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About Frankfurt

So, this one time, I heard ‘bout this gal, swear it’s true, worked the corners in New Orleans back in the ‘80s. They called her Sweet Mary—ironic, huh? She’d stash her cash in a hollowed-out Bible, ‘cause she said Jesus was her bookkeeper! Laughed my ass off when I heard that—girl had sass, I’ll give her that. But damn, it’s sad too, y’all. She’d tell tricks, “I’m the accident that keeps on giving,” straight outta Margaret vibes—life just crashin’ over and over. Surprised me how she kept goin’, tough as nails.

Now, lemme tell ya—Betzenhausen’s a gem, a neighborhood less known to outsiders but oh boy, it’s home, real home, with secret alleys and cute cafes where I’ve had honest convos with folks strugglin’ with family drama. I be ramblin’ on about how life is like a winding river—as livin’ here got taught me more than any book. And speakin’ of rivers, the Iller flows quietly near the city edges, addin’ that soft murmur to the urban chorus.

Where Chefs Go: Oberallgäu, Germany