Frankfurt: Final Post

This month -- and my travels -- are drawing to a close. I have arrived in Frankfurt am Main and am flying back to New York tomorrow. You could be forgiven for thinking for a second that the picture above is of New York City; it makes it pretty apparent why wags call Frankfurt "Mainhattan".

I am staying at the Hotel Frankfurter Hof. Of its many amenities, the most important one for me is the elevator: yesterday's rustic lodgings in Würzburg came with four flights of steep stairs to contend with, not a good thing when you're loaded down with anvil luggage (luckily, the proprietress let me stow the heaviest suitcase in a closet under the stairs). By the way, the picture above makes the hotel look more alluring than it really is -- it fronts right onto a very busy, almost honky-tonk intersection, you have to enter through a small side entrance, and it's surrounded on all sides by some rather ugly buildings.

I had forgotten how less-than-attractive much of Frankfurt is. The area around the train station is, if anything, even *seedier* than I remembered, and many of the streets, even in the center, are devoid of charm. I therefore made a bee-line for Sachsenhausen, a much more gemütlich (cozy) area on the south bank of the Main River. There I visited the Städelmuseum, with its huge collection including works by Rembrandt, Vermeer, Monet, Van Gogh, Cézanne, Matisse and Picasso, and also the  intriguing Deutsches Filmmuseum, with its extensive collection of historical filmmaking equipment and display/projection devices, a number of which you can turn on and "watch".

Still fighting a cold, I was in the mood for something that would be a bit of a tonic for dinner. I walked past the many Ebbelwoi (apple wine) taverns that Sachsenhausen is known for, and stopped in front of a small, stand-up Thai place on a corner. It was crowded and smelled wonderful; the "kitchen" was a stove right behind the counter where the cook was making each dish to order and serving it up hot from the wok. I had a red chicken curry, deliciously fresh and aromatic, that did wonders for my stuffy head, before heading back to the hotel for my last night here.

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And so this journal comes to an end. Looking back, what surprises me the most is how much I prefer the eastern parts of Germany to the more familiar ones in the west. If I had to rank the major cities I visited, I would put Dresden, Leipzig and Erfurt at the top, Nuremberg and Würzburg in the middle, and Frankfurt, well... This may have a lot to do with the hastier rebuilding of the western cities, and the fact that many of the eastern cities remained essentially frozen in time during the DDR years. Even now, Dresden's painstakingly rebuilt monuments look better than some of the replicas in western cities, and its shiny, state-of-the-art streetcars put Nuremberg's and Frankfurt's dirty, crowded subways to shame. There is also a more relaxed pace of life in the eastern Länder that I find more appealing.

I have enjoyed sharing my travels via this website. This month has been a fascinating and enlightening experience for me. For now, though ... back to New York!

Nuremberg to Würzburg

Before leaving Nuremberg this afternoon for the short (50 minute) journey to Würzburg, there were a few more things I wanted to see.

First was the Germanische Nationalmuseum, the country's largest museum of cultural history. The bad news appeared to be that the collection I most wanted to see -- the medieval and baroque works -- was closed for renovations. The good news: they plucked out the most important pieces and arranged them in a temporary exhibition. My favorite paintings were Cranach's Venus with Cupid as a Honey Thief and Law and Grace, and Albrecht Dürer's Portrait of the Painter Michael Wolgemut (pictured above) and Lamentation of Christ. But to be fair, there were many magnificent works on display. I was particularly struck by the bold use of certain colors (especially greens and reds) in Dürer's paintings.

There was one more museum I wanted to visit: The Bahn (Railroad) Museum. Although the pre-1945 historical sections are being redone and are closed until 2005, I enjoyed what I did see: examples of ornate old ticket machines, replicas of luxurious old waiting rooms and train compartments assembled from original pieces, an intriguing section of the use of railroads for (what else) political purposes by the DDR, some incredible model railroad sets and an amusing exhibit featuring cheesy advertisements from the 1970s encouraging young people to "Go easy ... Go Bahn."

The weather had improved a lot from yesterday, so I walked around the Altstadt one more time to savor it against the backdrop of a warm blue sky. Then it was off to Würzburg, from where I am writing this.

I was in Würzburg four years ago, and continue to find the area's wine orientation appealing. Look down most side streets here and you will see vineyards on the green hills rising in the distance. The city center was almost completely destroyed in 1945, and although it was not as comprehensively rebuilt as Nuremberg, I still find this place cozy and attractive. And luckily, one of its most important gems survived and is now a UNESCO world heritage site: the beautiful 17th century baroque Residenz palace (pictured).

I am writing this from an Internet cafe on the Juliuspromenade, directly across the street from the entrance to the massive Juliusspital, part of a seemingly odd tradition here. Founded in 1576 as a hospital by Würzburg Prince-Bishop Julius Echter von Mespelbrunn, it (along with another famous example, the Bürgerspital) was, and continues to be, a charitable hospital/nursing home that earns money to provide services from its vineyards and wine-making. The Juliusspital alone has 160 hectares of vineyards here in Franconia.

This evening I had dinner in the restaurant of my very atmospheric hotel, the Zur Stadt Mainz. The highly rustic dining room is lit with dozens of candles, many flickering through the windows of little painted china houses on all the tables, and I sat under the stuffed, mounted head of a "Wapiti" (which I later found out is a North American Elk). At the next table were two jolly Russian ladies with whom I chatted briefly.

I started with Franconian "wine-soup", which was strangely delicious. It seemed to be a soup-like zabaglione, with a little broth, no sugar and local half-dry white wine standing in for the Marsala. It was hot, frothy and wonderful, and it came with tiny brown-bread croutons and a very small sprinkling of cinnamon (!). For my main dish I had Wildragout, which I think had wild boar in it, along with whole wild mushrooms and a ruddy, expertly-seasoned sauce. It came with homemade spätzle and blaukraut; the former are little strandlike noodles made by pushing a flour-nutmeg-egg-and-milk dough through a colander into simmering water, and the latter (literally "blue cabbage") is aromatic braised red cabbage. I also had some excellent white, half-dry "Bacchus" wine, which is made from crossing a Silvaner/Riesling hybrid grape with Müller-Thurgaus -- and the result is fruity with a muscat bouquet. All of this was excellent; I continue to be amazed by the skill and quality of the cooking here.

I am coming down with a cold and hope to sleep it off tonight. I'm very thankful that I made it through this month without being waylaid by any ailments, so that fact that the sniffles have finally struck is actually an example of good timing.

Nuremberg

Greetings from Nuremberg. I arrived yesterday evening after a four-hour journey from Dresden. That the train was pretty much empty was a lucky stroke indeed, since I am lugging all of my bags with me and one of them, crammed with book purchases, weighs about 400 lbs. I was able to strew the luggage all around me in the "Großraumwagen" and it didn't bother a soul.

I'm staying in a wonderful little hotel called the Steichele that has a Restaurant/Weinstube (wine bar) attached to it. Last night I had an excellent whole grilled trout for dinner there, sweet and moist as could be. I have added wine to my beverage-ordering repertoire, since Nuremberg is in Franconia, Germany's main wine region. The trout was therefore accompanied by a really delicious, half-dry Müller-Thurgau -- fruity, "mineraly" and a little floral.

This morning I headed out to Luitpoldhain, the site of the infamous Nazi rallies and now home to the Dokumentationszentrum Reichsparteitagsgelände ("Documentation Centre -- Nazi Party Rally Grounds"). In part of the looming, uncompleted Congress Hall, there is now a permanent "Fascination and Terror" exhibit. Topics covered in the very well laid out and informative rooms include the history of the rallies, the Nazi-era buildings in the area (many of which were destroyed in WWII) and Nuremberg-related events from the era, including the 1935 racial laws and the post-war Nuremberg Trial. I thought it was very well done. One of the more disturbing sections dealt with early education during the Nazi years, and included a display case filled with anti-semitic drawings and the inevitable caption Die Juden sind unser Unglück! ("The Jews are our misfortune") made by children in the 1930s.

The experience was marred only by the inappropriate behavior of some of the young German visitors. The exhibit halls are dark and somber, but that did not prevent giggling, running around and loud talking. The guestbook is also a study in banal stupidity, with some (again, I assume mostly young) idiots drawing Hitler sketches, others signing his name, and still others complaining in large letters that the exhibit is "langweilig" (boring). [Update: after I returned home, I had several e-mail exchanges with the museum's director about the guestbook. I was careful to avoid endorsing censorship, tried to remain analytical and set out a compromise proposal that I thought would work. To my surprise, in the end he agreed with me and undertook to implement the changes I suggested.]

Next I headed out to the neighboring city of Fürth to visit the fascinating Rundfunk (Radio) Museum. They have dozens of gorgeous old radios chronicling the history of broadcasting in Germany, with wonderful examples from AEG, Telefunken and Grundig, as well as a very interesting series of rooms on the role of broadcasting during the Third Reich that includes a display of "VE (Volksempfänger) 301" radios, mass-produced with the intent of making sure that every German home was equipped to be bombarded with Nazi propaganda.

I ate a quick lunch at Bratwurst Röslein, a Nuremberg institution --since 1431, they say -- that flaunts the slogan "Altstadt muss nicht teuer sein, kein Gericht über € 6,66!" ("The old town doesn't have to be expensive, no dish over $8.50!"). I had six rostbratwürste (unlike the fat, 8"-10" Thuringian ones, the Nuremberg specimens are very small, about the size of a finger). This was the smallest number offered (dubbed der Einsteiger, or "beginner"); they have increasingly larger portions up to a maximum of 20 glistening, juicy sizzlers, the so-called Würstl-König (Sausage-King). My much more modest portion came with some delicious warm, vinegary potato salad, and was washed down with a very good Tucher Urfränkisch Hell beer.

After lunch, I walked around the main market square, which was filled with vegetable and flower sellers as well as gingerbread stalls. In the pantheon of German Christmas goodies, lebkuchen (gingerbread) is to Nuremberg as stollen (a butter-drenched fruited sweet bread) is to Dresden and marzipan is to Lübeck (I still remember my visit to Niederegger there several years ago). In about a month, the square will be filled with Germany's largest, oldest and most famous Christmas Market, the Nürnberger Christkindlesmarkt. Luckily, I can buy most all of these treats at Schaller & Weber on 86th & 2nd, so there's no need to lug any of it back (!)

I then stopped by the City Museum "Fembohaus" for the "NORICAMA", which is billed as a "52 minute multivision show on Nuremberg's history" that's "a fast, witty and informative symphony of pictures" and "a completely novel look at the city and its history." Let's just say that witty is in the eye of the beholder, IMAX has nothing to worry about, and the British actors who provided the English translation (available via headset) should all be sent back to acting school. One particularly irritating "dramatic device" was having an actress "play" the role of the city of Nuremberg itself, which resulted in ridiculous sounding lines like "After the 30 Years' War, I was left poor. What was I to do?" accompanied by images of the bedraggled 17th century town. All was put right, however, by my subsequent ascent to the Kaiserburg, the castle complex situated above a very steep rise in the north-west corner of the Altstadt, from which there are sweeping views over the entire city.

Afterwards, I wandered over to the St. Johannis-Friedhof, a beautiful cemetery next to the 14th-century Johanniskirche outside the city walls that's filled with very unusual graves. Each one is essentially a raised, coffin-sized stone platform, topped with (mostly red) potted flowers and elaborately decorated inscriptions. It's surrounded by a wall that creates a sanctuary from the surrounding street life, and there's a lovely little russet-colored church in the middle.

I had dinner at the Restaurant Heilig Geist Spital, a Nuremberg golden oldie (literally), located in a 16th century former hospital on an arched stone abutment jutting out over the River Pegnitz. It oozes atmosphere, and the food is pretty darn good. I had Leberknödel Suppe -- this time with one big rather than numerous small liver dumplings -- and a wonderful veal dish in a fresh mushroom, white wine and cream sauce. This time I tried a Scheurebe wine, whose grape is a cross between Sylvaner and Riesling, and it too was excellent.

I am here until around 3:00 pm tomorrow, and then it's off to Würzburg.

Farewell to Dresden

Today is my last day in Dresden. This afternoon I am catching a train to Nuremberg, where I will be until Friday. From there I will continue on to Würzburg and finally Frankfurt for my flight home on Sunday.

I have enjoyed being here tremendously. Doing a course like this is a wonderful way to travel and get to know a place. You spend some of the time learning the language, meeting new people and developing a routine, while you also have a base from which to explore the city and surrounding areas at a leisurely, flexible pace.

Saxony and Thuringia are both beautiful areas, rich in history and surprisingly traditional. Dresden has made impressive strides in restoring its lost grandeur; even the difference from when I was last here, in 1995, is enormous. If current plans continue, the city's historic heart will continue to regain a good part of the physical beauty that was burned away in 1945.

While I am looking forward to coming home, I hope to return to Dresden to savor its unique charms again.

In the meantime, stay tuned for some final posts from Bavaria.

A Rare Find

Yesterday, still lacking a suitable memento from my time here in Dresden, I walked into an Antiquariat bookseller in the middle of town. I flipped through the usual old engravings, but nothing caught my eye. So I asked the helpful young clerk if they had any old photos of the city. He recommended that I check upstairs, in the section labeled "Saxonia". So I did, and just when I was about to give up, I pulled out two large heavy-paper covers that enclosed a series of 21 gorgeous, signed black-and-white photographs from the 1920s or so, in pristine condition. The photos really are special, showing the pre-war city, often at night, at its most evocative. I bought the lot of them, and plan to have the most alluring ones framed when I get home.

Semperoper, Take 2

This evening I saw Rossini's L'Italiana in Algeri at the Semperoper, and I enjoyed it much more than I did Don Giovanni a couple of weeks ago.

I first saw this opera back in 1992 in San Francisco, with the legendary Marilyn Horne in the title role. Alas, at the time she must have been in her early sixties, and this did not really make her Italian "girl" very convincing (and to say that by then she had lost her "girlish" figure, if she ever had one, would be a cruel understatement -- I recall the plank she used to board the ship being reinforced with concrete struts to help bear the weight. OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but still...)  I saw it again in 1998 at the Opera Garnier in Paris, with Jennifer Larmore singing Isabella, and she was outstanding despite a weird production.

This evening's lead was Carmen Oprisanu, an attractive and stylish young Romanian mezzo, and I thought she sang and acted very well. I was also impressed by the Lindoro of the young African-American tenor Kenneth Tarver; it's a very demanding role, and he sang it well albeit if with somewhat stiff body language. The Icelandic bass Kristinn Sigmundsson presented a highly amusing Mustafa, and Jacques-Greg Belobo, a bass-baritone from Cameroon, was a splendidly sonorous Taddeo.

The costumes ranged from good to dopey, the sets were colorful if a little frugal, and the orchestra and conducting were excellent.

Prior to the performance, I walked the cobbled alley behind the Hofkirche from the eastern side of the Elbe-fronting Schloßplatz, and for a few moments felt as though I was in a time machine. There were no other people visible to spoil the illusion, and as the Semperoper came into view across the expansive Theaterplatz, bathed in golden floodlight with a blue moon high above, it was truly a magical sight.

Borderlines

Today I visited three smaller cities in Saxony: Bautzen, Görlitz and Zittau. I also walked into Poland, but more on that below...

My first stop was Bautzen, about an hour east of Dresden by train. This is the main city of the Sorbs, a slavic minority that has long lived in eastern Germany.

All of the official signs are in both German and Sorbian (which looked to me  like Polish or Slovak), and this lends a hint of exoticism to what is otherwise a very picturesque small city.

There are medieval towers, narrow streets with well-preserved Baroque buildings, and a very strange church. It's a Simultankirche, which is "simultaneously" used by both Protestants and Catholics. The former have the nave and the latter the (more ornate, of course) choir, and the two parts are separated by a low iron partition. I never knew such a thing even existed; it's been this way since the Reformation in the 16th century.

I then traveled further east -- about another 40 minutes -- to the lovely, intact medieval city of Görlitz. This is the end of the line, as it were, since the city has been politically divided by the Neiße River since the 1945 Potsdam Treaty, with the old town remaining in Germany and the suburbs awarded to Poland (the Polish side is called Zgorzelec). 

You can actually walk across a small footbridge -- the river here is not much more than a large stream -- to cross the border, as I did. The only formalities consist of two friendly border guards, one German and one Polish, standing on the Polish side, to whom you show your passport.

One thing I did not expect -- back on the German side -- is the active pining for German territories lost, primarily to a shifted-westward Poland, after WWII. If the bookstore I visited in Görlitz was any indication, this is quite a cottage industry, with literally dozens of books plus calendars, flags, posters, beer coasters etc. united by the exhortation "eine Heimat" (one homeland) with reference to East Prussia, Silesia, Pomerania -- and even the Sudetenland. Part of it is undoubtedly driven by nostalgia for places such as Breslau (now Wroclaw), Danzig (now Gdansk), Königsburg (now Kaliningrad and actually part of the Russian Federation) and Stettin (now Szczecin), which were mostly ravaged during the war and the German populations expelled thereafter. But part of it also seems to involve revanchist fantasies which, when coupled with small-but-growing right-wing extremism in Saxony, could portend a darker aspect as well.

My final stop was the pretty but sleepy city of Zittau, situated in the so-called Dreiländereck "Deutschland - Polen - Tschechien" (literally, "three-country corner of Germany, Poland and Czechia"). Maybe it was because it was Sunday, but this town struck me as somewhat pokey, and some of its grand, monumental buildings from a prominence long since passed seemed a little out of place now. The main attraction, which I was not able to experience since it was too late in the day, looked to be the antique, narrow-gauge Bimmelbahn steam railway, which runs up into the Zittau Mountains. It was a good thing I had my passport with me, though: when I boarded the train back to Dresden, both German and Czech police were checking everyone's papers

Leipzig

I spent today in Leipzig (an hour from Dresden via rail), and was very impressed. They have made huge strides in rebuilding and reconstructing, and the city has an energy, cosmopolitan air and polished feel that makes the DDR days seem, to a visitor at least, like a dim memory.

The impression starts with the train station, which is enormous and quite beautiful, with a very swanky multileveled shopping center inside, soaring ceilings and a huge glass-and-steel shed.

Highlights of the day included a visit to the  Zeitgeschichtliches Forum, a very well-done museum that chronicles the DDR years from the perspectives of major events and everyday life. The display of ancient-looking 1970s East German consumer products in a tiny, rickety shopping cart -- detergent, macaroni and cereal, in flimsy cardboard packaging that looks as if it was designed by a child -- speaks volumes on the situation there at the time, but there are many more serious items and exhibits on display as well. The mindless imitation of the Soviet Union, embraced with special fervor by the East German puppet-leader Walter Ulbricht, really comes alive when you see all the photos, documents, regalia, film clips and huge trove of objects.

Later I stopped by the permanent exhibition on the Stasi (East German secret police) in its former local HQ in the Runde Ecke building. The displays consist mainly of documents in German, but you quickly get the sickening picture from all the letter-intercepting, eavesdropping, surveillance photography and other prying equipment on display. There are also some ridiculous disguises (wigs, moustaches) and some awful cells where detainees were locked up. Outraged Leipzigers, who played a leading role in the Wende, stormed and occupied the building in December 1989 and, according to the museum, "managed to prevent the majority of the files from being destroyed; in the Leipzig district alone, 10,000 meters of files and 3.7 million file cards were saved from destruction, and can now be inspected in the Leipzig branch of the Gauck Authority."

I also visited the beautiful Nikolaikirche, with its unusual pink, green and cream carved ceiling and plaster palm-frond topped Corinthian columns, and arrived at the Thomaskirche just in time for a motet concert. Mendelssohn and Mozart both played here, and Bach was the concert master for the last 27 years of his life. It was spine-tingling to be sitting in the very same church. Today's concert included works by Buxtehude, Byrd, des Prey and Tallis, and the organ and choir were magnificent. 

The Leipzig music theme continued with a walk around the Augustusplatz, home of the Oper Leipzig and the Gewandhausorchester, and was capped off by a quick visit to the Mendelssohn-Haus, where the composer spent his final two years.

In the mid-afternoon, I stopped by the Zum Arabischen Coffe Baum, a historic coffeehouse-cum-museum that's been a fixture off the Markt since 1720. Up and down a very creaky, narrow staircase is a series of rooms with various coffee-related exhibits. They include a pair of tatty mannequins, the female of which has her hand in a most unappetizing position when viewed from a certain angle.

At the end of the day I headed south via tram to see the Völkerschlachtdenkmal, a bizarre, almost Tolkein-esque bit of 1913 gigantism built to commemorate centenary of the defeat of Napoleon.

Dinner was a treat, courtesy of a place called Apels Garten. The Sächsische Kartoffelsuppe (Saxon potato soup) arrived darker than usual -- it almost looked as if it were curried -- but it was piping hot and had excellent flavor and texture, thick but neither gluey nor grainy. This was followed by Hirschbraten mit Preiselbeer-Birnen Sauce dazu Kohlrüben-Walnuß-Gemüse und hausgemachten Semmelknödeln: slices of fork-tender venison topped with dabs of cranberry preserves, in a light, delicious brown sauce with a faint pear flavor and whole toasted walnuts. It came with crisp-tender sticks of pale golden kohlrabi, a very underappreciated vegetable in the U.S. but quite popular in Germany, and "dumplings" in the form of slices of a savory, terrine-shaped bread pudding, crisp and light as a feather.

I would love to visit this city again and get to know it better, and I hope that it continues to thrive. Its energetic and resilient citizens certainly deserve it.

Augustusburg and Chemnitz

Today I ditched class a little early and hopped a train to Augustusburg, a village with a renaissance Schloß on the outskirts of the city of Chemnitz.

You arrive at the tiny valley train station of Erdmannsdorf, from which you transfer to the funicular Drahtseilbahn for the 8 minute climb to the village. Emerging at the Bergstation, it's a steep 10 minute walk through cobblestone streets to the entrance to the Schloß.

Constructed in the late 16th century, the castle complex contains several museums, including a Motorcycle Museum, a Game and Bird Lore Museum, a Coach Museum and a Torture Chamber. 

The unexpected highlight, though, was the Motorcycle  Museum, which has 170 exhibits and 300 (!) vintage motorcycles, including an 1894 Hildebrand & Wolfmüller and two 1928 Boehmerlands (apparently the longest bike series ever built). 

  

The views from the castle grounds over the surrounding countryside are breathtaking, and there is a beautiful old yellow church with a tranquil, atmospheric churchyard just below the castle  gates.

After Augustusburg, I headed to Chemnitz for dinner. Renamed "Karl-Marx-Stadt" during the DDR years, the city was all but destroyed in WWII and reconstructed in a Soviet style. Old Chemnitz, sometimes called the Manchester of pre-war Germany due to its industrial roots, emerged in the 1960s as something of a grim German Minsk. Since reunification, however, the powers-that-be have been recasting the city with a vengeance. The former Altstadt retains precious few historic buildings, but those that remain have been lovingly restored and are now flanked by visually appealing, ultramodern glass-walled stores, fancy new shopping galleries and a sparkling office building with a dramatically curved roof. The wide streets are plied by new Siemens trams, and the overall feel in the center is spiffy and bright, and not at all drab.

One DDR eyesore that Chemnitz has apparently decided to keep is a 1970s sculpture of a giant glaring head of Karl Marx in front of a very ugly and wide socialist-era building. A not-so-subtle reminder of the bad old days.

I had dinner in the Ratskeller, the town-hall cellar restaurant that almost all German cities have. This one is particularly impressive. In the main room there's a vaulted ceiling elaborately painted with almost Jugendstil patterns in black, browns, creams and olive/light greens. The vaulting is supported by thick polished stone columns with gilded bas-reliefs at the top. The one facing me was an illustration of a man (who looked like one of the 7 dwarfs) stuck in a cider press! There are dark-paneled walls topped with arches filled with almost Grecian silver and gold illustrations on a black stucco background -- urns, wreaths and couples twining garlands around trees -- as well as stained-glass windows with various bacchanalian scenes of putti bearing fruits and grapes. The tables are festooned with wheat sheaf, waxed apple and grape centerpieces, and bunched green damask strewn with lady apples, pine cones and apple ribbons.

I started with Waldpilzsüppchen (forest mushroom soup) that was generously laden with fungi but would have benefited from a splash of white wine or brandy, and an Einsiedler Landbier. Having missed lunch, for the main I ordered, from the section of the massive menu entitled "Empfehlungen Schlemmergerichte mit Tradition", a dish described as Sachsenländer Schlemmermahl. "Hearty" does not begin to describe what was placed before me: a hot, curved metal plate with two grilled pork medallions nestled with pink ham strips, mushrooms, sliced onions and a brown sauce, topped with strands of melted cheese, lettuce, pickled cauliflower, sliced tomatoes and parsely. At the core of all this were crisp rösti potato slices.

I only made it through half of this concoction before waving the white flag; it was delicious in a scary sort of way, but tastes change and I reached the satiation point relatively quickly. I spent a little more time walking around the center of Chemnitz, very impressed with the transformation that the city has undergone as the new buildings glowed against a twinkling sky.

Before leaving, I bought a book called Chemnitz - Karl-Marx-Stadt und zurück ("Chemnitz - Karl-Marx-Stadt and Back"), which chronicles this plucky city's painful transformations during the 20th century. I am glad that I had a brief chance to see it.