Atlantica - 01.06.2001, Blaðsíða 32

stands scattered throughout the city.
Opting to stay on the move, I order a
kebab to go, and munch my way to the
front of Paulskirche which rises above
the table-lined courtyard.
The guidebook – I always find it a
good idea to consult Lonely Planet when
standing in front of a large church or
monument – says that Paulskirche was
the seat of Germany’s first freely elected
national assembly in 1848. Since too
many picture-taking tourists are crowd-
ing, I decide to grab some gelato and
cross the street to Römerberg square,
the home of city hall. Licking my ice
cream cone, I walk into the tourist infor-
mation centre to fact check the guide-
book, and to get out of the way of my
photographer who’s snapping his Leica
like a bandit. Inside, I’m told that the his-
toric-looking plaza has been renovated,
as the original Römerberg was
destroyed by WWII bombing raids. In
other words, it’s a remodelling job.
But the illusion of authenticity is
strong. The Fountain of Justice, centred
in the common, could date back cen-
turies. She stands balancing the scales
of fairness; behind her, traditional half-
timbered houses remind visitors that
they are indeed in Germany.
The square teems with people, and it’s
a pleasure to sit and listen to the chil-
dren play around the fountain while the
red brick of Römer fades to a dusty
maroon thanks to the falling sun that’s
shadowing the courtyard. As daylight
folds, the flow of people slows to the
pace of a shallow creek. Church bells
gong. I’m in Frankfurt.
IT’S A LOCAL FAVOURITE
Time for dinner. The photographer and I
join a few of his mates at Zum
Standesämtchen, a small German
restaurant located in Römerberg square.
We sit outside and enjoy the melancholy
sounds of a saxophone blown soulfully
by a street musician.
“Have you tried applewine?” my pho-
tographer’s friend asks with a German
accent. I say no, and a round of the fer-
mented apple juice is promptly ordered
for the table. “Don’t drink too much or
else the next day it will clean out your
stomach,” he warns, as the waiter
serves our drinks.
30 A T L A N T I C A
FRANKFURT
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