The actual El Puente leading into the restaurant.

Nestled in the mountains of the proudest state in Germany, at the end of a road that twists more than a Lady Gaga dancer, in a town with enough syllables to make a thesaurus blush, is a little bridge (and it would help if you rolled your R’s when you said ‘bridge’). That’s because tucked between the gasthauses, crowded between the kirchens, sandwiched somewhere between the bratwursts and wienerschnitzel is a tiny Mexican almost paraiso called El Puente.

As you might imagine, Mexican food in Bavaria is about as common as compassion from American Idol’s Simon Cowell. There are other cuisines: Indian, Thai, Chinese, Turkish, Greek and others. And for the most part, all taste very good.

El Puente is just one of two … no. Wait. It’s the only Mexican restaurant.

I would have said “two Mexican restautaurants” back in that last paragraph, however, the only other local ”Mexican restaurant” is a place that shall remain nameless, but is a chain that is built around a bar that serves food. Here’s how I described the unnamed restaurant to a colleague Monday:

********** is a lot like a street walker in Santa Monica Boulevard. You may like what you see. It may even smell good. It’s dressed great. But it’s not until you actually get it home that you realize the horror of what you’re eating, it’s too late.

So when my friends and I found out about this place, jumping beans we became. No more five hour drives for Taco Bell. No more street-walker cuisine. Yo Quiero El Puente!  We were able to go Monday night, a night off from the once-per-decade Passion Play occuring in that town.

Walking into the restaurant, you step over an actual bridge (El Puente!) and enter an atmosphere that is something smashed together from Disney’s Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, the rock climbing wall at the gym and those three Mexican restaurants you really like in Madison, Wisconsin.

Our server approached, said “Gruss Gott” and started us with drinks. Now, there’s a certain rule for Mexican restaurants that is important, and it’s this: it’s probably a good idea to have something, aside from the food that is, well, Hispanic. Our server had platinum blonde hair. ALL the servers had platinum blonde hair, which is not unexpected in the Texas of Germany, but not necessarily the line-up you’d expect in a place called El Puente. Admittedly, there were sombreros, Cacti on the table and the skull of either a dead Swiss milk cow or Stone Phillips hanging on the wall (depicted in the photo above)

Music is also integral to the evening’s atmosphere. Despite how cool four 300-pound men in sombreros and lederhosen could look, the Oompah Mariachis would not be barreling up to the table. However, imagine my surprise having a loop of the same three Gipsy Kings songs play over and over again (Volaré, Djobi Djoba and Baila Me). To be clear, the Gipsy Kings are French. And they are Gypsies. And for the first time in my life, I longed to hear “Canción Mixteca” played over and over again by these guys:

On to the food. I ordered something called “Burrito Mixto.” If it’s the “Mixto” part that frightens you, you’re not alone. It’s advertised as something stuffed with a mixture of meats. Tht’s a red flag on any menu. But, I was wiling to give it a shot. In between, we six adults and six children smashed down three bowls of chips, salsa, and guacamole. When the food came, it looked like this:

As burritos go, the meat burrito tasted pretty good, filled with things like ground beef, corn and spices. There were a few jalapenos topping it off. I don’t eat rice, but I tried a scoop of the yellow rice and it tasted fine. The chicken burrito, however, was as dry as a British sense of humor. I didn’t finish it.

Around the table, the reaction to the food sat somewhere between “Sure glad it was a nice, sunny drive to get up here” and “Hey, is this the Gipsy Kings again?” In the end, the food reminded my wife and me of the “Mexican” restaurant in the Azores where the servers had the courtesy of a land mine, all its entrees were made with Mozzeralla cheese, and some sort of stringy “beef” lined its burritos. El Puente was better, servers and food to be sure. Just not “Mexican.”

Admittedly, of all the cuisines to replicate in Europe, Mexican has to be the toughest. First, there just aren’t a lot of Mexican immigrants to Europe. Second, Spanish food (that is, actual food prepared in Spain) is not Mexican food. Neither is Portuguese food or any other kissing Hispanic cousin. As an American, when you’ve had good Mexican food in the United States, you realize it’s a regional or even a local thing. The place I used to buy rolled tacos from in Point Loma, California, and, of course, Kelly Island in San Antonio, Texas (among a myriad others), and even El Cotija in Warner-Robins, Georgia, still set the bar.

We had our sights set high. And up here in the Alps, that’s not a bad thing. Good try, El Puente! We may cross your bridge sometime again, but for now, we’ll leave you to Oberammergau.

And your CD of Mariachi Estrella de Jalisco de Ernnesto Molina music is in the mail.

I lived and worked in Europe, Bavaria specifically, for better than a year. I had zero trepidation about moving here. I lived in the Azores for two years during my military career. I enjoy living overseas. But I especially enjoyed today.

Plenty of Americans live overseas. According to most sources, there are about 60,000 Americans in Germany right now, that includes military people and there families. Before the end of the Cold War, there were something near 320,000 people. Still further, there are something between 3,500-5,000 American military retirees who live and work on the German economy here. Throughout the European region, there are still thousands of Americans who live and work overseas.

However, many Americans (esp., it seems, those attached to military assignments) do not like to be ripped away from U.S. shores. They grouse about no Wal-mart. They complain about no Applebee’s or Apple Store. They rarely leave their homes. They commiserate with others who feel the same way. They find ways to poke holes in everything that’s good about living in another nation’s culture.

Today is why those people need mental health support. My wife told me about a festival in town today. Essentially, all festivals are the same as county fairs, here or in the Azores (although in the Azores, the usually had a running of the bulls). But squeeze it onto historical Bavarian streets, with traditional homes and the Alps surrounding you, blazing blue skies and bright sunshine and, well, you can’t help but feel good.

Along the way, men clad in lederhosen and women in dirndls lined the streets. Vendors sold fresh cheese, meat and local clothing. There was a myriad other goods being shopped. Throw in a mostly traditional Bavarian lunch outside where the sun shined on the church across the street; people sat, talked, smoked and drank beer; accordian-flavored music oomph-ing in the background and, well, today had a little extra weight. And did I mention the fresh Gouda cheese bought for a pittance? There. I did.

There are any number of things I can say as an American or an expat. What I would say is there are very few days like this one — enjoying all of this with my best friend (my wife) and my 4-year-old, who wore a green-and-yellow dirndl — that ever come along. I love that I have the opportunity to like or not like food from a dozen different countries, television in another language, snooker, ski jumping and yodeling.

How about you?

(Originally published August 2002)

Every time someone even says the word “closure” around here, someone else giggles. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe the date scratched on everyone’s desk calendars is erased more than an answer on an enlisted promotion test. Or it could be that this place may simply never close. Maybe.

With cargo planes sitting on the runway, 1,100 people living in contingency dorms and facilities reopening to support Operation Enduring Freedom, Rhein-Main Air Base, Germany, is gaining a second wind as it ramps down toward closure.

At this former hub of the Berlin airlift, where nearly 4.7 million pounds of goods left on flights every four minutes, the push to sustain troops for Enduring Freedom is the result of overcrowding.

When war support arched upward, the flight line at Ramstein Air Base, Germany, filled up. Shortly before Thanksgiving 2001, the first aircraft diverted from Ramstein into Rhein-Main. Operations have reached a feverish pace since, and the few hundred remaining people left from the closure team are trying their best to keep up.

“We have lots of facilities — but not lots of people,” said Col. Christine Prewitt, 469th Air Base Group commander. “It’s bizarre. We went from nothing to everything.”

And it’s no secret Prewitt doesn’t have the bodies to sustain the work. The Air Force has brought her nearly 150 others from around the world to augment operations. Three hangars burgeon with active, Reserve, Guard and civilians aimed at getting aircraft “down range” to Afghanistan and beyond.

Senior Airman Darryl Nelson, who works on aircraft environmental electrical systems for Rhein-Main’s 726th Air Mobility Squadron, expected to finish his assignment with little fanfare. He was wrong.

“We had more than 300 aircraft in February. We’ve always had things to do and stayed busy,” he said, “but not like this.”

Strange days indeed
Situated on the southern grounds of Frankfurt International Airport, Rhein-Main’s location and weather bring smiles to aviators across the bluesuit spectrum. However, the airport is growing at an exponential pace. The German government wanted Rhein-Main’s facilities. The Air Force did an assessment and decided it didn’t need Rhein-Main. Simple, right?

Not so much. It’s been more than eight years since the base’s announced closure. Lowry Air Force Base, Colo., on the other hand, closed a little less than three years following its announcement. While the men and women still stationed here took on a caretaker role, the numbers of missions and involvement of operations actually increased.

Airmen on the Main have seen lots of work lately, including:

* Operations Desert Storm/Shield: 3,300 jets per month, 19,000 tons of cargo and 62,000 passengers per month with 685 airmen working.
* Operation Allied Force: From March 25 to July 6, 1999, Rhein-Main generated 1,513 sorties, served 38,121 passengers and handled 6,624 tons of cargo.
* Operation Enduring Freedom: With 110 people in the aerial port, Rhein-Main is moving 600 jets, 7,000 tons of cargo and 20,000 passengers through each month. That’s nearly one jet every hour of the day.

Chief Master Sgt. Bobby Gamsby supervises maintenance and operations on the Rhein-Main flight line. He oversees his folks’ work as well as the work of the airmen deployed from bases in the States.

The 22-year veteran and former command chief at a Southwest Asian base said the job is No. 1 here and keeps the troops motivated.

“This is what they train for,” he said. “The key is teamwork. We have to have everyone in synch. The deployed folks are very happy here, too. The alternative is living in tents.”

But not everyone is keen on the frantic gait of operations. Staff Sgt. Christian Stamper provides aircraft services for Rhein-Main’s airlift contingent. He cleans the aircraft, removes the waste from the septic tanks and helps load the jets again to go down range.

Stamper released a big sigh and made a slight grin when he thought about all he’s done over the past few months.

“I don’t think I’ll miss this,” he said. “It’s a challenge. It’s a double-edged sword, but I definitely feel like I’m contributing. It’s clicked that I’m helping.”

Senior Airman Tiffany Sisneros crawls around in fuel tanks, performing upkeep and making repairs for the airlift contingent. Rhein-Main’s 2001 airman of the year understands the sacrifice she and others are making.

“It hurts a lot of families, but those are the things we have to sacrifice,” she said.

Closed facilities have presented another challenge to Prewitt and her closure team. With sometimes three to four visiting airmen crammed into a contingency dorm room, she and services director William Wilson are racing to find ways to keep the troops entertained.

Formally known as Frankfurt-am-Main, the city is a 652,000-strong bustling zenith of international life that gobbles up about 97 square miles in the German state of Hesse. Some airmen will make the short drive into town to regale at many of the cosmopolitan stops, but many won’t.

That’s why Prewitt and Wilson spent money to upgrade the Rocket Sports Lounge. With a dance floor, bar, kitchen, video games, pool table and big-screen televisions, the Rocket resembles hundreds of other clubs around the Defense Department and is just a few hundred feet away from the dorms. Before Thanksgiving 2001, few people patronized it. Now it bulges with business, sometimes pulling $1,500 a night.

Throw money into a club less than three years away from closure? Wilson said it’s necessary given the war on terrorism and the commander’s need to care for workers.

“We’re not afraid to spend the money to make this happen,” he said.

That closure business
Retired Master Sgt. Paul Molnar may know the ins and outs of Rhein-Main better than anyone. The 21-year veteran spent time crawling around building heating and air conditioning systems as a technician and operations chief. Fittingly, he’s now Rhein-Main’s closure officer, and he may wear the widest cautionary smile when discussing the topic.

Molnar said Rhein-Main is obligated to maintain a mission-ready posture until its date of closure.

“We aren’t in a normal closure situation,” he said. “But what goes on doesn’t affect our operations. We’re pushing on, and we have a plan.”

Complex and partially executed, the Rhein-Main closure plan involves returning the facilities to the private contractor that owns the international airport. Some facilities, like the fitness center and bowling center, were turned over early on. Other areas, like hangars and flight line space, are being returned piece by piece.

The airport’s encroachment has squeezed Air Force flight line life into a smaller than average area. Operations run out of a handful of buildings and two hangars. But there are still questions as to whether Rhein-Main will cease to exist after 2005.

“The closure timeline is a sensitive issue with Hessen [state] officials,” Molnar said. “The airport is an integral part of its economy. That’s why the state wants to expand it.”

In fact, some 18.6 million passengers used Germany’s largest airport in the first five months of this year. It moved 594,600 metric tons of airfreight and had 184,300 flights. In 2001, it moved 1,494,100 metric tons of airfreight and had 456,452 flights, and airport officials are projecting 656,000 flights by 2015 while moving 2.75 million metric tons of cargo.

“Frankfurt wants to be the center of the European economic community,” Molnar added. “The airport is integral to that.”

The closure date, Prewitt said, is contingent upon a number of things. To accommodate the airlift, construction to build ramp space and facilities is underway at Ramstein and Spangdahlem Air Bases. But until those bases are done, she said, the date is tentative.

“The goal,” Molnar emphasized, “is 2005. The question is, ‘When?’ ”

Second guessing
The line of people who lobby for keeping the base open because of good weather, location and historical value is longer than an opening day for a “Star Wars” film. There are plenty of people who’ve second-guessed Rhein-Main’s closure.

Molnar is one of them. “The weather is great, and there’s so much diversity here,” he said. “Also, we’re next to an international airport. When the high rollers come to town, it’s easier to fly out of Frankfurt than have to drive 100 miles to get here.”

Prewitt is another, though more impartial. “People really don’t believe that Rhein-Main is going to close. It would be a great loss for the Air Force. It’s a tremendous airfield,” she said.

Airman 1st Class Brandon Blanks, who’s assisting security forces personnel, believes Rhein-Main will fade into history.

“I don’t think many people are going to miss it,” he said. “There may be a couple of people, but I don’t think it will hurt too many people’s feelings.”

Despite what many feel, the return of the base to the German government became official in December 1999. There’s plenty of money involved, too. The Frankfurt Airport company is paying $127 million of the total $365 million cost for relocating the air base facilities, the largest portion. Hesse is paying $37 million, Frankfurt $45 million, the state of Rhineland-Palatinate $17 million and the German federal government $61 million. NATO is pitching in $78 million. A contract was also signed for handing over the Berlin Airlift Memorial to the Frankfurt airport.

In other words, based on the committed dollars, closure is coming.

Meanwhile, people are keeping their erasers at the ready just in case anything changes, and Prewitt is proud of the way everyone is focused supporting whatever the Air Force asks.

“It’s a unique challenge. People here have a great mission, and it’s important for them to know that,” she said. “They feel like they are part of something special.”

(Story by by Tech. Sgt. Jason Tudor; photos by Master Sgt. John E. Lasky)