The Enchanted Town of Buxtehude

I read about the town of Buxtehude on a fellow US transplant-blogger’s site. Her writing illustrated the quaint town in such a charming way that I had to take a look. Something about morning train rides out of the city inspire me and always seem to enhance the trip. (It’s possibly due to the chai lattes involved.) So, this morning I opted for the earliest train I could. 9:30 is early for summer and the alarm clock hurt pretty badly. (This is where the chai comes in). Once we arrived in Buxtehude and I discovered its cuteness things started to look up.

Buxtehude claims to have been the inspiration for The Brothers Grimm. This claim, along with statues of fairytale characters mounted intermittently throughout the city, give it an enchanted feel. The town is tiny so it didn’t take long to take it all in.

The buildings aren’t as modern as those that cover Hamburg and many of them remind me of what I expect to see when we make it to the south of the country. (Apparently there is a BIG difference in culture between the two halves of the country and with this comes a rivalry.)

Exploring Buxtehude and its adorable architecture was a short and extra sweet way to spend my afternoon.

Berlin

Warning: I loved Berlin so much that I’ve written a novel about it. If the history doesn’t appeal to you, no problem here. I just hope you like the pictures.

My favorite middle school teacher introduced me to the Holocaust with The Diary of Anne Frank. As a child who read without stopping I quickly became enthralled with this inconceivable piece of our past and read all I could as quickly as I could. I was fascinated by this incomprehensible strength that swept through Europe and changed it beyond measure. More than that, I was in disbelief that discrimination was the driving force.

Around the same time I read The Giver, which depicts Communism without saying its Communism. The splendor of this book is that to the YA’s reading it, it’s just a great book. My dad, an English teacher well aware of what The Giver was suggesting, couldn’t let me finish the story without a lesson about its true meaning. It was then that he, always armed with the right words, told me a statement that he later used with us many times: “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” He would pull out that line when we were frustrated with a boss and he thought we’d benefit from adjusting our perspective. To a naïve 13-year old, it made absolutely no sense, of course. I thanked him, walked away, and went back to the books. I have applied his words to numerous experiences since then. It has been a long time since I’ve heard my dad drop that infamous line, but those words poured back to my mind and flooded my conscious as Reggie and I toured Berlin. Touring the memorial sites, some dedicated to honoring those affected by the Holocaust and some dedicated to remembering those whose lives were changed by East-West division, I remembered these books and recognized the connection between them. My dad’s line couldn’t have been more fitting in this setting. Seeing the ways this now vibrant city has been deeply injured by both of these brutal energies all but knocked the wind out of me.

Certainly, the tragedy that occurred in Germany and the surrounding countries is incomparable to most other events. Just as certainly, Berlin has devoted itself to honoring those affected by the Holocaust and the Allied Powers division. The shame felt by the German people for what their leaders did had the potential to be paralyzing. Instead, the remorse was used to our advantage and Berlin is now decorated with the memorials that tell the story honestly and beautifully.

Berlin Bahnoff (Central) Station

Excavators found a 250-lb. undetonated American bomb across the street. (Whoa.)

The Reichstag
This bold Parliament Building is now the symbol of Democracy in Germany but it hasn’t always been. Prior to the end of WWII it was controlled by Nazis and after the war and until 1999 it stood empty. Now remodeled and thriving The Reichstag is a microcosm of Germany’s survival against the worst of odds. The motto on the front of the building is both an apology and a promise and translates to, “To the German People.”

The Reichstag was swarming with visitors, many who, unlike Reg and I, were willing to wait for hours to enter. We settled for pics of the exterior. Off to the side of the Reichstag is the Memorial to Politicians Who Opposed Hitler. The memorial is a row of slate slabs that appear to be growing from the concrete. It honors the 96 politicians (with status similar to our members of Congress) that were persecuted and murdered because they didn’t agree with Hitler’s actions. Because these people had a chance at stopping Hitler they became his first victims. Each marker honors one person and includes their name, political party, and date and location of death. Sadly, many of these deaths occurred in concentration camps.

The damage to Berlin didn’t end with WWII. Its division by the Allied Powers set the East-West separation into stone when the Soviet Sector (East Berlin) separated the city with the Berlin Wall and the East became an isolated city surrounded by Communism. This 100-mile symbol of East-West division was created in just over one night to stop the flow of people fleeing the city. The wall stood 13-feet high and was armed with 300 patrol towers and a tank ditch referred to now as a “death strip.”

Memorial to Victims of The Wall

Around the corner from The Reichstag is a small memorial to honor East Berliners who lost their lives attempting to escape to West Berlin. The most recent East Berliner honored was a 20-year old man who was killed nine months before the wall fell.

During the 28 nasty years that The Berlin Wall stood there were 5,043 documented escapes to West Berlin. Stories of many of these escapes are told in the most cluttered museum I’ve ever seen: The Museum of The Wall at Checkpoint Charlie. Checkpoint Charlie is a famous border checkpoint between East and West. This museum, which boldly documents hundreds of escapes over, under, and through the wall, stood like a rebel through The Cold War…so close to the border guards you could throw a rock (or ten) at them.

These clever escape testimonials include small children packed in suitcases then walked right past the border checkpoint, several suitcases that appeared normal on the outside but were cut and attached on the inside to make room for an escapee in a car trunk, entire families crossing The Wall on a zip line in the middle of the night, and selfless people who aided the escape of hundreds of Berliners.


These thick collections are the names and places of birth and death of those killed in the Holocaust. Efforts to identify victims and notify families are courtesy of Red Cross, Intl.

Chunks of The Wall are now sold for top dollar.

The history of and leading to the creation of The Wall is told boldly and honestly on large walls in the small outdoor plaza surrounding Checkpoint Charlie and its museum. You can’t help but to stop and take in this street scene along with the hundred or so other gawking folks.

This double row of cobblestones is embedded in the ground around the city to mark where The Wall stood.

This sign hangs above the exit to a train station. On it are requests from leaders around the world to take down The Wall. Included are President Reagan's words: "Mister Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" (1987)

In the same train station a Holocaust Memorial decorates the walls along the tracks.

The Brandenburg Gate
Two hundred years ago this colossal structure was designed to be an arch of peace. It was later mishandled by the Nazis and became a symbol of their hostility. Inside The Gate there is a Room of Silence dedicated to honoring its original intention. Inside the room you are greeted with “Hello” in multiple languages before you read the prayer of The United Nations, which is a perfect fit to the site (and also one of my favs!).

Through The Brandenburg Gate is Pariser Platz (Parisian Square). The important government buildings that used to stand here were all bombed to the ground during WWII but are now beautifully rebuilt. Among the cafes, embassies, and shops is Hotel Adlon. Never heard of it?! Sure you have—it’s where Michael Jackson hung Baby Blanket over the railing. (Lucky us, we got to see that notorious balcony in person…)

An immediately noticeable element of Berlin is the honest way the memorials are presented, particularly their titles. The Museum of Murdered Jews is a disorienting and moving Holocaust tribute. Designed by a Jewish American who completed it in 2005 for a modest $27 mill, this tribute to Jewish lives lost (honoring just Jews makes it controversial) consists of 2,711 pillars that resemble a maze of grave-stones. The pillars are covered with a coating allowing for the easy removal of graffiti. The company that supplied this coating also supplied the gas to concentration camps. (Shouldn’t that fact be in the dictionary next to ‘ironic’?)

It’s hard to make sense of why this memorial was created the way it was. Perhaps the reason is so that visitors will take time to try to figure it out, all the while musing over the horrible chapter that the memorial serves.

The underground museum below the pillars is a collection of history, personal stories, artifacts, and testimonials of those affected by the Holocaust. It is a stunningly modern showcase brimming with visitors, yet completely silent. The first section tells the happenings, the next is a dark-room showcase of artifacts and journal entries held in lit display cases mounted to the floor for us to walk around. Next, entire families are traced and honored in display cases. Pictures, family trees, artifacts and birth and death information are included. It was common for entire families to be killed, or for one or two members of families of eight or ten to have survived. They are all honored here.

Following this is a black room with a large glowing bench in the middle. The only other element to the room is a voice reading testimonials and other information about people affected by the Holocaust, all collected from the Red Cross and from family members. In the final room movies and pictures are shown on a large screen and all those in the room can gather on a bench in the middle to watch together. Many of us did. There were also small booths you could sit in to listen to testimonials, including some by regretful Nazis and German soldiers.

Towards the end of our visit I was so numb and so humbled that I may as well have been on the ground. Although not its intention, this display of history felt like an apology. I suppose on many levels that is exactly what it is.

Unter den Linden

Unter den Linden (Under the Linden Trees), a busy street running through the former East Berlin, used to be one of Europe’s grand boulevards. The street is decorated with hundreds of linden trees and has been for most of its existence. The linden trees there now are newer, replanted after Hitler tore out all the trees and replaced them with Nazi flags. Unter den Linden continues to be a bustling section of Berlin, adorned with cafes, shops, cafes, and shops. Several memories stand here including this tribute, called Mother with her Dead Son, which honors unknown German soldiers and concentration camp victims.

As with so many of the memorials Reg and I saw, this one must have been created to allow visitors to interpret it their own way. The figures sit inside a barred building much larger than them, with nothing else inside. My interpretation: their sacrifice deserves all of our attention.

The Berlin Cathedral

This spectacular piece of eye candy is a century old and just as striking as ever. Its lawn was covered with people enjoying picnics and kids playing games. The phrase “larger than life” never meant anything to me until I met this handsome thing.

This gothic beauty stands right across the street from The Cathedral. I wanted to go inside but it looked a little too scary.

Topography of Terror
With terror in the title, I came to this site with a purse stocked chock-full of Kleenex. Topography of Terror is the former command center of Hitler’s Gestapo and SS (his personal body guards). The things that happened here were horrible and as a result the rubble that marks this site remains rubble. Standing in the Gestapo HQ is powerful stuff and witnessing yet another successful attempt at honoring those affected by the war is just as moving.

One of the last remaining sections of the wall stands just above the former command center.

Yup. Reg knocked that out himself.

The faded bricks mark the former command center.

Jewish Museum Berlin

Rick Steves, my favorite travel writer, included a brilliant Berlin section in his Germany 2010, and I have him to thank for the addition of this fantastic place to my absolutely-must-see list. He is the reason Reg and I accomplished as much as we did in Berlin and although he writes wonderfully about all the worthwhile places, his pictures of this museum alone were enough to get me excited. This conceptual building, a work of art both inside and out, was designed by the American architect Daniel Libeskind (who is developing the World Trade Center site). The exterior of the museum is highly modern and is constructed of zinc walls missing diagonal slices, representative of the irreparable loss caused by the Holocaust. (The audio guide taught us a lot.)

Axis of Exile

The first part of the museum is three memorial spaces called the Axis of Exile. Memorials to families are located behind windows.

At the top of one of these three slanted halls is a concrete tower completely shut off from the world except for a small slot of sunlight. This is symbolic of the travel and holding conditions of camp prisoners. Next, there is a slanted outdoor garden of pillars, meant to disorient you. Before entering the next part of the museum there is a section called “Memory Void.” (THIS was what drew me here and it was closed. Grrr.) This section of the museum has “fallen leaves” scattered all over the ground to walk on. The fallen leaves are heavy metal faces that creak with each step. (I still can’t believe we missed it.)

Garden of Exile

Memory Void

I got a postcard to replace the pictures I wanted.

This stunning city, a construction zone for decades as it strived to shake its turbulent past and to reunite, has recreated itself into a lively urban center dedicated to honoring those negatively affected by its past. The efforts have been so effective and the work so significant that you can’t help but to leave the city wanting more.

It wouldn’t be fair to forget a shout out to Hotwire.com before I finish. If you’ve never used it to book hotels with, well, I’m sorry—but don’t you worry, it’s not too late. Their mission is to help both nice hotels and travelers by helping the hoteliers fill their extra rooms by giving us sweet deals. When you use the site you have the option of choosing your desired city, location within the city, and number of stars from both the hotel star rating folks and customers. After you book the hotel you learn the name. Sounds risky, but I can’t say enough about the fabulous hotels I’ve stayed at courtesy of the site over the past 8-ish years. With many thanks to Hotwire.com, Reg and I landed the Hilton Berlin for a reasonable price. (You can imagine our joy when THAT name popped up.)

Home-sweet-Hilton

The view

Lübeck

In 1,000 Places to See Before You Die Patricia Schultz describes the city of Lübeck as, “perfectly intact, the soul of Northern Germany.” I had read this page in her captivating book more than a year before Reg and I moved to Germany. I remember the picture she used to illustrate her sparkling words and I remember the desire I had then to travel somewhere—anywhere—as historically significant as this intriguing place. My recent visit to Lübeck—and its stunningly intact medieval structures—shined a bright light on the history of Northern Germany, all while humbling me incredibly.

Lübeck is 45km north of Hamburg and so it made for a perfect early-morning train-ride day trip, cup of tea in hand, of course. It was perfect, except for the ICE (very, very high speed regional trains) is so prompt that 45km wasn't even enough to enjoy my entire tea. After stopping in Lubeck this train would carry on just less than four hours more to drop passengers in Copenhagen, Denmark. It was Friday morning, so the train was chock full of easy-going backpackers and their interesting backpacker gear. I talked with three English-speaking gals, all mid-twenty-something, and all with a great story. The first was a Canadian who had done a 9-month undergraduate exchange to Australia eight years ago. She fell in love with traveling and moved to London from Canada for work two years ago. She had done quite a bit of traveling since then and described her favorite experiences to us, most of them in Western Europe. She is moving home in three weeks and already has a list of things to see next time she returns to Europe. The other two gals were Australian. Not knowing each other until last month, they had both left Australia in October to backpack Europe. They used both homes of friends and hostels as accommodations. One reported Munich (southern Germany and home of Oktoberfest) as her favorite stay, the other Salzburg, Austria (on the border of southeastern Germany and the birthplace of Mozart), reporting the Sound of Music Tour to be well-worth the five euro. (Note to self: add Salzburg to your 20-page list.) I hear backpacking stories frequently and am consistently impressed by the spirit and strength of these brave storytellers. Living in a foreign country is difficult enough with a home-base, I am inspired by the stories of those who do it with only a backpack and a dream.


The train dropped me in Lübeck just thirty minutes after I boarded and though I could have listened to travel stories all day, I was pumped for some castle-viewing. Old Town was just a mile hike from central station. I downed my tea and with map in hand I made my way. I suspect that part of this medievel wonder's magical reputation stems from the way it greets its visitors--not many (or any) places I have been to have greeted me with a castle at the entrance as Lübeck does. It is ingenious, really. This way everyone knows how special and worthwhile it is right off the bat.

Not a castle, but the train station sure is a piece of eye candy.


What a greeting, huh? Holstentor Castle is Lübeck's 'hello'.

Holstentor is now a museum and so I had the chance to explore inside. Security was certainly less advanced in the Middle Ages, but I think these bars probably served their purpose.

Exactly how I imagined a castle would be: dark, cold, and magical.

I stood looking at this handsome structure for a bit, hoping Robin Hood and Maid Marian would pop out while I was watching.



In the Middle Ages Lübeck was the capital of the Hanseatic League, an association of independent merchant cities in Northern Germany. Hamburg was also a member. It is impossible to tell that severe WWII bombing damage forced the rebuilding of nearly a quarter of the city center. The brilliant results remain so architecturally and historically significant that Lübeck’s Old Town “was the first city in Northern Europe to have the entire town center placed on the World Heritage list by UNESCO.” (Schwarz)

While I stood in front of the Rathaus (town hall), a Gothic/Renaissance marvel, I pictured the times when Lübeck was the trade center of the North, responsible for the entrance of the goods that would soon seep down through Europe. It was hard to wrap my brain around history so—well, old. So, after awhile I rerouted my thinking to the charming Café Niederegger, famous for both originating marzipan and for producing the world’s best of this tempting almondy treat. This adorable café, located adjacent to the Rathaus, serves only coffee and desserts, but serves enough of them to maintain a consistent line of eaters anxious to put an end to their sweet-tooth problem forever. Neideregger sells its fab marzipan and a mouth-watering variety of sweets at just two locations in the entire city. The shop across the street from the original café was filled to the brim with marzipan gifts, sculptures, and even a Pirate Ship made of marzipan.

Rathaus Market Square

Cafe Niederegger

Yes, they really had everything there. If he wasn't edible I'd add him to my owl art collection.


Being surrounded by history so pertinent to the development of Northern Germany was terribly humbling and equally as gratifying. The humbling feeling that I have always had when I read pages from Schultz’s books is still with me, but lessening with each check mark I make.