It’s been a long and sometimes painful journey through a jungle of misconception and prejudice. Both seem to die as hard as any of the bad habits the world so happily cultivates. Eventually it looks as though Frankfurt – Hessen’s largest city (but not it’s capital, that’s Wiesbaden, you didn’t know that, did you?) has managed to shed its unjustified reputation of being nothing but a money-minded financial hub. See for yourselves how winsome it can be.
The dream of flying is perhaps nearly as old as mankind itself. We do not know for how many casualties innumerable trial-and-error experiments are responsible. The myth of Daedalus, the sly old Greek and his boisterous son Icarus, became the stuff for serious text-book entries. With a merciless sun gradually sizzling away Icarus’s wings of wax, the poor devil plummeted right into the sea – having been robbed of life-saving aerodynamics. In reality, crash tests with astonishingly inventive contraptions operated by bright, adventurous minds formed a never-ending chain of often fatal accidents over the course of time. Thanks to the courage and relentless efforts by these pioneers, aircraft have become a fast, comfortable and comparatively safe means of transport.
Tempelhof Airport was closed for public air traffic in October 2008. 85 years earlier, in October 1923, ‘the first commercial airport worldwide’ was inaugurated by the German Reich’s Ministry of Transport; the initial route operated to Koenigsberg (now Kaliningrad) in former East Prussia. The first plane of the newly founded “Deutsche Luft Hansa” had its maiden voyage from Berlin to Zurich in 1926 and even gigantic Zeppelins majestically raised from the vast Tempelhof airfield. By the 1930s, it had developed into Europe’s busiest airport – ranging ahead of Paris, Amsterdam and London. But Tempelhof is unforgotten for the dramatic role it was to play in post-war Germany.
Great sculptors and painters of their time have created an architectural treasure, whose masterly opulence bears witness to their genius to this day. Jan Preisler, Mikoláš Aleš, Max Švabinský, František Ženíšek, Ladislav Šaloun, Josef Mařatka, Josef Václav Myslbek or Alfons Mucha – names difficult to pronounce – were but a small fraction within the remarkable group of skillful artists involved in building and decorating Obecní dům – the Municipal House located right in the heart of Prague. Since its inauguration in January of 1912, the extraordinary building has served as a splendid stage for atmospheric concerts, grand festive balls as well as fancy fashion shows and is justly listed a national heritage site. Its protagonists – the Smetana Hall and the Municipal House Restaurant – alone may well be worth the trip to Prague, from whichever corner of the globe it may have to commence.
The much-published image of a Liverpudlian boy-band cheerfully zebra-crossing Abbey Road, is one familiar the world over. Miraculously, it has never gone threadbare! In times when impatiently awaited new albums regularly catapulted the international fan base into a state of frenzy, the venue of recording stood a serious chance of attaining similarly excessive attention.
