Leaving Aachen : PART I

Aachen is where Charlemagne was crowned Emperor in 800 AD. This is roughly more than 357 years ago. The city breathes history and on every street corner and every little cobbled square the legacy of old Europe looks down on you from the crested orange-tiled roofs, the engraved keystone blocks and fine oak transoms. I very much enjoyed staying there for over two weeks. The carelessness of its affluent population left enough unspoiled food about never having to worry about hunger. One fine blessed morning I even indulged in a scrumptious carrot that Walter managed to extrude from a restaurant’s container before the garbage people managed to steal away with this veritable treasure trove of golden plunder. “Na du Kaninchen, das magst du gerna, wat?” he said, looking into his camera. It meant something along the lines of I wish I was a rabbit too, that way I could eat a carrot and not have to worry about the expiry date of this yoghurt. But then again we’d have to share the carrot. And I’m not great when it comes to sharing carrots, or women for that matter. Now, Walter doesn’t have a dog, and he keeps away from the tramps that do. Thank God! You wouldn’t believe the amount of hidebound and scraggly Pluto’s the vagroms and bindlestiffs of this town tow around in their smelly wake. The funny thing is; I seem to be able to write about these canine aberrations without the outright dread and mortal anxiety that I used to experience. Nonetheless a problem arose. It was bipedal and went by the name of Angelika.