Nun ist die Welt so trübe...

I had a grand plan for this Saturday afternoon: to descend on the costume sale of Wiesbaden's opera house and carry off a costume (if affordable) that would enable me to spend the Carneval season as Cherubino or one of his cousins of the operatic repertoire. This should have been a straightforward proceeding. There is no bus that goes directly into central Wiesbaden from the large bus stop nearest to Mainz's archives, but I was undeterred; I decided to take a bus part of the way into the city outskirts, and simply follow the train tracks into the center from there. (I decided that waiting 20 whole minutes for a train would be silly. Ha.) Following the train tracks turned out to be easier said than done, and I set a personal record for getting lost, making three different complete loops. I did ask directions twice… and ended up cycling in circles both times. Almost three hours later, I arrived at my destination just as the costume sale was ending, and cycled back to Wiesbaden's central train station. Now, if I had only memorized Schubert's Winterreise, I could have sung it through on my way in belated observance of his birthday. As I hadn't, I just sang fragments of it as seemed apt, addressing several crows as "Wunderliches Tier!" etc. The following photos are otherwise all I have to show for my journey.

Gazing downhill towards Mainz (faint in the distance; you can just make out the dome of the church which stands behind the archive.)

I rode in a straight line from the first Wegweiser to the second. Note that the arrows pointing to Erbenheim (which I had been told by the two women I first asked for directions that I should aim for) are pointing in opposite directions.

I was very excited to see this known Wetterfahne, looped around it, and pedaled vigorously off… until I reached the Wegweiser again.

Slightly different trees. I made one smallish loop after asking directions the second time, as a result of which the friendly day-hiker came panting up to me to offer further counsel: " 'As the crow flies after the tree' was probably confusing," he kindly suggested, "as there are trees everywhere."

I made it to the landmark cemetery without further misadventure, followed the received directions obediently, saw all the indicators I'd been told to look for… and ended up back at the cemetery. At this point, it had started to rain in earnest instead of just spitting, so I waited 5 minutes for the bus.

The theater. In hopes that some last minute costume sale might be happening, I asked two people which entrance I should try, the main one being locked. "I do not understand," said the woman, in English. "Ich bin nicht von hier," said the man. I then tried an open door, optimistically. "You've taken a wrong turn," said a workman I encountered. "My mistake," I said; "sorry." As I trailed out again, I heard him contemptuously remark to his companion that I'd probably just wanted to look at the building. 

My poor bicycle and I ended up rather besmirched. So much so, in fact, that we drove out the family who got on the train after me. Hardly had they sat down when they rose. "Come," said the matriarch to the child she held by the hand, and she cast at me the pointed glance which is a specialty of German disapproval. "It stinks here." Well. Not being able to help that, I tried to look as generally apologetic as possible during the half-hour ride back to the village where I live. And then I cycled home, more determined than previously to hear the Winterreise recital being given in Frankfurt next week.