The Dresden Escape

I interrupt the India travelogue, which I regret is taking way too long to write, to post February's adventure of the month, lest anyone think I have spent the last two months doing nothing but dreaming of India.  Well, there has been some of the that, but there has also been some of this....

The scenario: Stuck in Halle, Germany, a town seriously challenging my belief that it is impossible to get bored in Europe with no work on the horizon for the next 24 hours and limited access to the internet. My only foreseeable options were to find a way out of Halle (pronounced “Hell”…I am certain of it) and save my sanity or to stay and perhaps take up knitting. Considering I hear carrying knitting needles through airport security is a bit of a bitch, I opted for a rental car.

Joined by two fellow Halle-haters and armed with the best map Mapquest had to offer and what can most generously be described as a vague plan, we set off on a ninety mile road trip to Dresden. There was some concern about the wisdom of our outing thanks to some pretty dire weather predictions. But then there was also the knowledge that it was this or nothing at all, so we pushed those concerns aside and proceeded with our plan. Everything that happened from our arrival onward validated the fact that we made the right call.

We had nothing more than the most general of directions into the city and one German speaker amongst us, but we managed to stumble into the one parking garage directly across from the Tourist Information Office. There, we found no lines, only a helpful Info guy, who suggested we join the hop on- hop off bus leaving in a few minutes. The entire route would take an hour and a half and bring us back to the historical center just in time for 3 half-hour walking tours, all included in the 20 euro price. We had not been in town for more than 20 minutes and already we were booked up for the next three hours.

The double-decker bus, with its recorded multi-lingual narration, took us from the baroque postcard-pretty old town, almost all of which has been completely rebuilt since the ruthless Allied fire-bombing in 1945, across the Elbe River and up into the hills past castles, vineyards and more charming neighborhoods than I could have possibly imagined. We passed museums, palaces, frozen over bier gardens and some pretty interesting street art as I eyed a couple of hostels and plotted my return. Yes, I had already decided I would return. The weather I had been dreading was turning out to be nothing more than gray skies and a mild drizzle. And best of all, we were not in Halle anymore.

The first of our walking tours took us through the Zwinger, the exquisite baroque courtyard that began life as Augustus the Strong’s orangerie, occupying the space between the old city fortification walls. It was the first of Dresden’s many landmarks to be rebuilt after the war and is now the repository for the fine arts museum, the armory, the porcelain collection and the mathematical salon (none of which we had time to visit this time around).

Next, we toured the Furstenzug, the Square abutting the Zwinger and home to the magnificent Semper Opera house. Just off on a side street was my favorite part of the entire tour, the Procession of Princes. From a distance, it looks like a block-long mosaic depicting the 99 rulers of Saxony, but upon closer inspection, it reveals itself to be a collection of 20,000+ painted tiles, making it the longest and largest tile painting in the world. Walking along the length of the beautifully rendered gallery, our guide provided us with a crash course into the people and politics that shaped the region into what it is today. Never has a history lesson been so pretty.

Finally, we learned about the Frauenkirche, the Protestant church with the distinctive stone cupola that was left to stand in ruins as a reminder of the destructiveness of war until recently when it was rebuilt, using some of the original stones pieced together in a jigsaw-puzzle fashion via the use of old photographs. The dark sooty original stones are easily distinguishable from the light colored new ones.

By the time we reached the end of the tour, the weather had begun to deteriorate (just as the guide had predicted it would) so we took this as a sign to retreat to one of the areas’ many picturesque cafes for some soup and gluhwein. For anyone that has not had the pleasure, gluhwein is a hot spiced wine or as I prefer to call it, the best thing ever invented. Ever.

Sufficiently warmed up, we jumped (or I guess “hopped” would be more appropriate) back on the bus and headed to the nightlife district behind the art nouveau Pfund’s Dairy. There we found so many little funky restaurants, bars and shops that I would have been happy to have all my belongings shipped over and establish residence anywhere in the area. That not being a practical option, instead, we found a bar with a Big Lebowski theme (seriously, how cool is that?!) and hung out with a friendly Dresdenian and her dog until it was time for our inevitable return to the convalescent home that is Halle.

It was now a proven fact, a rainy day in Dresden beats the sunniest of days in Halle. Obviously, I was delighted with how our day turned out for many reasons, not the least of which is I am pretty sure I would suck at knitting

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What do you mean – you haven't heard of Leipzig?

It’s funny how things are. Several months ago, I was completely unaware of the existence of Leipzig, Germany. As far as I can recall, I had never heard anything about it, be it good, bad or indifferent. This is no longer the case, due primarily to my work. I have been provided with not just one but two opportunities to visit Leipzig within the past two months. Along with this chance to spend some time in the lively East German university city, I have become aware of the fact that word of Leipzig is simply everywhere you look.

It started oddly enough, with a concerned e-mail from a friend linking to an article from the UK’s Daily Mail about a group of follicularly-challenged bears living in the Leipzig zoo. It seems that their female Andean bears are losing all their fur and no one can figure out why. Since receiving that e-mail, I have come across other Leipzig bear musings in the LA Times, Huffington Post and the BBC. The bears have gone global.

Next, there was the very recent 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Watching the coverage on the BBC, there was mention after mention of what commentators felt was the initial spark leading up to the collapse of the wall. It was a peaceful candlelight demonstration that drew 70,000 Leipzigers out to the street on October 9, 1989, over a month before the wall fell. Next, I was hit with the sudden realization that one of my favorite areas in one of my favorite cities owes it name to Leipzig.

I had long known that Lipscani Street, the home of a burgeoning café revival in Bucharest was named after German traders, the Lipsca, who would sell their wares on this 18th century commercial street. Yet it was not until I started reading about the history of Leipzig and its importance as a center of trade that it dawned on me that the Lipsca were the people from Leipzig. Duh!! Since I was on a roll, I soon learned that the father of a super-duper cool friend of my mine…born in Leipzig. Also to be found here, Johann Sebastian Bach’s final resting place (or I should say final-final resting place, since the poor man has been relocated three times since his passing, all within, you guessed it, Leipzig); the world’s oldest train station, now moonlighting as a brewery making the highly recommended Gose beer; a bar mentioned in Goethe’s Faust; Europe’s largest monument, a monolith dedicated to the War of Nations and to end the list with a bit of a whimper, Germany’s biggest railway station turned department store, this one sadly lacking its own brewery.

In my nearly two weeks in Leipzig, I have done my best to honor this incredibly varied history. I visited the Leipzig Zoo, founded in 1878 and now home of the unfortunate Kojak the bears. I have long had mixed feelings about zoos. On one hand, a good one can educate people, create a passion for animals early in children’s life and provide a valuable tool in the fight against extinction. And by most accounts, this zoo would fall under the category of a “good zoo”. They boast a phenomenal breeding rate; many of the animal enclosures provide their inhabitants, the majority of whom appear to be well cared for, with a decent amount of room to run and play and it can not be denied, that in terms of old European elegance, it is simply a beautifully designed park. On the other hand, I can never get past the guilt that these majestic creatures are being denied what is their rightful place in the world, running wild in the jungles, deserts, ocean, wherever, for our amusement. As the sun was setting, we saw a series of small pens holding big cats, whose primitive instincts were telling them that they should be preparing to hunt their prey. It was heart-breaking watching them pace restlessly back and forth, wearing a groove in the dirt from this response to their unnatural incarceration. Of course, I did get to briefly view the famous bears, who in my opinion would benefit greatly from some Jessica Simpson hair pieces. But at the end of the day, when I weigh the admittedly pleasant day spent at Leipzig Zoo against the moral cost being paid by these innocent incarcerees, I remain as conflicted as ever.

Next on the Why-Leipzig-is-Famous tour, I attempted to gather some perspective on what led to the history-making candlelight march by visiting the Stassi Museum. Housed in the former home of the secret police, it details the lengths that the Communist party went to in order to keep tabs on each other. There are displays of bugging devices, hidden cameras, laughable disguises and even large machinery used to steam open people’s correspondence. We listened as a thorough and entertaining English language audio guide told stories that teetered between horrible and surreal. The level of paranoia that must have been present is hard to imagine but by keeping the offices exactly as they were, aging linoleum, stone-age typewriters and all, it at least gives the visitor a sense of what one would have found if called to this infamous place. Fittingly, the famous candlelight march included the Stassi building as one of the protest sites.

As for Leipzig’s history as a trading site, I feel that I did my fair share in contributing to the Gluhwein and Hefewesien economies, while my friends ensured that the sausage industry stayed healthy and vibrant. Surprisingly, thanks to a very citywide friendliness towards my vegetarian people (something not very common in meat-loving Germany), I was even able to partake in a tofu schnitzel or two. I visited the Faust bar (and resolved to read the book, which I should probably have read in high school), visited the war monument and found my way to the oldest train station cum brewery, which has been temporarily been shifted 60 meters to one side to make way for a subway line. But most of all, I gained some knowledge that I feel I should have had all along about world famous Leipzig.

The Gohliser Schloesschen: a former mansion turned restaurant.




Monument to the Battle of the Nations.
















































One of the poor balding bears of the Leipzig zoo.




The Stassi Museum.












St. Thomas Church: Johann Sebastian Bach's most recent resting place.





The Bayerischer Bahnhof: Europe's oldest train station...


And the beer it produces.




City Hall

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It's about time!

Donald, our free walking tour guide

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

The French Cathedral, which sits opposite its twin, the German Cathedral in Gendarmenmarkt

The Berliner Dom

The Neue Synagogue

Remaining piece of the Berlin Wall

Site of Checkpoint Charlie

The Jewish Museum

View of the Brandenburg Gate taken from the top of the Reichstag

On the 19th of this month, I found myself (1) still in Europe (2) with another block of days off (tough life, I know) and (3) with a last-minute opportunity to realize a long standing goal of mine. For what feels like forever, I have been trying to get to the city of Berlin. I have been packed, ready and on my way no less than four times, but fate has always managed to cruelly poo- poo my plans and send me reeling somewhere else. Based on this track record, when my friend, Diana, called to tell me that there was a cheap flight heading to Berlin in a few hours, I jumped at the chance, but inside I was cringing, awaiting the inevitable. The flight was going to be full, some union necessary to my plans was going to announce a strike, the city was going to declare itself closed for a few days...something was bound to happen. Yet, amazingly, nothing did. We got on a plane, we got off a plane. We were in Berlin!! Easy as that. Of course, as has become the norm for me this summer, I was grossly under-prepared. I had no guidebook, none of the detailed notes I had written out for each of my four failed attempts, not even a flimsy map. But I did have one thing, the information for what is quickly becoming one of my favorite things ever, a Sandeman's New Europe walking tour. This company offers free walking tours led by young enthusiastic guides who, over the course of 3 hours or so, provide participants with an always entertaining overview of the history and main sights of some of Europe's major cities. Having already done the Amsterdam tour three times, I had faith that they would be able to fill in the vast gaps in my knowledge as related to all things Berlin. And fill them in, they did. Thanks to our guide, Donald aka Awesome (not just a commentary on his story-telling abilities and all around savvy, but also what it said on the flip side of his nametag), we learned all about the history of Berlin, starting from the early days of the Kaisers, through to the Third Reich onto its unique position as the epicenter of the Cold War and lastly to the present day. He led us through the Brandenburg Gate; to the site of the Book Burning Memorial, a haunting window looking down into a sealed room full of empty shelves to remind the visitor of a time when books considered unGerman were burned in this square; to the site of the bunker where Hitler and Eva Braun commited suicide, which has now been turned in a park/ parking lot where, as Donald put it, people take their dogs to shit; to the site of the Reichstag or German Parliament, topped by a glass dome where the public can either take in a scenic view of the city or look down into the chambers of their elected officials to remind them that they are keeping an eye on them; to the abstract Monument to the Murdered Jew which, with its undulating ground and gray slabs of concrete of varying heights succeeds in creating a sense of disorientation and apprehension in those who walk through it; and finally to a park across from Museum Island, where Donald capped off the tour by telling the tale of how the Berlin Wall was finally brought down. It was a fascinating afternoon, throughout which I kept reminding myself, that finally, after so many tries, the impossible had happened...I had actually made it to Berlin.

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