First impressions

Lubeck isn’t a standard mediaeval town with narrow twisting cobbled streets. Most of the old city which remains (and there is enough despite some damage by British tourists in 1945 to make it a very pleasant place to visit) is northern renaissance, with wide, straight streets lined with wealthy merchants’ houses with high gabled ends facing the street. But the most famous--and imposing--buildings are genuinely medieval: huge churches with stiletto spires, town hall, and gates. They are all built of a rich red brick, due to medieval fire regulations, which gives them a warm distinctive feel, and makes them seem even bigger than if they were made of stone. Wander around, try an ice cream from Niederegger (only 60c a scoop), and relax. This isn’t yet an international tourist destination, but it deserves to be.

Quick Tips:

Best Way To Get Around:

Transport isn’t really necessary in the old town, which is best covered by foot, and is pedestrian-only in the centre anyway. But the museums are mainly round the edge, in the old buildings around the gates, so a bus pass can be useful on a hot day. Basic bus trips are 1.35, 1.65 or 1.85 euro, depending on zone, payable to the driver. You can buy a 1-day travel pass for E.5.60, but best value is the Lubeck Happy Day card (E.5 for 1 day, or E.10 for 3, from tourist info offices), which does everything the travel pass does, and also gives you discounts on museum admissions and other attractions, although nothing like as much as it promises in the booklet. Nobody’s ever going to check if you’ve got a valid bus pass, but it gives you a nice, warm, legal feeling to have one. Train travel is always checked.

The airport is within city limits, so only E.1.85 into the centre on the #6 bus, every 20 mins.

Really just a private house, about 5 minutes back from the beach, on the edge of a large country park. The area’s so quiet that the arrival of the postman is the day’s highlight, and everyone stops to enquire after each other’s health if they ever meet anyone else in the street. Comfortable room, like a child’s bedroom in pastel colours, with absolutely no distractions by way of TV, radio, clock or anything else electronic. En suite bathroom as spotlessly clean as the room itself, with a knitted cover for the spare loo roll, and polite little notices everywhere (only in German, natch) saying how often the towels will be changed, and how to behave to cause least disturbance to other guests. This place is respectable. I felt guilty even thinking about locking my room when I went down for breakfast. There were 3-4 other places laid for breakfast each morning, but I never saw or heard another guest. Even the management (elderly father and daughter) was almost invisible. I was checked in by the daughter, who speaks English, but never saw her again. The father brought me breakfast each morning in silence with a sepulchral smile, and then vanished back behind the kitchen door.

10 minutes walk from the station, with a local bus every half hour if you’re feeling lazy.

29 euro a night single, plus 2.60 tax, including generous, but carefully counted, ham, cheese and bread breakfast.

Travemunde is Lubeck’s beach. It counts as being within the city limits, although about 20km away. There are 4 buses an hour, 1 train, and the journey takes about 20-45 minutes (train is fastest).

Travemunde is where the Trave river meets the Baltic. The shore along the Trave is a marina, with all the bustle and tackle associated with boats. Along the Baltic shore is the beach. Rough, white sand stretches below a promenade and is packed with beach chairs which can’t have changed much in over 100 years. They are made of wickerwork, shaped like the gondolas on a big wheel, with hooded roof, back and arms, lined with cushions, and fit at least 2 people sitting side by side. They are drawn up in straggly rows, all aligned precisely towards the sun, like some field of exotic plants. Where the 2 shores meet is the monstrous 30-floor Maritim hotel.

The water isn’t clear like the Mediterranean, but a thick nutritious grey-green soup full of wildlife. As I swam I could feel the seaweed touching me lightly, sizing up whether I was weak enough to pull under. I also felt other things which I didn’t want to identify. But it was one of the best swims I’ve had in years – invigorating, refreshing, exhausting. I think bracing is the word.

There are wooden piers running into the water that have prominent notices forbidding jumping, diving, or any other kind of indecorous behaviour. I wondered what they were for until I tried walking directly into the sea from the beach. The shore along the water’s edge is packed with small stones, mussels and other shellfish; their sharp shells pointed upwards to catch anything passing in the waves. There are sea birds everywhere, sitting on the sea or the piers and railings, crying in the air, and parading along the beach, giving the shell-fish a hard time, and keeping a weather-eye open for people. Mainly seagulls, but there were also larger birds I didn’t recognise, as well as ducks and swans. I’ve never seen swans at sea before, but they were hovering along the waterline, preening their wings, just as if they were in any municipal park. I wasn’t sure about swimming alongside them, knowing their aggressive reputation on land, but wherever I swam, they always seemed to be going in another direction, and I had no trouble.

Along the landward side of both shores are shops and eateries, serving everything from cold beer (or sekt) to every conceivable kind of sausage and fish. Behind the shops are parks and gardens. There are plenty of play areas for children, ranging from miscellaneous plastic objects scattered in the sands to a proper skateboarding arena. In the first week in September the place was deserted, apart from a handful of hardy pensioners. But this is essentially a beach for locals, and as such a great place to visit.

A large fortified gate on the south-west edge of the city, and the symbol of Lubeck. Originally it was part of a complex of 4 gates, one behind the other, and the strongest defensive entrance in all Germany. It resisted attack from all comers for 600 years, until Napoleon unsportingly walked into town from the undefended north east. Now it contains an imaginative museum of the history of the Hansa, scattered over the 3 floors of the twin towers.

This is a touchy-feely museum which brings the medieval world of the international Hansa traders alive. From the moment you step into the first room, onto a giant map of Europe, you are brought face to face with the reality of trade. You can touch the furs and wool, and even the dried stock-fish, although I declined that pleasure. You can pull out sections of barrels showing the towns they traded with, and dig into the mysteries of ship construction. You hear the sounds of a medieval marketplace. There is the usual assortment of weapons and instruments of torture traditional to castles, and a wooden scale model of the town built by schoolchildren in 1934 when Hitler had the tower renovated as a symbol of traditional German independence. Most of the captions are in German, but there is an English summary in every room, and it isn’t difficult to understand what is on show.

This is a concise, enjoyable museum, which won’t wear you out, and leaves you feeling a little better informed.

The altstadtfest (old town festival) takes place on the first weekend in September, from Friday evening until Sunday night. The programme looked very worthy – concerts in the cathedral, jazz, international folk dancing, hip hop in the most remote corner of the town, gospel pop at St. Jakobi, and an authentic mediaeval market with craftsmen in costume demonstrating authentic mediaeval crafts.

The reality was slightly different. Admission to the official events was by way of an altstadtfest pass, which gave free entrance to everything for the 3 days for 4 Euro. They sold 30,000 of these. But the best part of half a million people rolled into town to enjoy the festival. The main streets in the centre of the town were closed to traffic, all those that weren’t pedestrian already, and filled with stalls, a cross between a funfair and a fete. All conceivable kinds of food and drink – Danish hot dogs, Belgian frites, English fish and chips, French crepes, and lots of Turkish, Thai, Chinese, and miscellaneous eastern cuisines. Local specialities too – endless sausages (well, up to 1 foot long), thick slices of bread and dripping, and large pickled gherkins at 50c each. The festival was sponsored by Holsten Pils, so it was no surprise that there were lots of opportunities to drink, but the organisers weren’t restrictive – you could buy fine wines by the glass, or various kinds of sekt and prosecco, and there were several stalls of Caribbean/Brazilian inclination, with loud salsa music to match the salsa eats and drinks. In quiet moments the serving staff danced and sang along to the music. The Guiness stand was accompanied by a young German man in a kilt, singing Beatles songs. Bungee trampolining, face painting and carousels for the children. Away from the centre the special interest groups came into play. Every church seemed to have taken advantage of the occasion for a little fund raising, with flea markets everywhere, particularly books. The home-made cakes stalls were doing a roaring trade, with the plates of cakes selling as soon as they were put out like, well, hot cakes. Political parties were giving away balloons, charities were selling anything saleable, and signing up members, and all the buildings in town seemed open to visitors for the day. My only complaint was that nothing started much before the opening times of the official events. At 1.00pm on the Saturday there were hundreds of thousands of hungry people milling around looking for something to spend money on, and hardly any of the food and drink stalls had opened. Good fun though.