Wander About

Category: Germany

  • Hamburg & Cuxhaven.

    Hamburg & Cuxhaven.

    Hamburg — Nov. 11 – 16

    Hamburg is about five hours from Stuttgart by ICE (inter-city express) train. From near the very south of Germany up to the very north. It’s Germany’s largest port city, despite being some 70km from the North Sea. For hundreds of years ships have traveled up the Elbe River to be loaded and unloaded in the docks at Hamburg. The nautical history of the city led to the growth two very prominent districts in the city, the Speicherstadt and St Pauli’s.

    The Speicherstadt, also known as the “City of Warehouses”, is just what that moniker implies. A historical warehouse district, recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site. The warehouses in question are large 6-8 story brick buildings built in a Neo-Gothic style, separated by a series of canals that run throughout the district. The warehouses are covered in small brickwork decorations, with ornamental features everywhere you look. The effect is a rather beautiful area to walk around, somewhat removed from the industrial, utilitarian nature of the buildings themselves.

    If the Speicherstadt is where the sailors did their work, St. Pauli’s is where they went to play, especially on the Reeperbahn. The Reeperbahn (“rope walk”, denoting it history as a center of the rope making industry) is Hamburg’s Red Light District. Rather than being hidden away in backstreets and alleys, the Reeperbahn occupies a major road with large theatres and more benign entertainment venues on one end and on the other, a large collection of strip-clubs, peep shows, sex shops, and, for some reason, a number of bars promoting beer pong. A large Christmas market was being set up along a promenade when I visited. St Pauli truly is an all in one entertainment district.

    My impressions of Hamburg were generally positive. But at first glance, the city seemed a little rough around the edges. This was largely informed by the area of the city that I stayed in. Sternschanze is packed with graffiti-covered restaurants, cafes, clubs, bars, boutiques. Literally every surface within two meters of the ground is covered in spray paint, stickers and wheatpaste posters. Some building owners have sought some reprieve from the illicit art by commissioning official murals, but even then, there is no guarantee that the taggers will not seek to leave their mark if they spot the opportunity.

    Emerging for the S-Bahn station into the graffitied streets of Sternschanze was a bit of a shock coming from the idyllic forested suburbs of Stuttgart. This was a city, rough and gritty. Punk beyond a mere aesthetic. It was cold, wet and unwelcoming in the early evening darkness. Even the door to the hostel resolved to be a barrier, stuck hard in its frame, refusing to pay heed to my fruitless pulling. Ringing the bell did nothing either, no one was coming to my aid. Tired after a long day of travel, it took me a least three or four minutes to understand what I was doing wrong. It was a push, not a pull.

    (Which is how I learned a weird quirk about German doors, especially in older buildings. They’re not guaranteed to swing outward. I’m not sure why I hadn’t run into this much in other European cities and their old buildings. But for some reason, not all German doors have been updated for modern fire safety standards. So, if it doesn’t open when you really put your back into it, maybe try pushing.)

    On reflection, I now know that my troubles with the hostel door were foreshadowing of my general experience with the Instant Sleep Backpacker’s Hostel. To date, I think this was my least favorite hostel that I’ve stayed in. It’s a fairly small hostel, occupying the third and fourth floor of a commercial building. I booked a bed in a 12 person dorm, so I wasn’t exactly going in expecting roses but this place was odd in ways that I didn’t expect.

    The room itself wasn’t all that bad. The other occupants were generally nice, quiet, and respectful. I had a good conversation with a couple of my roommates one night, even despite our differing opinions on matters in the world, we got along fine. The oddness was largely contained outside of the room. Other guests were not quite as respectful, with private rooms hosting bumping discos complete with hoots and hollers, and maybe a small moshpit or two. These parties would go on late in to the night, compounded by the fact that the hostel is either above or below (I never did figure it out)a bar that didn’t seem to close until about 3am on weekends.

    Then there were the hostel amenities. In an effort at sustainability, the bathrooms of the hostel did not provide paper towels for drying your hands. Instead, there were a large stack of microfibre cloths, and a bin for disposing cloths after use. This worked fine, but there were never enough cloths to last the day. By about 5pm, it was normal to expect that there would be no clothes left and they wouldn’t be replaced until about 10 or 11am the following morning, leaving you to either air dry or wipe your hands on your pants.

    I could go on and on about my dissatisfaction with this place but rather than risk boring you, I’ll leave it with this abridged list: the door to the men’s shower room was a beaded curtain, the kitchen was usually disgusting and seemed to only have a single bowl, one stall in the men’s bathroom was out of order but for some reason was occupied, for my entire five day stay, by a ladder, paint can, roller, and a tray of gelatinous, dried paint.

    My first two, full days in Hamburg were spent exploring the streets of the city. It’s a very walkable place and I managed to cover a lot of ground in those days. Both days featured relatively clear skies, which I was grateful for after the previous day’s rain. But, despite the sunshine, the days were chilly and the light only lasted so long.

    As I mentioned, the area around my hostel, Sternschanze, is absolutely covered in street art and tags. And I fully expected that to carry throughout Hamburg, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that was not the case. The graffiti largely ends at the edge of the district, and as you move more towards the city center the buildings are largely shiny clean. A series of parks, run along the outskirts of the city center, hosting a series of duck ponds, small cafes and restaurants, and a skating rink. I spent a good couple of hours here, relaxing on a bench reading, and chasing birds with my camera, to and fro through the treetops.

    Another of my favorite discoveries was the Hamburg Bunker. Built by forced labor in WWII, the Bunker is the remains of one of two flak towers that provided anti-air defenses during the war. Now, long after the war, the tower has been repurposed with a small museum, hotel, restaurants, sports and music venues, and a rooftop garden open to the public. Directly adjacent to the Bunker is a large fairgrounds that was in full swing with the Hamburg Dom. The Dom is a funfair held three times a year, filled with food, rides, and games. From atop the Bunker was also the perfect vantage point to watch the carnival goers as they made their way through the amusements. And finally, I was blessed with an absolutely gorgeous sunset overlooking the city.

    My third day in Hamburg was pouring rain from morning to night. The perfect day to visit a museum. So I made my way to the Hamburg Kunsthalle. The Kunsthalle has an absolutely massive collection of modern and contemporary art, as well as an impressive gathering of European masters. It was an all-day affair exploring the nooks and crannies of the museum. As the day wore on, I realized that I had been absorbing more than I realized from my various outings to art museums. I was beginning to recognize the work of various artists that I had seen previously, leading to a strange sensation of deja vu when I discovered other works in new museums. And from each museum, I came away with a new, small list of artists that resonated with me, perhaps more of their work waiting to be discovered at the next museum.

    My final day in Hamburg was an office day. These office days have become a part of my regular routine while traveling. Partly they are a chance for me to rest and stay off my feet for day, or to take care of light chores like laundry or cooking. They are also essential for planning my next steps, handling bookings, doing research, bookkeeping and otherwise just trying to figure things out. With this office day, I made some choices. I knew that I wanted to visit Berlin next, but was also feeling like I had jumped into the deep-end of traveling with the poor experience at the hostel in Hamburg, so I wanted a chance to recover before moving on to Berlin.

    When I was in Stuttgart, one of Rosa’s friends told me that I must make a trip to the North Sea. And with that in mind, I found myself looking at hotels in Cuxhaven, a small resort town about an hour from Hamburg, situated on the mouth of the Elbe where it flows into the sea. It was fully the off-season now, so the resorts were not in operation, but I managed to find a reasonably priced motel on the edge of town. I was excited to have a room and a bathroom all my own and a chance to unwind a little.

    Cuxhaven — Nov. 16 – 19

    I arrived in Cuxhaven mid-afternoon and made my way to the hotel. Part of the reason that I chose this particular hotel was it’s proximity to the train station, just a short fifteen minute walk away. Little did I know that meant that I would be about a twenty five minute walk away from the main commercial area of the town, but c’est la vie, that was a problem that wouldn’t be need to be broached until breakfast of the following day. For now, I was in for the night, minus a quick trip to the Burger King across the road for dinner. I don’t really recall that evening, but I’m sure it was largely spent relaxing in bed, watching movies and TV, reveling in the solitude of the hotel room.

    The next day, I set out to explore Cuxhaven. I made the trek to the town centre and found breakfast and coffee in a Backerei. I knew my ultimate goal was to make it to the sea, a couple of kilometers north. Wandering through the town, I found it to be rather charming and quiet. Not exactly a small village, it is a fair size with a good mix of single family homes, row houses and low-rise apartment blocks. It was a clear, sunny day, but it was bitterly cold with a strong wind blowing in off the sea. And that was before I climbed the 10 meter embankment that separated the coastline from the streets.

    From atop the embankment, the sea stretches out to the horizon. A long park edges along a seawall battered by waves that splash up on to the pathway. Shorebirds rummage through the grass, digging their long beaks into the mud looking for whatever tasty treat they can find. Container ships dot the water here and there, plodding along slowly to their destinations. Small clumps of people brave the winds their hoods pulled up and bodies leaned slightly forward against the gusts.

    I walked along the seawall for about an hour, past the prominence where the waves hit full force and around to the beach area protected by regular stone piers. The beaches were deserted except for a person walking at the water’s edge here and there. I could only imagine this place in the full swing of summer when the beach clubs, cafes and playgrounds would be full of sound and life. While it was a kind of lonely feeling being somewhere that felt so deserted, it was also peaceful. I always enjoy a quiet moment alone with nature.

    From here, I made my way back to the hotel. I stopped at a grocery store for lunch and some things to hold me over for my next couple of days at the hotel.

    The next couple of days were relatively uneventful, as I focused on relaxing and unwinding before hitting the next leg of my travels. I spent some time writing some code for a little application to help me sort through my photos, organizing the files into folders for discards, keepers, and maybes. I watched some movies, chatted with friends, and otherwise regained some energy.

    The only bit of drama occurred as I was leaving. I woke early, to catch the early train to Hamburg to ensure that I would be on time for my connection to Berlin. German trains are notorious for running late, so I wanted to be in Hamburg at least an hour before the train to Berlin. As I walked up to the station in Cuxhaven, the train was already waiting in its berth, though the doors weren’t open yet. No matter, I thought, as I went to wait under a shelter to get out of the rain. As another 10 minutes passed, I started to get more anxious. This feeling was also shared by a woman under the shelter. She asked if this was the correct train, and I told her I thought it was, the sign at the end of the platform seemed to indicate so. She wasn’t sure, so she rode her electric scooter down to check it out. A moment later she was yelling out to me, pointing at another platform. I set off running, which is a bit of a chore under the weight of my bags. I arrived just in time to watch the train pull out of the station. I exchanged some commiserations with my, also, left-behind companion, before heading in to the station to wait for the next train in an hour. When I arrived in Hamburg, I found that my train to Berlin was delayed by half an hour. I could have slept in.

  • Stuttgart.

    Stuttgart.

    Oct. 30 – Nov. 11

    My visit to Stuttgart is unique amongst my traveling experiences. It’s the only place where I’ve known a local. Someone to show me around, translate for me, explain the nuances of the culture, introduce me to new people. The almost two weeks that I spent in Stuttgart were a tremendous primer for the time that I would spend in Germany, and largely accounts for how comfortable I felt as I explored the country.

    Rosa and I met in Brussels, while staying at the same hostel. We exchanged information and soon became fast friends. We kept in touch while I was in Canada, and when it was clear that I would be returning to Europe, she agreed to be my tour guide for a bit and how lucky I am for that. I would eventually joke, that if she ever wanted to change careers, Rosa would have a promising future with the Stuttgart Tourism Board. She was overflowing with plans, interesting stories and anecdotes, and things that she wanted to show me.

    Arriving in Stuttgart

    But first, I needed to arrive. Which I did via the TGV, a high-speed train, reaching speeds of up to 320 km/h. It was quite the experience to leave France behind via Strasbourg, on the banks of the Rhine, and watch the Alsace plains and the foothills of the Black Forest fly by the window. It’s absolutely gorgeous country and absolutely different than what I had seen through the Netherlands, Belgium and France. It reminded me more of the Okanagan, in British Columbia and even that feels like a loose parallel.

    Rosa met me at the train station, so that she could get me set up with a D-Ticket. The D-Ticket turned out to be an incredible gift. For only €60, it granted me access to all public transit across Germany for a month! It even includes regional trains, which are slower than the direct ICE inter-city trains, but could still get me from city to city across the country. The D-Ticket does require a German address and German bank account, which is why I needed Rosa to get it for me, and I was incredibly fortunate that I did. I’m sure I got close to triple the value of the D-Ticket by the end of my time in Germany.

    With that, we headed out to the suburb community of Stuttgart where Rosa lives and I’d booked a hotel for my stay. Stuttgart Mitte sits in the bowl of a high-sided valley, flowing over the surrounding hills and even spilling over the high ridges. Here, on the plateaus above, sit a number of suburb communities that each would have been their own independent villages and towns some hundred and fifty years ago. The S-Bahn (surbuban metro, as opposed to the U-Bahn, the metro that services the city proper) to Rosa’s community, carried us up and over the southern hill of Stuttgart, sometimes offering brief glimpses of the city stretched out below, lit up by late afternoon sunlight and glowing orange and red with the turning leaves of fall. It made a hell of an impression.

    Germanating

    My introduction to the German culture began with an introduction to German food, central to which is the reverence for bread. Of course, we eat plenty of bread in Canada. However, the bread that we typically eat, literally isn’t considered bread by the Germans. The sandwich bread we are familiar with, is known as toast. Whereas, Bröt (bread) is a proper crusty loaf, available in a hundred different configurations. Different colors, different flours, different mix-ins, sweet, salty, dry, moist, chewy, crunchy. There is a bread for every occasion. And that’s not even to mention Brötchen, which we would call rolls or buns. Brotchen were a main staple during my time in Germany. Every supermarket in Germany has a wide selection of rolls, generally cases upon cases of different varieties. And even still, buying Bröt or Brötchen at a supermarket is only for those in a hurry, unable to make it to the Bäckerei (bakery). There are at least five bakeries within two minutes walk of the main street of Rosa’s area of Stuttgart. Bread is a way of life in Germany and, as I can now attest, German bread is incredible.

    Other parts of my cultural education were somewhat less universal across the Rhineland. Stuttgart is the capital of the Baden-Württemberg state, which along with parts of Bavaria to the east, once largely comprised the Duchy of Swabia, before Germany was unified in the late 1800s. There still exists an ethnographically distinct group known as the Swabians (Sch-vaa-ben), with their own dialect of German that isn’t quite mutually intelligible with Standard German (similar to how Scots is related to English, but not totally understandable by the average English speaker).

    While Rosa was showing me around, I would often read signs and advertisements aloud so she could correct my pronunciation. However, it wasn’t until after I had left Germany that I learned, during a call with Rosa, that she had left me with a somewhat distinct Swabian accent in the minuscule German that I could now speak. I received some weird looks when I had told other German speakers that I had recently visited Stuttgart, which it turns out is pronounced differently in Swabian German and Standard German. When I asked Rosa about this, she realized what had happened and burst out laughing. Apparently, I was now the Canadian tourist with a country-boy (part of the Swabian legacy) accent in my German.

    Seeing Stuttgart

    Over the next week and a half, Rosa took me all over Stuttgart and the surrounding areas to show me as much as she could. It was a long weekend for her when I arrived, so we covered a lot of ground together in the first few days, and I did some exploring of my own while she was working during the week.

    The whole time was a whirlwind of activities. We walked to scenic viewpoints, hiked to a waterfalls, strolled along forested lakes, took countless photos and generally enjoyed what the German landscape had to offer. Rosa also took me along for another favorite German pastime, Sport.

    For Rosa, Sport means acroyoga and climbing, and we did both. Acroyoga is a partner-based practice that typically involves one person laying on their back and lifting their partner’s body on their feet, while their partner moves through various shapes and poses. I have some experience with regular yoga, but this was my first time trying the acro version. It was surprisingly difficult, even for the most basic poses. More than just strength and balance, it requires a lot of concentration on body position and coordination with your partner. I think by the end, I was able to complete two or three basic poses, including a supported handstand, which was pretty neat.

    As for climbing, I’ve been a climbing enthusiast for over a decade. Prior to the pandemic, climbing was my main form of recreation and I would be found in the bouldering gym two or three times a week. All of this is to say, that I’m not inexperienced on the wall, but the Germans put me to shame. It truly seems like they are part mountain goat, like they are just born knowing how to navigate the rock.

    Part of this might have to do with their preference for lead climbing. In Canadian climbing gyms, lead climbing is an intermediate/advanced technique where the climber pulls the rope behind them as they ascend, and clip it in to various anchor points along the route. In Canada, most climbing gyms default to he more basic technique, known as top-rope climbing, where the rope is already anchored at the top of the route. The difference being that if a climber falls when top-roping they are always protected, they will only fall the distance that accounts for the slack in the rope. When lead climbing, if you fall while you’re above your last anchor, you fall the distance to the anchor and then some more. Beyond the mental fortitude required for lead climbing, it’s also more physically demanding, as you are regularly holding on the wall with one hand while manipulating the rope with the other.

    Rosa’s friends were conditioning in preparation for the coming season of outdoor climbing and had a routine for each route. They would first ascend the route as a lead climb, but would leave the rope anchored when they descended. Then they would immediately re-climb the route, top-rope style, as fast as they could, twice. Meanwhile, out of practice as I was, I would need a good ten minutes between routes to allow my forearms to relax before I was ready to go again. Truly impressive stuff.

    For my solo time in Stuttgart, I would spend time exploring around the city center, the parks and the streets. I found it interesting the amount of diversity the city had to offer, despite being relatively compact. Stuttgart is a car city, home of Mercedes-Benz and Porsche. When one of Rosa’s friends asked how I liked the city, I responded that I thought it was beautiful. She was surprised. She was a recent transplant from north Germany herself, and commented that she didn’t like how car-centric Stuttgart was. Now I was the one surprised. I hadn’t even noticed, though I would later come to agree with her point of view. Stuttgart is surrounded by hills and giant forests, to me it felt like the city just emerged out of nature itself. Not to mention the wide availability of public transit. Coming from a city that is struggling to add a third LRT line, Stuttgart’s U-Bahn has fifteen lines for a city with almost a million fewer people than Calgary.

    Saying Goodbye

    I wasn’t sure how long I would stay in Stuttgart when I first arrived, but eventually it began to become clear that it was getting to be time to move on. Rosa, gracious hostess that she was, had her own life to lead and had already done more than I could ask in showing me around. And the hotel costs were starting to eat more of my budget than the hostels that it had been planned around. And of course, with the D-Ticket, I had the freedom to go anywhere in Germany. Sad as we both were about my departure, Rosa helped me plan an itinerary for the next few weeks that would take me around Germany, to experience what the different regions had to offer. My first destination, Hamburg, would take me far to the northwest of Germany, back on the road, off to new adventures.