The Washington Post has a nice review of a "layover tour" of Frankfurt Hochst.
In the just-waking hours of a cool, misty morning, we slipped into Frankfurt, Germany, the way dreams slide between vivid reality and hazy memory: surreal and ephemeral.
A smiling woman wearing a hairnet reached over a counter, and speaking neither English nor German, offered my daughter a cold, skinny frankfurter. We sleepily wandered through meandering lanes flanked by medieval, half-timbered houses that could have been the backdrop to a Brothers Grimm fairy tale. We passed under the old city gate into a long-dry moat at the foot of a white castle, walking among ancient, moss-carpeted stone steps and walls covered in thick ivy. Huge bunches of white asparagus and piles of fragrant lilacs crowded tables at a weekend farmers market where we, the interlopers, snapped pictures as locals eyed us curiously. We glided up and down on a teeter-totter in a deserted playground, while enormous white swans preened their feathers on the banks of the Main River a few feet away.
I felt lightheaded and dazed. My husband, Brian, daughter, Chloe, and I had just gotten off an overnight flight from Boston. We were heading to Barcelona, but the eye-poppingly cheap airfare I snagged online came with a catch: an eight-hour layover in Frankfurt.