Lauenburg & Lüneburg, Germany

I’m slowly working my way further south into Germany. My latest stop is in the Elbe river city of Lauenburg, just upstream from Hamburg. It’s the southern-most point in the state of Schleswig-Holstein.

I research possible destinations before my trip, even building a Google Map database with pins organizing interesting towns and sights. This geographic planning helps me choose the best “hub” towns to stay several nights with plenty of “spoke” day trips radiating out.

But even with meticulous planning, you still discover unexpected surprises around the bend. On my drive today I pulled over to get a closer look at this interesting chapel in Klein Grönau, just southeast of Lübeck.

An attached plaque explained this chapel, built in 1409, accompanied a nearby poorhouse. A prayer service was held in here every Sunday from Pentecost to Thanksgiving, mostly in Low German (a vernacular language spoken in northern Germany, more closely related to Dutch than to standard “high” German).

In another church, I examined this old rooster weather vane preserved in the sanctuary. An accompany note explained it had been replaced in 1989 when the church tower was renovated. The rooster had topped the church since 1861 — before Germany was unified as a country! Do you know how much history this guy watched over in those 128 years?

I thought he was in remarkable shape.

I pulled over several more times during my drive south from Lübeck to Lauenburg. The old lake towns of Ratzeburg and Mölln were particularly interesting to hike around.

Finally I arrived in Lauenburg an der Elbe. Just the name of the place provides another history lesson: Germany wasn’t unified as a country until 1871 under the Iron Chancellor, Otto von Bismarck. Traditional German lands were splintered into hundreds of competing principalities after the Holy Roman Empire disintegrated. Those little fiefdoms still influence the many regional differences in Germany you experience today.

Even though Germany is divided officially into 16 states, most Germans identify more with their region. Unlike in the USA, German addresses don’t bother to use the state name (thank goodness for postal codes). German town names might be duplicated several times across the country so “on the Elbe” is added to this Lauenburg to specify the one on the Elbe river.

I was pleased to find that my Airbnb was situated right in the heart of the old town. Again, you notice the prevalence of brick in northern Germany.

Inside this 400-year-old house, I found not one line was straight, including the sloping floors. Doors and windows were adapted to crazy angles. My little temporary office was in a nice sunny spot upstairs, although it suggested I should be composing a symphony like Bach or Beethoven instead of working online.

I could walk out my front door and instantly be exploring the old heart of Lauenburg along the river.

I’ve mentioned before, rivers were the original highways hundreds of years ago. The most interesting old towns invariably are found along the water.

Even the local letter boxes were fascinating. The Art Nouveau (Jugendstil in German) design was still in use with hinged slots on both sides. The front window showed the schedule: Deutsche Post dutifully collected every day but Sunday. There was a trap door underneath opened with a key so the mail could fall into the waiting sack.

The next morning, I drove along the river, visiting small towns on my way down to Lüneburg. This city had emerged from World War II virtually unscathed and thus abounded with historic architecture. In the past, its wealth was derived from nearby salt mines. The old wooden crane where goods were loaded onto ships still presided over the fish market.

I always notice these round yellow signs featuring tanks along bridges in Germany. They’re relics of the Cold War when West Germany was on the front line with the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact. If the war got “hot”, NATO would be moving tanks. Bridges needed to immediately communicate weight limits.

Lüneburg was a hidden gem. I didn’t recall reading about it in any travel guidebook. But it boasted fascinating architecture around every corner and lots of locals out enjoying a sunny April afternoon.

On my drive back, I pulled over for one more unexpected surprise. Someone was evidently proud of their 1950 Studebaker, displaying it right along the road. Germans seem fascinated by this era of Americana.

There was even a postcard for Route 66 in the back window. After driving in the sometimes maddening stop-and-go German traffic between little towns, I could certainly understand the allure of a deserted highway that rolled straight to the horizon.

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