THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 30, 1995 TAG: 9507290043
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY STEPHEN HARRIMAN, TRAVEL EDITOR
DATELINE: LUBECK, GERMANY LENGTH: Long : 187 lines
A SWEET TOOTH took me to Lubeck. This is arguably the marzipan capital of the world. But there were other bonuses to behold as well.
What I found was not only a remarkably preserved and restored Hanseatic-era inner city with a striking skyline of spires and more medieval buildings than in all other northern German cities combined, but also a place whose - shall we say magical? - properties do French wines one better. Sacre bleu!
Founded in the mid-12th century, the inner city contains a characteristic network of streets and passageways and pre-industrial architecture that has been kept largely intact.
Located in Schleswig-Holstein, a flat region that separates Germany from Denmark and the North Sea from the Baltic, Lubeck is well off the Germany ``circuit'' - Munich and Bavaria, the Romantic Road, the Rhine River and Berlin - for most English-speaking tourists, although an occasional Baltic cruise ship will dock at nearby Travemunde and bus in a load for the day.
This is a holiday destination mostly for Scandinavians and other Germans . of almonds, rosewater and sugar whose origins are as vague as its taste is sweet.
I say it is the marzipan capital (Venice, Florence and Turin in Italy will disagree) because, according to information from the Lubeck Tourism Office, one firm here produces approximately 30 tons of marzipan a day. This is almost too overwhelming to comprehend, even for a dedicated marzipan muncher. Can it be true? Does it matter?
I tend to agree with Mark Twain, who once said, ``Too much of most things is too much, but too much marzipan is just enough.''
One marzipan legend has it that a Venetian baker saved the besieged and famine-ridden city from starvation during the savagely cold winter of 1407 when he discovered a cache of almonds and sugar and combined them into a nourishing ``bread.'' The concoction was dubbed Marci Panus, the bread of St. Mark, honoring the patron saint of Venice.
Actually the word is probably much older and Near Eastern in origin. A Persian physician called Rhazes recorded the healing influences of marzipan in the ninth century. He observed that the concoction was particularly effective in strengthening the spinal cord, fortifying the brain and (we ALL know this) ``making the body fat.''
Marzipan came to be regarded as a symbol of conspicuous consumption and royal prerogative. Peasants were often forbidden to consume it.
I read that a Portuguese king named Manuel the Fortunate, sometime in the 1500s, surprised Pope Leo X with a full-scale portrait of the entire papal court made of marzipan. His Holiness, a bit astonished at first, stepped forward and bit off his own look-alike's ear.
Top that? Try this.
In 1740 Austrian Empress Maria Theresa ordered 500 life-size portraits of her imperial self made of marzipan for her most intimate friends. When it was realized that gift-wrapping would be a problem, she simply had them coated from head to toe in gold leaf.
Ah, sweet decadence.
The marzipan recipe came to Lubeck through old trading links, possibly from Italy. The word ``Martzapaen'' is found in Lubeck archives dating to 1530. But it was not until early in the 19th century that marzipan production became a commercial enterprise on an international scale.
In 1806 Johann Georg Niederegger arrived in Lubeck and apprenticed himself to the city's leading Konditor, or confectioner. In 1822 he founded the marzipan firm that still bears his name and is known throughout the world.
The firm's ``outlet'' store, in the heart of the old city, is one of Lubeck's principal attractions. Its windows are filled with relief-style depictions of Lubeck's historic sights as well as many other marzipan delicacies in every size and shape.
Look up,'' urged Rosemarie von Waarden, who was showing me old Lubeck. ``You should always look up. This is an architectural museum.''
Indeed it is. In one block of one street - Nos. 7 through 29 of Grosse Petesgrube - there stand more than a dozen textbook examples of architectural styles from ages past: Gothic (12th to early 16th century), Baroque (17th to first half of the 18th century), Rococo (18th century) and Neo-classicism (about 1780 to first half of the 19th century). Some now house Lubeck's famed College of Music.
Elsewhere, Renaissance (16th to 17th century) structures rise from the narrow cobblestone streets.
Most have variations of the gabled facade - stepped or ``necked'' or ``shouldered'' - that is often thought of as Dutch or Flemish. Not so. Lubeck flourished in the Middle Ages as ``Queen of the Hanseatic League,'' the principal business center for Northern Europe, and her builders invented this style as an outward manifestation of her prosperity. Later it was copied in Amsterdam and Bruges and elsewhere as those Low Country cities gained in stature.
Lubeck would doubtless look even more like a medieval museum piece had it not been for an Allied bombing raid on the night of Palm Sunday in 1942. An estimated 8,500 bombs rained down indiscriminately. Almost 1,000 structures, approximately one-fifth of the old city, were damaged or destroyed.
Why Lubeck? Strategically, it mattered little. The more-or-less official version is that the raid was in reprisal for the Nazi air attack on Coventry, England. Of course it also was to punish the German people for allowing a deranged fanatic such as Adolph Hitler to get them into the mess that was World War II in the first place.
Somehow, someone behind the scenes who knew what a treasure Lubeck was, had the city designated as an International Red Cross port, and no more bombing occurred.
Since the war, 1,000 historic buildings have been recovered, including the five ancient churches from whose red brick belfries rise seven slender green copper spires that give Lubeck its unique skyline once again. Another 2,000 historic buildings have been marked for restoration.
Left intact are 80 of about 150 narrow alleys and enclosed courtyards that date from the 15th century - more than anywhere else in Germany.
From high above, in the restored belfry tower of St. Peter's Church, Lubeck spreads out in all directions from its ancient island center. A city of 25,000 at the height of its Hanseatic power, the city has grown to a vibrant, lively city of about 200,000 today.
The old buildings with their orange rooftiles and the church spires dominate the view below . . . but not to the exclusion of a giant construction crane at work on a modern shopping complex, much to the consternation of local traditionalists. And if you search carefully, you may spot two McDonalds, one of America's cultural contributions to the 20th century.
The old city's centerpiece, situated on the highest part of the island, is a complex formed by an open, active marketplace; the Rathaus, or city hall, built in stages and in a mishmash of architectural styles from the 13th to the 15th centuries; and the twin-spired St. Mary's Church in Gothic brick.
St. Mary's is the merchants' church, a monumental 13th century expression of their independence and counterpoint to the twin-spired cathedral, or bishop's church . . . the Mother Church of the Baltic . . . and the spiritual heart of Lubeck.
The lofty church, third largest in Germany, has the highest brickwork nave in the world, and its four-tiered organ is the largest mechanical organ in the world. A young fellow named J.S. Bach came here in 1705 to study under the church's renowned organist and composer Dietrich Buxtehude.
During the 1942 bombing, St. Mary's was badly damaged. The roof and the high spires of the towers burned and collapsed, and the bells crashed onto the floor of the southern tower.
There they remain today, deeply embedded in the stone floor of the restored church as a memorial to . . . well, to what a cruel and nasty business war can be.
Lubeck's most distinguishing icon is the massive - and slightly tilting - Holstentor, the city's west entrance gate since 1477, which now houses a history museum and a large model of Lubeck as it appeared about 1650.
Adjacent to it are several 16th and 17th century gabled warehouses used to store salt in transit from Luneburg mines to Sweden for the preservation of fish.
Wine lovers may well know about Lubecker Rotspon, even delight in its existence; Francophiles may choose to ignore it. I'm neither, so I think it simply makes a good story worth repeating.
Rotspon, for the uninitiated, is French red wine, or more specifically Bordeaux, that has been aged in Lubeck cellars. (Spon is the North German expression for span, or wooden chip; rot is red. So, rotspon originally meant red wine stored in a wooden cask.)
One version of the story is that after Napoleon's army had occupied Lubeck in 1806, some of his officers noticed that the Bordeaux wine they had brought in tasted much better than that at home after it had aged in the local cellars.
To test their perceptions, they had several casks filled at Bordeaux, all with the same wine. Some were left at Bordeaux, others were brought to Lubeck and stored. After a period of maturing, a taste test showed that the officers had not been mistaken. It was better.
No one had an explanation other than that Lubeck's climate and the temperature of the wine cellars seemed to have a better effect on the wine than that at Bordeaux.
Another version has aged even better. Tradition has it that a Lubeck trader named Thomas Bugenhagen began importing French red wine about 1530.
He is said to have ordered his cellar-master to allow the wine to mature so that ``its properties may fully develop and make the drinker happy and sociable instead of loud and boisterous.''
Rotspon drinkers insist it continues to do just that today. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
STEPHEN HARRIMAN
Lubeck's most distinguishing icon is the Holstentor, the west
entrance gate since 1477.
Graphic
TRAVELER'S ADVISORY
Getting there: Lubeck is a three-hour train ride from Berlin to
the east, less than an hour from Hamburg to the southwest. Trains
run frequently. It could be a day trip out of Berlin, but that
wouldn't be doing justice to Lubeck or yourself.
Staying there: I stayed at the modern Senator Hotel on the west
bank of the west branch of the River Trave, overlooking the old
city. Highly recommended. It's near the Holstentol and a five-minute
walk from the train station. The tourist office has information on
accommodations in all price ranges.
Info: Lubeck has an excellent tourist office located at
Beckergrube 95 in the old city. Some printed information is in
English, and the personnel speak English. Perhaps the best brochure,
that on self-guided walking tours, is not in English, but it's easy
enough to follow. Phone: 0451-122-8109.
by CNB