I spent two days in Nurnberg, Germany –the historic city of commerce and art (Albrecht Durer worked here) but also the Nazi rallies and post-war trials. Now it’s a fine city again, civilised and interesting, if very much a modern place built upon a medieval plan.
But I came here on a quest borne of stubbornness, which was to attend a concert with Joan Baez. For complex reasons I missed her UK tour. So a day’s journey in each direction by train was called for, and this in itself was a pleasure: just like the old days when I travelled far and frequently. I crossed southern England, traversed the Channel Tunnel, sped across France and Belgium to Brussels, then took a splendid German train on. Trains in Germany are done well, with comfortable carriages running most often on time. There is plenty of information to help the traveller, wide windows to look out from, and a general sense of order that tends to be missing in Britain. Then it was just a two minute walk from the station. My hotel lay in a backstreet just behind the station, and proved quieter than I expected. (But, to a railway engineer, a bit of train noise is comforting.) I slept well, if not for long enough.
In the day before the concert I wondered what to do. Well the German State Railway museum beckoned, and contained a wealth of interesting exhibits. The carriage of ‘Mad’ King Ludwig of Bavaria was especially opulent and fine, just the thing for a journey to Neuschwanstein. Then off to the German National Museum.
I had not anticipated the Albrecht Durer exhibition, the largest such held in my adult lifetime, and here in the artist’s home town. I waited an hour in line to enter the exhibition, then took two hours to get around, looking in detail at some absolutely remarkable works. Imagine being able to look at paintings that revolutionised art, priceless works over five hundred years old,displayed without even glass in front of them. I could study them in detail from inches away, seeing each brush stroke and effect generated by the artist.To see such works was impressive, moving and quite overwhelming. It was a once-in-a-lifetime activity. (Lytha – you need to take a trip to Nurnberg.)
The concert took place in a park, a risky venture the weather being as it is. Fortunately, after a day of rain showers, the sky cleared to a clear blue. Surprisingly, this was the first popular music concert that I have attended. (Have I mentioned the negative effects of being brought up in a cultureless and reactionary household?) Joan Baez captivated three thousand people on a cool evening that became dark and starry. The German audience was steady and predictable until the first encore was over, and then a mass crowded forwards to the edge of the stage, me amongst them. At that point the concert took on an especially intimate feel, as if Joan was playing to a few dozen of us in a bar. (If only!) There were several encores, including Imagine and (sung in German) Where have all the flowers gone? It was wonderful. I do hope that she visits England again soon! For me this was a step into living life fully and vigorously, to embracing and accepting,growing and fulfilling my destiny. Yes, a step, and one leads to another, then many more.
Next morning I woke as late as I dared whilst not wanting to miss breakfast. Then off by tram (streetcar) to visit the recently-opened Documentation Centre of the Nazi Party Rallying Grounds. This no-punches-pulled exhibition, set in the part-built shell of the largest remaining Nazi construction project – the Nurnberg Congress Hall – documents the Nazi era from beginning to end. Here one can see rare and shocking artefacts (anti-Jewish primary school reading primers, board games where players won by “evicting the most Jews”) presented in context. There was a mass of information about the Nurnberg Rallies, including memoranda in which the civic authorities (themselves Nazi supporters) complained about attendees’ conduct (such as party officials visiting brothels and storm troopers urinating in the subway). And those rallies were apart of a chain of events that led to Nurnberg being devastated by aerial bombardment (it’s likely that one of my family took part in the bomber raids) before the war was over. Hence the paucity of original buildings, though a number have been reconstructed. (But so much is lost. Back in Transylvania, where I lived for eight years, there is Sibiu - a city said to represent “what Nurnberg used to look like”. However Sibiu was not especially well maintained - let's hope that it will be in the future.)
Afterwards I visited the house of Albrecht Durer, now reconstructed to approximately its original appearance. The house is a fine timber-framed building, in which one can see Durer’s studio, kitchen, bedroom and other spaces. I was amazed to think how he created staggering works in a light-filled studio that is there to this day, making things that impress people over half a millennium later. And then, walking through the bedroom, I was reminded how he was human too. Last of all, it was a short if steep up to the Imperial Castle, summer home of the Holy Roman Emperor. I was glad to finish my historic walk in the footsteps of Albrecht Durer and Frederick Barbarossa rather than such modern louts as Hitler, Streicher, Roehm and the other scum of their era. At last, Nurnberg is a peaceful city. In the evening I repaired to a quiet pavement bar on a cobbled alley below a medieval gatehouse tower where I enjoyed a nice dinner with a couple of glasses of good dark beer. What a pleasant way to end a few days away. Hopefully next time my wife D will join me.
There was some time to write as well, not least during sixteen hours on various trains. I had a good think about how to develop the current work in progress, and assembled an improved structure to develop. Though rewriting just seems to be a time-consuming exercise in giving self-serving agents yet more material to dislike whilst offering no help at all. Well, luckily, for the most part I write for my own pleasure.