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About Essen

Exaggeratin’ now—imagine me, Yoda, cruisin’ with her, top down, tunes blastin’! “Quicker, easier, more seductive,” I’d say—sarcasm, my shield. Truth? Risky, it is—cops, creeps, STDs, yikes! Friend, you askin’ ‘bout this—why, huh? “You can’t hide—not from me!”—movie line fits. Spill it, you must! Prostitutes, they’re ghosts—there, then gone. Drivin’ past, I wonder—stories they got, heavy as a Star Destroyer.

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Spilling the tea a bit, the little river Limmat – oh dear, not the Limmat exactly but our local babbling brook, the “Fluss der Träume” as the locals might whimsically call it – sneaks its way past the town center. You can risk a cheeky walk along its rambling banks, losing yourself in a labyrinth of alleyways and history. It’s maddeningly beautiful.

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