Warnemünde, Germany
June 6, 2023
Unlike Patton, we’re glad we didn’t go to Berlin. To do so we would’ve traveled three hours each way to see the Brandenburg Gate, and the site of a wall that’s no longer there.
Instead, we opted to explore the Hanseatic League…which also no longer exists. But being D-Day, it seemed fitting to encroach the continent from the sea.
We came ashore at Warnemünde, in the state of Mecklenburg in northeast Germany. From there we hopped a train to the heart of the Hanse.
Or, rather, to what was once one of several cogs in a commercial wheel. The spokes bridged the Baltic, creating connections and conflicts across countless ports and several centuries.
Up the River Warnow from the Baltic coast, the city of Rostock was established inland to protect it from invasion.
It didn’t always work. The Danish King Waldemar I, whom we met yesterday, burned the town in 1161. A century later, Rostock joined the Hanseatic League.
By train and tram from Warnemünde, we needed twenty euros and thirty minutes for four of us to reach the Neuer Markt in old Rostock. As with the tram in Copenhagen, our younger son helped us navigate the kiosks, and obtain our tickets.
Having done so, we boarded the train, and settled comfortably for the ride. After about half the expected stops, we were deep in conversation about our upcoming day.
Then we realized the train had emptied, and was sitting idle. Being the only ones on it, we began to wonder if we were on the wrong one.
When we saw “Warnemünde” flash on the destination sign, we realized we were. We quickly hopped off, and found a few Americans on the platform who explained that the real Rostock train would arrive soon.
It did. We were in the middle of the city within ten minutes. The Neuer Markt anchors the old town, and the town hall anchors the Neuer Markt.
Germans are renowned for efficiency. Their competence is most evident in the no-bones-about-it way they name local buildings filled with government officials.
But regardless the nature of those who work in the Rostock Rathaus, their place of employment is beautiful. It was originally raised in the 13th century. A millennium later, Renaissance and Baroque influences supplanted the original Gothic style.
During the Second World War, Allied bombing somehow spared the Rathaus, tho’ many surrounding structures were reduced to rubble. As in many German cities, the restoration of Rostock is remarkable.
The square is colorful, lively, and charming. The tram deposited us in front of the Rathaus, and amid an array of vendors peddling produce, crafts, and carry-around cuisine.
A pastel procession of gabled buildings embraces the plaza. Among them, opposite the Rathaus, is the “Apothoke” building, housing what apparently is a famous pharmacy founded in 1260.
Over the southern side of the square looms the imposing gothic of St Mary’s Church. Designated in 1265 as the principal parish church, it was later lost to the Lutherans during the Protestant “Reformation”.
When the Catholics conceded, their art went with them. St. Mary’s…like St. Peter’s that boasts the highest tower in Rostock and St. Nicholas that’s the oldest…is structurally impressive, yet offers little aesthetic appeal.
East from the plaza flows Kröpeliner Straße. While my sons and I made the rounds to every church and the 16th century Steintor Gate, my wife surveyed that lively street.
Lined with shops and cafés, this appealing pedestrian path connects the 13th century square to a 15th century college.
Founded in 1418, Rostock’s eponymous university is among the oldest in the world. Fronted by a pleasant park and lively fountain (colloquially denoted by prudish protestants as “Pornobrunn” because of its nude sculptures), the façade is a magnificent mix of Renaissance style and Teutonic temperament.
During its Hanseatic height, Rostock was a rich merchant city. After subjugation by the Dukes of Mecklenburg, assaults by Danes and Swedes, and attacks during the Thirty Years War, the city declined in subsequent centuries before becoming a prominent ship manufacturing center under Bismarck, and for the Wehrmacht in World War II.
Rostock was the most important port in the former East Germany (high praise indeed). It’s a bit more prosperous now, particularly after we stopped at Neuer Markt to buy some of the most delicious strawberries we’ve ever eaten.
As morning waned, we hopped the train back to Warnemünde, in time to grab lunch and catch a bus. It brought us first to Bad Doberan, which is an unfortunate name for the home town of an impressive monastery.
Part of the European Route of Brick Gothic, this is the remaining remnant of a Cistercian Abbey dedicated in 1368. In old Slavic, Doberan was a “good place” to put a monastery.
Swedish soldiers made use of it, at least for their particular purpose. During the Thirty Years War, they converted the nave and chapels into stables for their horses, and extracted lead from windows to supply munitions for their guns. Throughout the massive edifice, only two original stain glass windows remain.
From the monastery we boarded our bus, which brought us to Bad Doberan station to catch a train. From there it took us to Heiligendamm, the oldest seaside spa in continental Europe.
George Bush fell ill here during a G8 summit in 2008. His wife thought he’d been poisoned (can’t imagine why anyone would want to do that).
According to the legend (the German version), el jefe wanted a cheeseburger in the middle of the night. Being offended by this pedestrian request, his hosts claimed to be out of his order.
They offered instead a local “delicacy”, which left the chief executive “indisposed” the next morning.
We all wished Heiligendamm were the end of our ride. Instead, we were merely waiting for another train to pass on the single track.
Not that we minded where we eventually ended up. But after twenty minutes in confined space on a hot train, the charm had worn off.
But fifteen minutes later, we were released into Kühlungsborn, which is lovely. Formed almost a century ago, this seaside resort is a merger of three older municipalities.
This upscale Baltic beach is a German version of Bar Harbor or Saugatuck. Upscale shops mingle with tourist kitsch and trendy cafés to make an appealing mix.
For an hour or so.
After that, we were ready to go. But we were unexpectedly impressed when we returned to Warnemünde.
Had we known of its quaint quays and expansive beach, this town one in which we would’ve spent more time. Fortunately, with our late departure, we still had a few hours.
Warnemünde has been part of Rostock for 700 years. It was acquired in the 14th century by its upstream neighbor as a buffer against Baltic attacks.
More recently, it’s become a sporadic resort. With our 2,700 passengers, the small village doubles in size.
My wife loved it. Were we to repeat this day, we’d have gone to Rostock again. But when we returned to Warnemünde, we would’ve stayed the duration of the day.
The port was advertised as a gateway to Berlin, which made us assume there was nothing much there.
But we’ve since been reminded that when we look too high, we can fail to see what’s right under our nose.
JD