Finally.

It’s that time of year again.

The end of August-

The time when the Gutenberger get loud.

Loud as in:

When the sky is this blue,

and the temperatures in the high twenties,

and people have worked through thirty-five plus celsius temperatures

making shoe polish, and tooth paste, and glass,

and fantastic books,

just some of the local products,

the management finally has a heart.

Out of fear mostly.

And closes the factories.

For a month

Which should make it less loud here, right?

Wrong.

Meaning that:

Even though there  is less factory noise,

and far few cars on the roads here-

since a large portion of them,

and the people they belong to,

are in the mountains of Switzerland,

beaches of Italy,

and even Turkey and France, let alone Spain and Mallorca,

and there are therefore fewer locals,

not to mentions fewer tourists this year,

running you down with baby buggies,

Segways while on tours of the city,

throwing water cups your direction during the “Tour de Mayence” Marathon run,

or even popping unexpectedly

and white rabbit-like

out of unsurmised exits from the historical tunnels

that run from the high hills here all the way to the water,

those who are still here,

(more this year than last)

and not winging it through the skies to vacation,

via the Frankfurt airport,

“Your friendly FraPort”

or  trying to get home via the “Frankfurt Tangle”-

just take a bus-

handle the situation German style.

And  head for the wine festivals.

And the “Open Ear” festivals-

there was a great one two days ago-

a sort of mini-night of the proms,

with the local symphony orchestra playing film music.

Or concerts-

The Berlin Lute Cumpaneye was here a few days ago.

Or Jethro Tull,

Bob Dylan,

Herman’s Hermits-

big box office here

As is Bollywood.

Or, to put it in a nutshell:

Anything that is loud,

makes noise,

to cover the sound of the planes,

and where wine-

the local drink since Drusus and the Romans introduced it,

can be imbibed.

While sitting on a riverbank,

or a beach,

or watching the fireworks from a boat.

Including an eight to midnight after work disco boat.

Which is loud loud loud.

And hot hotter hottest.

Which is how you sweat out the alcohol.

And cover the noise.

And meet new people.

At post-Ides August

Here in Gutenberg Land.

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