It was in the early light of a pink-gray morning that I awoke and lifted my eyes to the landscape coming into view as the train neared Munich. I moved sluggishly, my body sore and mind foggy. Electing a regular seat instead of a sleeper couchette was budget-wise but did nothing for a good night’s sleep. The night had passed, nonetheless, and we were in Germany, the main Munich station pulling into view with a modern city skyline still lighted in the early morning. A tall, sleek office complex with the Mercedes-Benz logo glowing atop the roof confirmed our location. I roused Mandy from her sleep and soon we stepped sleepily from the train to the station to await our onward train.
As we had approximately an hour before it would arrive, we decided to get some breakfast. In our travel-weary state, made worse by the chill cutting through the air in Munich, we settled on a well known coffee chain, the only time we succumbed to an American establishment while abroad, this one so terribly ubiquitous throughout the developed world: Starbucks. Hey, we were tired! And they have big cushy chairs in a cozy setting... Actually, we had been somewhat surprised, and even dismayed on occasion, to find that, while much of the coffee available in European cafes is very good and possibly better than American counterparts, there were few coffeeshops of the sort to which we were accustomed - cushy, old furniture, board games, bookshelves, and patrons spread throughout with reading and research material sprawled out upon the tables. Most we encountered had only small, round café tables and wooden chairs. To be fair, café culture is huge in Europe, acting as a central meeting point of minds throughout more recent history. It’s just a different café culture than in the U.S. We would, however, find much more familiar ambience as we went north in Germany (and I understand that similar establishments are prevalent in Scandinavia), so perhaps it is a difference of climate, with a Northerner like me preferring the cozier surroundings.
Anyway, I digress…
We found our way to the connecting train after a rude encounter with a woman at the station’s information desk when Mandy tried to confirm the train’s details. The woman didn’t seem to speak English (which is perfectly fine and expected when traveling) but what wasn’t fine was that she was generally cranky and seemed determined to do her best to provide as little help as possible. Once on the train, we settled in and forgot about the encounter - service workers can be so temperamental - watching out the windows as the beautiful German landscape sped past: Bavarian towns giving way to thick pine forest, solitary rivers, and steepening mountains, and eventually humble villages still bearing the mark of the general poverty of the old GDR. While such places were intriguing, and reminiscent of our own rural experience, our destination was the modesty-sized city of Leipzig, the hometown of my good friend and one-time Selkirk High School exchange student - Lisa.
I had expected to call Lisa once we had arrived at the station, but we were walking towards the center of the station after disembarking when she appeared! It was a joyous reunion after five years of email correspondence. She asked about our train trip and whether we were hungry and then led us to a nice, inexpensive bagel sandwich shop. Between mouthfuls we all chatted in that awkward halting fashion of getting reacquainted with an old friend: what we had been doing most recently and in the past few years. But soon we fell into easy conversation and Lisa took us on the first part of her own delightful walking tour (after dropping off our packs in her father’s car at his office building). We took a short tram ride and got off at the park surrounding the enormous brownstone monument to the so-called Battle of Nations (where Napoleon was driven back by the Germans, Russians and others).
A large chamber unfolded before us within the imposing edifice, with the largest dome of any secular structure in Germany. There was an eerie central memorial with four
knightly warriors standing guard around the circular, tomb-like space, a large wreath laid upon the floor. High above, on a second tier, there were towering sculptures of mighty Germanic figures: three male warriors and a strong female nourishing the next generation at her breasts. Mandy stood barely taller than their massive feet. To add perspective to this provocative monument there was a frank display attesting to the interesting history of the monument (and indeed that of Germany). It had been erected by Kaiser Wilhelm on the centennial of the Battle to inspire support for his empire, then used by Hitler as an evocative backdrop for huge Nazi rallies meant to assert Aryan supremacy and nationalist fervor. It was later used by the Communist regime of the GDR as a potent symbol of the New Socialist Man (and Woman). And in the free German society of today it is the backdrop for outdoor concerts with such acts as The Who, ironic conveyors of a different type of propaganda perhaps.After reading through the historical installments, we trudged up an endless spiral staircase (I counted 14 full twists) to the top of the tower where we had a breath-taking view of the city of Leipzig below (and breath-restoring due to the stairs). We lingered for a long time there and then relented to the inevitable climb back down, whereon we browsed through a museum on Napoleon and the Battle. Then it was back to the tram to the city center, Marktplatz, where Lisa showed us some of the historical buildings and took us to one of the oldest coffeehouses in town, which had a museum on the history of coffee. We skimmed through the displays, unable to read the German captions, and then moved on to the restaurant where we ordered some lavish coffee and dessert served on gold-rimmed china - a fun bit of extravagance. We also had what was to amount to the first of two chance encounters with people connected to home. Sitting at the tables next to us were a dozen people on a tour of the sites associated with Calvin - all from Oregon and Washington. They had asked to take our photo, believing all three of us to be from Leipzig. But I said that two were imposters and a conversation ensued. One couple had relatives in Orient, WA, which is close to Colville and not too far from our own hometown. They were particularly delighted to hear where we were from and kept repeating, “What a small world…”
We left the coffeehouse as dusk was falling and we found our way to Thomaskirche, the church where Bach spent the final 27 years of his life. A beautiful rose light from the setting sun fell upon the steeple, and it was easy to imagine Bach himself looking upon the church in such fading light, composing in his mind a complex canon as homage to the beauty before him. Thomaskirche was silent tonight, though, and we waited a little longer in that twilight until Lisa’s father, Achem, came to pick us up. It was a quick zip through the streets to the family’s apartment, where we would be staying. Lisa had described it as an ugly GDR-esque apartment building, but it was much more attractive than this on the outside and still nicer on the inside. We met Lisa’s mother, Bruni, and talked for a little while about our travels and the day. Then Achem and Bruni excused themselves to go to a friend’s birthday party as we settled in with Lisa for a light dinner before searching fruitlessly for a cheap flight to Ireland and then going to bed.In the morning, Lisa had a huge spread laid out for breakfast: bread (brot), fruit, yogurt, jam, butter, cheeses, ham and sausages, and tea. We’d slept in and Achem and Bruni had already left for work. I was crestfallen that the slight tickle in my throat from the day before had turned into a full-blown cold, leaving me a croaking, coughing mucus-machine. Still, my energy level wasn’t too low, so I felt up to facing world (unlike sometimes when I’m sick). The three of us ate and chatted contentedly (some of us better than others…), and once finished we piled into the family’s little hatchback car and set off to see more of Leipzig, guided by a most amiable tour guide. We first stopped off at a large park and were soon plunged into quiet green space with muddy paths leading through winter-dead groves of trees. Lisa led us to the rear of the city zoo where we could see ducks and emus, and even such exotic animals as giraffes and zebras, which seem slightly out of place in the gray weather of eastern Germany. We strolled a little more and then piled into the car again to head downtown.
Despite my annoying cold, it was great to be out exploring a city with Mandy and Lisa. And my happiness bubbled over into a little groove to the rhythmic flamenco of Paco de Lucia that Lisa had put into the tape player. (It was nice also to see that someone else in the world still had a cassette deck in the car) We found a spot to park and then walked back to Thomaskirche. This time we went inside and found a modest and bright interior - a beautiful church, though humble in comparison to the other great European cathedrals. No doubt its true beauty would come alive during of the Bach music performances regularly given to pay tribute to the great composer. We would have to content ourselves to imagining such an experience. So, after a short exploration of the space, we continued on to Marktplatz where we purchased brats from a street vendor. Mandy and I found them better than the brats sold at supermarkets back home - not so fatty and overly spicy. We were about to bite into our brats when we were surrounded by four people dressed in giant purple costumes in the shape of alphabetic letters. They spoke in German with Lisa and then switched to English to talk with us, telling us that they were promoting a computer company. They gave us a flier and a keychain lanyard each and proceeded on their merry, festooned way. We three laughed at how weird the experience had been to have four bug, purple letters encircle us and four faces poking out of them extolling the benefits of a company none of us was familiar with. The eccentric encounter behind us, we stood on the street and finished our brats. We were all in good spirits and Lisa’s easy laugh, which I had remembered as so charming and delightfully infectious, was appearing more and more. It was like old times again!
We were standing outside Nicholaskirche and Lisa explained that this was where her parents had been married and also where the huge nonviolent protest movement against the GDR had begun, spilling over and contributing to the overall uprising that brought down the Berlin Wall and essentially spelled the end of the Communist era in Germany. With that kind of introduction to intrigue us, we went inside and found a large and pretty church unlike any of the others we had seen. There were large sculpted columns that rose up to a green palm tree top that joined with a pink, carved ceiling. The whole place had a bright and cheerful air about it. There was also literature on hand (in English) about the history of the place, and we sat in the calm sanctuary to read how a weekly peace service had grown into a popular movement that brought down a powerful government without force. A Communist official was quoted as saying, “We were prepared for everything, except prayers and candles.” It was a powerful feeling to be in the location of such a dynamic moment in human history. Such triumph is inspiring, though it is sobering to see that the peace services continue recalling that the world is not yet at peace. For this reason, in part, I wanted to travel - to expand my scope of the world, to broaden my experience and understanding of the histories of the world’s other peoples and to thereby align myself with their triumphs and failings, their hopes and fears.
It was a natural segueway of thought and history that we next went to the museum dedicated to exposing all of the terrifying and abusive clandestine activity of the GDR’s secret police, the Stasi. There were surveillance photos of ordinary citizens and, most shocking of all, artwork and papers of elementary students deemed somehow seditious by their own teachers and turned into the Stasi. It was a strange and fearful time under the GDR, with neighbors suspecting neighbors because no one knew who worked for the Stasi. Lisa reflected on what she could remember - how the Soviet Army had been staged near the family home and could be seen from the window practicing formations and operations - and she said that her parents had been more deeply affected than she, still a girl when the GDR collapsed. Most would agree that it’s a better situation in Germany now and today a board game bears humorous witness to life in old East Germany. To win you must be the first to acquire a television, washing machine, car, and blue jeans - all the things that Americans of the time had taken for granted. I took in all of this without any pride for own country’s experience (for I know how it has made many an egregious mistake in its history, including the subjecting of common citizens to surveillance for dissent); rather, I felt great admiration for the ability of the German people to endure hardship and to be so open in admitting the mistakes of the past and thus working never to repeat them. In truth, so many cultures have persisted in the face of great tribulation, and this is no doubt a hallmark of the human spirit. It is why the powerful strains of “We Shall Overcome” ring with such universal appeal; it is the hope within us all.
With the dramatic story of Germany alive within us, Lisa showed us the way to a café featured in the classic book, Faust, where he rolls down the stairs on a barrel. We peered inside at a
fancy dining room and then went up the stairs to the ground level and looked at the sculpture depicting Faust and Mephisto. As is the custom, we rubbed Faust’s foot for luck and then proceeded to Moritzbastei, an underground club popular with young Leipzigers and created after university students excavated medieval tunnels over eight years. The interior was dark and plastered with rock show posters, and there were hallways leading off to other parts of the club, most of which were closed during the daytime. Lisa explained how this one played live rock shows, how that one had house and techno music, and so forth. It was an amazing party complex and had a great underground feel - as in hip and below the radar. While much was closed, we were able to go into the smoky café where we ordered some milchkaffee (coffee with milk) and sat talking.
Before long we were surprised by the appearance of a short-haired girl at our table, who opened with, “Do you recognize me?” And then Mandy and I realized who it was. It was Peggy, who had been an exchange student at Selkirk two years before Lisa! And once she had confirmed that we were who she thought we were, we quickly caught up on what she and we had been doing for the last several years. It was so uncanny to have lost contact with her years ago and to then run into her when we came to Germany somewhat spontaneously. Even more amazing that she said she had spontaneously decided to come back from southern Germany, where she is studying, to Leipzig (which we had forgotten was her hometown, too) for the day to visit some friends. It was chance that she and we had come to the café at all! Though she had to get back to her friends, we were able to get caught up again and again exchange email addresses, parting with a promise to renew correspondence. And this time it was we who were left repeating, “What a small world…”
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