10 July: AFTER THE SECOND NIGHT at the guesthouse I again get lucky. A small ground floor bedroom -- the only one with internet plug-in -- becomes available. I move... in a hurry. I now can post these scribbles with snapshots again, even in the middle of the night, if I wish. When my mother was pregnant with me after the war, she was warned about high infant mortality statistics at the hospital in Bergedorf where she lived, so off she went to deliver her baby just outside the boundaries of Hamburg. Today I am checking out Reinbek, this small town where I was born. First stop, the local hospital nestled at the side of a forest, a 20-minute walk from the train station. "Sorry, we only keep records for 30 years," an administrator says (I
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