Europe is a whiff of moist air, somehow purple-tinted. It comes at you, the simplest a blessing that can be found, as the terminal doors slide sideways to let you out. The evening is rainy.
Europe is money, I`ve been put up in a serious five star hotel, then upgraded to the "executive tower" (I`m on the second floor, don`t get too excited). The design is cold but sharp and effective and the dress code is suits. Everybody here is so beautiful: slim, stylish, perfectly groomed. I quickly decide to do more workout and learn to invest wisely.
Europe is the silent S-bahn, then the nucturnal city opening before you: second empire rooftops, clowds obscuring the tops of towers. Muslim men are pouring out of a mosque, while nearby two businessmen in suits (my neighbors?) buy a beer from a down-and-out pizzeria along the Taunus Str. red light district. Thousends rock it out in a huge glass aquarium, and dark rimmed glasses are pushed over the nose at a classy bar by the theater, but the bridge leading over the river is quiet, whispering of the leafy suburbs that spread into the dark night.
Europe is having to cope with awful names of wonderful places. Last night I went to the neighborhood of Sachsenhousen (same name as the major WWII concentartion camp near Berlin) and hung out at a lovely old timer tavern named "Adolf Wagner", this may not move you at all if you`re neither Jewish nor German, but I found myself whistling "Tomorrow belongs to me" all the way back to the hotel.
Europe is a hopeful morning, a refreshing walk in the forest, I find a large piece of wood and use it as a weight (hey, that was my resolution), and think of another early morning in Frankfurt, eight years ago. I was alone downtown, just after sunrise. A woman was yelling "Dieb!" - "Theif!" a man was escaping accross Willy Brandt Platz. I chased him for a while, then lost track of him and returned to her empty handed.
She smiled bitter-sweetly over dark lipstic, a fake-fur coat and a minny skirt. "Alles Klar" she said, "Never mind, it`s fine."