Frankfurt Redux

This post follows on from the original post, Fun in Frankfurt, published August 19, 2024. 

https://www.claudiamoorewriter.com/post/fun-in-frankfurt

Traveling through Frankfurt Airport again after a two-year hiatus was like visiting an old friend. Maybe not a friend, exactly, unless that friend is someone you both dislike but are proud to be able to tolerate. I was again traveling from Albuquerque to Newcastle and back. I was particularly excited to experience the airport's post-construction condition. What new treasures would it bestow? What new airport lands could I now experience? 

What I found was that other than in purely cosmetic ways, absolutely nothing had changed. 

Getting from the plane to the terminal still involved a series of shuttle buses. I even recognized the stop where the large party took a solid five minutes to embark. The stairs that led to nowhere were still there, only instead of bare concrete, they were now covered in black granite. Signage was still poor. The pathway of at least one set of stairs still seemed to be circular in nature. At the terminal entrance, it was still necessary to go up a set of steep concrete stairs with one’s hand luggage, only to then walk down the exact same number of stairs. That, apparently, was intentional, and not a side effect of the construction. 

Of course, you expect to go up and down stairs when traveling. Most flights into and out of Newcastle require a bus to the plane, followed by a very steep, narrow staircase to the cabin. So, too, have all the flights I have taken in and out of Frankfurt. But adding an additional up-and-down set immediately upon entering the terminal seemed totally redundant and a bit mean.

Because I (once again) had such a long layover, I exhausted the possibilities of the European side of the terminal, where the planes to and from Newcastle board, before heading over to the Star Alliance/international side. I ate breakfast at a delightful outlet offering freshly made foods and juices. It represented my strongest resonance with German culture: An emphasis on physical health, a closeness to the Earth, and a mastery of its herbs and medicines. The juices came in abundant flavors and looked pulpy and delicious, like they had just been juiced minutes before. Containers were unlabeled and utilitarian. There was a vast array of bircher mueslis and live yoghurt concoctions. I decided on a yoghurt with big chunks of unusual fruits nestled at the bottom of the tub and a deep layer of seeds on the top. I savored the delicate tang of yoghurt unsullied by any speck of sweetener. To my great disappointment, I later discovered that there was no equivalent to this establishment on the international side.  

Otherwise, the amenities were very similar. Other than the fresh food outlet, the selection of food was identical to two years ago, including the hot dog carts with the dangling nipples and the little convenience store next to the bakery. This time, I felt emboldened to take a close-up photo of the nipples from the front of the cart. I can only assume it was my long experience of breastfeeding that led to my fascination with this mode of condiment application. I walked around and around, but no, there were no new food purveyors. There were, however, two additional duty-free shops that were like small boutiques of German goods. One focused on healthy groceries and a vast selection of herbal teas. The other featured exquisite pens, notebooks, and kitchen and home goods. The latter earned my custom with its outstandingly designed items. 

Those, and the big, central, duty-free store were able to absorb a good chunk of the overly long transfer time. However, I was curious to note that in the big store, where previously a full wall had been dedicated to Swiss herbal goods from Ricola, now there were none at all. Was this due to the simple ebb and flow of retail, or did it point to something more sinister in the relationship between the two countries? The plot thickened in my sleep-deprived, somewhat disoriented state. Perhaps the nightmare unfolding in the United States at that time was affecting my subconscious. 

I feel I have made my peace with Frankfurt Airport. I re-read my first account of traveling through it and cringed at the negativity I felt. Airports are often associated with stressful experiences for people: we are in them when we get up too early, or are rushing, or are sleep deprived, jet lagged, confused, or uncomfortable in some way. It’s not the airport’s fault (although they really could turn the heat down, as it is roasting hot throughout). As I am sure we will interact again, I’ve decided to send a little loving kindness its way. See you again, Frankfurt Airport. I still intend to visit the town in which you reside some day.