Travels: Köln (Cologne), Frankfurt am Main, Nürnberg (Nuremberg), Dresden, Praha (Prague) and Kutná Hora

On Sunday, 1 August 2010, I left London on the Eurostar for a bit of a central European adventure. Two weeks, give or take, and travelling by train the whole way apart from the return to London by plane at the end. Given that it’s August, which means summer holidays in Europe, I was not overly surprised to find my Eurostar carriage to be quite full. I had a table seat, but going backwards. I’ve done this trip to Brussels Zuid a few times now, so pulled out my paperback novel and just read. It was Karen Rose’s first crime thriller/bodice ripper, Don't Tell. That makes it seem better than it really was: set in Chicago and North Carolina, it’s about a woman who escaped from an abusive husband, who finds out she’s not dead, and he goes after her. Anyways, the book was a diversion from the long tunnels and one I had no problems with leaving in a hotel room along with the bible. Actually, quite a fitting book to leave with the bible.

Brussels Zuid is a station I have grown to not really like terribly much. It stems from arriving very late one night en route to Hamburg, needing the loo but none were open, and having to translate the Flemish announcements to German and American travellers who knew no French or Flemish. I had low hopes for a Sunday afternoon, and as a result wasn’t disappointed. Fortunately, not long to wait, and I must say that the staff were extremely helpful this time. A chap was asking disembarking passengers if they were continuing their journeys, and if so providing information about where and when to catch their next trains. I bought some chocolate for a friend, and meandered about for the 90 minutes I had spare.

My next train was the Thalys, of which I am not a fan. I am always amazed by how much luggage travellers cram into the carriages, and the disregard to booked seats. I was pleasantly surprised that no one was in my seat, and that I was able to put my backpack close by. Win. It arrived into Köln a little late, and due to a tip from my friend, M, I headed straight to the taxis and caught one to the hotel. It cost about 10 Euros, which was pretty reasonable. Checked in, freshened up, went hunting for food.

The reason why my friend had advised on catching a taxi was the construction zone along Severinstraße, which was concentrated (so it seemed) directly around the hotel where we were staying. The hotel’s sound-proofing was pretty good, really, and it was only once when the drilling got through to annoy. To be fair, a hangover was making my head just that little bit more sensitive.

Food was found in a Vietnamese place on Mühlenbach. I had a simple noodle dish and Tsing Tao beer, which did the job. I then met up with M and her friends who were heading into the centre for some food.

The reason we were in Köln was the Gay Games, which I’ve blogged about separately. M and her friends were competing for a Sydney team in Martial Arts. They were mixed lesbian, gay and transgender. They were brilliant, and I have made a bunch of new friends. I am grateful for Twitter and Facebook for letting us keep in touch!

We walked up to Neumarkt where the Gay Games had set up shops, food stalls (quite a few run by Dutch people; I spied a stall selling poffertjes and made an appointment for trying some of them out). We meandered through, having a bit of a bop to Björn Again, eventually finding a bar still serving food. Because I’d eaten already, I sampled my first Kölsch. Kölsch is the local Pilsner style beer that they serve usually in smaller glasses. I quite liked it, and there’s quite a few different breweries around the area. Over the course of the week I sampled about five.

Next day while the team went out to do some training and receive some instructions about the tournament taking place on Tuesday and Wednesday, a new friend, B, and I headed to the Dom, the River Rhine and the old part of the city. My anaemia meant there was no way I was going to climb the tower, but B did, and I went inside.

The Dom dominates, and inside it is massive and dark. There were quite a few people about inside, but it didn’t feel crowded. It’s very Catholic, I think; it certainly had none of the Protestant austerity I’ve seen in Dutch churches of a similar ilk. The windows are a mix of old and very new, abstract designs, as is some of the other art. Restoration was in full swing on some of the statues quite high up in the central sections. B and I took a few pictures outside, sheltering from a rain shower. Unsurprisingly, the Dom outside is covered by both gargoyles and grotesques, which I love. Quite a variety of them. Some of the statues outside have been replaced by quite modern interpretations of the saints and other religious persons. A Kölner told me that quite a lot of cleaning work had been taking place on them, and the difference between the cleaned ones and ones yet to be cleaned was stark.

B and I had lunch in one of the touristy old bars looking out at the river in the old town. I had a rather good bratwurst, sauerkraut and potato with a Kölsch. We then meandered about the old town, taking photos, and then up into newer areas looking for bits of old wall and other potentially interesting things. The sun was out, and we stopped at a cafe for a cold drink and to watch the locals. After a quick dinner with B, M and the others, B and I went to the Blue Lounge, described by my Guide Book as ‘popular with lesbians’. A cabaret performer entertained us as we drank Kölsch and Talisker whisky waiting for some of B’s other friends. We tried to not have too late a night – needed to pace ourselves. It was only Monday!

One thing that surprised me having lived in a country that’s banned smoking indoors for some years now is the mixed nature of German clubs. The Blue Lounge was one where smoking was allowed inside. It’s a small space, and even though the amount of smoke wasn’t the thickest, it did remind me about how unpleasant it is.

Tuesday and Wednesday were taken up by the Martial Arts competitions and other Gay Games events. B had to leave Köln on Wednesday to return to work.

On Thursday, M, K, S and I headed to the Lindt Chocolate Museum on the river, which cost us 7.50 Euros each. It’s mostly aimed at kids, which is fair enough, and is good at explaining where chocolate comes from and how it is made. It shows many of the production steps, has a bit of a history of how it has been marketed over the decades in Europe. Most of the displays had the explanations in German and English, but there were some amusing typos and some of the translations were not quite there. The best was the whole section devoted to Cult Chocolate, which had us intrigued, then flummoxed when we reached it. Then it dawned: of course, they meant the iconography of chocolate. More specifically, it was about the advertising that has become part of everyday life now, like the Kit Kat ‘have a break’ slogan and the Milka purple cow. The shop was as I expected it to be, although it had some frightening things on sale: I said no to chocolate beer and chocolate wine. Actually, I thought it was quite pricey and didn’t buy any from there.

In the evening, M, K, S and I met up with A, C and D for our last dinner together as a group. We went to a great place called Dohmen’s in the old town. It was a pretty traditional German place owned by a gay guy who, it seemed, had taken a real liking to A and C, a lovely bear couple.

Friday for me was pretty much a wiped out day, and Saturday was taken up a bit by domestics. That included a trip to the Laundromat, where a local chap had a chat to M and I. He seemed a bit concerned that locals had ignored, or worse, the Games and were rude to the all the visitors. I thought most people had been lovely and welcoming, and while they might not have attended events in droves I had no sense of them protesting it either.

I decided to visit the Römisch-Germanisches Museum near the Dom. It cost 6 Euros, and unless you have a deep fascination with Roman pots I, sadly, wouldn’t recommend it. There is a lovely mosaic, but you can see it from the outside, which tour leaders demonstrate with no shame whatsoever. I don’t like saying that, because it deprives a museum, and its connected research, of income.

On Sunday, 8 August, M and I began our rather intense week of train travel by walking to Köln Hauptbahnhof, or main railway station, finding the next train to Frankfurt am Main. It was one of the splendid ICE trains destined for München (Munich). Our trip took a bit over an hour, and we walked from Frankfurt’s main station to our hotel. This was one of three I had booked using Lastminute.com and things didn’t really bode well from the lackadaisical behaviour of the guy at reception. He wasn’t rude, just didn’t seem to know (or care overmuch) about anything that was going on. Over our stay it was apparent it was how he was to everyone – including Germans. We were too early to check in, though, but dumped our bags and meandered into the main part of town. It was getting dark with clouds, which broke in a near tropical downpour, but we were able to shelter. We found a bar in the main square near the Rathaus where we had Frankfurters, of course, and I had a local Pilsner. We wandered back to the hotel to check in; room was okay, but the hotel insisted I hadn’t paid yet (I had, as you do through Lastminute.com) and demanded my credit card. I had no choice but to give it over, but making notes of everything to take up with Lastminute.com once I was back home (I have; they’re on to it). The hotel just seemed incredibly incompetent. Friendly, but incompetent. Anyway, the room was okay, and we were only staying one night.

Dinner was schnitzel in a Turkish run place not far from the hotel. As more rain didn’t eventuate and it was a quite pleasant evening, we went for a stroll to the River Main via the European Central Bank to see if we could get some photographs of the city lights. Interestingly, many of the skyscrapers had their lights off – bad for photography, but better for the environment. It did mean the light pollution wasn’t as bad as other places and we could actually see some stars. We also saw many rabbits in the park just outside the Bank.

I had booked seats on the 3pm train to Nürnberg (Nuremberg) so on Monday morning we walked up to the Frankfurt Opera House for a look there. Grand is the best word for it. We had lunch in a bar called Kakadu near the train station because, as Aussies, we felt it would be the right thing to do.

The Nürnberg-bound train was another ICE and took about an hour and a half. It arrived beautifully on time. The hotel was again near the station, and this time Lastminute.com had done it as a mystery one. It was 4 star, and I had paid very little for it. The staff were professional, friendly, and obviously knew how hotels ought to be run. It had been rebuilt not that long ago, and the rooms were pleasant, but the bathroom had a frosted window into the bedroom area. Odd. After a brief freshen up, we headed to the old part of the city through the city walls.

The first part had things like a Burger Kings and some chain German / Spanish places. Down a little further and you get to the old squares which are beautiful, but perhaps a little bit mad. We walked up the hill to the Kaiserburg Imperial Castle, which had closed by the time we got there. We still gawped at the amazing twilight view of the old city for a little while. We had dinner in a German bar nestled in just under the castle. The place should have been a complete tourist trap, but although we weren’t alone in that category, there seemed to be a few locals there as well. The food was excellent, as was the local Pilsner.

We had all of Tuesday in Nürnberg. In the morning we navigated the tram system (a German visitor couldn’t understand the ticketing or maps either, which left us feeling quite good about working it out!) to the Dokumentationszentrum and Reichsparteitagsgelände in the south of the city. This area is perhaps best known as where the Nazi Party held their massive rallies during the 1930s, some of which were captured in TV broadcasts and the extraordinary film Triumph of the Will. The Doku-Zentrum (as it was abbreviated to on the tram) could be described as a museum, but really it’s more of a place documenting the Nazi rise and fall, concentrating particularly on trying to get to grips with how Hitler’s megalomania affected so many German people (and others). The Doku-Zentrum is mostly boards of information about various aspects of how the Nazis built their powerbases, how the cult of Hitler was established, and their genocidal drive. The audio tour is the translation of this information, and the translations of various video snippets. The few artefacts on display were things that showed horrific examples of local anti-Semitism (again making the point about how the Nazification process reached into the lives of the very young to breed hatred, and how effective it was); you couldn’t find anything that excused or glorified. It was exhausting. Towards the end of the displays is a walkway out into the never finished Congress Hall, of which the Doku-Zentrum occupies a tiny part.



M and I walked outside and around the lakes to find the Zeppelin Field. Around the turn of the 19th to 20th century the grounds had been used for recreational activities like sailing, etc. The locals are steadily reclaiming them for that, and they are lovely, despite never being able to lose the Congress Hall through the trees. That looked like an oversized modern Coliseum, which was the point.

The day we were there the sun was beating down and it was hot. Yet, I felt a chill when we walked out of the forest and saw the concrete steps. Despite the changes over the last 80 or so years, it was recognisable as the place where Hitler held his storm troopers to attention for hours on end while he ranted and raved about his plans to exterminate the “inferior people” – the Jews, Slavs, Communists, people with disabilities, homosexuals… you know the list.

I understand that Stephen Fry filmed a documentary that included material about this place. I understand that he couldn’t bring himself to go up those stairs, and couldn’t bring himself to stand on that podium. I didn’t know that when I was there, but I felt that same oppression. That same horrible, crushing weight of history. That same revulsion of knowing what Hitler’s ranting did to millions of people. When I was told the story about Stephen Fry I fully understood it in such a visceral way I cannot criticise him or think of him in any negative way for it. I, though, chose to not let those ghosts weigh down. I noticed that while there were quite a few other people up there, there was a hush, like it was difficult for anyone to say anything trivial or dismissive. I also defeated my demons about standing on that podium. I noticed that two women had declared their friendship in a graffito that made me wonder if they might be lesbians. I tweeted that I hoped they were. I pondered about the nature of victory over oppression, and that while I believe that humanity will always win over dictatorships of whichever political colour, it will always take immense struggle.

It’s used now for motor racing, and is the source of constant argument: destroy and rebuild, or keep as is as a reminder of what, as they describe it, megalomania can do? Chilling, despite the heat. Then, when we were back in Nürnberg proper, I realised why the Hauptmarkt, the main square, looked so familiar – I knew it also from The Triumph of the Will and other surviving reels of Nazi propaganda film and television. This time, though, we had timed it to go into the Holy Roman Empire HQ of the Imperial Castle. Forced to do a tour, which was entertaining and moderately informative, and stifling hot. Beautiful views of the Aldstadt from there, though. Dinner at a touristy place, but we didn't feel like pizza which seemed to be the only other option on offer. I had Nürnberger Rostbratwursten and Weinsauerkraut for dinner, with a Pilsner. Silence of the noms indeed.

Back at the hotel we watched the latest Star Trek movie, which was in its original English, except for the captions used which had been translated into German. Boggling.

Wednesday morning and we grabbed breakfast at the train station and then caught our train to Dresden. It was a four and half hour journey on a slightly rickety train where we had scored some good seats.

When I was researching for the trip all the guidebooks were suggesting that Dresden is a bit of a nothing place. Then at the Games people were telling us what to go and see. The Zwinger was one, the old town the other. We walked through a construction zone from the central station, then the Altmarkt, up past the Zwinger to our hotel. We checked in with no problems. The bathroom also had a window looking out to the bedroom! We freshened up a bit and headed to the Zwinger, grabbing a late lunch on the way. The Zwinger is this mad large palace that houses a few different galleries. We dived into an exhibition of old guns, swords and armour while a rain storm bucketed down outside. We had a better dinner than lunch, and took photos of the mostly rebuilt old town as the sun disappeared for the night. The gulls did a mad Sydney fruit bat-like squawky trip around one of the large churches.

We had a train at 11am for Praha on Thursday, 12 August. We walked, and I spotted the remaining mural of Communist era glories. The fascinating thing about Dresden is that they have aimed to rebuild it to what it was pre-1945 and have largely succeeded. They are discussing, apparently, about whether or not to keep any of the DDR-built places, and so far the tourist/concert booking place has survived. The piles of rubble have vanished, and were used to rebuild what the Allies destroyed in the controversial reprisal raids of 1945. It strangely works, as far as me as a visitor who was there for less than 24 hours total. I liked Dresden, though, and the people seemed rather friendly in quite a different way to those in Köln and the west.

The train was more old-fashioned and quite crowded. I was pleased to have spent that little bit extra paying for the booking! The Elbe River looked quite flooded as it raced along. The countryside surrounding it looked gorgeous and I’m entertaining the concept of hiking in the hills there one year. While, I tried, I couldn’t get any decent photographs because the train windows were filthy.

The real 21st century meant my phone company texted me to tell me when we crossed the border from Germany into the Czech Republic. There were no passport controls, no big sign outside, certainly no fences or whatever. The language in the signs outside was very different, and someone else came to check our train tickets. The villages we passed through did seem a little greyer than their German equivalents, though M and I noticed that the habit of each village having at least one house painted in hideous lime green prevailed.

I was surprised by how run down Praha central station is, but M very quickly found the currency exchange place (which was excellent given how much it could have been an utter rip off), and sorted exactly how to navigate the subway and streets to our hotel. It was another good little one, and we were pleased to have no window in the bathroom! We did have to deconstruct the two single beds that had been converted in typical central European style to a double. Didn’t take long and we were out to hunt some lunch. We got some Thai food – rather good, too! We survived a rain shower, and headed to the Charles Bridge via the main square and astrological clock.

Friday the 13th seemed an appropriate date to go to an ossuary! This train was a very old style one with compartments. It took about an hour to get to Kutná Hora, and a small walk past a Philip Morris Cigarette Factory (and museum!) from the station to the chapel. Both M and I took loads of photos because neither of us had ever seen such a place. I was surprised that they allowed flash photography, and one chap was using his tripod. It is certainly not for everyone, but I found it easy to disassociate myself from the fact these were once people because of the history being so many generations back. These people were victims of plague. Yet, it is still an odd sensation being in a chapel decorated by thousands of human bones. It has made me think about history, and why it is that the horrors of Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot and their cronies affect me whereas I can’t get emotional about the victims of, say, the Romans or early Christian churches torturing and massacring their way across the world.

We left on the 1pm train. Back in Prague, we walked down to the Charles Bridge, crossing it again, and heading up to the Palace. Rain started up again, unfortunately, but it did make everything over the city look all misty. The rain then got really heavy so we retreated to the hotel to pack. Dinner was quite pleasant in a place near the hotel, and we had an early night after we booked the taxi for the airport the next morning. We got up at 4.45 am to get the taxi for an 8am flight to Heathrow. That was my first flight of the trip, and it was amazingly on time and we were very quickly processed in London with no dramas.

All in all, a wonderful two weeks that has left me feeling weary but in the best possible way.