Travel musings by the unitiated

After successfully managing not to get a taxi, lugging heavy bags on and off trams, spectacularly breaking two leaving presents mere centimetres from the bus stop and checking in with the surly coach driver and his surlier colleague, I am finally ready to be whisked away from my Hessian home to the Bavarian south.
On the coach I carefully select a seat that is not near any fire exits and is just far away enough from the toilet to avoid the smell, but still close enough that I don’t have to stumble through the coach in case of emergency. Sitting down, I remove my winter coat and arrange my hand luggage in the seat next to me, so future co-travellers know where is and, more importantly, isn't free for them (standard procedure for anyone who has travelled long distance on any form of transport with other humans). As the engine splinters into life, and taking one final look at the impressive Frankfurt skyline glistening in the crisp January sunlight, I am reminded of the day I first laid eyes upon those skyscrapers and how remarkably similar my arrival and departure are.
If you've ever flown into Frankfurt Airport you’ll know, due to its status as the third busiest airport in Europe, that the time you land and the time you ‘arrive’ can be hours apart. Having been on the wrong side of the do-I-don’t-I pack my winter coat debate, I eventually got to Frankfurt city centre, coat on and heavy bags in tow, late afternoon on one of the many ‘hottest days of the year' summer 2013 had enjoyed. Looking up, so as to avoid the funny looks my shorts and coat combination were attracting, (although when even Germans disapprove of your fashion choices maybe you need re-think panic buying those £5 luggage scales that were definitely going to be accurate!), I take in my first glimpse of that skyline in the summer sun.
Hitching up my assortment of bags and suitcases I head off through the city towards my hotel, marvelling at the red light district and how close it is to the Hauptbahnhof!
Back in the bus and in time to enjoy another brief, Mainhattan Moment as the view draws steadily out of sight. The red Japan tower, the only earthquake-proof building in Frankfurt (now you know); the Irish pub that impressed my friends much more than any of the actual German pubs I took them to and finally the Westhafen or, as it is lovingly referred to much to the distaste of the architect, Ebbelwoi Tower - the first skyscraper en route to the city and last on the way out.

And then, it’s gone…