure).

But it has also been about getting to Wiesbaden, a fascinating city, with its friendly people. People who have helped and befriended me just because I looked lost. People who have sometimes patiently struggled with English because I was so bad at German.

Here are some miscellaneous images from around the town.

This is one of my favorite views from my evening walks around Kurhaus Park, behind the big casino.

There's a big fountain in the pond and people gather in the grass to drink wine and listen to concerts in the park.

This is the biggest dog I have ever seen! (Actually he's more of a small horse.)

I tried to get a picture of Charlotte with him so that you can see how big he is, but every time she got near him she'd get so excited she'd jump at his face.

Fortunately, he is also one of the gentlest dogs I've ever met. His owner told me he eats a kilogram (about 2.25 pounds) of meat a day.

Before I came to Germany, Jeanne's mom warned me to make sure I understood how to work the washer and dryer.

These are their control panels.

I have enough trouble at home just trying to figure out if I should use a long or short dry cycle.

Betina had to explain this traffic sign to me.

As you can see, this is a one-way, do not enter street. But, under the traffic sign is a sign that shows a picture of bicycle and says "frei", which means means "free."

Wouldn't you think that this meant that bicycles aren't allowed on this street?

No. "Frei" means that bicycles are exempt from the other traffic sign. In other words, bicycles are allowed to go the wrong way up this one-way street.

I love this picture of a woman feeding the ducks and geese in Warmer Damm Park.

Both the ducks and geese here are unlike any breed I've seen in America. So the entire scene seemed very European.

(And, yes, I know that those are pigeons in the picture, not ducks, with the geese.)

When the weather would allow, the place I spent my most time was the Fussgangerzone, the Pedestrian Zone that stretches for blocks in every direction.

Narrow streets lined with cafes, shops and very German-looking buildings, many over 200 years old.

This is how I imagined Germany would look.

By the way, where do you think you are most likely to get hit by a car?

The pedestrian zone, of course!

Despite its name and the fact that it is supposed to be reserved for foot traffic, you must often dodge delivery tracks, taxis and bicycles as you walk. 

One of the the most unpleasant I saw was a very full garbage truck left sitting in the pedestrian zone while its workers grabbed some lunch. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds!

But the vast majority of my memories of Wiesbaden have been pleasant ones. (I'm struggling to forget the unpleasant heat wave that tainted much of my experience here.)

Wonderful children who would ask if Charlotte could chase them around the park. Other dog walkers, who would pause to let their dogs say hello to Charlotte and exchange compliments. Shop owners who patiently waited while I counted out my Euros.

And all of the wonderful people who proudly directed me around their beautiful city.

I am glad I shot lots of video and photos. My memories alone would not do this town justice.

The little things

As I near the end of my time here in Germany, I've come to realize that, although I've enjoyed exploring Wiesbaden and meeting its many wonderful people, some of my nicest times have been spent alone here in Glen and Betina's apartment with Charlotte.

This little pup and I have grown a lot together over the past two weeks or so. She responds to me so well, and I've learned to recognize her wants and needs also.

Some of this has been intentional, as we've come to know each other as dog and master. But much of it has simply come about as we've become friends.

Particularly on these unusually hot and muggy afternoons, we've found we've just enjoyed being with each other. Sitting on the couch together or playing a game of fetch or tug.

In fact, we've become so close that she rarely lets me out of her sight!

If I step out of the room to get a drink or get something in another room, she's right at my heels or waiting in the doorway for me.

In fact, even as I write this blog, she's right at my feet, gnawing on a bone. And, when I got up to refill my coffee cup, she followed me to the kitchen and back.

I'll miss her a bit when I'm gone -- but I hope that I'm handing her back to Glen and Betina an even better dog than they left behind. And it will be my great joy to know that they are going to continue to grow as a family together.

This has been a very long and interesting adventure. The longest I've been separated from my family in over 30 years!

But Wednesday Betina returns and Thursday I will be on my way home. That means I've only one more full day with Charlotte after today.

The Farmers Market

Yesterday morning, Charlotte and I walked down to the Farmers Market in Markskirche Square.

How could I resist? Few things capture the feel for a community like a Farmers Market.

And there's something especially romantic about the idea of a European market.

The market sets up in the shadow of the elegant St. Mark's Church (a church which, as I write this log, is ringing its bells to call its congregation to Sunday worship), in a huge piazza surrounded by sidewalk cafes.

Naturally, there are lots of fresh fruits and vegetables on display, but there are also wonderfully stinky cheeses and sausages for sale.

It was great fun hearing the different voices, most in German but many in English, buying, selling and bartering.

But it was all a bit overwhelming for Charlotte -- who, surprisingly, was more interested in sniffing the tires on the farmers' trucks then she was stalking dropped food.

And, naturally, she was the subject of much attention.

Though, as the day was already beginning to heat up, she much preferred to just spread her belly over the cool cobblestones.

The daily chase

Charlotte has no natural enemies. (Although I'm still not sure what that old German lady yelled at me on Monday.)

Children love her.

Other dogs love her. And, even though I usually hold her back from greeting people on the sidewalk, they usually can't resist stepping in and greeting her.

And she seems to love everyone.

Except pigeons.

Well, it's not that she doesn't like pigeons. I'm sure if she caught one, she wouldn't hurt it.

But she seems to enjoy clearing them out of the park.

Or maybe it's just a game they play.

The pigeons don't really seem to mind that much.

They usually only fly a couple of yards, then settle on the ground again.

By the way, this is a sign you see all of the time on the narrow streets of Wiesbaden.

It means, essentially, that cars can park on the sidewalk.

Which is good for cars -- but not so good for pedestrians.

The sidewalks aren't that wide to begin with!

Summer in the stadt

It's hard to imagine that, when it's 90 degrees and the hot sun is beating on the bricks that anyone would want to sit in a cafe and sip hot coffee. But an awful lot of people do!

I suppose it beats sitting around the apartment.

Though at least Glen and Betina's place has a cross-breeze. So, although it's unbearably hot and stuffy, at least the air moves.

I took a walk this afternoon through the pedestrian zone, where you're surrounded by brick and concrete and it's nearly impossible to find shade. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.

Say what you will, Europeans are definitely a communal people. They love to gather in public places, usually in the outdoors if it's possible.

We Americans are way too addicted to our own backyards. What our cities need are more piazzas!

Next to cafes, bakeries seem to be most ubiquitous businesses. And with good reason.

You can buy sandwich bread at the grocery store -- but why would you? There's an amazing bakery every block and a half.

Most aren't that large. Just little storefronts. But the loaves are practically a meal in themselves -- and they're treated as such.

A loaf of bread and some jam is a good breakfast. A loaf of bread with some sausage or cheese is a nice lunch.

What remains of the loaf at the end of the day will go good with supper.

The heat is on ... again

With temperatures back in the 90s here again, Charlotte and I are opting not to go down to the neighborhood park during the daytime -- a park that boasts one tree, lots of dried grass and countless cigarette butts.

Rather, we head back into the hilly neighborhoods along Kappellenstrasse and Dambachtal, shadier streets line with big, gnarly trees, thick green grass, a very shady spielplatz (playground) where, unfortunately, dogs are not allowed, and lots of luxurious homes and apartments.

There are also many wonderful, fresh, new smells for her to discover.

And an occasional local who comes out to say hello.

Most of the time we can stay in the shade for nearly the entire walk.

That doesn't necessarily mean we're necessarily cool and comfortable though.

With the humidity a muggy 60% and the sun beating down from the cloudless sky, even a shady park can feel uncomfortably stuffy. But at least it's a break from the narrow asphalt streets and sidewalks that radiate heat like a pizza oven.

Meantime, though, I'm very proud of the rapport Charlotte and I have developed.

Even when she's totally distracted by a smell or another dog, I can win her attention with a quick whistle or the snap of my fingers and she comes running to catch up with me!

We've really become very close this past week.

And, even when I'm grabbing a shower, she's usually found napping no than three feet away.

Stolperstein

Jeanne's mom told me about these.

You'll find them along the main streets, embedded in the sidewalks in front of the apartment buildings and homes in all of Germany's major cities. 

They're little brass plaques that list the name of a Jewish person or other "undesirable" that died in a Nazi concentration camp. And they're usually placed in front of the last home they lived in before they were taken away.

These brass plaques called Stolpersteine, which is German for "stumbling blocks", and they're reminders that even a nation with as great a history as Germany can sometimes make horrible mistakes.

The Stolpersteine project was started by a German artist named Gunter Demnig in 1992. And, since then, he's placed over 30,000 of them in Germany, Hungary, Croatia, Italy, the Netherlands and Russia.

They're so subtle you can walk by them every day and not even notice them -- yet, once you do notice them, they seem to be everywhere.

A simple but very powerful tribute.