Dusseldorf, Germany- Citadellstrasse in Altstadt

The town of Dusseldorf is like Godiva Chocolatier's Dark Chocolate Gift Box. When you open the gold-embossed dark brown box to view the twenty-five assorted chocolates you see only chocolate on the outside. But bite into each chocolate and you find something different hidden beneath each delectable chocolate coating. Some chocolates encase nut filling, some fruit fillings. Those with soft nougat centers melt over your tongue slowly the way snow melts in March. Bite into a chocolate-covered piece of toffee and the crunchy caramel taste dazzles your taste buds the way the finale at a fireworks show dazzles the eyes.

While Dusseldorf is one city when you delve deeper you discover that this town, subdivided into several smaller districts, has as much variety to offer as Godiva does flavors of chocolate fillings. You can shop at all the designer brand shops on Konigsalle, known as the Champs-Élysées of Germany and affectionately referred to as "the Ko." Because Dusseldorf is a very international city, food from all around the world can be enjoyed at numerous restaurants ranging from casual pubs to fine dining, from typical German fare to Thai food or Lebanese dishes. Museums, art exhibits, university gardens, zoos and fashion and trade exhibitions round out the eclectic offerings of this old town.

 

Bolkerstrasse, Altstadt Dusseldorf



Wanderlust has brought me to different areas of Dusseldorf but always seems to lead me right back to my favorite area Altstadt, literally translated as Old City. Dusseldorf became a town in the late 1200s consisting only of a single street, a few houses and a small town square built in the area now known as Altstadt. Bolkerstrasse (pronounce the ending "e" as an "uh" sound) is one of the oldest streets in Dusseldorf. The cobblestone street stretches about three blocks, beginning near the underground train station and ending by the city building, referred to  as the Rathaus. Flanked by restaurants, shops, pubs and the Neander Church which was built in 1684, each night Bolkerstrasse becomes part of what is known as "the longest bar in the world" due to it's many pubs and bars.

Recently I met a friend in Altstadt for lunch. As we meandered through the streets she asked me if I wanted to head a different direction. Always one to have an interest in making new discoveries I was all over the idea of exploring territory that was new to me. We walked past Bolkerstrasse, heading farther away from the center of Altstadt toward a dark brown cobblestone street that wove us past a hotel toward the Dusseldorf history museum which sits across from a row of beautifully crafted buildings now serving as apartments. After warming our frozen fingers inside the history museum we continued toward the next museum my friend wanted to show me.

It was along the way to the Film Museum that I discovered the hidden gem in this trip. Let me back up and preface the rest of this blog post by saying that wherever I go in my travels I almost always end up learning something about myself or feeling a connection to the place I'm visiting. Citadellstrasse was no exception but the reasons weren't apparent to me until my second trip there. As I strolled down the street wtih my friend I was attracted to the quaint little antique book store and it's colorful display of old books. I was charmed by the ornate business signs and beauty of the old buildings. After returning home later that afternoon Citadellstrasse remained on my mind. The next week I made plans to go back with my camera and voice recorder so I could discover why Citadellstrasse had such a hold on me.

Six days later with an umbrella in one hand and camera in the other, another friend of mine and I winded through Altstadt toward Citadellstrasse with stomachs full of delicious Thai food. The cold air bit our fingers and the damp rain sent chills to the bone but I was determined to learn more about Citadellstrasse and my friend seemed equally excited at the opportunity to explore. This time I started at the end of the street where it forms a "T" with the Film Museum and Ceramics Museum with the intention of noticing each building and every address. Like a detective I wanted to piece together the different aspects of Citadellstrasse and figure out why it felt so special to me. Sandwiched in amongst the cobblestone bricks, the ornately carved wooden doorways, and the chiseled stone signs lied a story waiting to be told and I was there to learn the story.

At first glance, Citadellstrasse looks like any other residential-mixed-with-business type of street in a European neighborhood. I will agree that outward appearances do not blatantly convey anything that one would find astounding and certainly nothing that would likely be considered a tourist attraction. But as I explored building after building, sign after sign, door after door, the reasons for my initial sense of attraction began to take shape and the reasons for the bond I felt with Citadellstrasse became clear.

Tucked in amongst a beautiful, gated courtyard, the antique bookstore, a few art galleries, and some three-stories flats were the tales that told me why I felt connected to Citadellstrasse. Like pieces of a puzzle, I looked at each one, one at a time, with curiousity and wonderment then set it aside until I found more puzzle pieces with which to connect it. The common thread didn't become clear to me until I was at the end of the block and the proverbial lightbulb went on over my head and I knew, without a doubt, why Citadellstrasse called to me.

Sitting quietly amongst the other buildings were three buildings that caught my eye. One was the Polish Institute for immigrants to the Dusseldorf area. Another was the Indo-German Chamber of Commerce for those of German/Indian decent. The last puzzle piece was an old apartment building at the end of the street where some Turkish men stood smoking cigarettes and leaning into the arched doorway to stay sheltered from the cold. In that moment I realized that, among other things, Citadellstrasse was a street that welcomed, assisted, and provided a home to people coming to Dusseldorf from other countries or whose family members before them had made the decision to leave their homeland for a new life in Germany. And therein lied the connection I was feeling.

 

As an immigrant I have felt the same sense of joy, excitement, and anticipation in moving to another country. I have experienced the same stresses over whether or not I will be allowed to stay...the same fears over whether or not I could learn the language, the customs, and all the new ways. Many of the people on Citadellstrasse experience the same feelings everyday and their emotions permeate the air. As I walked the length of the street another time I imagined countless immigrants walking through this area over the last 600 years since Dusseldorf started to grow. Can you imagine how many people have walked this area in 600 years or how they felt as they soaked up their first impressions of the new country in which they lived?

Aside from admiring the craftsmanship that went into the buildings and the street, visiting the museums for a glimpse at local culture, or enjoying the nightlife on nearby Bolkerstrasse, Citadellstrasse appeals to the heart and spirit of anyone who has ever wandered away from home. Whether your wanderings took you, as a child, to another neighborhood or, as an adult, to a new land...if you felt a momentary connection to other people who have made the decision to step outside the comfort of their own backyard then you understand why I felt the need to go back to Citadellstrasse. And you understand why it now holds a special place in my heart.

Introduction

Wanderlust entered my life when I was four years old. My family and I lived  forty miles west of Chicago in an area that was slowly changing from rural to suburbia. At the end of our block, on Drummond Street, stood the remains of an old farm. Most of the buildings were gone, leaving only crumbling foundations and one brick fireplace standing in their wake. Wood siding from the barn lay in a heap on the ground situated in such a way that you could envision the barn standing one minute and collapsing the next. At the opposite corner of the land stood a tall, twisted mulberry tree with raggedy bark.

One day my uncle, a photographer, took me to the old abandoned farm to photograph me in an outdoor setting and something magical happened; wanderlust was born. Something about the remains of the old farm peeking out from the tall grass intrigued me. I wanted to see more. Over the years, as I spent more time on that square of land, the abandoned barn, tall grass and solitary stone fireplace became pieces of a larger story. Not a summer went by that I didn't head home from that farm every other day with mulberry stained fingers and a stomach full of berries. My curiousity gave way to a greater interest because I knew everything I saw on the farm was part of a story. Someone else's story; many peoples'stories...now my story, too.

It is my opinion that once you come down with a case of wanderlust it remains with you the rest of your life. Whether or not you stifle it, feed it or succumb to its calling is an individual thing. Some feel you must travel far and wide in order to satisfy wanderlust. I say you can explore your own backyard or travel halfway around the world; it doesn't matter. What matters most is that you explore with an eye and desire for finding the places and things that interest you, beckon you, pique your curiousity and make you hunger for more.

I am a sensorial person with a love for old things. If it looks, smells or tastes beautiful I don't want to miss experiencing it. If it's old I want to appreciate it, learn about it and when I can't learn about it, then I want time to imagine the story. Old things have a story to tell to anyone who will stay still long enough to listen.



Cypress Funeral Home

 The old farm at the end of Drummond Street was razed when I was eleven years old. The neighborhood folks waited in anticipation for four new homes to be built where, once upon a time, one family had lived and farmed long ago. Instead, a funeral home was built. No one could believe it. Even after the the old farm was gone wanderlust lived on and lead me to explore other farm fields, other neighborhoods and eventually other parts of the United States.

Now I live in Germany.  A chain of events so incredible you'd never believe them lead me to move overseas to live with a man I'd fallen in love with thirty years earlier but hadn't been in touch with for a long, long time. Sometimes love lives on without you even knowing it...but that's another blog. Though I never ran out of places to satiate my wanderlust in America, I now explore with a new perspective...that of a foreigner living, learning and experiencing life in a new land. Most everyday is a walk down Wanderlust Road as I discover a different street or spy a new sign leading me off on my next adventure.

This blog combines my wanderlust with a love for writing and photography. Here I will chronicle the places, people and things I discover on my way to a great many destinations. Some of these destinations will be well-known while others will involve trips down roads less traveled. Together I know they will form the Tales From Wanderlust Road. I know this because I can feel the stories of these places beckoning me long before I even set out on my journeys. Join me along the way because it's your story, too. We are all part of this world and, at one point or another, we all find ourselves ambling down Wanderlust Road.