ACROSS THE RHINE FROM BONN, A LEGENDARY WORLD
By John Vinocur, Special To the New York Times
Across the river, glowering, is the city, the capital of West Germany and a capital of nebulousness, a place so politicized that even cabdrivers ask if they can go off the record to answer a question. On this side of the Rhine, a four-minute ferry ride away, sits Bonn's psychic opposite: Konigswinter. By legend, it is heathen country, the land of the Nibelungs, the sly dwarf kingdom that bedeviled Siegfried. In fact, it is a place of donkey rides and a plaster dragon, a bar calling itself the Dwarf-Trough and two-man accordian and Hammond organ dance bands that thump out ''Besame Mucho'' on Sunday afternoons for the gallants from the town's wheel factory and the women who sit waiting, fanning themselves with beer coasters. Bonn does not come to Konigswinter (the head of the local tourist office says so) and Konigswinter does not head much for Bonn, except, the town manager explains, to buy a wedding dress or rent a tuxedo. Konigswinter is a funny hat of a place, relaxed, human, open and in its own mind, spiritually incompatible with Bonn: Why else would the Chamber of Commerce omit any mention of the capital in its new brochure, ''Fabulous Konigswinter''?