From there it was about an hour's drive north to Herborn where Florian lived until he was 17. You can't ever really know a person until you meet their parents and visit their hometown. His brother still lives there.
There's even a "schloss" (castle). In Germany, there's always a schloss. This one looms above the cooking school Florian attended and the hotel where he apprenticed. He's a jack of all trades and even served in the military.
Garlands hung from the fountain in the picturesque town square.
Die Frau mit Hut, Florian's mother, eagerly awaited our arrival. She's not much older than I am.
She gaily decorated the hall in front of the apartment she shares with Florian's stepfather for Easter.
Die Frau mit Hut, who doesn't speak any more English than I do German, presented me with a number of gifts. Trust me, I wouldn't be this gracious for just anyone.
Inside her apartment, she proudly showed me the souvenirs Florian brought her from South Africa.
She also demonstrated her decoupage skills, decorating a birdhouse for a friend during our brief visit.
Like mother, like son. It was hard for Die Frau mit Hut to say goodbye when she walked us to the car.
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