It was time for another weekend trip. Michelle and I had pulled out the guidebook a couple of weeks ago, and had tried to find a few places not too far a field that we both wanted to visit. We had both settled upon Monschau, a small town on the border with Belgium famous for, well, just being a nice looking little town actually. We had made our way to the train station on a Saturday morning, but hadn't been able to go to Monschau because we had missed the only trains which would have brought us early enough to catch the connecting buses. It is in a somewhat remote location in that it can't be reached by rail and so must drive there. We decided to go to Koblenz instead. But I am writing now a couple of weeks later, and we had decided to give it another go today. I had looked up all the connections on the internet, and Michelle had read up on Monschau, and so we set out early on a Saturday morning once again. We confirmed the schedule I had looked up with the people at the station, and then jumped aboard a train to Aachen. (link) We stopped in a supermarket in Aachen to buy something for breakfast and water for later, and then got on the bus to Monschau.
Now, the guidebook I own (Michelin) has its roots as a driving guide, and so recommends a lot of things which are best viewed from one's automobile, this included the view of Monschau and the surrounding countryside as we struck out towards the Belgian border. The crowded cities fade away into farmland (which still looks crowded compared to the huge farms at home) and gently rolling hills. Monschau itself remains out of sight until pulling around a bend in the road when several houses poke their grey roofs into view. Our bus stopped at the base of these buildings, and it was here that we got out and began our walk. I still didn�t know what to expect since there were no pictures of the town in the guidebook. I was pleasantly surprised when we made it past the first couple of buildings and found ourselves looking out into a gorgeous little berg that had remained obstructed from view until now. It seemed like a treasure uncovered, a secret we had been let in on, at least, it seemed that way for another two hundred meters before we made it to the centre of town. By this time we had passed cars with license plates from Switzerland, all over Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium and a tour group being led by a French speaking guide. Monschau is a bit of a tourist trap. Tourism in fact seems to be the biggest industry. A quick reading of the guidebook on the bus trip had informed me of Monschau's former prosperity as a textile centre, but those days were clearly past, and now nothing remains but the large red house where the most famous clothier once practiced his craft, and a collection of grand old houses.
After picking up a map and realizing that the town is really more of a village (one of the main streets is called 'walking street') we realized that one could probably see Monschau in its entirety from above and thus we made our way up a steep road to a cemetery overlooking the village. Along the way, we passed a succession of the fantastic Baroque doors which Monschau is apparently, and rightly so, renowned for. Even tiny little houses have doors that look as if they could have been lifted from an old manor home. Their size also helps testify to their age, some of them would bring even a man of average height to a stoop. Then we reached the top. The view from the hills that encircle Monschau is, in and of itself, worth the trip. This is clearly what puts it on the tourist�s map. The village looks as it if was laid out by a movie set designer. A small river runs through the village, and is covered by a series of bridges which link restaurants, shops and a church into a charming village centre. The ruins of stone watchtower, and an old palace watch over the village from the opposite hill sides, and a crown of trees form a ring of green around the village outskirts.
We lounged on a bench in the sun, watching the people below scurry about through the streets, many toting cameras and children, and agreed that it was better to have come now in mid-March than later in the summer when it would surely be filled with people.
From the hill we headed back down to the streets, and walked a half a kilometre to what had once been the town brewery, but now stands as a museum. I don't think Michelle was thrilled after having already done a couple of brewery tours and of course worked half a year for Germany's largest brewer, but I have never seen the mysteries behind the bottle, and so we signed up for the self-guided tour. We read about the brewing process, looked at the old oak brewing equipment, and took a quick peek in the old storage area which is actually hewed into the rock face of the neighbouring hill. The underground cellar was apparently perfect for storing beer before the days of refrigeration as it stays maintains a natural temperature between 8-10 degrees year-round. It is, however, a damp, murky, cold, cave, and wasn't the perfect thing to do on a day where we had planned to enjoy the fleeting sunshine, and so we quickly headed back into town for one last look around, and to climb up to the watchtower to take another picture of the village before heading back onto the bus for a dinner engagement in Cologne.
