The Citadel

Despite their close proximity each of the cities has their unique character: Essen has a drab realisim with large grey blocks predominant - even the the largest synagogue, which I have seen, looks like it has been built for workers; Duisberg is consumed by impressive heavy industry with a huge capacity but also bears some magnificent fruits of restored architecture none the less tarnished by soot; Dusseldorf is fresh and well formed with an affluence supported by the largest Japanese comunity in Europe; Dortmund - a combination of all three.

Hugging the Rhine, Köln is very different again. Built on the site of Roman colony then restored from the once proud medieval citadel that was destroyed during the war. Despite this painful destruction the city retains a lot of it's medieval character with buildings replicating and stemming from the ruins of the originals. It also feels truely European rather than strictly German with a rich diversity of people, cafes spilling onto the streets, boisterous taverns and food from across the Mediteranean and Baltic.

I stopped for a while and listened to two men - probably Jews since I recognised some Klezmer melodies - playing with a real passion. It was music that made me want to both dance and cry, with a raw energy and unpretentious precision. The accordionist laying down a continuous steam of rhythm without once breaking for a breath and the fiddler enriching the voice of the melody, building on the structure with embelishments which at the same time could not be predetermined or improvised.

Moving south passing through the south gate and old men playing bouls, I settled down on the banks of the Rhine outside Köln and let thoughts flow through my head, with a slowly setting sun emphasising the quaint river front of Rodenkirken interspersed with trees. Teams of rowers plowing inexplicably up stream and the spires of the Dom just visible on the horizon.