Up to Speed.

Auf Wiedersehen, München.

Munich, Germany – I'm not sure what's worse: the running or the standing.

The taking stairs two at a time and sprinting through an airport only to arrive at a beautiful glassed-in gate. And finding it empty, your plane taxiing just out of reach.

Or not moving at all in the service desk line until we're told it's closing and that we should find another. Then spending five hours there – to serve 15 people.

Au revoir, Paris.

Movement would not have been discernible in a stop-motion film.

But I make new friends from North Bay and we rustle up some beers from duty free, laughing at the absurdity. Apparently, drinking in the airport isn't frowned upon in Germany.

A trolley with Snickers bars, nuts and other snacks is wheeled out for us. We'll be put up for the night and given dinner at the hotel, before flying home through Paris tomorrow. Things are looking up – I have nowhere I need to be.

So much of travel: hurry up and wait.

And making the most of experiences.

Timeless.

Where are the red balloons?

Frankfurt, Germany – For the duration of the 19-minute journey from the airport, the train ran two full minutes behind.

By the time we had arrived in downtown Frankfurt, however, Germany had restored its reputation. Tick. Tock.

With an 11-hour layover, we had few expectations beyond seeing the Rhine and the old town, which amounts to little more than a city block with a beautiful stone plaza, and a large church at its epicentre.

Having been levelled during the Second World War, the Frankfurt we saw today stitched together reconstructions of traditional structures with the ultra-modern. Familiar, gothic restaurants meld with curved bank towers, shimmering in the sun.

Our exhaustion melted with us as we took the time on a hot, sunny day to find some schnitzel, bratwurst and beer.

These remain areas in which past and present are more closely aligned than timelines can possibly hope to dictate.