Dusseldorf, Day 4

When I woke up to a blanket of clouds and a dreary chill on my third day in Germany, I immediately decided to stay local for the day. Our hotel, as it turned out, was located a mere ten-minute walk from the Alstadt (Old Town), which, even in the rain, seemed so much more manageable (and familiar, by this time!) to me than hopping the tram, taking an illegal ride to the train station, and schlepping my stuff onto a train and then into Bonn. Illegal because, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out the ticket-purchasing process, and despite the fact that there were a plethora of people on the tram each time, I shied away from asking. For some odd reason, I found myself inwardly cringing at the thought of being identified in approximately 1.2 seconds as a tourist. And since I look Germanic enough to pass for a native, I opted to hop on the tram breezily, surreptitiously avoiding the tiny red box that passengers used to validate their tickets.

After making that not-at-all difficult decision, I had a luxurious morning, lounging in bed with a whole pot of coffee just for me before I took a hot shower and headed out to see a bit more of Dusseldorf. By this time, I'd walked down into the Alstadt for dinner twice, and fortunately, the sights that I elected to visit, the Goethe Museum and the Hofgarten, were just a bit past those charming cobblestone streets.

I marked a path towards the Goethe Museum first. Although most everyone would recognize him as the author of the play Faust (including me), Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was a tremendously significant figure in Germany's literary history, so I considered myself lucky that such a lovely museum devoted to his life happened to be located in Dusseldorf. He never actually lived in Dusseldorf, but visited frequently, and the collection of his works and artifacts is quite impressive. I was able to see Goethe's own copies of Grimm's fairy tales, correspondence between Goethe and his friends, lovers, and teachers, even a page from his personal agenda, shakily written just before his death. He never completed the tasks listed on the page.

A highlight of the museum was a peek at a first edition of Faust, and a Salvador Dali sketch, submitted as possible artwork for a publication of the play.

I strolled through the Hofgarten, which is essentially a large park spanning many city blocks, on my way back to the Alstadt, where I planned to find something reasonably priced and somewhat delicious for lunch. I opted to head straight towards the water, on a street that I had not crossed before, and I was rewarded with incredible views across the river. There was a beautiful promenade right next to the water, and I sat on a bench for a while with my book, though my hunger eventually overcame me.

Food in Germany had thus far been a big disappointment, although the various forms of breads I encountered were outstanding. My mother-in-law, a native Dane (and thus accustomed to various European cuisines), encouraged me to try the simple native specialties, bratwursts and wienerschnitzel, so on this day, footsore and starving, I was thrilled to find a little restaurant in the Alstadt with a small spit in its front window, which carefully turned, blistering the sides of bratwurst. I immediately ordered one, and was thrilled to discover that it was ensconced in a crusty white roll. I ate it in about five minutes, right there in front of the window, where I was sheltered from the rain that had begun to fall. It was GOOD. Vaguely spicy, with a crisp outer coating over the juicy sausage, made even more delicious by the roll. I could easily have devoured two, but I restrained, walked through the Alstadt a bit more, stopping to take note of Coldplay's presence in Germany

and eventually stayed the afternoon in a kitschy, funky cafe, where I had a heavenly hot chocolate, read more of my book, and tried to justify eating another bratwurst for dinner.

All in all, it was a great day.

Cologne, Day 3

For my first day in Germany, I opted to venture out from the bustling streets of modern Dusseldorf and hop on a train for the quick ride to Cologne, a much more aesthetically pleasing city (so I had been told by the experts at Lonely Planet). Besides being known as the birthplace of Eau de Cologne, it's also the fourth largest German city, and boasts both Roman ruins and the extremely impressive Kolner Dom (Cologne Cathedral). Construction began on the immense cathedral in the 1200's, and it was completed sometime in the late 19th century. It apparently survived World War II against all odds, only sustaining a minor amount of damage from the air raids.

I determined that the Dom and a bit of walking through the Alstadt (Old Town) would be on my simple agenda for the day. I'm not really an art museum type, and I would much prefer exploring the homes that used to belong to favorite authors or parks with aged memorial statues where those famous authors once strolled or Gothic churches where my favorite authors were buried...you get the picture. I'm a literature girl! Needless to say, what I was most intrigued to see in Cologne was the cathedral, and I find the cobblestoned streets and outdoor cafes of the old towns to be absolutely perfect for mid-afternoon cups of cappuccino (somehow, so much better in Europe!) and a good book.

Much to my disappointment, I emerged from the train to a grey sky that was misting rain. Yes, I know that pouring rain is so much worse, but it was still discouraging, particularly when one is attempting to navigate in a new and unknown place. I needn't have worried about the Dom, however. It loomed beautifully right next to the train station. A few steps outside and I would find myself in its dark, shadowed, and yes, CROWDED recesses.

The cathedral itself is massive, a colossal giant of a church, and certainly much larger than any I've ever visited, including Westminster Abbey and the Notre-Dame in Paris. I quietly made my way all around it, carefully observing the Shrine of the Three Kings (believed to hold the remains of the three magi) and the magi-inspired art. I even sat for a few minutes to hear the beginnings of a mass, drinking in the rich, glorious sound emerging from the organs.

In preparation for my visit to the Dom, I read about the South Tower, which can be ascended, revealing incredible views of the Rhine River and the city of Cologne itself. There are approximately 540 steps to the top, but I quickly scoffed at the warning from Lonely Planet hinting at the climb's strenuous nature. "Please! 540 steps? That's nothing! The reward will be so worth it!," I thought, making a note to be sure to stop by the bells on my way to the top. The world's largest free-swinging bell hangs in the Dom.

Let's just put it this way: One should HEED the warnings one encounters in travel guides. It was no light and easy trek. I. Thought. I. Might. Die. And yes, I'm a bit out of shape, BUT STILL! Even the group of young teenage boys that I could hear cackling and making obscene jokes (yes, I ran into a few Americans in Cologne) could barely stand up by the time we finally reached the bells, which wasn't even at the top!

Despite my near death by cardiac arrest, I have to admit that I'm thrilled I endured. The view was incredible, even through the rain. One can only imagine how splendid it would be on a nice day!

I didn't spend too long up on the top of the South Tower, partially because I was, unfortunately, getting rather soaked, and also because it was crowded and I wanted to get down to see the bells in peace. I managed to take a video for my SH while one of them actually rang!

I miraculously arrived at the bottom of the tower with no injuries, a miracle considering my tendency to falling down stairs and the fact that said stairs were damp from the rain. The rain persisted outside, so I headed to a cafe in the Alstadt and ordered a delicious Belgian waffle with a steaming, creamy cappuccino. I spent an hour or two there, reading my fascinating book (Drood) before heading back to the train station. In spite of the poor weather, it was a great first full day in Germany.