Colditz
No matter that the pretty provincial town provided prized white clay for the Baroque china of Saxony Elector Augustus the Strong. Never mind that the Schloss was a Renaissance palace of the state’s ruling House of Wettin. COLDITZ, 50km southeast of Leipzig, is inextricably linked in British minds with high-security World War II POW camp Oflag IVC.
Schloss Colditz
Mention Colditz to most Germans and you’ll be met with a blank look. The most famous of German POW camps among Britons, popularized first in a book by former inmate Major Pat Reid, The Colditz Story, then a film of the same name, certainly looks the part.
The Schloss stands on a high bluff above the town and probably would have been as secure as the Nazis believed were it not for the ingenuity of its inmates, most of them incarcerated here following their recapture after escapes from other camps. Wooden sewing machines manufactured fake German uniforms, forgers produced identification papers and banknotes.
More astonishing were those plans that were never used: a glider built of wood and bedsheets, or a 44m tunnel dug by French prisoners over eight months in 1941–42 – they were just 14m short when it was discovered beneath the Schlosskapelle. Of the three hundred escape attempts, over a third were made by the British, who scored eleven home-runs. French escapees boasted an impressive hundred-percent record for their twelve attempts. Castle tours focus on the war history and permit a look at the French tunnel alongside documents and photographs in a Fluchtmuseum (Escape Museum).
Görlitz
“Simply the most beautiful city in Germany” the marketing board proclaimed recently – hyperbole, certainly, yet the accolade was one bestowed by the chairman of the German Foundation for the Protection of Historic Monuments. Geographically speaking, though, it’s only just in Germany. The postwar redraw of the map shifted the German–Polish border onto the Neisse River, thereby cleaving GÖRLITZ in two.
Perhaps that’s apt for an Altstadt that is pure Central Europe – it flourished on the east–west Via Regia route that linked Kiev to Santiago de Compostela, and in 1815 was amalgamated into Silesia, a definitively Central European province along the Oder River that took in slices of modern Poland and the Czech Republic. The GDR regime surveyed the town and slapped a preservation order on the entire Altstadt, while Untermarkt is arguably the most romantic town square in East Germany: less a collection of buildings than a living Old Master, gorgeous at dusk. “At nightfall I long to be in Görlitz,” Goethe once sighed.
In recent years, film directors have taken notice: Görlitz was Paris in Jackie Chan’s Eighty Days Around the World (2004) and its streets featured in Kate Winslet flick, The Reader (2009). The urban fabric is tatty outside of the centre, however, and Görlitz is probably not worth a long detour. Yet more than most towns in east Germany, the Altstadt rewards those who stray down whichever lane looks interesting.
Leipzig
“Leipzig is the place for me! Tis quite a little Paris; people there acquire a certain easy finish’d air.” So mused Goethe in his epic Faust. The second city of Saxony is no French grande dame – indeed, it’s not much of a looker despite efforts to patch up the damage of war. But nor is it as languid. After decades in a socialist rut, LEIPZIG is back in the groove.
Those architectural prizes that remain have been scrubbed up, and glass-and-steel edifices are appearing at lightning pace. No city in the former East Germany exudes such unbridled ambition, but then none has so firm a bedrock for its self-confidence. In autumn 1989, tens of thousands of Leipzigers took to the streets in the first peaceful protest against the communist regime. Their candles ignited the peaceful revolution that drew back the Iron Curtain and achieved what two decades of Ostpolitik wrangling had failed to deliver. Not bad for a city of just half-a-million people.
It’s seductive to believe that its achievement was inspired by the humanist call-to-arms Ode To Joy that Schiller had penned here two centuries earlier. In fact, the demonstrations were simply another expression of Leipzig’s get-up-and-go. Granted market privileges in 1165, it emerged as a rampantly commercial city, a dynamic free-thinking place that blossomed as a cultural centre to attract names such as Bach, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Wagner and, of course, Goethe as a law student.
Even the GDR rulers cultivated trade fairs, allowing the city to maintain its dialogue with the West when others were isolated. In recent decades the same energy has found an outlet through one of the most exciting contemporary arts scenes in Europe and a nightlife that is refined and riotous by turns.
All about the music
In the city of Bach what else should you expect but music festivals? Europe’s largest pub crawl, music festival Leipziger Honky Tonk, does the rounds of 100 boozers one Saturday in May; over Whitsun (first weekend in June or last in May), 25,000 Goths gather for the Wave-Gotik-Treffen (wave-gotik-treffen.de), the world’s largest Goth doom-fest; and week-long Bachfest (bach-leipzig.de) is in the middle of June.
Meissen
MEISSEN’s fate is to be synonymous with porcelain. All its coach-tour day-trippers make a beeline for the prestigious china factory founded by Augustus the Strong in 1710. Even if you don’t visit that outlet, it’s hard to escape porcelain in the town that pioneered its large-scale production outside of East Asia.
Yet Meissen, 25km northwest of Dresden, is better visited for a picture-postcard medieval Altstadt, complete with charming cobbled streets and the Albrechtsburg castle and a cathedral standing proud above the River Elbe on a rocky outcrop. Though hailed as the birthplace of Saxony because it has the earliest castle in the state, Meissen never developed into a major city. The famous porcelain factory is a twenty-minute walk southwest of the Altstadt. That you can reach the town by steam river-cruiser as well as S-Bahn only adds to its appeal as a day-trip from Dresden.