Hamburg, Germany – July 2018

My attempt to describe Hamburg will surely fall short, a spectacular place I visited for a mere forty-eight hours last summer. The experience was so fleeting that any attempt to sufficiently assess the large, profound German metropolis will undoubtedly misfire. In spite of that, the fleeting experience was a vivid one, a unique, alluring city I’ve been unable to forget since I first visited last July. The misfire will be worth the shot in the end.

I went with a very close friend from the United States during the World Cup. We’d made plans to visit Denmark after our few days in London and we foolishly approached Hamburg as only being a convenient stopover between the two countries, just a city that fits a logical route on the map. I’d barely undertaken any research on traveling to Germany; my knowledge of the country was woefully ignorant, consisting of the Krautrock bands I’d worshipped in college, the world-renowned beer drinking culture, German Expressionism, and the shadowed past.

Hamburg is an easy city to fall in love with, something I realized upon our arrival. After checking into our hostel Backpackers St. Pauli, we sauntered through the neighborhood surrounding it in order to combat our fatigue. Colorful graffiti and band stickers thickly coated the sides of buildings everywhere you turned as locals cycled past us in the meticulously marked bike lanes. To my pleasant surprise, Catalan independence flags hung from some of the buildings.

We spent the day assimilating ourselves into the rhythm of the city before heading back to the hostel. Once night fell, we did what all tourists do in Hamburg: went to Reeperbahn, the famous red light district that served as inspiration for countless artists. Upon turning onto the street, a medley of neon lights, brothels, 99-cent bars, music venues, and sex shops all coalesce into a fanfare of light and color that briefly spellbind you into a condition of sensory bliss. Yet the appeal to tourists remains overt; we stumbled into a bar with a local musician playing American style country. We left after a couple songs. Sorry Reeperbahn, this music and these prostitutes just don’t do it for me.

We left around one in the morning and started to meander our way back in the direction of our hostel when we encountered an unexpected scene. As we turned off the main street, a soccer stadium came into view in the distance, a giant projection screen flickering behind the bleachers.

We changed courses and walked through the parking lot toward the darkened stadium. Guitarists jammed on portable amps and the homeless took shelter under the entrance barriers while we climbed the steps behind the front entrance gate before encountering an impromptu midnight film festival. Joining the attendees, we watched a black-and-white film that morphed into color once the main character reached their presumed arc. I vainly wished the film wasn’t in German so we could’ve understood it a little more coherently. It might’ve been a really terrible film yet we would have never realized!

The rest of the moviegoers applauded once the film ended. We clapped along with them, still unsure if we were supposed to be there or not. Upon exiting with the crowd, a tall blond man with a black band t-shirt and bike helmet presented us a small glass jar, a signal for donations. We threw in a couple of Euros before watching everyone mount their bikes and softly disappear into the cool summer night. I felt sentimental; the whole experience reminded me of touring during what feels like another lifetime ago.

Hamburg is an active, friendly, and open place. It’s ideal for aspiring artists and road biking. The food is phenomenal, not to mention the people running the restaurants. It’s challenging to sum it up in a straightforward fashion, especially after such a momentary experience there, though in that short stretch, I believe I genuinely sensed the distinguishable soul of the city. My love for Germany starts with Hamburg.