Cathedral of Cologne (Koln)

Saturday, 6/17/23- Northern Netherlands, on the Rhine

       Overnight, the Vali had motored up the Rhine River. We were approaching Cologne (Koln) Germany. A brief stop at Zon,  let some passengers disembark for an excursion. We then continued on and tied up along the Koln waterfront. Several passenger ships were already berthed there. The practice in these busy wharf slips, was for ships to tie up along-side of each other. Passengers would then either walk through two or three entrance portals at sea level, or climb top-side and make their way across the sun decks and down the final gangway to shore. It might sound confusing, but it seemed to work along the Rhine, with so many port towns crowded with tourists.

      There were four buses of tourists from the Vali, making the walking tour. We were placed at our request, with the lame and the halt, God Bless them. I came to admire a few of those rugged souls who struggled so much against adversity and never complained. One older man had arm crutches. Another guy was recovering from a stroke. Both of them moved along well. One admirable Kiwi woman pushed her husband along in a wheel chair. Whew!

     The cobble stone streets are attractive, but difficult to walk on. Koln, like many of the Rhine Valley Towns, was both a Celtic and then a Roman settlement, dating back some two thousand years. Sections of the old city wall, and other reminders, were everywhere around us. Koln is a good sized City of one million souls. One of the bridges across the Rhine has the local version of the “padlock” love custom. Lovers would lock their own device to the bridge with initials of both of the parties. The metal glistened in the morning sun. In one of the bridges in Paris, the locks had become so profuse that officials had to cut them all off, lest they bring down the bridge with their weight.

        Walking the narrow lanes, we came upon a temporal anomaly. High atop one of the office buildings sits a full sized Ford Fiesta, with golden wings. Ford is one of the major employers in the area and has been since WW II. I almost wished they had made up a better story for that apparition.

        The major attraction in the Area is the Grand Cathedral. With twin spires and sculpted fluting, the enormous facility looks like a visage of the home of a “Dark Lord” in a Walt Disney movie. The sandstone structure had become begrimed over the centuries from air pollution. Still, it is impressive to look upon. The huge wooden doors are surrounded by carved figures and lacy sculpting.  I don’t think the place has a local version of Quasi Moto, like Notre Dame in Paris, but you could well imagine one swinging from the massive stone columns inside. The stained glass windows reflected the daylight and gave off  the aura of an ethereal temple. Like many of the churches we entered, wooden figures had been gilded over to draw attention to them.

        The real attraction here were religious relics that had been enshrined for several hundred years. Reputedly, German Emperor Frederick Barbarossa had apparently looted a church in Milan and brought home the relics of the Magi, the fabled three kings who had attended the Christ Child in Bethlehem. Whether you buy into these legends or not, over the centuries, many thousands of pilgrims had made their way here to Koln, to worship the remains of the Three Kings. The Cathedral itself had started construction in 1248. Wars and other disruptions had taken church fathers another 600 hundred years to complete the Gothic masterpiece. We sat inside and looked about, contemplative of the sculptured wonders around us and aware of the thousands and thousands of pilgrims who had come here before us. We were to find, on our journey, that Europeans have a better sense of history than we do in our young Republic. They walk along roads and sail along byways that have been in use for thousands of years.

        Outside the church we were to find that even the church participated in what I have come to call ‘kidney terrorism.” The  loo or WC  requires a fee of .5 to one euro to gain entrance. It isn’t so much the price as it is the lack of awareness for this custom that causes the hardship. Older folks don’t do so well when they don’t have the necessary coinage to do their business. If the Christ child, who had cleared the money changers from the temple in Jerusalem, were about, he would have taken a sledge hammer to the metal stiles that barred entrance to the loos. If anyone tried this in America, they would be strung up by their thumbs.

         It was sunny and in the high 80’s (F) out. We made our way back to the waterfront. In that it was a Saturday morning, there had apparently been several sporting matches hereabouts. The taverns and open air beer halls were chock full of celebrating participants, their jerseys announcing their provenance. I have hoisted a few beers in my time. But I don’t think I have ever seen or heard this large a crowd singing, swaying back and forth and hammered by 11:00 A.M. Most were enjoying a local brew called “Kolsch.”

        Along the waterfront, the Vali had shifted anchorage and was awaiting a new berth. We sat and watched the multiple activities along the busy Rhine Riverfront. The loud rollicking, of a nearby beer hall, set the stage. Cyclers, walkers and moms with baby strollers passed by in a continuing parade of Koln townspeople, enjoying themselves out of doors on a sunny Saturday.  At noon, bell carillons, from several of the churches, rang out a loud hymn, temporally drowning out noise from the beer halls.

       Back aboard the Vali, I had an important conference with Mr. Ozzie Nelson. (patron saint of afternoon naps.) Then we read for a time and sampled some decent German Vodka on the Balcony. Life is good. We cleaned up and sat again with the Kiwis for dinner. A Caesar salad, Cod filet and carrot cake, with a crisp German Riesling, was its usually wonderful repast. At Nine P.M., the Vali slipped her lines and continued up the Rhine River. We were headed for our next stop, Koblenz, Germany.

                                                                          -30-

                                                                (1, 071 words)

                                                           Joseph Xavier Martin