Above water | Mainz really swallows everything

The training group is standing next to the starting block. A woman kneels with one leg at the edge of the pool, a swim belt strapped around her waist. She raises her arms, the coach gently bends her torso forward and gives her a pat. The woman pushes off with her raised leg and flies into the water with a perfect headfirst dive. The whole group beams.

Early evening at the Taubertsbergbad in Mainz. The summer pool at the swimming facility near the main train station has been covered with scaffolding, explains my friend, whom I'm visiting in Mainz at the end of October. The hall is shrouded in scaffolding; it's scheduled to reopen soon with a climbing wall, diving tower, and wellness area. Just beyond the turnstile, a penguin stands in an empty pool. It was recently the outdoor pool season , with swimmers even sharing the water with their four-legged companions. Now, leaves float in the children's pool.

The air-supported roof spans the swimming pool, sun umbrellas, loungers, showers, and lockers. The 25-meter pools, divided into four sections, offer space for every desire. We train while, next door, someone is teaching dives, children are practicing underwater diving, and finally, a group of women relaxes on the bubble benches. A man reads his newspaper in a deck chair, and mothers hand out sweets under an umbrella. Neon tubes and extension cords hang from the ceiling. As I swim out, I have a Croatian déjà vu and grin happily while my girlfriend plays softly in the bathtub.

"Mainz swallows everything!" says the tour guide as we're stuck in construction traffic in an old articulated bus . Before that, she'd been raving about the former density of breweries and wineries in Mainz. Once we've passed the spot where Anna Seghers ' parents' house once stood, she's moved on to the topic of Wiesbaden. We're enlightened, or rather, our prejudices about the neighboring cities are reinforced, and we take a detour across the Rhine to Mainz-Kastell for the beautiful city view on the way back. I'm on the lookout for rose- ringed parakeets , which are said to have migrated from Wiesbaden to Mainz.

I find nothing of interest either by the river or in the parks. In the Natural History Museum, a gigantic beast of terror is dancing. The entrance to a beehive has been cut directly into the church window. Churches abound, concrete vying with baroque Madonnas. Music fills the air, and the people drink wine in the streets with their ministers. Thick clouds hang over Mainz. The breaking sun paints light on the walls, the Jesus sculpture in the cathedral seems to take flight, and an Electress crawls out of her coffin. Three bronze girls dance among the Expressionists, and in the evenings, dervishes whirl in front of the Damascus snack bar until the police arrive.

On my way to the Roman Theatre train station, I circle a bottle of Spundekäs cheese and wine. I step into some leaves, spread my arms wide, and hear a screech. As I peer into the next plane tree, a tree falls somewhere in the south of the country, turning my journey home into an adventure.