Bunkering Down

When my family was here last month we went on a walking tour of the city. Near the end of the tour, a siren sounded. Someone joked about a really loud car alarm, but we were all frozen and looking at our tour guide with rising concern as the siren stopped, then began wailing again.

I heard a warning siren once as a kid, for an incoming tornado. Your reaction is instant, nearly animal, instinctive—a need to find someplace safe. For that tornado we sheltered with other people in the vault of a nearby bank.

Thankfully this alarm was “just” an accident at the harbor involving hazardous chemicals. But somewhere in the back of our minds I think we all felt some ghost of fear from Hamburg’s experience in the second world war.

Operation Gomorrah

Memorial statue in the remnants of 
St. Nikolai. The church's tower was used 
as an orienting point for pilots during 
Operation Gomorrah. Today, the church crypt 
is a war memorial museum.

For 8 days and 7 nights from late July to early August 1943, a joint bombing campaign by British and U.S. troops turned Hamburg into a flaming wasteland.

Hamburg was a logical target—a key transportation hub with many large shipyards producing submarines. The Nazis fought back with anti-aircraft weaponry, but the scope of the Allied assault and the resulting firestorm were too much.

The bombing super-heated the air, causing hurricane-like winds and a tornado of fire. There were reports of streets of boiling asphalt and the firestorm pulling oxygen from the air in surrounding areas. 

In the post-bombing chaos, people
relied on these "proof of life" 
cards to know if loved ones were alive.
[from the St. Nikolai museum]

The glow of the burning city could be seen from more than a 100 miles away. More than 40,000 people died and more than half of the city’s homes were destroyed.

"Air Raid Precautions Are Essential" -
board game to help Germans become used to the idea of air raids.
[from the St. Nikolai museum]

The Bunkers

Having made its own air raids, Germany knew it would suffer the same. The government tried to normalize defensive manuevers (e.g., mandatory blackouts at night to thwart air raid targeting), so citizens would feel safe.

As part of its preparation for war, Hamburg constructed 1,700 shelters for 230,000 people--about a quarter of the population. Of these shelters, few are still safely accessible, and one has been turned into a museum.

Bunker Museum entrance

The four-chambered structure includes photographs of bunker construction around the city, images of residents in bunkers during alerts, recordings of residents talking about the air raids and bombings, actual bunker items, and debris from Operation Gomorrah.*

One of the four bunker chambers

One display area included gas masks, suitcases, 

emergency kits, candles, and helmets. 

The Operation Gomorrah display included 

phosphorous bomb remnants, melted

glass bottles, and fused metal 
(temperatures in the firestorm reached

 1,500 °F/ 815 °C).

I could barely imagine being huddled down there, on those hard wooden benches under those low ceilings in the slightly damp chill, while fire devastated the city overhead. As it turns out, many of the underground bunkers collapsed or were blocked by rubble during Operation Gomorrah. 

There were also plans to create a triangle of large, above-ground bunkers to provide shelter and anti-aircraft defenses. Only two of the three were built.

Both of the above-ground bunkers required reservations, although overcrowding led to some ventilation issues. And Jewish residents and foreign nationals were denied entrance to any of the public bunkers.

Uebel & Gefährlich (“Evil and Dangerous”)

This bunker is one of the largest ever built, measuring 75 x 75 m / 246 x 246 ft.
at the base, 39 m / 128 ft. high, with walls that are 3.5 m / 11 ft. thick and
a ceiling that's 5 m / 16 ft. thick

Up to 25,000 people sought protection in this bunker during Operation Gomorrah. 

It sits just north of downtown, between the colorful St. Pauli and Sternschanze neighborhoods. 

Today it houses some businesses, a private school, a club, and is used for events.

Der Energiebunker

The Energiebunker is 41.6 m / 136 ft. tall,
with walls that are 2 m / 6.5 ft. thick
and a ceiling that's 3.5 m/ 11 ft. thick.

The shadowed person at the base of the far column
gives you a sense of the bunker's scale

For 60 years, this bunker in the southern part of Hamburg stood empty. The British demolished the interior shortly after the war, and the building was deemed unsafe. 

Today, it provides energy through the massive solar panels that cover the roof and crawl down one side. There are tours of the plant available, and a panoramic view of Hamburg from the café at the top.

Even on a rainy day, the vista from Vju cafe at the Energiebunker is lovely

Hamburg has smaller structures (even submarine bunkers!) that have been re-purposed. In fact, all over Europe, bunkers like these have been turned into homes, hotels, and entertainment spots. I’m probably a little conflicted. I think it’s great for them to have a positive, new purpose, but I also think it’s important not to forget why they exist.

Looking at before and after pictures of Hamburg, hearing survivor voices, watching this sobering video about the bombing and aftermath, then walking among some of these places now—it all seems unbelievable and incredibly sad.

Unfortunately, Hamburg had been dealing its own hand of horrors during the war. But I’ll talk about that in my next post…

This is the second of three posts about world wars and Hamburg. If you missed the first post you can read it here.


*I haven't included many pictures from the Bunker Museum out of respect for their usage policy.

Ein Mädchen im Krieg

The title of this post (“A Girl in War”) is the title of a poem I wrote in my high school German class. It seems like an odd topic, but I can't remember if it was something assigned or inspired by what we were studying at the time. 

Right now that poem is sitting in a box in storage because, if there’s one thing that every advice blog/column/article I read before we moved here agreed on, it was: don’t talk about the war.

Missile sculpture outside a
former ammunition factory
in a trendy shopping district

Not that my earnest imagined scribblings from nearly 30 years ago have any bearing on real-life discussions today, but the advice (and the poem) seemed unnecessary, as I could not imagine a scenario when the topic of war might arise.

But then it happened. Many weeks ago, at a dinner consisting mostly of Germans, someone told a few French (war) jokes. Then they reflected that since Germany had lost every time it entered a global war, perhaps the French should be telling jokes about them.

It was an honest and awkward moment, and the conversation quietly shifted to other things. But I couldn’t help thinking about our different experiences surrounding war.

This obelisk in the main plaza
downtown reminds visitors
that "40,000 sons of the city
gave their lives for you" in WWI

In America, with some exceptions, war memorials are a destination: a site, or an aggregate of monuments honoring the nation’s soldiers. For global conflicts, our troops left the country to fight.

In Hamburg, you’ll find memorials and remembrances downtown as well as around the corner in a neighborhood park or shopping center. Here, “global” war was fought on the home front.

A WWI memorial in a pocket park,
courtesy of the Lutheran church across the street

These last days of April mark the time when, 71 years ago, Germany began the slow road to surrender in the second world war. 

So for my next couple of posts, I’m going to write a bit about the war experience in Hamburg. It'll be a mix of history and my impressions as an outsider looking in on something that so profoundly impacted this city and changed this country and its people.

"Germany must live even if we must die" -
WWII monument in Hamburg's botanical park.

War memorial section in a local cemetery. The large center cross is surrounded by 

nearly 2,000 graves, marked either by the smaller cross-shaped gravestones you see in the 

foreground or flat stones within each strip of flowers.

Seeking Solace im Schloss

Toward the end of my recent involuntary inactivity time, we got the distressing news that the executives at Larry’s company are canceling the project he’s working on and dissolving the studio.

(The specifics on this and other cringe-worthy incidents during Larry’s tenure might be fodder for a far-future post, but needless to say there have been a couple of evenings of not-so-happy hours and much gloominess in recent days.)

As Larry explores other project options, I’ve been puttering about and trying to be supportive. But I realize there’s little I can do at this stage in the upheaval, which is a bit depressing.

So yesterday I did what any person in my situation would do to feel better: I went to a castle.

The Bergedorfer Schloss is Hamburg's only remaining castle. It is undocumented until
the 13th century, although it might have been around much earlier.

It turns out there's a modest castle--das Bergedorfer Schloss--that sits on a teeny island in the middle of the Bergedorf district in southern Hamburg. Awesome.

The museum entrance is accessed through
the castle's inner courtyard.

Even better is the fact that the castle is a cultural museum, so while you do get to see some fun furnishing exhibits, you can also learn about the traditions of the surrounding Vierlande (four southern farming districts carved into island areas by the Elbe River).

The current main exhibit focuses on the experiences of a Bergedorfer in East Africa in the first World War (a topic that partly coincides with some of my upcoming posts).

Although all of the exhibits were in German, between what I could read and what I needed to look up, I learned some good history (and new words!).

Climbing the tower stairs

There were a few sections of the original painted wood ceiling

As much as I enjoyed the diversion of the castle and subsequent stroll on its sunny grounds, the big question remains:

Will we get our fairytale ending here in Hamburg? 

I guess that remains to be seen. Hopefully things out more like Disney’s Cinderella and less like Andersen’s The Little Mermaid…

The Little Things: Getting Around

During my unexpected hiatus from exploring over the past couple of weeks--illness, followed by knee pain, followed by weather--I was thinking a lot about getting out. (Not necessarily to see things, just getting out of the house.)  ;)

Which of course led me to thinking about all of my options for enjoying a change of scenery...

Walking

I'm a big fan of using the power of my own two feet, but realistically it only gets me so far. These days I'm doing most of my power walking in the mornings at the park, where I frequently encounter ladies (it's mostly ladies) doing their Nordic walking, and my no-nonsense stride isn't so out of place.

Biking

After a short ride, 
Larry rests up 
before we conquer 
his German homework.

The need for greater range prompted me to get Betty, but the weather and short days have meant little chance to shore up my shaky biking skills. Thankfully the days are getting longer and warmer. Now I just need to get Larry to stop taking Betty when he's running late to the office.

One thing that continually catches my eye here is the posture of bike riders. I don't know if it's a difference in handlebar setup or no need for speed, but most cyclists sit ramrod straight while still looking like they're relaxed!

Hamburg could take a page from San Francisco's book on the whole bike lane thing, though.

I've gotten used to them being on the sidewalks, but they're not consistently marked. In most areas it's a brick lane, but in a city full of brick and pavers and cobblestone, it sometimes gets lost where pedestrians go versus bikes. Parts of the St. Pauli neighborhood have arrows and bike symbols worked into the brick. More of that, or the green bike lanes they're using in San Francisco, please!

Bus

The bus has been my most frequent go-to. It's part of the multi-pronged city public transportation system. It's super easy, and the line that runs from our place to downtown has book racks, Wi-Fi, and monitors with maps that show upcoming stops.

(Before you mock me about the usefulness of the book racks, I just finished an English-language book I picked up on the bus.)

Like in San Francisco, the bus operates on the assumption that you have a valid ticket when you board, and there are spot checks by transportation authorities.

Unlike San Francisco, people are allowed to eat and drink on the bus (and yet they're much cleaner than the bus I rode every day to work in the U.S.), and passengers are usually the ones unfolding the ramp at the door to help passengers in wheelchairs on and off the bus.

Train

The city trains are part two of the three-part public transportation system. Again, they operate on the honor system, so there are no turnstiles or gates for entry, you just find your line and get to the correct platform. 

Some of the larger stations also handle regional and international trains, so there are a lot of easy options to get across or get out of town (although the non-local trains have a different ticket system and conductors that come through).

Like the buses, the trains are clean and ridiculously on time. But the one thing I'm still getting used to is that the doors don't open automatically at each stop. If you want off (or on) you have to press the button. If you're used to the door opening as a trigger, it makes daydreaming a risky prospect. :)

Ferry

The final piece to the public transportation puzzle is the ferry. What this means is that if you buy a ticket and need to take the bus, train, and/or ferry to get to your destination, the ticket is good for any combination or all three. On one ticket!

I've only taken the ferry once. It was at night, during a field trip with my German class. It was smelly and seemed less clean/maintained than the buses or trains, so I haven't tried it again. 

Ha ha. Just threw this one in to see if you were still paying attention!

Maybe one sunny day this spring I'll give it a whirl, but to be honest it takes you from the downtown core across the Elbe to HafenCity, which is a BIG DEAL for Hamburg downtown revitalization, but I just think that area is too modern and ugly.

Automobile

When we first got to Hamburg, Über was in operation and it was a good thing. Within days of our arrival, however, the Über times grew longer, they shifted their rides to taxi services, then they were shut down for good.

I've used a taxi app and it was easy and convenient, but probably something I'll save for airport trips or emergencies, given the cheaper public options (and the fact that I'm rarely in a hurry).

There are also several carshare services here. We live just outside the service area so I've been lazy about going to check them out, but have used one via a friend in Berlin and heard great things about their convenience from folks here in Hamburg.

There are a few times I miss being able to just hop in my car and get somewhere, or being able to load things up to transport, but gas is not cheap, parking spaces are costly (echoes of San Francisco there) and I don't think I would have discovered or appreciated so many of the little wonders about Hamburg if I'd been zooming from one destination to the next. 

It's definitely worth savoring the journey!

This is me on a lovely steamboat cruise
on the downtown lakes
(not the smelly river ferry).
Would definitely do this one again!

Angels, a Demon, and Some Heavenly Sights

Don’t worry, this is not a post about a near-death experience or newfound faith. It’s about my self-indulgent entry into April.

April seems to be the month when Hamburg wakes up. Closed attractions reopen, hours shift with daylight savings, and flowers have suddenly appeared in beds that were empty dirt just days ago. So on Friday I thought I’d take advantage of the (relatively) warm weather for a leisurely day of exploration.

Archangel Michael, the church's namesake.

First stop: St. Michaelis, an "emblem" of the city (it appears in the center of Hamburg's flag). It's one of Hamburg’s “big 5” Lutheran churches and a source of great civic pride. 

Before taking a peek inside the church, 
I went up to the tower to get 
a 132-meter-high view of the city.

I stepped out onto the tower's observation deck
just as the bells were striking 11 am.

A view of downtown, where you can see the towers of the Rathaus and 3 of the other 4 main churches.

I climbed the stairs down from the tower and came inside
just as the 12 pm organ concert was beginning.

Next stop: Kramer-Witwen Wohnung, an enclave of homes from the 1600s, just across the street from St. Michaelis. It's the world's oldest lane of terraced houses, and they were built for for the widows of shopkeepers. The residences were used as retirement homes till the late 1960s!

The Hamburg Museum has decorated one home to show life in the 1800s.

Saw this little guy on a building downtown as I was walking to the train.
Foretelling the evening's entertainment...

Then: A little shopping in search of post-Easter eggs for a friend led me to an overflowing art deco store. No suitable eggs, but plenty of beautiful crystal decorations (including cherubs to fit the day’s theme!) and definite possibilities for the future.

Finally: an evening at Hamburg’s beautiful Laiszhalle, where they held a screening of Nosferatu accompanied by live music (piano, viola, percussion, a soprano soloist, and a 10-person choir). It was an absolutely incredible experience!

When we left the concert we “took advantage” of the long bus wait and walked to the stop further up the road. That led us past the spring Dom (carnival) just as the Friday-night fireworks were beginning.

View of the fireworks over the "Uebel & Gefährlich" bunker.

Talk about timing! I can only hope for more opportune days like these in the future.