Quedlinburg

Vonnie looking for sea glass by a pier, with a freundlich hund 

We continued our time with cousin Vonnie, first spending a Sunday afternoon the typical way, with a spaziergang (walk) in our favorite Baltic resort town, Travemunde. The weather was a little schlecht — cold with a bit of snow and wind — but we walked out along the strand anyway. After we became sufficiently chilled, we found a little coffee shop for our usual kaffee und kuchen. 

This photo was taken about ten minutes before we all OD’d on kuchen. It was after this indulgent and delicious kuchen-break, I realize, thinking back, that none of us were keen to have it anymore. I think we simply had finally had too much of a good thing. I will return to kuchen again, but for the time being, I am happy to eat vegetables, and I’m sure Gary and Vonnie feel the same way. 

During Vonnie's stay, we wanted to take a short trip somewhere — anywhere — in Europe, seeing as how we're here, after all. We searched for cheap flights and ferry possibilities, but nothing worked out, timing-wise. It cost the astonishly low price of 19 euros to fly to Lisbon, Portugal on Ryan Air, but the schedule didn't work. Paris has a Charlie problem, London has a transportation-workers-often-go-on-strike problem. We could have gone to Copenhagen or Prague, but we all wanted to go to a place that none of us three had ever seen before. Berlin was a candidate, but it seemed too daunting to fully appreciate on a 2-day trip. So, in 1st-World-Problem desperation, I Googled “prettiest small towns in Europe,” and one name that came up on most lists was Quedlinburg, a mere 5-hour train ride south of Lübeck. So, Quedlinburg it was.

Quedlinburg is one of the best-preserved medieval towns in the world, and one of the luckiest: it not only escaped the typical fires that swept through medieval towns over the centuries, it also managed to avoid bombing during World War II. After a stint behind the Iron Curtain, it arrived intact (although in great need of TLC) at German Reunification in 1990. In 1994, the entire town was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, and has spent the past 20 years being spruced up beautifully. Quedlinburg is so pretty, it brings tears to your eyes to look at it. It even has one of the best-named castles — Burgberg — perched on a hill overlooking the town, just as a castle should be.

Quedlinburg has one of the most colorful histories a town can have, starting in the year 922, when it was first mentioned in historical records. Henry the Fowler, considered to be the first king of the medieval German state, reigned from there until his death in 936. When he died, his wife Mathilde founded a convent to assure the well-being of his soul, and her convent made Quedlinburg the political and cultural center of Germany for centuries. In fact, the convent called the shots in this town until the early 19th century -- so Quedlinburg was “ruled” by women for nearly 900 years! It also spent a bit of time as a Hanseatic city (until the convent called a halt to that) and, although the town would prefer to sweep this next part under the rug, one of its churches was desecrated as a shrine of Nazi Germany and used by the Nazis for swearing-in ceremonies, as it was a favorite of Heinrich Himmler. 

Today, the citizens are enjoying the popularity of their  1300 beautifully restored half-timbered medieval buildings. According to Tom, the owner of our 17th-century B&B (with a very modern interior, which included this amazing coffee-maker/water boiler/toaster combination in the kitchen), there are over 4000 half-timbered buildings in Quedlinburg, if you count the ones that aren’t visible from the street. I will let them speak for themselves in these photos. Which, by the way, dismally fail to do Quedlinburg justice; you have to see it in person to appreciate the detail and charm. If you can go, go, before it's overrun with tourists.

We spent just one night in Quedlinburg -- too short a time -- went on a trolley tour, and spent a few hours window-shopping, and were back on the train by mid-afternoon Tuesday, for the long train ride back to Lübeck. One thing that Quedlinburg needs to work on is its Soviet-era bahnhof, which was depressing. We thought we’d never get back to our flat. 

The next day, we wished Vonnie a gute reise at the Hamburg airport, and now are all alone again, eating vegetables. 

Next time you see me, remind me to tell you the story -- with mimed accompaniment -- of our 4-minute train transfer in Uelzin. Poor Vonnie!