Germany Trip – Day 7: Brühl and Cologne

I started the day by eating breakfast at the Cologne Main Station, which was a source of immediate annoyance. Why, I thought, would a bakery put pistachio cream on top of a croissant, only to then cover it with a sheet of wax paper and throw it in a bag? Do Germans think it is normal to eat their pistachio cream croissants by biting into the pastry and licking the cream off the paper?

The ride to Brühl took around twenty minutes, and the walk from the train station to the main attraction was negligible. This Rhinish town is known for its two “palaces:” Augustusburg and Falkenlust. I put the word “palaces” in quotation marks as only Augustusburg is a real palace in my view. I do not mean to detract from the splendours of Falkenlust, but it is essentially a fancy hunting lodge, and I am not sure why it was labelled a palace in the first place.

I arrived at Augustusburg at the same time as a massive tour group, and the lady at the reception advised me that because of their prior booking, the next available tour would start in half an hour. She suggested that I first stroll over to the 30-minute distant Faklenlust, and then come back for the next scheduled tour. The idea made sense, and so I made my way over through the palace grounds in the midst of a consistent drizzle. On the fields across the road, I noticed a whole group of rhubarb pickers, which was not significant except for making me realise I had never seen a field of rhubarb before, let alone someone harvesting it.

I was the only visitor to Falkenlust for the entire duration of my visit. When I left the reception to enter the lodge, one of the staff members had to go over with me and stood around awkwardly while I toured the building. It is a shame that the lodge does not receive more visitors, as it is obsessed with falconry in an almost comical way. The paintings in the rooms depict falcons. The porcelain tiles on the walls of the staircase show birds and hunting parties. Even the statues of gods and mythological beings incorporate raptors with fancy and intricate blinders.

I learned more about falconry at Falkenlust than I ever thought possible. For instance, I found out that falcons were often used in trios: two would harry the hunted bird from the sides, while the third swooped in to bring it down. Noblemen had the exclusive right to catch herons, but they did not seek to kill the birds. Instead, they would rush over to separate the predator from its prey, after which they would pluck a few feathers from the heron’s head and put a ring on its leg to commemorate their feat. It was believed that the qualities that made for a good falconer also made for a good nobleman and ruler, thus making it necessary to signal one’s falconry accomplishments far and wide.

At Augustusburg, I also learned that when going on hunting parties, aristocrats would wear different colour clothes depending on what animal was being hunted. In the palace hangs the painting of a noblewoman in a red dress, indicating that the animal sought after that day was a deer. The tour guide likened this practice to sports fans distinguishing themselves by their different colour clothes, which I found very amusing. She also pointed out many other interesting features of the palace. What I found the most striking was that the ceiling above the main staircase has the appearance of a dome despite being entirely flat; the edges and corners are painted so skilfully that it is quite impossible to recognise this without being told.

I had to return to Cologne after my visit, as I was to sit an online interview with a potential employer. Afterwards, I ventured out into the city to visit Saint Gereon’s Basilica, which has a strange blend of old decorations including mosaics with modern installations. Its unusual oval dome was the largest dome constructed in the West between the erection of the Hagia Sophia and Florence Cathedral. From there, I made a brief walk to the few remaining pillars of an old Roman viaduct, which stands in the middle of a nearby lake.

Finally, I made the ill-advised decision of walking to the city centre, where I was blindsided by a sudden downpour. The wind blew so strongly against my legs that I stumbled a few times, and it broke one of the joints on my umbrella. I sought refuge under the roof of the Roman museum, positioning myself right next to the big window into the building. Looking down, I viewed the floor mosaic while waiting for the wind to blow over, inspiring other desperate souls to engage in the same pastime. I even got to listen in on a tour, whose guide explained that the museum’s closure for renovations (which is now in its third year) is planned to take six years, which in Germany means 25. She also pointed out that the mosaic I had been staring at was a 1:1 print replica draped over the actual tiles.