It is Sunday, and The Jolly Roger, a tiny bar just down the block from where I currently reside in Hamburg, is packed at about 11:30 a.m. It’s hard to tell if there was ever even a lull between Saturday night’s crowds and today’s tired looking, steadfast partygoers.
Rough edged locals, or “Hamburgers” (which, I must admit, never gets old) are downing beers under the silver sky that they long ago tired of cursing. Most of the year, the city’s lazy rain clouds only threaten from above, dropping chilly dustings of rain that dissipate into canals and make their way to the harbor. Besides, the silver sheets that drift through the sky seem to fit this industrial port city, where mossy nature seems to constantly challenge the rights that stone and metal claim over the land. (more…)