Today has been a quiet sort of day all in all. Just walked LOADS. There are 3 bridges over the river that I can use to get into town so this morning I took a walk further up and went over the pedestrian bridge. Just by the steps there was a couple of padlocks hung onto the railing. I just thought that people had left them there to chain their bikes to.

Just a couple of padlock. Then there were a few more. And a few more.

And then looking further along the bridge you notice all different colours glinting in the sunlight. And they’re all padlocks. Hundreds and thousands of padlocks. Dozens of different colors and styles – some huge rusty metal ones, some simple plain ones written on with marker pen, some engraved with love hearts or flowers, but nearly all with names and a date. I remembered I’d read about this in a guide book a while ago. It’s just a tradition that couples go there and put their names up there forever.

Really is an amazing sight.

Just over the bridge is a wide strip of grass asking the riverbank, and I heard a proper poop poop and turned round to see what looked like the Hogwarts express coming along towards me. There are train tracks in the grass, it isn’t a regular track that’s used, but for some reason they just had an old fashioned stream train running on today. Giving off proper big clouds of steam with each poop poop.

Walked all along the high street till the big schools had vanished and found a little market. Very disappointing after the long walk – more like a scutty car boot than the little local fresh produce fayre I was hoping for.

Back in the City Square and here are some of the buildings:

Really gorgeous traditional little buildings. It’s always nice to see the “old” part of anywhere you visit rather than just the new shiny skyscrapers and tower blocks. (Frankfurt is a big financial district so there’s shedloads of them to)

So you can imagine I was a bit disappointed to learn that they lovely quaint buildings round the square were actually build in 1975, and just done old style to give an impression of how Frankfurt might have looked. And they only needed rebuilding in the first place because Britian flattened 80% of Frankfurt in a bombing raid in 1944. Feel cheated because they’re fake, and guilty because we squished em. Don’t think I’ll be coming to Frankfurt again!

Oh, here’s the fountain with the lesbians’ scarves wrapped round it.

Still no idea why.

Erm… What else…just wandered lots. Ate more of the very delicious Kirsch und Schokolat cake from McCafe. Honestly, best cake ever. Mmmm mmm mmmm. Found a little oldy worldy church and lit a candle for my Grandad Griff as I always do. There was a church service going on, and it’s very rare these days I go to a “proper” church so it was nice to hear the sing sing voice of the priest, and smell incense and the old churchy smell that makes you feel all solemn. But to me that doesnt have any connection whatsoever to me and my faith and beliefs. Nice to know its there, but it just isn’t relevant to modern day Christians. Put simply, it wasn’t for me. I’m happy clappy and proud. If there ain’t a drum kit I’m off.

Not much worth mentioning today. Been a bit bored – I’m just too excited about getting to Copenhagen and want to be there NOW.

Wandered back to my hostel and on my way back along the river, from around one of the bridge supports came a proper Ned Flanders/Oscar Pistorious scream and round the corner came a man, wearing a suit and tie, running for his life. I stepped to one side to let him pass and without breaking stride he looked at me and shouted “Engleesh?…….I’M…….NOT…….. SCARED……. I’M…….NOT……..SCARED….!” running hell for leather. And after him came a ha ha ha big goose chasing him and honking away. If my phone battery hadn’t gone I would have taken a photo. Brilliantly funny sight. He disappeared off into the distance still shouting “I’M……NOT…..SCARED….” with the goose honking after him. The man protesteth too much methinks!

Back at my hostel I had a bit of a kip and then got more dressed up to go out for a proper meal. When I say “proper meal” and you’re traveling this just means something that you need a knife and fork to eat. The guide book said that the Old town had lots of good little restaurants and steak houses so went out for a late night wander. The guide book was wrong. All the pavement cafes down from the hostel looked more like seedy drugs dens than the Bernie Inn I was hoping for. There were girls drapped over whicker chairs, completely out of it, and massive hooka’s sitting on tables (that’s hookas as in “bongs” rather than hookers as in pimps) ( although I’m sure there were some of those around too) with sweet fruity smells and some more dubious ones filling the air. Not often I feel uneasy when I’m out on my todd – I’m used to going everywhere alone, but I didn’t feel comfortable so walked as quick as I could. Just dark and seedy and felt like the underworld of Frankfurt. Bit further on the was a tiny square at the crossroads of two of the bigger cobbled streets. And there oh joys of joys was “Anglo Irish” a lovely brightly lit welcoming looking pub, with a SkySports sign outside. Result! But the barman couldn’t speak English and they only served for food during the day. Gutted. Didn’t even serve Guinness. About as Irish as Jedward are American. I really hate plastic pubs. Would have just gone back home at this point, but really needed food. Kept to the well lit bigger cobbled roads and soon found my way out into Civiization. And a long row of takeaways. Like Bryn, one takeaway per head of the population. Some of them looked like places where you’d wipe your feet on the way out. And some had the typical gang of greasy blokes outside, thinking all us Engleesh ladies believe we’re the most bee-you-tee-full laydee they have ever seen. Yeah right you muppets.

Anyway, still on the hunt for food I finally found a pizza place. Now you might remember from last year that I accidentally ended up with a brocolli pizza so wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. “Hi, do you have chicken pizza? Pollo? Kip?” (because of yeah I know every language apart from German!). “Yes,” he says “We have ham”. No. Chicken. “Yes. Chicken” and he shows me a tub of ham. I shake my head and make motions of “Never mind, no thank you” while backing out of the door. He quickly shouts to a girl in the back and she comes out. “You want chicken?” Yes. The man points at me and says “Ham”. “Yes. Is Turkey Ham”. But no, that’s still not chicken. I shake my head and leave, heading back along the road to the first pizza place with the greasy men outside. “Hi. Do you have Chicken pizza? Pollo? Kip?” I say to the man behind the counter who unfortunatley has a squiffy eye. His English is better than the last place. “Yes,” he says proudly “We have ham”. Head in hands moment. What sort of town is this were everyone thinks ham is chicken? I mean, on the scale on Farmyard animals pigs and chickens aren’t anywhere near each other. Subway could never open a branch here – there’d be carnage. He can obviously tell by the look on my face this was not the right thing to say. He points to the donner chicken kebab thing on the upright rotating gas grill. I shake my head and begin to leave. He then shouts to a man outside “She wants chicken” and all the greasy men stop talking and stare at me through the window. The oldest of the men looks me up and down and nods, and then says to the squiffy eyed man “Show her the chicken”. And the bloke bends over to the fridge and lifts out…….a tub of chicken. Bizarre. No idea what I did too get approval from the local chicken mafia, but I’m glad I did. Was a very nice pizza. Eventually.

Took a shorter route back through the Old Town and spotted the sign for The other recommended Irish bar I’d seen in the guide books, only I hadn’t realised it was in the old town. And Monday was pub Quiz night! Hooray. Couldn’t really go in now I’d bought a pizza, and after the effort it took to get it I was NOT going to leave it. So I just had a coke and sat outside listening in and chatting to people who’d come out for a cig or a breather. This was a PROPER Irish Pub. None of this fake ‘We’ll paint a shamrock outside and we’ll be fine. None of us have ever been to Ireland but one of us saw a potato once” mock Irish pub. This was a good old fashioned fiddle-de-dee Irish pub. So I sat outside eating my mafia pizza and sipping my coke, listening to the quiz, the general banter and the music in between. And then came one of the funniest lines I have possibly ever heard. Thered been a bit of confusion of the number of questions in each round and then the Quiz man, quite seriously, announces “We’re a bit short on questions this week….so if you’ve got any facts please could you go to the bar”.

Walked back eating the rest of my pizza. It was a really clear night so the stars were out and really visible. Strange but just made me think that they’re the same stars that shine down over CowTown. That’s one of the few things I love about living in the middle of knowhere – the stars are so clear. The more you look the clearer they become, and you can see that the sky is just a very dark inky blue, not black at all. Just made me have a little whistful moment of thinking how beautiful it all was. And then it got a bit windy, and little white fluffy blossom things started blowing off the trees by the river as I walked back. Just more and more and more came down from the trees, and the final 100 yds back to the hostel was amazing – genuinely looked like it was snowing. So pretty and white, and clear and beatiful – quite “awesome” in the proper meaning of the word. Filled with awe. No jokes, nothing funny, it was just a stunning walk home.