Upon arrival to the Frankfurt Hahn airport, which sits outside of Frankfurt by an hour or more, I felt a bit eary. I noted that there were jail style bobwire fences, concrete and metal storage bins that appeared to be bunkers, strong steal doors closing the path of entry to underground rooms. Upon meeting my host, I asked about Frankfurt-Hahn's history and it appears that the airport use to be the military base for the war. It came as no surprise to me due to the contents and closure. I assume my first encounter with Germany will soon be tangled with many other reminders, memorials and conversation of war.

During my two hour bus ride to Cologne, I noted that the housing was not in the style of the color postcard countries and coutrysides that I had previously visited. The first noticeable belonging to every town was the looming church steeple that appeared to be right in the middle of town. The second was that the construction was primarily made out of concrete and all the buildings appeared to be whitle with lack tiled roofs. There was no visible modern construction in either the town or any surrounding area until I hit Cologne.

In contrast Cologne construction contained both glass and metal. The only old construction appeared to be the Dom which lied in the center of the city. I found none of the village charm seen from my bus seat in Cologne, none at all. Upon questioning, I came to find out that Cologne was destroyed in the war and only the center Dome was left untouched. As I understand it "there was the Dome and then rubble all around". What a shock to see as a survivor, I can't even imagine.

Due to the bleakness, the massive crowd, the over populated beggars and drunks I encountered upon my second day and the heat of in Cologne, I decided to enjoy a day in the comfortable yard of my host. As many can imagine, my favorite part of Cologne was the extensive selection of fresh baked breads and pastries on every street corner, block and cafe.

On day third day in Cologne and on my way into town, I encountered the town's market by the train station. The stalls were filled with ripe strawberries, the greenest zucchini's and green peppers, fresh farm eggs, a cheese stall, a deli stall filled with local fresh cutlings and even one stall with homemade cookies. I just couldn't resist.

As you can imagine, my limited German and dictionary couldn't help me in asking what type of cheese, or whether the deli lady made the vast selection or the fruit stall owner picked their own strawberries. I just chose to point and lift fingers up for the number of slices I wanted or to due the "stop in the name of love" gesture when the vendor over estimated my purchase. It seemed to work.

Upon arrival to the fresh grown herb vendor, I thought it a good idea to purchase some for my hosts as they have a joy for the green thumb and vegetarian cooking. The nice vendor, rambled on and on to me and at one point gave up. In order for me to decide what herbs to purchase, he proceeded to pick a leave from every pot so that I could taste test. With his good humor, cheer, salesmanship and above all patience for my lack of understanding...I purchased every one of the herbs he picked for me to taste. May the garden grow....