Hansetour Day 4 | 27 April 2023
Feeling that we had pretty much exhausted Hamburg city centre, we decided to take the train to Lübeck today, a smaller Hansetown about an hour away. The main attraction for Alfie was the many impressive medieval and early modern brick buildings, while I was most interested in Lübeck’s status as Germany’s, even the world’s, capital of sweetened almond paste (see here for theories on the fascinating and debated etymology of ‘marzipan’). I once had an advent calendar made by Niederegger, the preeminent Lübeck marzipan manufacturer, and it ran until January 1 rather than just December 24/25; this greatly endeared the firm to me.
The train ride through bright yellow rapeseed fields and rather flat green pastures took us right to the outside of Lübeck’s little old town, which—like so many old towns in the area—sits on an island and used to have great big fortifications running around the perimeter. Today, only the famous Holstentor of 1424 remains (see top left above).
We spent several hours wandering around the little streets, which were reminiscent of Bruges (but not quite as good), occasionally stopping to nibble on snacks picked up at Aldi earlier that day. A clear highlight was the large medieval rood screen still installed in the cathedral; we didn’t expect to find this, making it all the more impressive. However, there’s only so much whimsical, turreted brick one can take in, and we eventually started a rather less picturesque walk out into the burbs to find the Niederegger factory shop (we hadn’t frequented their very overpriced café in town). There, we picked up some factory seconds. Mission accomplished!
But the day was not over yet. Hamburg Kunsthalle has reduced entry prices on Thursday evenings, so we headed there after getting back into the city. The collection was not incredible, but it was still fun to explore—especially when we were able to sneak ourselves into a crowd of well-dressed ‘Friends of the Hamburger Kunsthalle’ and nab a free pretzel from their drinks reception.
Just for contrast, we then headed for the Reeperbahn, the long avenue at the heart of Hamburg’s infamous red light district. We thought this area might be something like the equivalent in Amsterdam, but that one is positively genteel by comparison. The Reeperbahn is more like Las Vegas: it’s big, brash, full of cars and neon signs, and mostly quite unpleasant. Amazingly, the Fischbrötchen shop down a side street yielded what was arguably the best Matjes sandwich we tasted on the trip: large, juicy, garnished with salad, onions, and dill, and served in under strip lighting with Reeperbahn-themed Schlager music blaring (okay, that last part was not so good).
To cap off the day, we paid a visit to the famous Alter Elbtunnel, a 426m long tunnel 24m under the Elbe river which opened in 1911 and is currently pedestrianised (thanks, Wikipedia). You enter via a domed neoclassical structure on either side, under which vertigo-inducing shafts containing several elevators and very spindly staircases lead into the depths. Until you get to the reassuringly bright, white tile-clad tunnel, you feel rather like you’re in a scene from the 1927 expressionist silent film Metropolis.
Once on the other side, we sat in a little paved viewing area overlooking the shimmering lights of the St. Pauli-Landungsbrücken’s pontoons and the skyscrapers in the background. As we sipped our sea buckthorn and rhubarb soft drinks (amazing that German corner stores carry such things alongside all the Lager), a gigantic freight ship went by, slow yet fast. We felt very small, and Hamburg felt impressive and productive and larger-than-life — a fitting end to our little northern sojourn.