Evening in Konstanz

As soon as I got off the train, it hit me. The sensation of being on a more southernly latitude. Even though I had left a warm, sunny, spring-rushing-into-summerTrondheim, this was a different thing alltogether. It was already evening, but it was still warm, and the town was teaming with people. Konstanz'  main communication artery, a wide pedestrian street, lined with outdoor restaurants, was full of people enjoying the evening, the pleasant atmosphere, a drink or several, each other or a comfortable solitude.

On my way to the hotel I passed a particularly inviting place situated, along with several others, on a small cobblestoned square featuring palms, several gas fuelled fireplaces, a fountain, and on this particular occasion; an adept Spanish guitarist. I promptly seized a waiter by his collar (well, almost, I would have if needed, I’m a sucker for such places) and asked him to reserve a table for me. He smilingly obliged me, and I quickly checked in to my room, freshened up in a jiffy and headed back, equipped with purse and my beloved travel computer.

The guitarist was still there... 

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