Düsseldorf was a secondary but constant fact in my biography. I first came to the city with a certain Mr. Lampert. In Aachen, where I studied in the late nineties, he had a company that only worked on weekends. He organized flea markets. He was otherwise an official at the Aachen Foreigners' Office.
He employed part-time students as bouncers. Once or twice a month he would call me on the phone and ask if I was up for being a bouncer at the flea market in Düsseldorf on Sunday. They would leave at the crack of dawn in Lampert's van. In it were four or five sleepy students, members of a social class that suffered from chronic lack of money.
In Düsseldorf we would show up before seven. The flea market was right next to the train station, around a complex of buildings called Immermannhof. It would stay on until late at night. I had an orange vest and a receipt pad. Some of the junk dealers paid right away, others would try to haggle. Some would move three times in front of the guards. It was a vibrant, vital, and slightly sad world.
When I arrived in Düsseldorf this time, I had time to check whether Immermann's Palace was still where it was more than a quarter of a century ago. The office building was named after one of the main streets of the city - Immermannstrasse, otherwise known for its concentration of Japanese restaurants and shops, unique in Germany. Düsseldorf has over 600 inhabitants, of which about ten thousand are Japanese. The street was named after the lawyer, writer and theater enthusiast Karl Immermann, who in the first half of the 000th century gave birth to the local theater scene.
Düsseldorf reminded me that memory is the only time machine we have invented, and in an instant I was back in my 1999.
HORSE APPLES FOR THE KING
First, I headed to the street that is undoubtedly the pride of the city. King's Alley didn't actually have that name when it was built. Chestnut Alley or New Alley are names that have survived since the time of French rule. But after Düsseldorf became the capital of the Prussian Rhine Province, in the revolutionary year of 1848, the rebellious youth greeted their ruler, the Prussian King Frederick William IV, with horse dung. The king was apparently very angry that his subjects were throwing "horse apples" in his direction, as the Germans call dung. To smooth things over, the city government decided three years later to give the street a royal name.
What Berlin's Kurfürstendamm is to Paris, and Paris's Champs-Élysées is to Düsseldorf's Königsallee. It is one of the most sought-after and expensive streets in Germany. Everything that is important in the world of fashion is represented here. But today I came to the city without a female escort, so I pass by the windows with expensive goods without much passion. I am more interested in the view from the bridge over the tree-lined avenue and the City Moat - once this was the water in front of the ramparts that prevented enemies from reaching the walls.
I wandered into random side streets looking for a place to take a break. At least that's not difficult in Düsseldorf. The city has the nickname "the longest bar in the world". I'm struck by the similarity to the bars in Cologne. Even the colours of the local football club, Fortuna, are the same as those of the Cologne Football Club - red and white.
Düsseldorf is proud of its beer halls, such as Schumacher. “Alt” is a type of dark beer that is drunk in this city. Similarities sometimes produce a narcissism of small differences. People from Cologne and Düsseldorf see each other as fierce competitors. The forty kilometers that separate these two cities are an insurmountable mental barrier for many. People speak the same dialect, have the same carnival festivities, the same kind of humor. I remember that about twenty years ago in my Cologne neighborhood, the son of an acquaintance, in the heat of puberty, suggested to his father that every person from Düsseldorf should be returned from the Cologne train station to his city, by force or will. His father taught him tolerance of all races and nations - the only exception, supported by venomous remarks, were people from the neighboring city. Fortunately, his father explained to the young local patriot that this hostility was actually a kind of home-grown humor.
However, both carefully guard the evidence that their city is more important and more beautiful than its neighbor. The Swabian travel writer Karl Julius Weber left a note that is gladly ignored in Cologne, and in Düsseldorf he quotes with even greater glee: "The cheerful Düsseldorf is doubly appealing if you come to it from the gloomy Cologne". Incidentally, exaggeration was Weber's favorite stylistic device. In his will, the man ordered that a circle be made on his grave and cigars be lit. And as an epitaph he designated the following sentence: "Here lie my bones, I wish they were yours". His family did not grant his wish so as not to cause a scandal in the cemetery.
HAJNE'S CASTLE
I decided to walk towards the banks of the Rhine, towards a part of it I had never been to. Behind the characteristic television tower is the yacht harbor, and right behind it the modern “Media Harbor.” But before that, I visited the monument to one of the greatest German poets, Heinrich Heine.
Düsseldorf is unimaginable without Heinrich Heine. An avenue, a university, and the main literary prize are named after him. There are several monuments in the city. He was born into a Jewish family in 1797. It was there that he breathed the French revolutionary spirit. But his city fell to Prussia after Napoleon's defeat. He has been seeking freedom in Paris since 1931. He is aware of his importance for German verse. In a letter to his brother Max in August 1837, he wrote: "The number of those noblest and greatest men of Germany who will step into the grave with a broken heart and torn clothes will probably increase with me. I think they will then erect a monument to me in Düsseldorf."
It won't be that easy with a monument. The poet died in exile in 1856. I remember being at his grave in Paris. In Germany, his posthumous fame was spreading in the 19th century, and the first initiatives to erect a monument appeared. One was almost erected in Düsseldorf, but the initiators fell out, so the statue ended up in Corfu in the private residence of the Austro-Hungarian princess Elisabeth, who adored Heine's work. Several more monuments followed, which were erected and then removed - the Nazis didn't really like Heine. Since 1953, the monuments have been in different places in the city again - in front of the University, in Ehrenhof. I am standing in front of one of the five monuments, in front of the one that has caused the greatest controversy. In 1981, Düsseldorf sculptor Bert Geresheim, according to his own words, erected a question mark, not a monument. He called it "The Divided Heine".
MEDIA CITY
The town, which was founded at the mouth of the Disel River in the Rhine, was named after its tributary. Its name, in its Germanic root thusila, means bubbling. A village on a foaming river. It was granted city privileges in the second half of the 13th century. Its location destined it to become the seat of several duchies, the Prussian Rhineland, and after World War II it became the capital of the West German province of North Rhine-Westphalia.
The Catholic population is in the majority. However, few people know that at the beginning of the 17th century, the ruler of the duchy was a Protestant, so that was the dominant version of Christianity until that same ruler changed his mind and embraced Catholicism.
But the most visible consequences for the appearance of Düsseldorf today were the rule of the French revolutionary troops and Napoleon. In less than a decade, the old fortification walls and monastery buildings were removed. Boulevards were created, modeled after Paris. Civil law was introduced.
I emerge onto the Rhine at the bridge over the “Rhine Bend,” as they call the place where the Rhine changed its mind and, after some capricious turns to the south, changed its course back to the north. I turn left towards the television tower and the modern state parliament building.
North Rhine-Westphalia has over 18 million inhabitants, and this is their political center. I walk along the Rhine promenade to the yacht harbor with its boldly outlined modern buildings. The "Media Harbor" is an example of how an old, gloomy historic port area on the Rhine is being successfully transformed into an attractive business and residential district.
Over 800 companies in the media, communications, and advertising sectors have settled here. I'm tempted to sit down for a coffee here, but I know I'd miss out on a lot, because the hustle and bustle of the old town on the waterfront awaits me.
AS IF I HAVE TO GO HOME RIGHT NOW
If you look at the Rhine Promenade on a sunny day, you can recognize the outlines of a tower whose first floor was part of the 13th-century Düsseldorf Castle. Today, it houses the Maritime Museum. Right behind the tower is the spire of the bell tower of St. Lambert's Basilica. Ships gliding down the Rhine. Heine wrote about his hometown: "The city of Düsseldorf is very beautiful, and when a person thinks of it from afar and happens to have been born there, a strange feeling comes over him. I was born there, and it seems to me that I must go home immediately."
Looking at the riverside promenade on a sunny day, I can understand Heine's nostalgia.
The promenade has two levels. The upper one consists of a promenade that extends over the promenade itself along the shore like a balcony. The sun attracts people here, so the promenade looks more like a fairground with lots of cafes. There is one place where you can sit for free and enjoy the sun and the view of the river - the Rhine Steps.
I resist this temptation too. I remember sitting in one of these bars about twenty years ago, on a similar day - the sun's rays turning the dark Düsseldorf beer into mahogany - and from that entire day I was left with only the image of the river flowing softly and the human murmur that held and swayed my stretched soul like a tonal net.
My next destination is a little further down the Rhine. I pass by the world-famous Academy of Arts and come to the ensemble of buildings called Ehrenhof. There is the Palace of the Arts, where the last day of the exhibition by Gerhard Richter, a world star among German painters, is taking place.
However, the line in front of the exhibition hall is so long that I turn back. I look back and see the people waiting patiently. All generations. In this country, they clearly love and respect their top artists.
At the top of the Ehrenhof is the “Tonska Hall”, Düsseldorf’s music sanctuary with a distinctive dome.
It was built in 1925 as a planetarium and a universal hall for various events. Since the old concert hall was destroyed in World War II, and the "Tonska Hala" was only damaged, the post-war philharmonic moved in there. It was not until the late XNUMXs that the building was superbly renovated, so that the original style - "brick expressionism" - shone with its old glory.
The concert space under the dome accommodates 2 people and is one of Germany's first-class music venues.
Düsseldorf is one of the country's most important music centers. Fans of harder sounds will immediately think of the legendary punk band "Die Toten Hosen" - Dead Pants. They left such a deep mark on German contemporary music that they experienced the ironic fate of all rock rebels - they became living classics. For those familiar with the post-Yugoslav rock scene, it is no secret that the German-Serbian band "Trovaci" is from this city, because the Belgrade brothers, the Rabrenović brothers, have long called Düsseldorf home.
While walking through the city, I came across another memory. Behind the monument that commemorates the fact that in the first half of the 19th century, composer Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy was the city's music director, is the German Opera on the Rhine.
It was perhaps ten years ago that I enjoyed an excellent performance of Bizet's Carmen at that opera house. Only now am I becoming aware of the fact that over the decades I have found myself in Düsseldorf in various roles: a poor flea market attendant, an ordinary beer-swilling excursionist from Cologne, an admirer of the highest operatic art.
ANOTHER ROUND OF THE OLD TOWN
In the end, I wander around the old town at random. Near the coast, a series of alleys are actually rows of cafes and pubs. Here people eat and drink, laugh loudly and make toasts.
Behind that row is the central city square. Like most of the main city squares, it was created near the main church as a market square. That is why it is called - Marktplatz. It was first mentioned in surviving documents in 1392.
The square is home to one of the most important equestrian statues in Germany. The Italian-Flemish painter Gabriel de Gruppello cast a horse and rider for Elector Jan Velem at the beginning of the 18th century. The nobleman was so pleased that he gave the sculptor a house on the square, which had previously been temporarily lent to him as a foundry for the statue.
Equally significant is the town hall that dominates the square. Its history dates back to the 16th century. It remembers all the solemn and painful moments of the city, all the splendor and misery of European history.
I decided to rest somewhere sunny and not crowded. It's not easy to find such places in Düsseldorf. I'm lucky, there's a bench on Burgplatz free.
The only company I have is the gymnasts who are currently demonstrating a skill that is technically called the "crossover", and we called it the "star" in elementary school.
For the purposes of this text, I will call the gymnasts who perform this exercise - tumbling.
Only these hangmen are made of bronze. In fact, I'm sitting in front of the fountain and watching the kids, frozen by the artist's hand in a head-scratching competition of hangings.
Local poet and playwright Hans Müller-Schnajder had the honor of decorating the fountain with his verse: "Let the world brighten and clothe - we will remain the movers." This inscribes into the face of the town, in the local dialect, the memory that long before the appearance of the first gymnastics clubs, a competition in star-making was part of the local customs.
This is exactly what the carnival madness is like, which is also cherished here as the most sacred tradition. It is clearly contagious, because I too, out of pure peace, begin to rhyme: “No matter how much life oppresses us, we remain swindlers.” I leave Düsseldorf thinking about this healing attitude towards life - when you are sick, you roll into a star. Heinrich Heine knew the people of his language well: “The beautiful thing about Germans is this: no one is so crazy that they cannot find someone even crazier who understands them.”
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