By Kendall Hill, in
The AgeGiven Frankfurt is Europe's busiest airport hub, it seemed reasonable to drop by and investigate what it has to offer the stopover traveller. Surely this cosmopolitan city of bankers and book publishers harbours a host of undiscovered attractions, despite its ill-conceived motto proclaiming, "All roads lead through Frankfurt Am Main".
The German Tourist Office staff were helpful, as always, but the first thing they suggested I do was hop on a train and get well out of there. I tried not to read too much into this.
My destination was a place called Rudesheim but, due to an error of judgement at Hauptbanhof, Frankfurt's handsome Bavarian castle-style railway station, I found myself instead at Konigstein im Taurus in a locked, empty train that, thankfully, still had a driver at the helm. Once he recovered from the shock of finding a trapped Australian simpleton aboard his carriage, he set me free and I was on my way.
Several hours later, after another detour through Frankfurt, the correct train pulled into Rudesheim. The town was quite pretty - neat vines striating hillsides, and whimsical architecture in a confection of pastels set beside the Rhine. It soon became clear that this sort of town is immensely popular among the frail elderly, and among bewildered Japanese tourists who, I'm told, can pick up souvenirs representative of every German state during their allotted 40-minute pit stop here.
In retrospect, 40 minutes probably would have been ample. That way I could have skipped the musty Bromserburg wine museum with its mildly diverting viticultural collection, and the trawl along the Rheinstrasse's endless cafes, souvenir shops and olde-worlde boutiques.
It wouldn't have been enough time for the 100-minute Rhine cruise I took - to view part of the recently World Heritage-listed middle Rhine region, with its ruined medieval castles and handsome villages - but you don't have to go to Rudesheim for that. If river cruising's your thing, you can hop on a boat at Frankfurt and chug all the way to Bonn.
Back in Frankfurt, I had arranged a guide to show me the sights the next day. She spoke English, which was a great relief after a week of battling the German language. In my experience, you can usually absorb useful words and phrases of a foreign tongue if your host country takes the trouble of erecting bilingual signs at useful points, such as train stations and major tourist areas. Germany does not often take this trouble, which is surprising given that a third of all Frankfurt residents have a foreign passport, and after the war there were about 35,000 American soldiers and their families stationed here.
The locals will tell you endlessly how cosmopolitan the city is but, taxi drivers and hotel staff aside, there weren't many people I encountered who had much facility with English. Ever the optimist, I took to scanning the daily papers in the hope of cracking Germany's cacophonous code, but surrendered when I came across this in a story in the Welt Kompakt: "Nach dem Hickhack um die Ausbildungsplatzabgabe droht in der SPD nun neuer Streit um ein weiteres Lieblingsprojekt der Parteilinken: die Burgerversicherung." I suspect even Germans have no idea what that means. For the record, it means: "After the infighting around the traineeship duty, new dispute threatens in the SPD now around a further favorite project of the party left: the castle insurance."
Gabrielle was a charming guide. She pointed out the various office towers known colloquially as "The Egg", "The Cider Glass", "The Lipstick", and the "Sleeping Hats" atop the tax-office building. For the best view over the shimmering glass-and-steel CBD, take the lift to the observation deck 52 floors up at the Main Tower. From here, you can see the cluster of buildings where chemical companies made the poison gases deployed in concentration camps during World War II. After the war, this same complex became the American headquarters, where Eisenhower and Colin Powell were based.
From this height, too, you can see just how much of Frankfurt has been rebuilt since the war; very little remains of its past, save for the preserved mansions of Westend, now one of the city's most desirable areas. And you get a fine view of the Main River, the dividing line between north and south Germany.
We stopped to read the plaque outside Oskar Schindler's former house (next door to the Kilkenny Irish Pub, you can't miss it) and the faded elegance of Kaiserstrasse, now home to "special cinemas where you go for 10 minutes to see special movies". And we admired the curious statue of Goethe, in his back-to-front lady's overcoat. He used to have pride of place in Goetheplatz but has been tucked away in a forgotten park because "he was not so important any more", as Gabrielle explained it.
Clearly the most important element of Frankfurters' lives is not culture but commerce. About 80,000 of them work in banking, and many come from abroad to earn their stripes here before progressing to New York, or Vienna. There are, reputedly, 420 banks in the city; I seemed to see most of them on my tour, including the European Central Bank. The ECB is renowned as being home to the city's best disco, The Living. But, as Gabrielle noted, the concept of a German disco is not one to be relished. "The Germans are not so good dancers," she observed, "and they dress in all white and go to the salsa nights."
We visited Goethestrasse, the shopping strip; Fressgasse, or "pig-out street", and the remains of the city's half-timbered buildings, including the celebrated Hans Wertheim restaurant.
Inside, we ate a typical Frankfurter lunch of local cider and a plate groaning with various meats such as frankfurter (longer and paler than ours), and the kosher rindswurst. It is a cuisine that owes more to culture than to culinary finesse.
There are many things to do in Frankfurt, from touring the airport, the stock exchange or the Jewish quarter, to visiting the string of 11 galleries beside the Main, or eating your way along Fressgasse. But by day three, I'd lost interest.
Maybe you need more time in the city to learn to love it. Or maybe, arriving there after so many excellent experiences elsewhere in Europe, I just couldn't see the point of stopping in Frankfurt. By the time I left I couldn't help agreeing with the city's motto. Don't stop - just keep on going through the city. To Prague, maybe, or Spain.
FAST FACTS
Getting there: Many airlines fly to and within Europe via Frankfurt. See travel agents for details. Frankfurt Main's airport is a model of welcome efficiency, well-signposted and hassle-free.
Staying there: One great find of this trip was the Intercontinental Hotel. As a Six Continents Club cardholder - membership costs $US60 ($A77) a year - I was upgraded to a capacious and handsome 20th-floor suite, with access to the Club Lounge upstairs where breakfast, newspapers, bar and views across the Main were free. It cost just over $200 for my first night, which was booked on the internet, then a hefty 220 a night after that. Call 1300 363 300 for details of club membership and hotel bookings, or see ichotelsgroup.com
More information: The German National Tourist Office (02) 8296 0488.
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OUCH!
Lewis, care to make a reply? I especially like the two mottos: "All roads lead through Frankfurt" and "Don't stop - just keep on going through the city. To Prague, maybe, or Spain."
