Leipzig, like Berlin, is a culturally vibrant place, but cleaner, relaxed, accessible. Like many cities in former East Germany, it was given a beautiful remake after German reunification. At least the inner city was, defined by the „Ring“ and corresponding to the old city wall.
Some of the outer regions still radiate the run down, bleak mood of the Communist era from the end of World War II until 1990: potholes, drab houses, some of them empty.
That was the impression from an hour-long musical streetcar ride. A small chamber ensemble packed into a tram and competed for auditory space over the hum and grind of the streetcar in motion. It’s how trams in the West sounded forty years ago; I’d forgotten. The enormous resources poured into spiffing up the city haven’t reached the public transportation system there yet.
In other ways though, Leipzig has leapfrogged other German cities. Ancient edifices freshly restored. Several streets reserved for bike traffic. Electric busses gliding silently through the pedestrian zone. Hotels and restaurants with about average prices, but you can find some inexpensive deals.
The stay at my hotel, cutely named Kooook, is a remarkable experience. The room is sparse: no cabinets, no storage space. You learn to live tidily, just as you would in a tiny house. Just enough work space. As a nice prod to save electricity, you have to plug in the lamp for light. Check-in and -out are done electronically, the key is on your phone. Inconvenience? No. The minimalism is in the service of sustainablity. The staff keeps the self-service kitchen and dining area spick and span. Generous spaces offer retreat or foster communication.
With a cute little laundromat on the ground floor and a library and deck terrace on top, the place doesn’t wear thin even after several days. This particular facility is quite new. It’s part of a chain based in Switzerland; the dartboard in every room references William Tell. There’s another location in Germany I’m told, with more to come.
Best of all, Kooook is just a short walk and an even shorter bike ride down the street from the Thomaskirche and the Bach Archive, the heartbeat of the Bachfest. But actually, the festival stakes a claim to the whole inner city. Whenever you pass by the big marketplace, or Markt, you’re likely to hear music, and not only during the many hours of festival-organized open air performances that go by the name of Bachstage. With space for a crowd in the quadruple digits, the Markt is jam-packed at these times. The musical content ranges from Bach to jazz and popular. For the faith-oriented, there’s an open-air church service on Sunday morning – with music by you-know-who.
In the off-hours, smaller ensembles and individuals perform at the Markt – and beyond. It’s actually quite impossible to go from one point to another without hearing music somewhere, be it from a plethora of street musicians, probably not organized by the Bachfest but getting in on the action.
The fest even extends to the Leipzig Zoo, offering a guided tour followed by live music. Ranked No. 2 in Germany, the vast facility dates back to the 19th century but has had an ongoing makeover into an entirely natural setting.
For many, the first and last thing they see of Leipzig is the train station. It’s worth mentioning that this one may be Germany’s most beautiful. And three guesses as to what you’ll find set up there. Yes, a stage and a grand piano. People are invited to perform themselves. A friend of mine heard a remarkable pianist there.
There’s a local specialty for the not too faint of heart – or stomach – the Leipziger Lerche (Leipzig Lark).The small songbird was hunted and eaten as a delicacy since the Middle Ages – particularly in Leipzig – filled with herbs and egg or baked in a pie. That was until King Albert I of Saxony banned hunting it in 1876. Local bakers filled the vacuum. Their creation is filled with a marzipan-like mix of almonds, nuts and a glob of jelly and is topped by a cross suggesting tied larks. I suggest eating one on an empty stomach. It’s nearly an entire meal.