Lübeck, Germany
After an easy arrival at Copenhagen, Denmark, yesterday, we left the Little Mermaid last night and made a short trip south to the German coast. At first light we came in off the Baltic and threaded the winding channel of the Trave River inland to the heart of northern Germany. We passed cormorants, herons, coots, ducks and swans already busy in the still waters of the wide river, while mist lingered over extensive reed beds on either shore. Two ospreys were perched in riverside trees, but soon this natural skyline began to change. First the huge cranes of modern docks; this town is still the third largest port in Germany. Then finally the unmistakable silhouette of Lübeck, “Queen of the Hanse” and “City of Seven Spires.”
In mediaeval times this was the hub of an extraordinary trading network called the Hanseatic League, stretching from Norway south to Portugal and England east to Russia. The two rules of this clique of merchants and mariners were 1) get as rich as you can, and 2) achieve this by out-maneuvering the opposition. At its peak in the 15th and 16th centuries, the League had a fleet of 750 ships trading in cloth, grain, fish, wine, wax, flax, furs and hundreds of other commodities all over the Baltic, and their wealth built some of the finest cities of Europe.
Once docked, we took a river cruise that followed the circumference of this tiny island city, 2km by 1km, ringed by a natural moat, the river that linked it to the outside world. Heads ducked as we slid under low bridges, lime, ash and birch trees lined either bank, locals strode earnestly along the tow path on “Nordic Walking” fitness regimes. Then we stepped ashore to follow local guides down cobbled lanes, past merchants’ red brick mansions, where 700-year-old bricks still showed the stamp of dog and cat prints where they once lay drying in their original moulds.
The soaring double spires of St. Mary’s were the focal point of our day: inside the building, black and white photos show how close this Unesco World Heritage site came to total demolition. On Palm Sunday 1942, British bombers dropped firebombs on the city, in retaliation for the bombing of London and Coventry earlier in the war. The two spires fell; the cracked bells still lie as a memorial. A cross of nails from Coventry cathedral stands alongside in sympathy for this martial madness. But the church is rebuilt, the green turrets capped with gold soar upward once again. Wiser generations should reflect on how international trade once again brings countries together, and raise rueful eyes to heaven, remembering that war does nothing but destroy the miracles wrought by hard work and collaboration.
