Well I’ve managed to start off on quite a low note, but, like eating an undercooked rat first thing in the morning, perhaps this only sets me up for a steady emotional ascent throughout Germany. In a sleep-soaked grog, I mistook my passport for my precious, lovely, treasured ebook reader when disembarking my flight to Dusseldorf, and promptly left it on the plane. The reader, that is. Lost and found was spectacularly unhelpful, despite detailed and prompt instructions. I should have made more of a scene, but I was quite a bit (perhaps inordinately) in shock. Anyway, after several emails and phone calls, I don’t think it’s coming back to me, so I’m off to spend far too many Euro replacing it. The beer here is ludicrously cheap, and food is a delicious bargain, but they pay for it when it comes to consumer durables. Better it than the passport, I suppose, though I’m still kicking myself days later.

After that, things have indeed improved quite a bit. I’m camped out with some generous German couchhosts, and have looked at the outside and inside of more old churches than you can shake a stick at. The Dom is self-evidently magnificent, covered with extraordinary details. The interior is the definition of grand, all soaring arches and marble.

But as usual, it’s the smaller, significantly less touristed sights I find myself really enjoying. St. Gereon, where the remains of the three magi are supposedly interred, was a particular highlight. When I finally found it after roaming the streets for some hours, the hush inside was almost oppressive. As the door swung closed, a gentle Gregorian chant became clearer. The church, all echoing old stone and dim lights, was empty save for a minder (possibly a priest) quietly studying at a table off to the side, and his ancient grey cd player, which played the music. It sounds hokey, but somehow it was both quaint and sort of grand. The next day, I had a similar if improved version of the same experience. At another old church, to which I’d come to see the somewhat famous and very creepy sounding chamber of bones, I stumbled across a choir practice. Now I realize everyone has seen a choir, but the sound of gifted singers in this space, the stone ringing in response to their voices, was beautiful. The effect was heightened by the sunlight (sunlight! Finally)coming through the stained glass, casting a detailed pattern on the pillars before the dias. The church itself was simple, and probably almost entirely rebuilt after 1945, lacking in magnificent carved icons and marble tile, but this will be my memory of Cologne.