change of lanes, a crossing, signs pointing to the left and the right. I stay
in the middle. Just some minutes later, I am in the city centre. It happens so
suddenly that it almost feels too fast now. Another green light, another turn,
and there I am, facing an old stone tower. I slow down, hoping the traffic lights
turn to red before I reach them. And they do, just in time for a break, for a
tower view from the driver's seat.
look on my map, a look to the street sign: Königstrasse. King's Street. It
can't be true. It would be too easy. I would be in the right spot already. But
it is real. Nuremberg welcomes me with an easy arrival. A parking house, around
the corner. A free spot in the first floor. I check the clock. Eleven twenty.
Not even three hours to get from my hometown to the middle of this city. Now for
the museum. At least that is what I think until I am standing on the outside,
in the sun, in front of the old city.
in the fresh November air, I turn towards the centre, marked by the peek of a
church. Lorenz church, it is. And huge. Then I remember the address of the museum.
Lorenz Street. Have I already passed it? But no, I am still in the King's Street,
one street down from where the museum is.
front of the church, stalls of the Christmas Market, some of them open already.
I take a moment to stand on the cobblestone street and take a look around, glancing
at old wooden houses, stars hanging in the air, the peeks of the palace in the
distance. It still doesn't feel real.
I really been here before, I wonder? I can't remember this place, even though
I must have walked over these stones, some years ago, twice. Maybe it had already
been dark back then. The city in the night, with all the decoration alit, it might
look like a different place. But still it is irritating, this lack of memory.
Or maybe it was the fact that I been there with friends the last time, and that
it was more about talking than about seeing the city.
now I am here, I tell myself. Now I see it.