Good King Wenceslas (Prague, Czechia, part 2)

We had rain overnight, not that we heard it, dear reader, but I was up early to hit the sights before the tour groups arrived and the school groups had crawled out of bed. Seriously. So many school groups. Are there any students actually in school in Europe? 

The square was quiet.

I wandered through the old town following, well, my instincts. The central square was easy (now) -  it's so close to where we are staying. Not content with that, I charted my own course on foreign streets. Yeah, I had no idea where I was going. My sense of direction is usually pretty good, (except in London, no idea why). I trusted my judgement and ended up outside of the old town.

Never worked out what this one was about.

The car traffic increased as did that of the trams. The number of people also climbed radically as I moved towards the main part of Prague. Probably time to turn for home. My marker is clear from just about everywhere, unless you are stuck in a narrow backstreet of towering buildings. The spires of the Týn Church, a fairy tale castle like rooftop. That's home and off I went.

How could you get lost?

By the time I reached the apartment, I was a little cold. It was still cloudy and the drizzle, Hamburg style, never really stopped. Time for a cuppa and to plan the day in more detail. We decided to stay local because the weather was going to be OK, but still a little cold. As a result, this post will be more pictures than words. No, I don't believe me either, but that is the concept.

Why would you build in front of a church?

Breakfast today was at Pauls, a French bakery chain. They were not as good as I remember, but everything was acceptable. Then it was back Billa for some grocery shopping and afterwards home to really begin the day.

On the edge of the old town, near where we had breakfast, is Powdergate, so named since it housed the gunpowder needed to fight off an attack. It stands as one of the few remaining original gates into Prague, commencing the King's way through the old town, across the river and up to the palace. The wall has long gone and Powdergate could do with a steam clean. And the 'straight road' resembles a dog's hind leg. A badly broken one.

Showing its age.

Just around the corner is the Municipal House. It is beautiful, outside and in, despite the advertising banners that adorn the exterior of the building. The inside is all marble and stained glass and harks back to a bygone era.

It'd look better without cars in front.

The café in the Municipal house.

Next stop was Wenceslas Square. It is another world heritage listed 'must do' in Prague and is surrounded by history and historic buildings. The Grand Hotel Europa, known for its colourful façade is still undergoing renovations. No access. At the top of the piazza, well, it's not really square, is the Prague Museum, in front of which is a statue of King Wenceslaus I, also known as St Wenceslas, the patron saint of Bohemia.

The hotel.

The Wenceslas dude surveying his square.

Leaving the good king Wenceslas, we charted a course for the State Theatre. Good King Wenceslas is today's title and I wish to distance myself from it as far as possible. It has been recorded by so very many people but to punish those do want to listen I have selected an extra special version. It can be found here.

Before we made our destination, we espied a Pandora store. Direction change. In we go. To be ignored by all staff. And three of them weren't serving customers. I'm sure they were involved in important work ... unlike serving customers to make a sale and keep the business afloat. Jayne did not buy a Pandora form Czechia. She was unimpressed by the staff and the jewellery on offer.

The Estate Theatre is an interesting building but we were unable to go inside. Outside shots will have to suffice. One of its claims to fame is that it hosted the world premier of Mozart's Don Giovanni in 1787. It is, in fact the only theatre left standing where Mozart actually performed.

A side shot of the Estate Theatre.

The St Agnes precinct was next on the agenda. It is a convent founded by Wenceslaus' sister Agnes, who renounced all her wealth and titles to establish a Poor Clare order in Prague with riverside land donated by her brother. (I renounce my wealth, but you can just buy this for me, and ... ) Over the centuries, the site has been subject to the political machinations of various occupiers but it is now heritage listed and Agnes, who has been treated like a saint since the 13th century, was finally canonised by JPII in 1989. I'm not sure who paid for that. The grounds were interesting. Aside from a children's play area, there were sculptures strategically placed at every turn. We have little concept of the purpose, but they certainly created a talking point.

Go and play over there kids.

After we wandered through this tranquil area, we stepped out onto a bustling four lane street to commence a riverside walk back towards the old town and the famous Charles Bridge, the King's way across the river to the palace on the hill. We did not dwell on this iconic bridge as it would be the focus of our next day's excursion to the palace.

Um, yeah, sooo it's a sculpture.

Instead we turned back towards home and our final tourist destination for the day, the Klementinum precinct. A bit of an anti-climax as much of it is no longer open to the public. It apparently houses a fabulous Baroque library and has a long Jesuit history (but who'd boast about that: Abbott, Joyce, Fisher?) but we could not access it so it was a simple wander through some old baroque buildings to get to the other side towards the old town and home.

Bad light for photography.

And with that, it was time to return to the tranquility of our apartment and rest for a while before dinner.

As always, decisions needed to be made about dinner. We checked the notes left by our hosts. We looked at web reviews. We pondered what cuisine to have. We reflected on restaurants we had passed on our walks. We finally made a choice. The restaurant that was closest to home.

Cute. Alforno was the restaurant.

It was, yes, you guessed it, Italian. The octopus and risotto were superb. In fact, it was the best octopus I've had outside of Greece.

Time to rest our feet.

Until next time.

Last Train Home (Hamburg to Berlin, Germany)

A spoiler alert before you commence reading, my loyal reader, and a disclosure. The photos are all from Hamburg and are purely aesthetic to break up the text. The title today relates to our train dramas in Berlin. Transits are never as easy as they are planned to be.  The Last Train Home by Blink 182, one of their more recent numbers.

Leaving Hamburg went smoothly. As such. We traversed a different route to the station now that we had some local knowledge. It was marginally longer, not noticeably, but easier with the bags on the cobblestones. Hamburg couldn't help itself, however. Despite the dry weather forecast, it just had to drizzle on us one more time, as we trundled towards the station.

There are of course, multiple entrances to a station of this size. After crossing and re-crossing the road, we found the entrance we had used four days earlier. You may recall that initially, the escalator to escape the station was not working and we had to lug our bags up the stairs. Today the down escalator was frozen. I swear it is a conspiracy. We had to drag the bags down the stairs. I am not feeling the love for DB trains.

The old buildings really add character.

Despite this inconvenience, we arrived at platform 8 in plenty of time. I purchased some water, definitely still this time because I asked the shop assistant. Then we used the functioning escalator to get down to the very long platform. The discussion at this point had been about where to stand to board the train (first class, no more screaming children). Eventually this was made clear on the digital noticeboard. We were in the right spot on a very crowded platform.

The train arrived and, despite us being repeatedly pushed in the back by a German lady who obviously felt her reserved seat was going to be stolen if she didn't get to it immediately, I managed to stow the big bag. Not at ground level because that space had been usurped by bags that could have been placed in the overhead rack. I hoisted the suitcase onto the middle shelf, placed our smaller bags overhead and fell into my seat. We then watched our impatient fellow passenger, come all the way back down the carriage, past our seats, to occupy the seats directly behind us. Thankfully today's journey was a mere two and a half hours. It would be over before we knew it.

Even the derelict buildings get a little colour.

As has become the custom, the train was late, but not enough to inconvenience anyone. We disembarked at Berlin central and set about looking for the S Bahn line that would get us to Hackescher Markt, two stops away. At a 40 minute walk, for the first time, it was just a bit too far to attempt through unfamiliar terrain with the bags.

Despite being disgorged in the largest train station we have ever seen - multiple levels with escalators, more stores and restaurants than a typical shopping centre, and scant signage, we managed to locate the platform. Simple. What about tickets? Good question, dear reader. One not easily answered at that point. Jayne suggested they might have the ticket machines on the platforms. Correct. Up we go to the platform that will allow us the longest time period to work out the ticketing machines and still board a train.

Bird boxes are everywhere. 

Excellent theory. Despite Youtube asserting differently, there was no other language offered on the ticket machines. I tried Google translator on my phone with limited success. Jayne decided to ask the young couple that purchased tickets after I had given up. Fortunately they were Irish and while they didn't read German, they knew which buttons to push. Moments later, and €7 poorer, we had our tickets and enough time to get on the next train. Mind you, after all that, we didn't get our tickets validated. No one checked, so at least we didn't fare evade which could potentially have been the case, if not for the Irish couple's assistance.

We alighted at Hackescher Markt and immediately chose the wrong exit. Misdirection rectified, we arrived at our hotel at 1pm, 2 hours before check in. In a stroke of good fortune, our room was unexpectedly ready. Cheers Adina Apartments.

Hamburg Rathaus from the Alster Arcade.

After we settled in, we searched online for the nearest supermarket. The options were weighed and we walked the three minutes to Rewe which was literally in the other side of the same building. Unfamiliar supermarkets are always a challenge. Add to that a foreign language and all you can manage is to keep getting in the way of shoppers who are clearly in a hurry and know their way around.

After our usual deliberation over the procurement of staples such as butter, cheese and ham, we decided to give the limited wine selection a miss in the hope of finding a better range at a specialty liquor store. We did, however, search for a sealed container to store any unused food on our next transit day. We espied a display of, would you believe it, Tupperware just near the only open checkout that was being personned by a rather formidable looking lady. 

Inside the 'no go' zone in the Rathaus.

She was from the 'non-service' regime of which I have spoken previously and appeared to like her job as much as she would a cold water enema. Judging by her face, she could have been having the enema as she attended to us. She waved the Tupperware container at Jayne and sneered something in German. After we made it clear we didn't understand, the words dropped more loudly from her mouth like stones, once again in German. Surely the extra volume would ensure we can understand a foreign language. Thankfully the lady behind us translated the aggressive words of the shop 'assistant'. The Tupperware was a special deal with points accrued at the store, blah blah and would cost way too much without said points.

Jayne bid her an overly cheery danke schön as we made a hasty retreat from the store. We returned home with our goods and consulted Google once more. The short story is, we wandered lonely as a cloud, no, no, that's the daffodil poem. We found the liquor store. Very top end and expensive and continued our search until we stumbled on another, much bigger supermarket, that sold wine and bread. 

Window shopping on the Reeperbahn.

On the way out of the Adina, we had approached reception to inquire about a plug for the kitchen sink so we could wash up and not waste water. We were also missing a wine glass so we asked if housekeeping could supply both.

Back at the hotel,  we opened our door to find the hotel handyman with our dishwasher in pieces all over the floor. Clearly something had been lost in translation and we tried to explain that the dishwasher was fine, as far as we knew. What we were after was a sink plug. He then started to investigate the tap workings so Google came to the rescue once again and we learnt the German word for plug, "stecker." He indicated he would try to obtain one through housekeeping, put our dishwasher back together and cheerily departed the scene. Eventually the plug and three wine glasses arrived.

Davidwache (police) on the Reeperbahn.

The next discussion was dinner. Not that either of us was hungry, but after a long transit day, it's always good to finish with a meal. Finally we settled on the Japanese restaurant next door. An easy choice for two reasons. One, Jayne was indulging my love of sushi. Two, it was raining intermittently and we didn't want to chance the weather.

Another day navigated safely, it was back to the hotel to check out German TV. There wasn't much of interest until we discovered Eurosport and the World Curling Championship. I'll let that sit with you.

Until next time.

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.

On a Clear Day (Hamburg, Germany, part 2)

The dry day promised, dear reader, did not eventuate. The new forecast was for rain. All day. Not heavy, but enough to be annoying. Had we been at home we would not have ventured out. We are not at home and who knows if we'll pass this way again. It was a case of dress for the conditions. My waterproof snow jacket has been vacuumed sealed and packed since we left Norway but I did not succumb to resurrecting it, even though it is Easter. It is wet but not really cold, so a cap and and umbrella would suffice for me. Jayne has been living in her snow jacket. No change required.

Flowers were doing their bit in the rain.

It is Easter Monday and Jayne noticed a change in the time difference between Europe and Australia. We didn't understand what had happened, nor could we explain it. Perhaps daylight saving had ended back home. A quick check with someone on WhatsApp proved otherwise. The next message was a screenshot of daylight saving in Copenhagen where we had just been, but it applied to most of Western Europe. Daylight saving had commenced here! We didn't know, although I did feel a bit more tired on Sunday morning. Fortunately we had nothing booked but, with computerised phones and watches, they all switched over automatically and secretly stolen one hour of my sleep.

Kunsthalle. Another view destroyed.

Suitably embarrassed, we dressed appropriately for the weather and set out on our self-guided tour of Álstadt (old town). First stop today was the Kunsthalle Art Gallery. We sheltered under a portico of a building on the opposite side of the road. It was closed, it's Monday, but there seemed to be a lot of people walking around the building and the lights were on. Despite this we stayed where we were, neither of us felt like a gallery viewing  but the exterior of the original portion of the building was worth seeing.

There were six lanes of main road separating us from the Kunsthalle and the incessant rain and wet surface did little to slow down the traffic. They drive fast over here. Unnecessarily so.

Nothing but ducks.

A little further along was Alster Lake. We continued our walk down one side and along the other. There was no sight of people with sailing boats today. Even the canal cruises were few and far between. It was great weather for ducks and they seemed to be enjoying it. The dreary day was brightened by a host of golden daffodils, planted the entire length of one bank. 

Wordsworth would approve.

Three sides of the lake were surrounded by high-end boutiques, designer brand stores and hotels. The other was a divider between the small and large lake. It was where the train services and vehicle traffic crossed the water. As the rain lightened a little, we encountered more people but it was deathly quiet for a major tourist area.

Alster Arcade. Hamburg, not Venice.

Not far from the lake is the Alster Arcade. It is a series of shops, mostly cafés, with a walkway that fronts onto one of the canals. The walkway itself is covered and a series of white arches frame the view of the canal and the Rathaus (townhall) with its markt. The tourist books and websites talk it up but it could do with a coat of paint. It looks a little jaded and faded.

Hammonia, the city's patron goddess sits over the entrance.

Past the shops where we can't afford to buy anything and not just because of the exchange rate, we ended up in the Rathaus Markt square. The rain had eased again and we decided to head inside the Rathaus. The foyer area is interesting in itself and we would have joined a tour but there were none in English. We contented ourselves with what was available. 

You can tell he's important by the pose.

The 16 columns in the foyer have the faces of important Hamburg residents carved into them. I didn't check every pillar but I'm a betting man and I bet there was not one woman among them. Above the windows to the courtyard were depictions of Roman gods in stained glass. In the courtyard itself was a large fountain adorned by statues, but we weren't permitted into that area.

All rather grand.

The Rathaus is still in use and there were certain areas locked off by black iron gates. All rather striking against the red carpets, marble and gold decorations.

The Roman god Mars, a scorpio of course.

We were around half way through our Alstradt tour. It was time for coffee somewhere near our next stop, but indoors and not crowded. St Peter's church was close by and we had passed the other side of it on our way to the Kunsthalle. Fortunately there was a coffee shop on the way. It was time for a break. Jayne's coat was getting heavy with water from the persistent rain.

A water fountain in the Rathaus foyer.

The coffee was good and it was nice to sit down. The guy running the place was absolutely lovely. Sometime in an earlier blog I talked about service or the lack of genuine service. This was the opposite. He was friendly and offered for us to move to a window seat which we attempted and gave up because of our wet clothes. Unconcerned, he was happy for us to make a mess of his café. This is probably the most attentive café/shop worker we've come across on this trip. It doesn't take much. Most of the time I feel as if I'm inconveniencing the shop assistants.

Impressive. They know how to build big.

It was a few minutes to St Peter's. Another impressive spire. Hamburg has thing about spires poking up through the clouds. I wonder what Freud would make of that. We went inside the church after photographing the brass door knockers made in 1342. Inside was pretty well what you would expect, rows of pews and spectacular stained glass windows behind the altar. There were some paintings of significance on the walls, but they were typically the dark hues of their genre and were difficult to shoot in the dark interior. The most interesting feature was a homeless man sheltering from the cold and rain.

The simple altar contrasts with the windows.

You keep knocking but ...

Next stop on our itinerary was Chilehaus. It is so named because it was originally a warehouse for spices and chili. It is a landmark building because of its shape. It comes to a point, much like the Flatiron building in New York, and resembles the prow of a ship. The balconies replete with balustrades, resemble the decks on a cruise liner. I'm sure it looks more impressive on a sunny day.

Come on, you can see it.

Around the corner was the Chocoversum. I'm not sure that translates into English, but it's like a chocolate factory that does tours explaining the process, blah blah blah. At some point you get to create your own chocolate bar. Really? What is the point? Perfection was reached when the Cherry Ripe was created and heaven attained when Cadbury bought MacRobertsons so the Flake and Cherry Ripe lived under one roof. So, at €21 per person, to spend the day with a bunch of uncontrolled ankle biters, the answer was no. €42 buys a lot of anything, let alone chocolate.

They did have chocolate Harry Potter wands on sale. I may have purchased one for my favourite child who will be identified because they respond to this part of the post. Imagine crunching that straight from the fridge? Accio!

Only €10 or $16.40 AUD. Bargain.

Moving on, we went in search of St Nikolai, a remnant church. That's probably an overstatement. It is a steeple and some crumbling walls, although the crypt also survives. This all that remains of the landmark that was once used for navigation purposes during World War II. It stood out amid all of surrounding Hamburg and guided the allied bombers to their target. 

The spire of St Nikolai which can be accessed by elevator is 147m tall. Thankfully the lift only goes about half way. I'm sure the view would be spectacular on a clear day, but, yeah, you know. Hence the title today, On a Clear Day. There were many options for this song but I chose one of the best to share with you. Click on the link and enjoy.

The spire of St Nikolai still stands.

Up to the viewing platform, pictures taken, it's time to go back down. Then Jayne noticed this guy who was looking extremely uncomfortable. His partner was enjoying the view and his unease and filmed him. He never moved far from the elevator and constantly pushed the button trying to summon his chariot of rescue. We joined in his journey to the ground and safety. During our descent, Jayne asked him if he was ok, given the lack of empathy his partner was exhibiting. "No, I am not. I am terrified of heights," which made his partner laugh even more.

Back on the ground the conversation continued during which we found out that they are Albanians who have moved to Hamburg to work in the medical system. Our acrophobic new friend spoke longingly about Albania, saying that he did not feel comfortable in Germany because he finds the people too cold. He was certainly keen to talk to us after we made the initial inquiry. Anyway, we were swapping travel tales about how great we had found Sweden and Scandinavia in general, when another passerby injected herself into the conversation to tell us she is Swedish and had come to Germany to enjoy the spring weather! Gross misjudgement, in our view, given the persistence of the precipitation since we have arrived. 

The Rathaus from the viewing platform of St Nikolai.

Anyway pleasantries exchanged, suggestions were made by us to try out our warmer, drier climate, to which they all agreed, "It would be lovely but it is too far to go and don't you have poisonous spiders and snakes everywhere?" Except the Albanian, "I don't fly. I even drive home to Albania". After this, we all went separate ways as we descended into the crypt, to view an exhibition on the WWII events that led to the destruction of St Nikolai and in fact, most of Hamburg. 

The crypt is an exhibition of wartime photographs, eye witness accounts and a graphic video presentation that documents Operation Gomorrah, the Allied forces bombing of Hamburg in 1943 in which 60% of the city was destroyed and over 200,000 people were killed or wounded during the firestorm. The attack was partly in response to the German attack on Coventry. 

The exhibition was extremely poignant and the scale of destruction depicted was mind boggling. We both commented on how similar we found the understated tone of the presentation was, to what we experienced in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial. This was in stark contrast to the Ground Zero exhibition in New York. 

After that sobering exhibition we returned to ground level and the drizzle and plotted a course for home.

Thank you for staying with me until the end, dear reader. It was a big day. We covered over 10 km on foot in the rain and weren't uncomfortable. Good clothing choices.

Until next time.