A Day in Cologne

(23 August 2026)

Köln it is in German, on the left bank of the Rhine, and was founded in the 1C AD as the “Roman Colonia Agrippina“, hence ‘Cologne’. It had key strategic and trading benefits, as well as a sweet smell (Eau de Cologne has been made there since 1709).

Unfortunately, as with many European cities, WWII caused it to be ‘bombed about a bit.’ Fortunately (miraculously?) the Cologne Cathedral (Kölner Dom), the tallest in the world, survived more-or-less intact. The foundation was laid by the then Archbishop on 15 August 1248, and after numerous vicissitudes, completed on 15 October 1880 (!). It was worth the wait; whilst, like the Sydney Harbour Bridge, it is subject to almost permanent maintenance, it remains an architectural masterpiece:

When we ventured to the Rhine River, it was still navigable despite this year’s drought, but a lot lower than normal. The riverbank is the ideal place to hang out on a late summer Sunday afternoon:

The Germans do well for themselves in terms of fare that ‘sticks to the ribs.’ At ‘my’ Brauhaus, Pieter’s, there were a sumptuous array of schnitzels, sausage, steaks and medallions, rösti, potatoes and sauerkraut, along with what was described, with German exactitude, as a “Slaughter Plate” (mixed grill to Anglos) featuring an intestine-battering load of knuckle meat, bacon, blood sausage and smoked pork served on sauerkraut and mashed potatoes. P however, chose the delicious knuckle of pork with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes.

 

Beer was the Key on a rather warm Sunday afternoon. The Germans know how to do beer. At Pieter’s Brauhaus, we had the in-house specialty: Peters Kölsch, served in small glasses that kept on coming. Later, crisp German white wine.

After a fabulous day with old friends in Cologne, we happily clambered into our train for the hour-long trip back to our digs in Frankfurt. After a short while, we sensed something was wrong and P ventured through several carriages to find a railway official. His inquiry: “Is this train going to Frankfurt, Sir?” met with more German exactitude: “You’re going in precisely the wrong direction.”

After we disembarked in Dortmund, we ran to a train headed the other way. “Is this train going to Frankfurt am Main, Sir?” “No, only Flughafen Frankfurt.” We made a split decision to grab it and take a taxi from the airport back to our hotel in the city. Instead of returning there at about 8, we made it shortly before midnight. We were able to find sustenance on the train however.

Too tired to enjoy the lovely bar at our hotel, Steigenberger Frankfurt (Am Kaiserplatz, Bethmannstraße 33), which we otherwise invariably did, it was time to crash. It had been a tedious diversion, but as L & P agreed, “We’ll always have Dortmund.”