Bruce Douglas Reeves, Author

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A MARRIAGE IN MOTION, 39: Koblenz to Berlin in Unified Germany, 1992

2/10/2018

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​Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 years of marriage.  This is number 39 of a series about our lives and travels. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series.  To start at the beginning of our marriage look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts you'll find below that are a previous series about later travels.   
 
PictureSherrill in Potsdam, Germany, 1992
​           It's the confluence of the two rivers," Sherrill told me.  "Something we have to see."
          Her excitement at the prospect was catching, so now I was looking forward to it, as well.  
           A four-hour boat trip along the Moselle took us from historic  Cochem in the wine-producing Moselle Valley to the city of Koblenz, where  the Moselle met the bigger Rhine at the Deutsches Eck, or "German Corner," a  massive concrete triangle that poked its snout between the two rivers as their currents collided.  We could see the two rivers battling it out, stirring up wild foamy patterns in the water.  An ugly statue looked over the confluence from our side and a massive, ugly fortress stood on the cliff opposite, but the combative meeting of the rivers between them was beautiful.  
              "Now, I understand why you wanted to see this," I told Sherrill.
              She just smiled in reply.  

PictureCochem & Reconstructed Castle
​              Koblenz has a long history, but much of it was wiped out during World War Two.  Stubbornly, though, while we were there, the city was celebrating its two thousandth birthday—although most of the buildings that looked old were modern reconstructions.  We did enjoy strolling with everyone else along the river esplanade and in the old town, whether the buildings were original or not.
              Dusseldorf, like so much of Germany, also suffered from massive bombing during the War, so there wasn't much left of its old city, either, although the new city had a stylish energy—especially the Konigsallee, a shopping boulevard shaded by chestnut trees.  We window-shopped at the high-end clothing stores, dropped in at three museums, and ate at a sidewalk cafe opposite the canal running down the center of the street.  Gold leaves blew around our feet, I remember, but the air was still warm.  It all was very pleasant, but we could have been anywhere in the world.  The city seemed to have turned its back on both the Rhine and the past.  

PictureSherrill, Aachen Cathedral & Street Market
​           Another trip highlight for Sherrill was the ancient city of Aachen.  She'd been looking forward to seeing Charlemagne's marble throne in the cathedral—not to mention the gold, head-shaped reliquary holding part of his skull.  And what about the arm-shaped reliquary with the bones of his forearm, which we could admire through a little window in the armor?  The rest of his 1,200 year-old skeleton presumably was in his sarcophagus, but we couldn't see inside it.  Years after we were there, however, it was opened and scientists confirmed that the six foot tall man whose bones were found most certainly was "the father of Europe," Emperor Charlemagne. 
              Sherrill always enjoyed discovering another reliquary displaying another holy body part, but Aachen  had the biggest cache since the village of Conques on the way to Santiago de Campostela.  She knew all about Charlemagne and his passion for relics.  While his church was being built, he sent messengers to Jerusalem and Constantinople to buy relics for him.  The "Four Great Aachen Relics" in his collection reputedly were: the garment worn by Mary on the night of Christ's birth, the swaddling clothes of the Infant Jesus, the blood-stained loincloth of Jesus on the cross, and the cloth used at the beheading of John the Baptist. 
              "They're all here," she told me.  "In that."
              She pointed to a gold, jewel-encrusted statuette of Mary and baby Jesus.
              "But we can't see them."
              She smiled.  "You have to take it on faith, dear, that they're inside." 

PictureCharlemagne's Throne, Aachen Cathedral
​              For more than a thousand years, pilgrims had done that—without any proof except tradition.  In our guidebook, Sherrill had written one word next to the description of these relics in the Aachen cathedral: "WOW!"  Another valuable relic in the cathedral, even if not a body part, was a link from the chain that once imprisoned St. Peter.   
              I was impressed that Charlemagne's chapel, with his tomb and white marble throne,  dated back to the year 800.  When we were there in 1992, damage from World War Two still was being repaired.  As if to underline the passage of time, across the street from the cathedral stood a shiny new, very popular, McDonald's restaurant—a small version of its golden arches discreetly above the doors.   

           We hated to leave Aachen, but finally had to take a train east across Germany to Berlin, a different city than the one we'd experienced in 1988.  It was hard to believe that less than five years had passed since we'd made our way around a divided city and spent almost an hour passing through Checkpoint Charlie, now history.  For the most part, the wall was gone, except for remnants for tourists to gaze at, but huge empty spaces—including the vast No Man's Land stretching next to it on the eastern side—still revealed where it had been. 
              "A lot valuable real estate is going to be available for development, now," I told Sherrill.
              "And who is going to develop it?" 
              "That's the question, isn't it?" 
PictureBruce & Brandenburg Gate, Berlin -- no Wall in front, this time
​          One piece of real estate that was still undeveloped, somebody told us, was above Hitler's bunker.  Apparently, debates were still going on about what should be done with it.  Above all, the government didn't want anybody to build a shrine on it.  I smiled, but was told that it was no joke.  There were people who'd do it, if they had a chance.
          Now that the borders between east and west were gone, it was easier to get around the city, although some U-Bahn trains from the west still couldn't stop at stations in the east.  We took some day trips out to Berlin's suburbs, including Potsdam, where the allies met at the end of the War in 1945.  We stood in the very room with the same table and chairs in the Cecilienhof Palace where Stalin, Truman, and first Churchill and then Clement Attlee from Britain met.  The palace had been built in an English Tudor style, but felt very Germanic.  We both had the same thought at that moment: this was where the future history of the world was determined, for better or worse.  
            "There's one more place we have to see," Sherrill told me as we left the palace, "as long as we're in Potsdam."  

PictureBruce at Sans Souci, Potsdam
       It turned out that she was referring to Sans Souci, Frederick the Great's summer home.  The name translated as "without worry or care," the theme for his place of escape.  Of course, since he was king of Prussia, his summer cottage was intended to rival Versailles.  It wasn't as big, but the rococo palace and its gardens, with their light-hearted follies scattered among the walkways and greenery, appealed to the decorator and designer in Sherrill.  
            Despite the elaborate rococo decorations throughout the palace, it preserved a lightness that gave it a good deal of charm.  The surprises popping up in the garden, around a corner or beyond a hedge or tree, added a pleasant sense of anticipation as we strolled through it.  Looking back, I can see how Sherrill was inspired by Sanssouci—as well as, of course, other places large and small that we visited over the years. 
           Surprises await the visitor throughout our own much smaller garden: it might be a mirror in a corner, a five foot tall giraffe behind a tree, a little pagoda under a shrub, or one of two dozen other animals scattered among the plants.  The idea, she said, was to give joy, and the surprises that she tucked away in our garden did and do give joy.  Her goal in the house was an uncrowded lightness with its own carefully placed details adding variety and aesthetic pleasure.  Sometimes, I didn't understand what she was doing or why while she was doing it, but I learned to appreciate and admire her efforts—whatever inspired them, a magazine article, something she saw on a trip, or her own sense of whimsy. 
To be continued.... 
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If you enjoy these posts, why not explore the rest of my website, too? Just click on the buttons at the top of the page and discover where they take you—including to several complete short stories and excerpts from my novels.  Please pass them on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.  
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          I've been writing at least since age seven, making up stories before that, and exploring the world almost as long as I can remember.  This blog is mostly about writing and traveling -- for me the perfect life. 
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          My most recent book is DELPHINE, winner of the Clay Reynolds Novella Prize.        Recently, my first novel, THE NIGHT ACTION, has been republished by Automat Press as an e-book, available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other sources.  CLICK here to buy THE NIGHT ACTION e-book.

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