The name ‘Dresden’ conjures up the horrors of a two-day fire-bombing raid on February 13 to 15, 1945 – said to have been solely a vengeance act in the final days of the Second World War by more than a thousand British and US bombers. As many as 25,000 people were killed in the firestorm (estimates vary widely). Was all this death and destruction unwarranted?
In 1940 the Germans conducted the Blitz, bombing London, Coventry, and other civilian targets as a demoralizing effort against the British. It failed. The British responded in March of 1942 with a massive firebombing of the historic center of Lübeck in northern Germany to show the effectiveness of incendiary bombs; they followed with the destruction of Rostok in April. The Germans retaliated with the ‘Baedeker Raids,’ targeted against major British cultural sites listed in Baedeker tourist guides. These included Exeter, Bath, Norwich, York, Canterbury, and other places, although little real damage was done. And all this led to the Dresden raid.
By a coincidence of sheer bad luck, the novelist Kurt Vonnegut happened to be in Dresden as a prisoner of war during the raid. He survived, sheltered in an underground meat locker, and wrote of it memorably in Slaughterhouse-Five (1969).
So, who started all this, and who can explain it? The history, the hatred, the totality of European conflict and tragedy is constant and deep – it’s been that way for centuries. Literally centuries. “And so it goes.” – to quote Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse-Five.
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We enjoyed our time in quiet Dessau. But it was time to leave, so we rolled our bags to the nearby bus stop. A friendly bus driver joked with us in German, as we looked bewildered; and he got us to the train station. Once again, fertile German countryside and quiet villages passed by our train window; and we soon arrived in Dresden, in the southeastern state of Saxony. Given all we’ve heard and read and ‘know’ about Dresden, we approached the city with caution, expecting to see maybe still-blackened remains of the war.
We roll our bags out of Dresden’s Hauptbanhof (Main Train Station) and right into a large flag-waving demonstration of some sort. We’d read that neo-Nazis were active in parts of eastern Germany, as much of the country’s current prosperity has passed them by, but these folks appear less like skinheads and more like middle-aged Lutherans heading out for a lunch of cottage cheese on iceberg lettuce (as I recall from my own Lutheran youth). We ask a helpful young policeman, and he says it is a demonstration against extremism. We’re relieved, as it looks like something we’d be happy to join, except we might be deported for engaging in German politics.
Carolyn looked up "Widerstand läst sich nicht verbieten" on Google translate. It means "Resistance can not be forbidden."
We weave around the demonstrators and catch a tram to the Diakonissenkrankenhaus stop (one of those ridiculously long German words), near the apartment we’ve rented. Tall construction cranes are a common sight around central Dresden. Again Carolyn has found us a very nice apartment on a tree-lined residential street in the Neustadt (New City) district, only a little ways over the Elbe River from the heart of the city. There’s a good little bakery in front of our place, and we have a nice kitchen, so making a quick and cheap breakfast each morning will be easy.
It turns out we’ve arrived early enough to tune in to the World Cup match between Mexico and the powerful team from Germany, who won the Championship in 2014. We’re as stunned as everyone else when the Germans fail to get anything past Guillermo Ochoa, the outstanding Mexican goalie with that wonderful ‘Art Garfunkel’ haircut, and Mexico actually wins. The ‘El Tri’ fans are going wild in the stands. The German TV newscasters, on the other hand, look a bit ashen.
After stowing our gear, we set out to explore the hip street scene we’ve heard is just a few blocks away. And it turns out we’ve arrived for the last night of the annual BRN, the Bunte Republik Neustadt (the ‘Colorful Republic of Neustadt’), an alternative fest that fills the streets with revelers from far and wide. There is music on every block, and we’re given every opportunity to drink away the night. An exuberant, very good, and very loud, drumming group snares our attention for a while. Once again, we just seem to fall into these things.
After some raucous revelry, we angle away and find a quiet Irish Pub (Irish pubs are all over the world!) and relax over a couple of pints. We speak no German (or Irish) and someone asks where we’re from. We mention living in Mexico – Mexico has just beaten Germany in the World Cup – and silence prevails. Until we find another topic to discuss. (Maybe poisonous caterpillars in Dessau?)
The streets of the Neustadt have some of the more passionate graffiti we’ve seen since a visit to Valparaiso, Chile, back in 2010. The graffiti in Valparaiso, home of Pablo Neruda, was more literary, and poetic quotes were common. But the stuff in Dresden goes beyond mindless gang-tagging, and rings with German angst. It strongly addresses the current political struggle with the German right wing, which had a sort of rebirth a few years ago in this city. We don’t interview anyone during our stay, but it’s clear the Nazis aren’t welcome here anymore. And let’s face it, that whole Nazi thing worked out really crappy for the Germans last time around – and for the rest of the world too.
Martin Luther is big in Dresden, as in much of Germany. He was born in Eiselben in the state of Saxony-Anhalt, north of here – currently recognized as the most ‘irreligious’ state in Germany. There’s a street with Luther’s name on it just a few blocks from our apartment. And there’s a church named for him on the Martin Luther Platz (Square). Coincidentally, we have a good dinner and some decent Saxon red wine one evening at a corner cafe where Martin Luther Strasse meets up with Martin Luther Platz.
After seeing lots of museums in Paris we still have no plans for museum-walking and just prefer to explore the cities we visit. But near the Albertplatz fountain, we pass a Trabant 601 on display, and a big old truck advertising “Die Welt der DDR” (The World of the German Democratic Republic). Yes it’s a museum, in a shopping center, filled with all kinds of stuff that was produced in East Germany.
Inside and up the escalator are models of numerous vehicles, household goods, and artifacts produced in the former DDR. There are cars like Wartburgs, Ladas from Russia, and lots of motorcycles. There are TV sets, typewriters (note the different key layout), kitchen ware, and musical instruments. They even made skis and camping gear.
And there are plenty of Trabants on display (trabant means ‘companion’ in German). There’s a video of a wrecked ‘Trabi’ being hoisted up the stairs by a bunch of hefty Saxons, to show the composite body construction using recycled cotton waste and phenol resins. Another one, with a metal body – in post-compactor mode, shows how little material was required to build them.
The pink Trabant ‘Tramp’ model captured a very sporty look. And there was a clever ‘camper’ model for those getaway weekends on the cheap.
A large poster shows the East Germans even had their own share of cute heartthrob boys to tantalize the teenage girls.
And then a few days later, I even see a Trabi just sitting there parked on an actual city street. It’s a Trabi in the wild, and a nicely kept one at that. So they’re not all in museums yet. I saw only one Trabant back in Dessau, as it rounded a corner too fast for me to get a shot. But Dresden has a funky and fun museum full of them – with an actual one on the street. Life is good.
As we find just about everywhere we visit, there’s much to see and surprises to experience just by wandering the streets of this old city. Like a Platz named for Edward Snowden, seen by many as a modern-day Paul Revere for revealing NSA corruption. Bare-chested guys still get a look from passing girls. There’s plenty of rock music in town to keep everybody awake. And an amusing poster of a horse giving hell to another horse brings a grin, even if we don’t really know what it says. (Actually, Google Translate says it’s advertising a horse show, but I prefer my own version!)
After a long walk, we find a nice little bakery for a hearty bowl of soup, coffee, and a sweet roll. Some wonderful things, like a good lunch, are the same no matter where you travel.
Funny German signs appear, like “Schmuckwerk” and “Schmuck.” I always thought when somebody said ‘That guy’s a real schmuck.’ it was a bad thing. But now I find out it means ‘jewelry,’ or ‘adornment’ in German.
And they have the same problems here as everybody else, ranging from lost cats to venereal disease. (The poster reads, mostly, “That scratch grossing out the girls? Your Doctor can help.”)
And lots of people still smoke cigarettes in Europe. I can’t even imagine why educated people would do that, but it’s common here.
And once again we’ve wandered long enough to stop for dinner, along with a tall cold Saxon beer, before heading back late to the apartment.
It’s been more than seventy years since the end of the Second World War, and today there’s little glaring evidence of the damage remaining in Dresden. The city’s center has been largely rebuilt, with modern architecture replacing much the city’s lost history; although they’ve done an outstanding job since re-unification (with help from western Germany) of rebuilding their most important historical treasures. Towering yellow construction cranes still dot the skyline, and the city is demolishing a few aging and derelict buildings – as in most other modern cities. There are still some large empty holes in the central city, but today it’s easy to ignore the results of the British firebombing raid of February 1945.
The US-sponsored Marshall Plan was an innovative program after the War, a commitment from the US to support European revitalization, and it cultivated a new generation of allies against a perceived Soviet threat. It was a radical departure from the massive failure of Allied policies after the First World War that led Europe and the world into the Depression.
But many economists argue that while the Marshall Plan was important to the post-war rebuilding effort, it only contributed about 0.3% to the overall European economy. Rather, the brilliance of the Marshall Plan was that it required Europeans to put together a workable plan that would be aided by the US. Under the Plan this continent of fractious peoples was required to cooperate, to lower trade barriers, and to foster trade unions in order to build a strong and stable middle class. After the devastating losses of the War, plus a drought and severe winter in 1947, the various countries were faced with starving populations and millions of refugees. With help from the Marshall Plan, it was largely the Europeans themselves who rebuilt the continent.
For the US and Canada, the end of the War meant a large reduction in Federal spending; so a resurgent Europe brought vast new trading opportunities. It was a Marshall Plan for the Western Hemisphere as well, and a very good example of ‘enlightened self-interest.’
Today the European economy has surpassed the US in size, and continues to be its largest market. The current arrangement is a balanced and lucrative system that only poorly educated, deluded, and ego-centric leaders would even consider disrupting.
A walk through the historic heart of Dresden shows that most of its bombed-out historic buildings, like the sprawling Zwinger, have been beautifully restored to their former glory – interspersed with modern buildings and an excellent tramway system. We pass a sand volleyball tourney in the now-modern Altmarkt and a Tex Mex Restaurant on our way to the old cobblestone streets at the core of the city.
The broad Neumarkt Platz is walled in by huge gothic churches, that were rebuilt entirely after the War. We find ourselves in a celebration of Jewish history and culture – for which there’s a choir singing at the base of a large statue of Martin Luther. It’s an odd sight at this monument to the Reformer, who in his later years published outrageous tirades against the Jews. Some of his extremist views later even became the basis for much Nazi propaganda.
The center of Dresden was destroyed in the bombing, but there’s not much evidence of that today. Here are ‘before and after’ pictures. Many American city centers destroyed by ‘urban renewal’ – and without the tremendous loss of life – may look similar to Dresden today. And the completely rebuilt historic buildings look ancient today, to the untrained eye. The Germans have done a remarkable job of restoring their deepest history.
There’s a white piano sitting on the street for anyone to play. A big fellow in a T-shirt, who I would peg for a plumber, sits down and plays several gorgeous symphonic pieces that echo off the ancient stone walls.
A few minutes later another big guy sits down to play a powerful piece that I’ve heard many times, but I can’t recall the name. He looks over at me and asks with a hand motion for me to name it. I blurt out “Rachmaninoff.” He rolls his eyes in frustration at my ignorance, and angrily yells, “Tchaikovsky.” Well, I least I guessed it was a Russian.
As night falls, it’s time to leave the center city and catch a tram back to the Neustadt. We need to finish a bit of packing before we leave in the morning.
Along the way we stop for a final delicious dinner, with plenty of vegetables, at a little corner place near the apartment. It’s a fine way to say goodby to the remarkably resurgent city of Dresden. Tomorrow we’ll be crossing the Czech border, on our way to the magical city of Prague. Stay with us for that one! — PRW
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A little afterthought...
The Eurasian Blackbird (Abendgesang, Amsel)
Ever since we stayed in a residential area of Amsterdam in May we’ve been hearing the call of a talkative bird who awakens us each day with a complex and beautiful call. The source of this morning music is not some beautifully colored creature with flowing tails and feathers. It’s only a modest-sized black bird with an orangish beak.
Think of ‘rock stars’ like Keith Richards, Pete Townshend, Steven Tyler – guys who didn’t make it on their good looks – that’s this bird, the Eurasian Blackbird (or Abendgesang - Amsel, in German). We’ll hear them all through our travels in Germany, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia. With a voice like that, they don’t need to be beautiful to attract the girl-birds.
Paul McCartney attributed his beautiful “Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night” to the US civil rights struggle. But the bird singing near the end of the original recording on the White Album is this one, and Paul must have grown up hearing these birds greet the dawn.
The amazing Eurasian Blackbird sings on Youtube, and listens carefully to other birds nearby for nuance and expression before answering back:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAtsYwl-wYg