Dresden, Germany

Wed, August 15

My train arrives in the Old Town.  Ironically, most of it is new, or at least rebuilt since 1990, because it was bombed heavily in WWII.  Immediately I see how the old buildings are mixed with black (old/original) and white (new) stone.  I make my way north to the New Town, which starting being built about 1800.  My hostel was built in 1824, and it’s super cool with an old stone staircase to my room, two flights up.  Thankfully, the room has all of the modern amenities with which I’m familiar, like heat and running water.  ;-)

I drop off my bag off in my room and start getting oriented by refreshing my knowledge of Dresden.  No matter how much I read about a city, try to visualize, etc., it’s always very new once I arrive.  I hate that I feel the need to waste valuable tourist time on this stuff, but I don’t want to miss anything; when will I be back?

One of my roommates, in the room when I arrived, left while I was reading.  Damn!  Why didn’t I ask for his advice?  No matter, I keep reading.  He returns, seemingly from a cigarette break.  I ask if he speaks English; he says, “Of course.”  Damn Europeans!  Back up; Awesome Europeans!  I’m just jealous, after all.

We chat.  His name is Phil.  He’s from a woodsy area close to the old East-West border, on the East side.  I’m sure that he’s younger than 22 and never knew anything about east vs. west, but he assures me that he was born in 1987, two years before the wall came down.  Of course, in Berlin, the border was an actual wall, but keeping the east from west and vice versa in the rural areas seems much more like the borders of the U.S. with Mexico.  George Bush’s border wall idea never got the funding, so cities are divided by (seems like a 50-foot tall) wall, while the rural areas are established no-man’s-land and patrolled by border police.

I ask why his family never snuck out into West Germany.  He said they had no reason to.  HOLY CRAP!  Could it be that there were East Germans that didn’t feel imprisoned as part of the Socialist Republic?  Am I so narrow-minded to think Democracy is the best solution for everyone?  Damn me!  Sure, it seems to have worked for the U.S., but I consistently say that George Washington would be ashamed to be an American, if he were alive today.  And, aren’t many of our economic solutions more socialist or communist than capitalistic?  I’m no political expert, but I don’t see anything in the new healthcare initiative that states each man for himself.  It seems to FORCE all men to have insurance rather than provide insurance for all.

Political confusion on hold…  Phil talks lightly about how his village of 850 takes care of itself; everyone’s like family.  His whole family lives within 10 km of his home.  It seems wonderful.  I ask how they meet new people.  The neighboring villages visit others, and some go to college farther from home and bring significant others home.  It seems homey, and I smile.  Who’s to say what works best for everyone?  I like being footloose and fancy-free, but to each his own.  I just don’t like having things forced on me.

Political confusion forgotten…  I ask what I need to see in a day and where to go for a drink.  He gives me his expert advice, and I head north.  I find my way to Café 100.  I sit at the bar and chat with my bartender; he’s Israeli and has a huge white lab-looking dog.  A German sits a few seats away.  They chat, and I hear tourist; that’s me.  His name is Roland, and he plays violin for the philharmonic, opera, street fairs, you-name-it.  He tours around the world, and I’m jealous.  I get the feeling that he struggles a bit though.  Still East German thinking?  Not sure; perhaps I should have interviewed him longer.

Simple people, meeting needs. 

Thurs, August 16

I wake and cross the river to the Old Town.  Finally, I see why these cobble stone streets and sidewalks always look so nice.  There’s a maintenance crew ahead of me.  One guy is sitting down, cutting and digging out the grass/weeds from between the stones with a hand tool.  Another is burning the remains with a torch.  Another still is sweeping up the remnants that the first two have made.  Now there’s a little valley between stones that will easily capture cigarette butts, seeds, and other random rubbish.  It takes some hours to see a different crew solving that problem.  One hoses the area down, while the other shovels, then sweeps heavy sand into the muddy troughs.  This goes on for some time until the sand settles even with the stones.  A side benefit is that the sandy sweeping really scrubs all the dingy dirt and tire tracks from the stone.  Wow!  It’s like brand new.  Even later, I discover that Dresden is hosting Germany’s biggest street fair starting tomorrow.  Of course, that was a Dresdener’s statement, so take it with a grain of salt.

My view of the Old Town from across the river is amazing.  I jump on the Hop-on-hop-off bus tour.  It takes me past all the major sights, which don’t seem like many, but I get some spectacular views of the city and the Elbe River.  It runs north west through the Harz Mountains and is supposedly the longest in Europe; I question the statement.  The river gloriously cut right through the mountains of sandstone, about 20 km up river.  This stone was easily shaped, floated down the river, and used for the city’s construction.

Bus tour complete, I begin the first of my three walking tours.  I get a guide all to myself, because I’m the only native English speaker.  OK, maybe I’m the only one that doesn’t understand German.  I get at least a 45 minute insight to the Procession of Princes, a 300 foot wide mural.  As if a mural isn’t enough, the whole thing was painted on individual 6” square tiles at another location and then set perfectly as a jigsaw puzzle on the wall.  Without an explanation, the procession itself simply looks like a bunch of guys on and off horseback with dates below.  I get that each is a Prince, and the years listed are ruling dates.  But my guide is awesome and gives me a few details to provide much more meaning.  For example, size matters; the bigger the guy, the more prominent the leader.  Just don’t mistake prominence for favor.  One leader is huge and on horseback and spent a lot of money on buildings and opulence.  He increased the town’s popularity and prestige, but his methods were barbaric to the townspeople.  There’s a thistle under his horse to symbolize the peoples’ distaste.

Next, I keep my guide to myself and get Church of Our Lady tour.  Here I learn that the black stones are indeed the original stones while the white are new.  However, as opposed to popular belief that the stones are black as a result of Dresden burning for days after the WWII bombing, my guide explains that the stones turn black as rain accelerates oxidation in about 50 years.  Suddenly some of the WWII nostalgia wears off, and I see the light.

My last tour is of the fortress-looking Swinger.  The most popular tour, I have to take on about 12 other English-speaking tourists.  We walk through the gardens to discover that the whole thing was really set up as just that, a walled garden.  Apparently, the King felt that building this monumental garden to entertain his guests would increase Dresden’s popularity and status to compete with France or Italy.  A waste of money?  Perhaps.  I might put a thistle under this him too, but he did put Dresden on the map and it’s seemingly known as “Florence of the Elbe.”  I also learn during this tour that the name Dresden has to do with marshland and that the entire area is a flood zone.  It was indeed severely flooded in 2002, kind of like how New Orleans looked after Katrina hit.  Yikes!

I grab a drink in the center of the New Town’s clubbing area.  I’m a bit clean cut for this crowd.  I have a Turkish sandwich and run before I feel uncomfortable from the company and their smoking.  Besides, I have an early checkout, so sleep is my friend.