Schwerin, Germany
Staying in the same place for several nights allows me to explore the surrounding area without packing up and moving so often. After hiking Lübeck yesterday, I headed east in the car today. I soon crossed the old border between West and East Germany that evaporated on maps when the country reunited on October 3, 1990.
The line hasn’t evaporated in real life quite as quickly. Germany is certainly one country but even 30+ years later, there are still cultural, social and economic differences between former east and west. But that’s a whole other blog’s worth of material. Let’s focus on my destination: the city of Schwerin and its magnificent castle.
Some sort of fortification existed on this island in Lake Schwerin for more than a thousand years. The castle was substantially rebuilt in a more congruent style in the mid-1800s which is what we see today.
It had long been a seat of government until 1918 when revolution swept Germany following the Great War. Following World War II, East Germany used the palace as a college for kindergarten teachers (quite the setting).
Today, it’s again a seat of government as the assembly of the State of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. I walked the manicured grounds with trees budding out and flowers blooming here in mid-April. The sun kept breaking through the passing clouds as I admired classical sculptures.
I then hiked into the city of Schwerin which I learned sustained only minor damage in WWII. I expected to see more historic buildings due to that fact but the city appeared relatively modern to my eye.
Typically you can assume a German city was bombed extensively when you find just a smattering of reconstructed historic architecture overwhelmed by cheerless mid-century concrete.
I did stumble cross an excellent bistro which created one of the fanciest döner kebabs for lunch I’d ever seen. Sufficiently re-charged, I headed back toward Lübeck.
Along the way I stopped for a quick hike around the old fishing village of Gothmund on a reedy bend of the Trave River. The village grew in the 1500s as a stopover along the river for fishermen heading back to Lübeck from the Baltic Sea.
Most of the homes in Gothmund today were brick with thatched roofs which created a pleasant, pastoral atmosphere — especially since the area was car-free. A walking path lazily wound through the village and down to the docks where several small fishing boats bobbed in the water.
Back on the drive, I stopped again just north of Lübeck to visit the Ehrenfriedhof (cemetery of honor). The area was surrounded by a fence so I parked along the street and walked through a gate into what appeared to be a forest.
My pebble pathway eventually led past several monuments. Prominently featuring Pickelhaub (spiked Prussian helmets) and Iron Crosses, these were obviously from the First World War.
The city of Lübeck decided to develop a military cemetery in November 1914, just three months into the war. It was designed as a peaceful forest full of winding paths and gardens that provided visitors an experience integrated with nature.
The monuments and headstones themselves featured heroic and classical themes: gladiators, eagles and iron crosses surrounded by ubiquitous oak leaves (considered THE German tree). Even a prominent sculpture of a dying warrior took a romantic form.
I soon crossed into a different area of the cemetery and the mood dramatically darkened. Rows of wooden crosses formed tight concentric circles around common grassy centers. Upon closer inspection, I discovered these were graves from World War II. The markers from earlier in the war were tall and etched with the iron cross. Those from later in the war were smaller, simpler and more numerous.
Gone were the romantic themes. One large section included older men, women and children with the same date of death: March 29, 1942. These were victims of the bombing of Lübeck and resulting firestorm. I stopped in front of three markers for the Janssen family: a wife, husband and child.
Lübeck, with its many timbered medieval buildings, was the first German city targeted because the British were eager to experiment with a bombing technique using a high proportion of incendiaries. The RAF was well aware of the effect of incendiaries because English cities such as Coventry had been subject to such attacks by the German Luftwaffe during the Blitz.
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