In My Life (Hamburg, Germany, part 3)

Our last full day in Hamburg, dear reader, and the weather has promised to be ... as fickle as it has been every other day. Drizzle has been forecast. Again. What is it with drizzle? If you want to rain, then rain. Drizzle is like one eye crying, or a drippy nostril, or Melbourne. It's just not OK. Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, we set out for our last tour of Hamburg. Today the Reeperbahn and surrounding area of St Pauli.

First, to cleanse the soul, there will be culture and religion. Well, a church and a recital hall. Not in that order.

It reflects the surroundings. On a good day.

There were patches of blue as we left the apartment and our planned route had us walk past the Elphi. A photo opportunity that was hampered by the weather the last time we were there. We didn't go inside, I just wanted a couple of photos of the outside from an angle different to that of looking straight down our street. That achieved, we continued towards St  Michaelis.

The spire we later ascended.

In what I have come to expect in Hamburg, the spire was visible from a distance. Another church with a massive heaven-reaching spire. How many churches does one city need? We approached from the side and entered the door to the ubiquitous ticket office. I don't remember the cost of admission, nor do I care. It was totally worth it.

The lady who sold us our ticket enthused about the midday organ recital. Apparently there are five organs. Yep. If you've ever wondered how many organs one church needs, the answer is obviously five. St Michaelis has a huge spire too, not as big as St Nikolai so, to make up for inadequacy in that area, they have five organs. And one of them is HUGE.

The view back to Elphi.

But first, the spire. Unlike St Nikolai, the lift was accessed a couple of stories above ground. Stairs were involved. Also unlike St Nikolai, the viewing platform provided a more expansive view unhindered by barricades or grills. Although there was no sun, there was also no rain, so the view was better than yesterday.

Is that a patch of blue sky?

Then it was down into the dungeon. I mean crypt. A low ceiling and mood lighting contributed to the atmosphere. The constant reminder that you were walking on the tombs of dead people didn't hurt either. The crypt is now used as a regular place to conduct services since it is more intimate for a dwindling congregation than the cavernous space of the main church upstairs. It also houses the 5th "hidden organ" whereas the other four are on display on the mezzanine level upstairs.

The crypt. Keep down low.

Up into the church proper for the organ recital. There was a long introduction (in German) and perhaps some prayers. I stood with everyone else and sat when they did. The first few numbers (that sounds wrong) were played on one of the smaller organs to one side. Ok, the acoustics were good, but I still don't get organ music, except for Ray Manzarek's work with The Doors. And maybe Rick Wakeman.

Johann Bach's son's resting place.

Anyway, after another crafty prayer interlude, our organist swapped machines and sides of the church. The organ on the port side (that's the left facing the front) was larger but still nothing compared to the one that graced the back wall above the entrance. The first time his fingers touched the keys, however, it was apparent the keyboard he was manipulating was for the major organ above the entrance/exit door. The sound reverberated through the building and vibrated through the floor. After the usual churchy dirgey stuff, he let loose with some more upbeat Hollywood musical style number. People's toes were tapping in a very irreverent way. I liked it. Jayne was waiting for the Monty Python crew to soft shoe their way across the apse.

A bigger organ you won't see at the Reeperbahn.

After the recital was over, we were able to fully appreciate the church. The Lutherans split from the Catholic church for a lot of reasons; one was for a more simple form of worship. While I've seen that in evidence elsewhere, this place was next level and could have easily passed as a Catholic church. The soaring white interior, the gold rail around the altar, the pulpit ... for a specifically built protestant church, there didn't seem much to protest about.

The altar. Nothing over the top here.

The pulpit. Or chariot. I'm not sure.

After the soul cleansing, it was time to head off to the Reeperbahn, Hamburg's red light district which is apparently a mecca for hen's parties from across Europe. Having wandered through Amsterdam's equivalent quarter, we were rather underwhelmed by the journey along this supposedly iconic strip. Admittedly, it was rather early in the day for a neighbourhood that does not start to wake up till mid afternoon. Actually it looked pretty seedy and tired and is probably not somewhere we would like to find ourselves after dark.

Classy stuff. Not sure how you join that club.

I've never been a fan of Kings Cross at home, day or night, and the Reeperbahn in daylight is best avoided. There were more homeless men on the street than there were tourists and while we didn't walk the main sidestreet 'where anything goes but beastiality', I don't feel I missed out. The whole experience, like that of finally discovering Beatles Platz, was entirely underwhelming. Maybe it's an age thing. Perhaps I should have come here 45 years ago. Not that I could have afforded the plane fare, let alone the extras offered at the Reeperbahn. And I don't mean a set of steak knives.

Um ... yeah, no comment.

It took a while, but we found the Beatles Platz, unsurprisingly right next to the Beatles Platz Hotel. It was billed as a tribute to the Fab Four with statues positioned on a circular area that is paved to resemble a vinyl record. Words fail me momentarily so, dear reader,  I'll leave you to look at the picture to make your own judgement on whether it was worth the effort. We elected not to go down the side street to the club where it all happened - the Star Club in 1962. Just as well since it has been demolished and replaced by a Thai restaurant and a commemorative wall plaque... disappointing.

WTAF. Stu Sutcliffe out of picture.

After this anti-climax, (see what I did there?) we headed across the Reeperbahn and over to the Police Station, Davidwache, which houses, in an apparently distinctively ceramic tiled building that features frequently in European films and TV series, the constabulary who keep the Reeperbahn inhabitants and visitors under control when they eventually crawl out onto the street. 

Statues in the Fischmarkt area. At least they had fish.

We then walked down towards the waterfront and turned towards the FischMarkt in the hope that it would be operating in some capacity that might yield us a lovely seafood lunch. No such luck - the building was totally devoid of life (sea or land) so we turned and walked back towards our beacon, the Elphi that was shimmering in the distance. On the way, we passed the pier and the entrance to the Elbe Tunnel, a walkway that goes under the water from the mainland to one of the islands, (not ours).

Further along on the pier, we passed a pub and a beer beckoned. After being chided for walking to the bar to order, "What are you doing? We come to the table," we settled in for a schnitzel lunch which happily coincided with the next downpour. A seriously heavy one that saw many passersby join us, although we were dry and they were not. Once the rain had passed, we headed home to plan our transit day. Not the day of sightseeing that we had envisaged.

The guiding light for the walk home.

Ok, title explanation. It had to be a Beatles song given we are in Hamburg and we visited Beatles Platz, as sad as it was. Stu Sutcliffe, the original bass player, was with them in Hamburg and left the band there to pursue art school. In My Life is song of remembrance and an acceptance of change. A lot has changed since The Beatles performed here.

Tomorrow we transit to Berlin. A short train journey in comparison with other trips. Two and half hours doesn't really rate.

Until next time.