The following Thursday, we continued our May madness and rented bicycles to do a trip along the banks of the Rhine. (it was a holiday again.) We had great weather, sunny skis and nearly thirty degrees in the afternoon, but never so hot as to be uncomfortable. We had the bikes for three hours, and so we decided to drop in on a little island festival that was happening during the entire holiday weekend in a small town called Wesslingen. It took us just over an hour and a half to make it to Wesslingen, or rather, the fairly landing where one can cross over to the Wesslingen side. We stayed at the little festival for all of three minutes though before deciding that it was too crowded and that we had better get back to Cologne to return the bikes. But we agreed to come back on the weekend to see what it was all about.
Friday, was another sunny day, and Michelle and I met after work to have a picnic in the park by the river downtown. We weren't alone though, there was hardly a square meter of grass free by the time the sun started to set, so we decided to take our party into the city and finally catch a little jazz music at Germany's oldest jazz spot, Pappa Joe's. It's decorated the same way it was 100 years ago, and it boasts live jazz every single evening of the yea, which is really something in a country with so many holidays and a working tradition that excludes Sunday. The actual club is quite small with a bar taking up a lot of the space. There is a small area in the right corner with a bench following the curve of the wall and with three or four tables. Then there is a line of tables along the wall opposite the bar, a small stage to the left of the bar, and then a raised bench opposite the stage and parallel to the bar where we sat. In front of the bench is a thin wooden division with almost a trough cut into it where people but out their cigarettes and you can rest your beer glass if you're not troubled by what may stick to the bottom of it. The music was good, but the crowd wasn't into it that night, and we left just before midnight.
Saturday we finished off our rather busy weekend by keeping to our word and heading back to Wesslingen to check out the island festival. I'm not really sure that it is actually on an island of any kind, but that�s what they called the party. When we actually got a chance to take a closer look, we realized that it was more like a fair than a festival. There were candy apples and bumper cars, no Ferris wheel, but still one of those balls suspended by bungee cords that launches you into the air. There are of course a few things that you get at a German fair that you don't at home, such as gigantic pickles from a barrel, and dampfnudeln. A large doughy pastry (translated as noodle) that is covered with vanilla sauce and cherries. It was filling, but more like a dumpling than anything else, so it tasted a little strange with it's sweet adornment. We listened to a steady procession of German cover bands, stopped by the water to watch the boats go by, and then headed back into town thoroughly exhausted.
