Unable to move toward the exit of the crowded train car, I looked out the small, dirty window to my right and on to the station platform. My heart leapt as I saw a familiar face for the first time in over a month! There stood my high school friend Weston Read, resting heavily on his crutches and searching me out in the crowd.

As soon as I was clear from the pack of travellers, I practically jumped from the train. I gave him a big hug and a sad smile, “How’s your knee holding up?” Weston, always cheerful and optimistic, grinned and averted the subject almost completely. He said it was fine and he was excited to see me and to show me around the city.

After graduating from the same high school as me in Cartersville, Georgia, Weston spent two years playing soccer at Anderson University in South Carolina. When he tore his ACL for the first time, he had an artificial ligament surgically implanted and underwent intensive therapy. He worked hard and before long, he was ready to get back on the pitch, but he was also ready for a change of pace. He bravely moved to Flensburg, Germany to pursue his dream of playing on a European national team. Just when everything had fallen into place and Weston was ready to make his debut, his ACL relapsed, and he was forced to stop playing once again. Although Weston planned to return to the States to regroup, he was still living in Flensburg for a few more weeks and he agreed to meet me in nearby Hamburg before his departure.

As we exited the train station I took in the city for the first time. Clean, lively, and beautiful. Bridges and canals wove through the city like a child’s pencil dragging through a complicated maze.  Weston told me that there were over 2,300 bridges in Hamburg – more than both Amsterdam and Venice combined.

We breezed through the center of town along two wide boulevards that paved a path toward the Rathaus, or city hall. In front of the imposing building, Weston stopped a local and, much to my surprise, asked in excellent German if he would take a picture of the two of us. The man was the friendliest of any I had met in my summer travels, and he snapped photo after photo while asking us how we were enjoying the city and pointing out some of the must-see sights.

Next, we steered ourselves in the direction of Hamburger Hafen, or the Port of Hamburg, which is known as “Germany’s Gateway to the World.” Although it is not a costal city, Hamburg is connected to the North Sea by a thirty-mile stretch of the Elbe River. Consequently, Hamburg is one of the most critical trading hubs in Western Europe”. On the way toward the harbor, we stopped at a local grocery store where Weston plucked two clear glass bottles filled with a sizzling cola from the shelves. Walking outside he popped the bottle tops and thrust one into my hand, “Cheers! It’s Fritz-kola. It originated near Hamburg and it’s really popular in this part of Germany. This is my favorite flavor. It’s mostly like Coke, but with a little bit of coffee. Try it, you’ll really like it!”

Impressed by how much Weston had learned in his six months away from America, I took a swig as we sat down in the warm sun on a bank just above water level. It was so nice to see an old friend, and we sat for hours talking and catching up. Long after the Fritz-kola was gone and the most pressing stories had been shared, we meandered to a nearby dock where we boarded the water taxi. We slashed through the harbor, taking in the sights from the water. When we docked again, we hopped off and headed to a local hamburger joint for a bite to eat.

The origin of the hamburger is greatly disputed, but one likely origin is that the now typical American fare was created by a German cook named Otto Kuasw. Back in 1891 Otto concocted a popular sailors’ sandwich composed of a beef patty fillet fried in butter that was also served with a fried egg between two toasted buns. The shop where he sold the “Deutsches Beefsteak” was right in the city of Hamburg.  Around this time, the Hamburg Hafen became a major departure point for the trans-Atlantic ship line that carried passengers to New York City. It is said that many of the sailors who travelled to the U.S. by this route requested a similar “Hamburg style” sandwich at American restaurants, popularizing the German invention in the United States.

After pondering the controversial origin with another kind local, we left the restaurant and explored more of the animated city, even managing to sneak into the St. Pauli Football Club stadium. As the sun sank low in the sky, I gave Weston one last hug goodbye as we both promised that we’d see each other back in America soon!