THE MANY SPIRITS OF FREIBURG, GERMANY

            The town of Freiburg is tucked into the southwest corner of Germany, nearly in France and close to Switzerland.  It has an amazing cathedral, the beautiful Munster, but other than that, there are not many of the “must see” elements of a European city that most tourists seek:  Roman ruins, for example, or world-class art collections or stunning architecture.  But what it lacks in virtuoso qualities, it makes up for with sheer charm.  Freiburg is the kind of place that Euro-trotting backpackers or package tour travelers “do” in a day or two.  Because of our house exchange, we were able to “do” Freiburg at the leisurely pace it deserves and as a result, we fell in love with the pretty little town.

            Only about 200,000 strong, Freiburg’s old city is a pedestrian-only zone centered around the Munster.  Only a clutch of the original medieval buildings still stand since the bulk of the old city was bombed to near obliteration in the waning days of WWII.  The cathedral survived, some say miraculously while others say it’s because the tall spire acted as a reference point for the Allied bombers to guide them in their operations amid a sea of rubble.  Whatever the reason – divine intervention or military expediency – the gorgeous red sandstone church dominates the old town.  Begun in 1200 and worked on over a three-century time span, the cathedral grew in size from a modest early thirteenth century church to a building whose tall lacy spire, and flying buttresses, and arched edges are recognizable throughout town.

            Along with its sheer size, the Munster cathedral is notable for its soft building material that requires near-constant repairs.  The sandstone is good for about 30-60 years before it begins to crumble.  Some townspeople claim that they’ve lived their whole lives in Freiburg and have never seen the Munster without some kind of scaffolding attached to its sides, dotted with masons and workmen repairing some eroding bit of the structure.

            Jutting out from the walls of the cathedral is an array of 90+ gargoyles whose ferocity is chilling, even to this modern-day sinner.  I can’t imagine what the imagination of a thirteenth century observer could do with the images of animals, both real and mythical, and humans, both anatomically correct or mixed with attributes that sprang from a dark creativity steeped in tales of damnation and gruesome eternal punishments for temporal crimes.  Among the leering, howling and gesturing gargoyles stand the towering statues of the prophets, looking down from on high.  Most earth-bound observers would be hard-pressed to make out the faces of the holy ones tucked into niches toward the top of the cathedral.  But thanks to the fabulous Augustiner Museum in Freiburg, some of the statues of the prophets and a handful of the scowling gargoyles have been ensconced in a specially-constructed gallery where you can walk among them and also, above them.  The gallery is ingenuously designed with small flights of stairs that take you adjacent to the wall-mounted gargoyles, and then another flight leads to vantage points above them so that you can look down on the elongated backs of the gargoyles and see the troughs carved into them.  Rainwater would flow down the backs of the gargoyles and out of the gaping mouth of the carved demons.

            The cathedral serves as a reference point for the old downtown, both figuratively and in the Middle Ages, literally.  Carved onto the wall next to the mammoth entry doors are measurements of interest to the common medieval person.  A circular shape from 1270 is next to another circular shape from 1317.  The shapes comported with the recommended size of a bread loaf.  Since a bustling market occupied the space outside of the cathedral (the market actually pre-dating the construction  of the church) medieval Maude or Mortimer could take her/his purchased loaf of bread over to the church’s wall and make sure that Hans the baker hadn’t skimped in the day’s baking.

            Along with the bread loaf shapes, several square and rectangular shapes are carved into the walls showing the standard size of a brick, bucket or beam.  The wall of the cathedral was the medieval man’s google search engine or handy Wikipedia. 

            All around the cathedral, the light-hearted spirit of Freiburg can be felt – and literally heard.  Small stone canals run parallel to the streets, a bit more than ankle-deep and about a foot wide, and filled with sparkling clear cold water.  Called “bachles,” these little street canals are Freiburg’s most noticeable feature.  Originally constructed about when construction on the cathedral first began, the 13^th century canals operated as medieval fire extinguishers.  The wooden houses, heated with fires and illuminated with candles, were a firefighters’ worse nightmare.  The baschles fed by diverted water from the nearby river, were an instant bucket brigade.  They could be quickly dammed and flooded to provide flame-extinguishing water.

            Today, the baschels operate as pure whimsy, which is found too rarely in life in general and cities in particular.  Local merchants sell small colorful wooden boats to children, who navigate the little crafts down the bubbling canals, holding a string tied to the boat and floating it along.  The baschles are also popular with toddlers and twenty-somethings, who kick off their shoes and wade in the cooling little canals on steamy summer days.  Needless to say, the dog population of Freiburg appreciates the handy little streams, going for walks in which the pooch parades down the canal while his owner walks on the adjacent sidewalk.  Since the canals are cleaned daily, they are fresh and appealing.  We sat in sidewalk cafes enjoying cool drinks or coffees and watching the parade of toddlers and others enjoying the cool little streams, wading in what was once the protective lifeblood of the city.  And is now, nothing but charming.  Like Freiburg itself.