Travels by Train: Hanau, Part 1 (Home is Where the Heart Is)

From ages 4 to 14, I lived at 8 addresses in 7 cities on 2 continents. I loved the life, but because the places I lived were so scattered (and most on military bases), going back to visit the old homestead(s) was not really feasible. 

Until now.

From January 1977 to July 1978 we lived in Hanau, our second location in Germany. Hanau sits about 25 miles east of Frankfurt, with a port on the Main river. 

They say you can’t go home again, but I decided to hop the train for the three-hour trip to Hanau and find out if that was true.

a section of downtown Hanau, 1977

As eager as I was, there were small signs from the very beginning that things would not turn out how I expected:

• When I got to my track at Munich's Hauptbahnhof with carefully planned minutes to spare, I found my train had moved to another track. 

• At my transfer in Würzburg, I hurried to the track listed on my ticket, but the train waiting there did not match the train number on my itinerary. 

• After I resolved my connection dilemma, I was finally on my way. Till I noticed a strange smell, and smoke began streaming past the window. The slowdown and subsequent wait for repairs to the train put me into Hanau about 45 minutes behind schedule.

In the Hanau Hauptbahnhof, I grabbed a quick lunch and checked the map. None of the local trains ran out to the site of the old base, but it was just one stop on a regional train, so off I went.

I got a bit turned around, but once I knew I was heading in the right direction, I felt almost giddy. As I crested a pedestrian bridge into the area, I sped up at the familiar sight of barracks through the trees. I was almost there!

Even though I knew the last U.S. troops left in 2008, I didn't expect what I saw. Probably because I read about a Hanau tour that included a stop at the former barracks. I guess I assumed there'd be limited access, visitor information, something.

But it was what it was. Just an abandoned military base with some history, but no monumental value, awaiting redevelopment.

A cab was parked near the base's main gate. I'm sure the driver was wondering why I was peering through the fence and taking pictures. At some point, after trampling through some brush to try to see building numbers, I began wondering that about myself.

My early years were largely rootless. Was I trying to etch out my own version of "Kilroy was Here"?

Across the road, the buildings behind a derelict AAFES gas station had been converted into refugee housing. Despite my personal disappointment, that fact lifted my spirits a bit. I decided to move on, and explore the city proper.

Turned out the regional train only ran once an hour, and because Hanau is part of the Frankfurt transportation system, Google was confused about figuring out routes for me.

So I ended up walking. A lot. Which normally makes me happy because of all the unexpected things you discover. In this case, however, I think my expectations were just too high.

In my head, Hanau was a cute village outside the big city, where I once lived and played and loved going to school. 

a section of Hanau near Phillipsruhe palace, 2017

In reality, Hanau is a typical small city; largely nondescript but with isolated areas of charm. 

I've felt a strong connection to Germany ever since moving here nearly two years ago. Maybe it's an idealized nostalgia, or an appreciation for this opportunity to live abroad as an adult, or a combination of both.

My Hanau experience wasn't so much about not being able to go home again, but about the fact that I had no point of reference for what that was. 

Hanau was "home" like most of the other places in which I'd lived--a discrete island in a stream of life lived fully in two-year chunks. That puts me around 20 lifetimes removed from the world I experienced there. 

Building 402, Apartment 3. That's me, second from the left.

I wouldn't trade those lifetimes for anything, but there are times when I do envy people with a real "hometown." So I guess that's what I was hoping to find in my trip to Hanau--some concrete representation of the connection I feel. 

Instead, I think the experience confirmed what I've long suspected: “home” for me is a state of mind, not a physical location. 

And even though I didn't find what I thought I was looking for, I'm glad I went looking. It makes me realize how precious are each of the stops I've made so far, and reminds me that I need to cherish each connection and every adventure along the way.