My Germany Travel Journal: Chapter 3 – Discovering Hamburg

As I step outside of The George, I thank God that the sun has been let out to play and the sky boasts a triumphant cerulean blue. I have the map I have just picked up from the hotel, but I decide I won’t need it, choose a direction and start walking.

Little do I know at this point, that had I walked in the opposite direction, I would have discovered an array of independent coffee shops almost immediately and my hunger satiated much sooner. But alas, I find myself walking along the Aussenalster lake and though I pass many a pedestrian, cyclist and the most immense ducks I have ever seen, there isn’t a coffee shop or restaurant in sight. It is rather pretty – the lake that is, and the view of the beautiful Hamburg skyline.

I spot a sign for the city centre, and though I’m feeling hungry and weak, I march onwards towards the city and the promise of food. The Aussenalster leads onto a smaller lake, the Binnenalster and as soon as I’m within it’s reach, hotels and restaurants seem to emerge swiftly from the pristine concrete arena. I’m really appreciating that about Hamburg – the cleanliness, the neatness of it’s streets. A moment of panic arises when I stop to read a restaurant menu and realise in typical tourist fashion that I don’t understand much of it. I could take a seat and order something, but I’m afraid I may accidentally order sausages or bacon and as someone on a Halal diet, that wouldn’t bode well for me. So I continue my traipse along the Binnenalster and in the near distance see a familiar logo. It’s a Starbucks coffee shop. I haven’t drank a Starbucks coffee for over five years now – their coffee tastes grim at best and I’m very aware of their political affiliations which I disapprove of. So it’s probably best I find somewhere else to have breakfast, but by this time my body is screaming at me to feed it, so I walk towards the offensive conglomerate and tell myself ‘just this once – because I’m hungry – because surely ordering at Starbucks is the same as anywhere in the world’.

Of course the coffee shop looks like it could be anywhere in the world, the décor is the same, the furnishings are the same, the food and drink on offer are more or less the same. I feel like a complete sell-out as I ponder what to eat. The stuffed croissants look attractive, but the vegetarian and meat options both sit side by side, with bacon and sausage leaning comfortably on their vegetarian consorts. This is one of the gripes I have about Germany – vegetarian options are limited anyway, but there is no understanding of separating the two so that there is no contamination. I decide on a simple plain croissant and as friendly barista (a rare occurrence at Starbucks) requests my order in German, I hopelessly ask in English, for a filter coffee and a plain croissant.

“Ah, you are English?” Asks the barista
I smile and decide to try my luck at German “Ya,” I tell him in reply. Okay, it’s a pathetic attempt, but hey, at least I’m trying! “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” he says. “Oh no, I should apologise for not speaking German,” I say and this friendly exchange of apologies continues for a few seconds. The barista tells me proudly that Hamburg is an international city and assures me that all Hamburgers speak English, before ushering me to the bar to collect my drink.

I sit by the window so I can enjoy the view of the lake and the city and observe the people walking by. Cyclists it seems, have priority over pedestrians on Hamburg’s streets. Fantastic for those who are confident cyclists (and I’m sure most Hamburgers are), but not so much for the cautious cyclist, or someone like me who is still learning.

My coffee, though not as bad as I’ve had before at Starbucks, is still disappointing – slightly burnt and bitter, and I’m reminded once again why I prefer independent coffee shops. But it’s a relief to sit down, drink in the atmosphere and satisfy my hunger.

I’ve decided to walk through Hamburg, lead by whatever attracts me, like a magpie and shiny things and though Hamburgers are very attractive folk (I mean seriously phoar!), it’s the architecture of the buildings and quaint streets that beckon me. Now it appears to me that Hamburg isn’t much of a tourist hub, which pleases me, but also makes me very self-conscious when it comes to taking photos, so up till now, I’ve taken maybe a handful of pictures. But as I near the Warehouse district, I’m itching to capture the fantastic images of the old manufacturing core and the many bridges that connect it.

Over the bridges and past the old warehouses is HafenCity, Europe’s largest inner-city development project and within reach of the Hamburg’s port – Europe’s second busiest. I purchase an ice-cream and take a stroll on the harbour, enjoying the sunshine and strangely enough, experiencing a foreign city all on my own, for the very first time.

Back in the centre of Hamburg, I pass St Michaelis Church, the most significant baroque church building in Northern Germany. It appears to be closed to the public, so I make my way to the remarkable neo-renaissance building that is the Rathaus, Hamburg’s Town Hall.

Nearby are shopping malls and promenades galore that will surely satiate any shopping hungry fiend. My presence here is redundant as I’m not even considering parting with my pennies for things I can’t afford. Though if I were tempted, my desire to shop would surely have been thwarted by the unexpected rush of rain that saturates everything in sight. I rush into the nearest store for shelter and plead for the rain to subside. I’m now very much aware that I need to make my way back to the hotel to pick up my luggage and make my way to the train station. My friends are expecting me in Malente at 8pm. It’s now 5pm and I have no idea of the length of the journey. I wince as I pay an unreasonable price for a very pretty but not the most sturdy umbrella from Accessorize and rush back into the rain.

Double-decker trains – I’m in awe. I wonder how my German friends endure the trains in the UK in the knowledge that the trains in Germany are far superior. Though to be honest, Germans pretty much do all transport incredibly well.

Sitting on a bench on the platform, I await my train to Malente. It’s taken me a while, but I finally figured out how to use the ticket machine and I’m praying I have the right ticket. A middle-aged man in a suit and well-fitted woollen trenchcoat nods politely in my direction before sitting down next to me. I smile in return and he begins talking animatedly at me in German. I panic for a second, before my German for Dummies study earlier that day kicks in and I reply “Es tut mir leid ICH BIN nicht deutsch sprechen”. He holds his hand to his head in surprise and apology and asks “English?” I answer “yes,” and he asks me where I’m from. I reply “England,” and he again appears surprised. I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like I look at all ‘English’. As the train approaches, he gathers up his things and says to me “sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were English.” I’m not quite sure what to make of our brief exchange and it’s fair to say I’m a tad confused. Though as I board the train, I’m feeling a little smug that I was presumed to be local and not a tourist.

On the train I devour the falafel wrap, bought at a halal kebab place at the train station. I’m so hungry. Being Muslim or vegetarian in Germany must be hard in terms of food. I’ve only been in the country for a couple of days and I’m already frustrated with the lack of choice. My phone buzzes, alerting me to a text from the bride to be – they’re running late and won’t be able to pick me up at Malente train station. I’m going to have to make my own way to the big yellow house in Timmdorf. Apparently I should be able to hail a cab relatively easily, but I’m unsure. For the moment, there’s nothing I can do about it, but enjoy the journey, the pretty German countryside and my designated travel reading (One Day by David Nicholls)