Leaving Prague the same way I came, my
return bus trip to Nuremburg was nice. The bus was twice as large (two levels)
and very nearly empty. I slept as much as I could, still being tired from
visiting with Theo and Thomas until early in the morning. My final destination
for the day would be Cologne, in northwest Germany, a city which I had not
heard much about but seemed interesting and was within the limits of my rail
pass.
Backtracking just a bit, before I left
for this trip I had been told by WorkART fellows from previous years that
hostels and couch-surfing were the best options if you wanted to travel Europe
on a budget. Although I did not know anyone in Cologne, I decided to try my
luck with CouchSurfing.org, a commonly used website for young travellers who
are comfortable with a little discomfort. I made my profile while in Berlin and
contacted a few people; received a few “sorry, no”s and only one yes. A young
guy named Adrian accepted my request and we started correspondence to arrange
my stay of two nights. Everything seemed to just fall into place, with the
exception of one slight hitch that could have been a complete meltdown.
I did not have a reservation for the
train from Nuremburg to Cologne, which didn’t concern me much until I realized
I was on the wrong one, heading somewhere else. Luckily, my intuition kicked in
at just the right moment and I was able to avert disaster by getting off at
Wurzburg and waiting for another train bound for Cologne. I was supposed to
meet Adrian at 4:30, and because I had planned ahead to arrive early this hitch
would not make me late. I arrived in Cologne at 4:20 and made my way on foot to
our designated meeting point and Cologne’s most famous attraction, the Cologne
Dom. I would save my exploration of it until the next day.
As it was, Adrian was a little late as
well. It wasn’t until 5:30 that we finally met. From there, my experience in
Cologne was absolutely enchanting. Adrian and I hit it off immediately. Within
minutes of meeting we each had a Kölsch in hand and were on our way to his place via the local train
system.
When I first contacted Adrian his profile online said the he lived near the city center, but during our emails he mentioned that he had since moved and now lives in a wagon community surrounding a small garden. All the variables of this particular situation had me both slightly concerned and very interested. When we arrived I was not only pleasantly surprised, I was delighted. The small plot of land housed 6 wagons, a hand-built outhouse, and an outside kitchenette. Planters were strewn everywhere with peculiar decorations and art mixed throughout. Their lifestyle is so warm and inviting, and coupled with the damp, overcast weather, I knew right then that I had come to a place as close to the Eugene lifestyle as anywhere I could find during my time in Europe. The only way I could see it was that my luck just keeps getting better and better, and my trip is getting more and more unique.
I was given a wagon of my own to stay in; very basic but certainly comfortable and spacious enough for one or even two people. Also living in one of the wagons was Astrid, a sweet Romanian photographer and actress. Their hospitality was incredibly inviting and I knew I would not want to leave as soon as I knew I had to.
The next day I went into Cologne and
visited the sites that were recommended to me by Astrid and Adrian. I had
coffee and lunch at Café Duddel near the university, a quaint little diner with
couches, good food, nice servers, and wifi. Afterwards I returned to the
Cologne Dom. I’ve seen plenty of cathedrals throughout all the art history
courses I’ve taken, and most are very similar. One thing struck me here though,
and that was a large window on the south side of the building that just didn’t
fit the mold. I had my assumptions about it and then decided to ask one of the
priests who worked there why it was so different.
“This window was the only damage caused
to the cathedral during the war”, he said. “After 1945 the replacement window
was clear glass, until the artist Gerhard Richter was asked to make a new one
in 2002, finished in 2008.” I was impressed not necessarily with the work, but
with the willingness of the church to accept a modern design and not
immediately recreate the original design, which would have been my assumption
for such a tourist attraction. I’ve since learned that the cardinal for the Cologne Cathedral was displeased with Richter’s window, saying that it fit better in a mosque
or other prayer house. I, on the other hand, approve. It certainly does not distract from the beauty or history of the impressive architecture.
When Adrian and I got to know each
other a little better we talked a bit about my interest in history, the
military, and to learn the realities of Europe and not just it’s tourist
attractions. He suggested I visit a place called the EL-DE Haus near the
Cologne Dom. It is a museum, conserving the former Cologne Gestapo prison,
interrogation, and execution center. Every day that I’ve travelled here I’ve
made myself open to accepting the best and the worst of reality and history.
This place was moving; haunting actually. To walk the halls alone and read the
stories was intense – I ran my hand along the stuccoed brick, imagining the
experiences contained there, the writing of the inmates, still legible,
resonating deeply. The basement floors, especially the courtyard where over 400
prisoners were executed, brought a silent tear to my eye. I walked the short
hallway slowly, their final walk, and pressed the pain into my gut with every
step.
I returned to the circle of wagons and
helped Astrid prepare for the evening. Adrian had invited a number of friends
over for an evening of drinks and tacos by the campfire and I was the guest of
honor. Mexican by heritage, Adrian’s goal is to open Germany’s first authentic
taco stand. Recently he purchased an entire setup for this venture for only
3000 euros, and this night was it’s maiden voyage. He cooked seitan with
onions, black beans, soy sauce, fresh coriander, and a spicy chili sauce. I
continued to meet wonderful people as we were introduced and carried on
conversations about art, building houses, cooking, journalism, and more. His
circle of friends seemed straight out of Eugene, endearing them to me
quickly.
The night kept on as such, eventually
relaxing around the fire while Adrian played ukulele and Astrid played the
drums. They sang an improvised song, thanking me for coming and staying with
them… as long as I liked his tacos. I didn’t want the night to end, so as I
watched the clock wind into the morning I kept finding reasons to stay up. When
the last guest left around 1 AM I decided to head to bed, only to be coaxed
into one more beer with Adrian. We talked about couch surfing, the philosophy
of being kind and paying-it-forward, the difficulties and intricacies of
minimalist art and the right questions to ask when interpreting such works.
Before I knew it my alarm rang, set to wake me up and pack for my next
trip. Somberly I returned to my trailer
and gathered my belongings. Adrian and I shared a few long hugs and promises to
meet again. I told him it was now my goal to have him visit Oregon, to show him
around, give him some great pacific northwest beer, and share conversations
with my friends and family. Kindred souls, to be sure.
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