Görlitz, Zgorzelec, and Bautzen

At some point on my hike from Hřensko to Herrnhut, I realized that a small town called Zittau lies in the tri-border region of Germany, Czechia, and Poland--but by the time I noticed, it was too far for me to hike to it as an alternative to Herrnhut. Dang, I could have hiked to Poland!

The regional train I took from Löbau back to Dresden had a huge map of the Lusatian highlands plastered on the outside of the WC. Because the train was crowded and the only seats we could find were opposite the WC, I had time to process the missed opportunity. Tobi looked at the map and waxed fondly about the beauties of Görlitz--which lies on the German border with Poland. 

A little less than a week later, I seized the opportunity and took an early train from Dresden to Görlitz.

I had a tidy route planned on Komoot, but my internet connection was so weak, it took a call to S and most of the 2-hour train trip to finally access the map. The resulting first-world consternation, and my realization that my consternation was compounded by having forgotten to eat breakfast, meant my first stop in Görlitz was a cafe.

There, that's better...

Görlitz was indeed beautiful, but perhaps a combination of lingering consternation and dark clouds overhead made it seem a little depressing. I can't really put my finger on why. Maybe because it's in an economically depressed part of Germany, measured locally by an abundance of grafitti-covered particle board? Or because I was sensing the after-effects of a divided city, only relatively recently reconnected to its other half in Poland? Across the Lusatian Neisse river lies Zgorzelec, split off from Görlitz into Poland at the end of World War II. In 2004, the Altstadtbruecke (old town bridge), destroyed in the war, was finally rebuilt; in 2007, Poland joined the Schengen Zone, and unrestricted travel between the two city halves became the norm. Is 19 years enough time to recover from trauma?

On my itinerary were multiple towers, and I determined to climb as many as possible. The 13th-c. Frauenturm (named for the nearby Liebfrauenkirche, but also known as the Dicker Turm, because it's big and thick) was closed...

...but the Reichenbacher Turm, across from the city museum, was open and offered excellent views. 

Check out that wind power on the horizon!

Görlitz Altstadt had an abundance of fantastic doors...

I passed this door while a crowd of tourists was standing in
front of it, so I backtracked later to take a photo

Snazziest of sundials

Look, it's Judith holding Holofernes's head! Don't mess with the women of Görlitz!

I headed across the Altstadtbruecke into Zgorzelec. The first impression was that the Polish side of town needed an economic boost...

...and the second impression was that the German side did too...

Defunct factories

But there were pretty views too...

Even the giant stuffed animals in Poland seemed morose. I guess I would be too, had someone abandoned me after a rough night protesting the police. 

I appreciated the crochet-bombing cheer near the Zgorzelec House of Culture. The House was closed--the grounds were, in fact, a giant construction zone when Carly and I walked by.

There was no police presence on the Polish side of the border, but German police were stopping cars when I crossed another bridge back to the German side.

I had planned to walk another few miles to the Jewish cemetery and the Görlitz KZ subcamp (sigh) memorial, but decided instead to catch the next train out of town to Bautzen--famous for mustard manufacturing--which S's colleague J had recommended visiting.

The most cheerful bit of graffiti on my way back to the Görlitz train station was on a little free library...

Another tower, didn't climb it...

The "Goldene Pforte," built by architect Franz Grunert. The house was later occupied by a Jewish merchant family. They moved elsewhere in 1905; Google says they did not survive WW2.

More joyful Görlitz graffiti.

------

Ah, here we go--welcome to Bautzen! So much livelier than Görlitz! Two thumbs up!

There were towers to climb...

...with views of other towers...

Street maps offered directions in both German and Polish.

Bautzen's airborne dragons were more energetic than Zgorzelec's morose plushies.

I visited the small mustard museum, but didn't buy any mustard because there was no whole-seed option, which is the only option permitted by the Rules of Condiments. 

Bautzen had ruins in the middle of town!...

...and devilishly charming petite sculptures... 

...and frogs...

...and more towers,...

...and castles,...

...and more frogs. I'd happily go back.

Hřensko to Herrnhut, Day 3 - Rumburk to Herrnhut

Thursday June 4, Rumburk to Herrnhut

On my way out of Rumburk, I passed a Dante's third Amphitheater of Hell, wherein bottomless seats torment the butts of lost souls. 

Then it was up the hill to svatý Jan Křtitel, built as a chapel in the 18th century, then used variously as a windmill, pub, chapel, lookout tower, and now an Orthodox church. I assume the exterior statues were beheaded to show solidarity with John the Baptist. 

The hike to Herrnhut was pretty straightforward--no more amusement park staircases up and down, just small towns linked by rolling hills, farm fields, and woods.

My Merlin app told me these giant birds were cranes.

Walking along a busy-ish road to Neugersdorf, I spied twin church towers from afar and decided to take a detour to see them up close.

This meant heading into Jiříkov, a name that made me laugh even though I know it's pronounced nothing like "jerk off."

The twin towers belonged to a Roman Catholic pilgrimage church that had lots of signage about its significance, combined with extremely limited visiting hours (Sunday mornings and public holidays only, sorry pilgrims and truffle hunters).

That's how I felt too...

I continued on to Neugersdorf...

...and eventually learned I was back in Germany, thanks to a sign that mentioned Saxony. I hadn't noticed any signs when I crossed the border a few blocks earlier.

Supporting Merlin's sense that the big birds I'd seen flying overhead were cranes, Neugersdorf's coat of arms features a crane holding a horseshoe. (The horseshoe had previously been a rock, before the Industrial Revolution turned Neugersdorf into big manufacturer of cast iron spinning and weaving machines.)

Past Neugersdorf, I headed up the hill Kottmarberg to see the source of the Spree River. The Spree flows all the way to Berlin before joining the Havel River near Potsdam. The Havel joins the Elbe in Havelburg, flowing through Hamburg to the North Sea.

The Spreequelle is part of a 1921 WWI monument to fallen soldiers. I paused for lunch, along with a large group of Czech bicyclists. They stayed longer than they had intended, due to a tire spontaneously and noisily going flat.

From the Quelle, I continued uphill along wooded trails...

...to the top of Kottmarberg, where the viewing tower was boarded up and well past its glory days.

Down hill next, pretty much all the way to Herrnhut. I got stuck outside of Herrnhut for a good 45 minutes, lured by the siren song of multiple windmills. Had such windmills existed in Caspar David Friedrich's day, I'm sure he would have been lured by them too. Here's just one photo and just one video from the bazillion photos and videos I captured.

Caspar David Friedrich rolling over in his grave cuz AI, not cuz windmills

At last, Herrnhut.

Herrnhut's big draw is its Moravian star factory. Moravian stars originated about 180 years ago as a geometry lesson for boys at a Moravian boarding school in the Saxon town Niesky, about 50 miles NE of Dresden. An alum grew up to become a bookseller, and he began making and selling the stars through his shop. In the 1880s, his son founded a star factory in Herrnhut, and they've been in continuous production ever since.

I'm not sure why I thought the factory would draw avid math fans rather than avid kitsch fans. Ah well. Kudos to me for managing a brief visit before succumbing to the urge to escape.

The Herrnhuter Stern factory on the Herrnhuter Stern campus 

S and his friend Tobi spent the day bicycling from Dresden to Herrnhut to meet me, but even with my 45-minute stop gawking at windmills, I managed to beat them to Herrnhut by a good hour. We met up instead in Löbau--my bus from Herrnhut passed them on the way--and we took the train back to Dresden together. 

Ta da! Rumburk to the Herrnhut star factory comprised most of the day's 15.2 miles. 1,350' up, 1,460' down.