Cologne

Thursday, June 19

Much different this morning. Still the moon, still the stars, still the birds. The water is more turbulent; it has personality. We sail rather than glide. We're on the Rhine for sure, this morning, going upstream, slipping past Dussledorf and Neuss. Bridges, lights. The cities are just ahead of us; the banks are lined with trees for the most part, but it's clear that we are in an urban area. Just now, big buildings – junior skyscrapers – in the distance ahead of us, their eastern sides just beginning to be lit up by the not-yet-risen sun. The boat's engine seems louder this morning, but right now, I hear only it and the birds. That may change.

Again, jet lag woke me up at 3AM; I stayed in bed until 4AM, and here I am. I found Google Maps' 'you are here' blue dot almost by accident, so at least I know where we are. And the sun is rising where it should be rising: we are headed south.

More bridges, more tall buildings; we're sailing through the city. A brightly-lit but deserted marketplace along the river. The cathedral with its impressive spire, towered over by the radio tower/observation tower that dominates the skyline. What must be the old town, with five and six story houses of mixed architecture (ancient, traditional, modern, brutalist) right along the river. The city is quiet, but it's not yet 5AM. And there's a Hyatt Regency, representing the global economy. Even at this hour, there are occasional big barges going north. I'm assuming they run all night; there were plenty around when we went down to bed just after 10PM.

Turning around to see the east bank of the river: it is fields with clumps of trees, low buildings in the distance. The city – west bank – is set up about twenty feet above the current river level; the east bank is close to river level – no dyke or levee.

A chaotic chrome building that immediately brings to mind the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. I'll have to look that one up later. [UPDATE: It's actually a famous building, one of three (“the twisted buildings”) that were built as part of the resurgence of the Dusseldorf waterfront. They were designed by Frank O. Gehry, who has designed a whole host of very interestingly bizarre buildings. Worth looking up.]

The sun is now on the other side of the ship; the Rhine is not a straight river. There are four people walking along the riverbank; one calls out and his voice reaches the ship.

And just like that, we're past the city: suburbs on one side, light industrial, and a big electric generating plant on the other. As the river curves around, we end up being able to see three sides of the plant.

We're in Germany now, of course; we crossed the border during the night, although borders mean something different here in the European Union.

Abbey asked me how I felt this cruise (so far) was different from the other, “ocean cruises,” that we've taken. My thoughts:

The first thing I thought of was that this trip was about the journey more than the destination; the process of getting there was what the trip was all about. The destinations are a kind of bonus. (Of course, that approach is not shared by most of our shipmates; I see very few people spending any time getting to know the river.)
All the food on this trip (so far) has been better than any of the food on the other lines.
I miss the sea day lectures on the ocean cruises.
See above re: room size and meals (although that's worked itself out and we're enjoying our meals. The room is still small.)
Wi-fi! It's included; one device each. My laptop, to do e-mail and look things up, and Abbey's phone to share via WhatsApp. And good thing – no real opportunities to find public wi-fi on this trip so far – even at the dock in Amsterdam.

The dykes – levees we call them in the US – were omnipresent yesterday, through the Low Countries. One on each side; unvarying. I assume the land will become more hilly, and the course of the river will become more like a valley, and they will be less important. There are many stretches of levee which are sand, and dotted with people at the beach. Also cows. Now that we're in Cologne, we've passed many miles of shore without levees; the ground seems to rise naturally out of the river.

Abbey here:

Jumping in here. This has been a very different type of cruise. There's no place to go to avoid socializing besides one's cabin, and if that is on the first deck, the only place to sit is on the bed, with no view. So, back up to the top deck, under an umbrella with a light breeze and the wonderful 360* view.

Another huge difference is the amount of free time. Viking offers terrific shore excursions every morning stop, feeds us deliciously, then practically leaves us on our own. (I'm not counting the half-rate musician in the only lounge who shambles through show tunes.) So, what to do with oneself? I think that is the point of this type of cruise- sit and read, nap, write, laze around. After the frantic March, April, May I've had, it feels weird!

Our guide in Cologne was excellent, with a British dry sense of humor, and accent to match. E.g., to caution us to beware of bicyclists, he said it was sport to run us down, and even then the bicyclist would consider it our fault. Then later, when talking about the gondola cars hanging above bike paths, he pointed out that one could lean out and spit, and the bicyclists return spit couldn't reach high enough. He was extremely knowledgeable about the cathedral, but when I asked him what type of tree we were standing under, he protested that he was a historian, and said the tree was a green, leafy something.

We couldn't get into the cathedral itself, and all the shops were closed (except tourist and food types) because it was a religious holiday. Then a lovely walk along the river, about a mile, back to the boat in time for lunch.

I will gripe about one thing- even taking Nyquill, my sleep is interrupted by 2 major noises. The only ventilation in the room is an extremely loud, non-stop blower. The other is the growling, sucking sounds made by the water moving along the outside of our wall. It wakes me up, but Gary, with his C-PAP machine, and less sensitive hearing has no problem. I will try a different type of ear plugs tonight.

Gary again -

So we landed a few miles before we reached Cologne (which means we were downstream of Cologne) for some reason, and loaded onto buses to see the city – which is right on the river. After getting 181 people in four groups with four guides hooked up with the (very reliable and effective) receivers that connected us with the guide, we took off on foot for a two hour tour.

At the beginning I thought our guide was a little too full of himself, and mugging for the laugh, but as we progressed, it was clear that he had a really deep knowledge of the kind of stuff I wanted to know, and a really clear vision for the importance and relevance of the history he was unfolding for us. He was able to connect everything into a coherent, fascinating story better than most people I've run into. He is a scholar of the 13th century (just missing the Black Death by a century) and very passionate about how history is alive and present all around us.

OK – no lecture about Cologne, or The Cathedral Church of St. Peter, that massive pile that Cologne is famous for. Just a couple of stories.

A third century church stood on the spot that the Cathedral now occupies, and the Roman wall around the city was (and still is) nearby. In order to save money, the builders in the 13th century, who designed and started building the cathedral, built the foundation for the north wall on the old Roman wall. It had also been decided that the well in front of the old church – which was even older than the church – should stay, for some reason having to do with its religious importance. The well had two notches in the top edge, and a line between them went right down the center of the old church, to the middle of the altar. It was the centerline of the church. The thirteenth century sponsors and planners of St. Peter's decided that this should be the center line of the new cathedral.

So now you had the center line, and one wall already planned. Our guide explained how that meant you had every dimension you needed to complete the design of the entire cathedral, since it was all proportion, and one calculation led to the next, and that one led to the next one, until it was done. And – we saw the 13th century north wall, the Roman wall it was built on – and the well. They were all in a parking garage under the cathedral, available for us to see, no big deal.

The well (above); the wall (left)

Cologne is the oldest city in Germany, founded about 50AD as a Roman colony (thus its name). Eau de Cologne was named for the city (not the other way around) and is one of the oldest fragrances still available. Cologne has the busiest railroad bridge in Germany; 1200 trains cross it every day. And so forth. It was a busy day, and my brain is full.

Just one more story (OK, maybe two), about the Cathedral. It's the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe, and the tallest twin-spired church in the world. It's a real experience to stand at its base. It was started in the thirteenth century, and completed in the late nineteenth century and, unlike any church that ever took centuries to build, it was completed in 1890 using the exact plans laid down in the 1200s by the original master builder. It is today exactly what he envisioned more than seven hundred years ago. This is incredible to anyone who has visited a lot of medieval cathedrals that are a hodgepodge of styles and technologies. This was the most mind-blowing fact of the day. The guide said that the fact that the cathedral was the same style all the way to the top was so unusual was because over the centuries of building a cathedral, the new generations who were supplying the money for the next part had their own idea of beauty, and wanted the current styles. The guide quipped that it hadn't happened with the Cologne cathedral because “nothing changes in Cologne.”

Also – the cathedral survived the Allied bombing raids of 1945 (left), during which 300,000 bombs were dropped (“we still find at least one bomb a week today,” says our guide). We saw photos – the city around it in ruins, the Cathedral battered but intact. One reason, according to our guide, that the cathedral was built more sturdily than anything else in the city.

One more thing (I know, I know...) - today was Corpus Christi, or the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (thanks, Google), an apparently very significant Catholic holy day. All the shops were closed (restaurants and bars – and bakeries – were open). In Cologne, apparently, the celebration is held outdoors (“alfresco,” according to our guide), and we could see it, or at least part of it, at a distance. Our guide pointed out the Archbishop - “the guy in the red hat.” There was a lot of music – choral and brass – and it was very loud and very good. And they rang “Fat Peter,” the second largest (horizontally mounted) freely swinging ringable bell in the world (thanks again, Google). They rang it a lot. Corpus Christi is the only day in the year that they ring it, so we were privileged, and deafened.

Religious holidays in Germany are apparently chosen according to which faith is predominant among the population. In the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, where Cologne is, it's pretty even, so they celebrate Corpus Christi and Reformation Day.

The Köln Hauptbahnhof, the central railroad station of Cologne, is right next to the cathedral, and they make an odd but pleasing pair. The station is a Victorian confection which has survived a number of concerted efforts to move it out of town. Its lacy cast-iron roof provides a hint of frivolity next to the austere, towering spires of the cathedral.

As Abbey noted, we walked along the esplanade, down the river, for about a mile and a quarter, to get to our boat, which had, while we were touring Cologne, sailed up to the Zoo Bridge, so called because it is, apparently, near the zoo, which we did not see. The Cologne esplanade was just one of the public waterfront areas we enjoyed on the tour; a delightful place to walk and sit and look at the river; very extensive but very human, built for lots of people to enjoy, and we were all there. Including the kids playing in the fountain. It even had a view of the cathedral up the hill (top of page).

We ate lunch, drank a lot of water and sparkling lemonade, and have since had a very nice relaxing day on the roof deck, under an umbrella, writing about Cologne and admiring the spires of St. Peter's in the distance. And working on lines (below, left) for the play (“The Gazebo,” a lighthearted murder mystery by Alec Coppel, which premiered in 1958 and was made into a 1959 movie with Glenn Ford and Debbie Reynolds. I play Harlow (Carl Reiner in the movie)).

We drank a lot of water because the weather has been sunny and hot. Perfect weather so far (although see note further on about drought). Many of our shipmates spend time lying out in the full sun, or eating dinner on the deck in the sun, without any evidence of sunblock. Different world.

After another lovely dinner in perfect weather on the forward deck, we sat up top and looked at the cathedral until 9:00, when a piano-clarinet duo from Cologne entertained us with a selection of well-known classical pieces and pleasant patter between. We had worked very hard today to get through the day without a nap, so went right to bed. I slept all night, but not so Abbey – she's having a hard time sleeping when the boat is sailing, because of a rumbling sound that is below my threshold of hearing. This is a real problem which may not have a solution. More to come.

The Cathedral, etc.: