DALLAS am MAIN (XVI of ‘A Tale of 2 Continents’) By R.J.Fensterman
XVI
DALLAS am MAIN
The Romantic Road was far behind us now. Instead, we were on the S2259 highway, heading into the megalopolis of Frankfurt, the center of Germany’s second-largest metropolitan region, and continental Europe’s largest financial center, home to 5-and-a-half million diverse people. We had left in 1964 from a city of 600 thousand still recovering from the devastation of the War. And returning in 2010 to a huge city known as the tallest in Europe and the busiest in Germany. We did not recognize it.
During WWII, Frankfurt was one of the most important military targets; it was a center for transportation and industry. The allies bombed it for many weeks, destroying almost 80% of the city, including most of the buildings along the Main river. Along with Rotterdam in Holland, Frankfurt is the only city in continental Europe with a totally 21st Century American-style skyline, with towering skyscrapers downtown, at the very center, and along the river, as well as in the surrounding suburbs and at the international airport. To me, as we drew closer, it looked like the approaches to a city like Dallas, Texas: with large office buildings and elevated highways…
When we lived here years ago, we rented a room in a suburb known as Dornbush, close to the end of the street-car line; it was a residential area of large houses, that soon gave-way to open fields and meadows. Now, the outskirts were picketed with their own skyscrapers, some of them quite unusual. Here is the only round hotel building in all of Europe, the Radisson SAS (also known as the Radisson Blu)….
At this point, we were close to our lodging for the night; close to the trade fair zone of the city; Frankfurt is famous for its Automobile and Book expositions. In fact, in ’63 we had visited the book fair at the old Exhibition Hall (1909), a good 5 miles closer to the city than we now were located. And here we already had arrived at our hotel: the Ibis Messe Frankfurt (Messe is German for ‘Fair’)…
The daylight was fading as we unloaded the bus, struggled with our luggage and found our rooms. By the time we sat down to supper, it was almost dark. The hotel was only a couple of years old, and the grounds looked like a grass-over land-fill. Hadn’t had time to hire a landscaper. Nor a cook, considering what we had for supper. Some kind of seafood. First off, I never order seafood at a restaurant unless I can smell the ocean And whatever fish this was supposed to be, it must’ve been a bottom-dweller. We took one bite, and then concentrated on the salad and vegetables. The dessert was good, though.
After supper, I took a stroll in the night air to check-put our surroundings. Big office buildings, close together, and bright lights. Nothing attractive. I returned to the hotel, and Phoebe agreed that it was not worth going down-town on the tram. We’d seen enough of Frankfurt already to know that Thomas Wolfe was quite right, when he observed: “You can’t go home again.”
We went to bed instead, and slept quite well. The next morning we had early breakfast at the buffet (which was not quite ready at that hour). We had to get to the airport fairly early to have 2 hours before our flight. A taxi-van picked us up outside the hotel, along with two other couples who were leaving the tour at this point. (Others would stay on all the way to Berlin). As we were leaving the hotel parking we noticed the back of our black tour-bus had been smashed-into by a hit-and-run driver overnight. We could only shake our head and wonder if the polizei would let the bus go anywhere
We were just a few miles from the airport. It too was a surprise. Three times as large as when we’d last been to this airport. And more space-age-modern than any one we’d ever visited.
This is the Squaire, an enormous aluminum and glass space- ship that is an office building, retail shops, a luxury hotel and a huge train station (the interior is not quite finished yet)…
We were on a United Flight; the bus took us to proper terminal and let us off, as we said our good-byes to the other couples. Instead of saying “Flughafen Frankfurt” on the Building, it now had a zippy logo and said “Frankfort Airport.” After all, not just the airport is international; 1/3 of the residents of Frankfurt are not German citizens…
When we checked in at the terminal window, I remarked to the young lady there. “We haven’t been here in Frankfurt for 46 years. We don’t recognize it at all.” She said, with a slight accent and smile: “Everything changes. If some one hadn’t seen you for 46 years, would they recognize you?” I had to think about that one.
Customs and security were quick and efficient, as one would expect from the Germans. Soon enough, we were boarding our flight – from Frankfurt to New York. Or (as a wit would say: From ‘Main-hattan to Manhattan’)….
(Chapter XVII will follow shortly…)
