The Village of the Martyrs

The atrocities the Nazis committed are legendary, but most of the attention falls on the Holocaust, and rightly so.

One of the atrocities committed by the SS in World War II is almost never spoken of in the United States, but it is something that is still taught in French schools, and it is but one example of many where the Third Reich took out its anger on civilians.

In 1944, near the town of Limoges in Limousin, French Resistance fighters killed an SS officer and captured another. As the D-Day landings in Normandy had just taken place, it was a time of hope for the French and panic for the Germans.

Over the following days, the Germans planned their retaliation for the killing of their officer. That retaliation was played out June 10 in the town of Oradour-sur-Glane.
SS soldiers - including some from Alsace, which had been disputed by France and Germany for nearly a century - rounded up almost 700 civilians and murdered them.

The men were shot at various points in the small town, and the women and children were herded into the church where they were machine-gunned and then burned.

The entire town was razed, with every building looted and burned.

When General Charles de Gaulle saw the city and heard of the atrocity committed there, he ordered the city be left as a reminder of what happened. To this day, visitors can walk the dead streets, passing what used to be houses and businesses, many with signs telling the barest details of the former inhabitants.
The streets today have been cleared of rubble, much of that having been done when the dead were removed a few days after the attack.

One of the few survivors wrote in his memoirs that when the Germans rounded them up, everyone thought it was an identity paper check. They were herded to different locations before a grenade going off signaled the Germans to simultaneously open fire.

The whole town is a moving experience. It reminded me somewhat of Pompeii, but even though Pompeii was ruined and its inhabitants died in their masses, there is one key difference - Oradour-sur-Glane was wiped out by people, not a devastating volcanic eruption.

Walking into the church where hundreds lost their lives, it was hard to imagine what kind of 'soldier' could set up a machine gun and mow down women and children.Bullet holes still scar the inside of the walls, and at one spot there is a memorial to those whom the village had lost in the First World War. In place by World War II, it too is perforated by machine gun bullets as the same enemy visited its hatred on the town.The town's cemetery has a memorial to those killed, with gravestones throughout the cemetery bearing images of "our dear martyrs." At the memorial, two coffers hold the last remnants of some of those who were never identified - charred pieces of bone.

Even though I know the history of many of the atrocities committed in World War II, seeing such a stark reminder of what those numbers in history books actually mean was a moving experience.

Dinkelsbuhl

Many travelers following Germany's Romantic Road would love to find a town that is the non-touristy equivalent of the picturesque Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

Unfortunately, such a town does not exist, as Rothenburg's preservation as a medieval city was only made possible through its fall in the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) and the ensuing poverty that lasted until the 20th century.

One town, however, comes close - Dinkelsbuhl.

Dinkelsbuhl sits along the Romantic Road less than an hour away from Rothenburg by car.

With many of Rothenburg's charms - a medieval wall, a Gothic cathedral, cobblestone streets and excellent local eateries - Dinkeslbuhl is less crowded and feels more like Germany and less like Disneyland, but it lacks the historic significance of Rothenburg and the myriad restaurants.

I visited Dinkelsbuhl in 2006, and I found it to be worth a stop on the way to Munich if you have time. It seems like much of the wall has been taken out, but substantial portions still stand. You can't walk its length like you can in Rothenburg, but after Rothenburg, you should have your fill of walking around the walls.

There are a few shopping streets in Dinkelsbuhl, and you can find the sorts of shops the locals typically frequent. Rather than Rothenburg's tourist traps - where sellers hawk spoons, beer steins, fake medieval weaponry and Christmas decorations - Dinkeslbuhl's shops include clothing stores, soccer shops and grocery stores.

What Dinkelsbuhl has that Rothenburg lacks is a lake full of swans and a nesting spot for the birds atop one of its buildings. (There's a chance the nest is for a stork, but swans are on the lake).

When I visited Dinkelsbuhl, I wandered around the town's uncrowded streets, visited the cathedral and had an excellent serving of apple strudel with ice cream at a small restaurant near the cathedral recommended by one of the helpful locals.

One of the trips I want to take in the future is a bicycle trip along the best sections of the Romantic Road, with more time to explore each individual town and the surrounding rolling green hills.

Photo of the Week: A Church on the Main

This is a church on the Main river just across from Frankfurt's altstadt, or old town.

Photo of the Week: Florence's Duomo

This is Florence's Duomo - Brunneleschi's masterpiece. Each year at Easter, the Florentines roll a cart full of fireworks to go off in the square in front of the church. Interior decorations in Siena's duomo are more detailed, but Florence's is bigger and better-detailed on the outside.

Photo of the week: Notre Dame at Night

This is the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. I took this photo two days before Christmas, and you can just see the Christmas tree in front of the cathedral. Notre Dame was started in 1163 as a result of the debacle that surrounded the blessing of the Second Crusade by Pope Eugenius III, when the previous church was inadequate and led to squabbling and fighting between the French and Italian priests. The squabbling turned into a brawl as each faction argued over who would keep the elegant carpet laid on the floor, and the French King Louis VII was even hit in the face when he tried to break it up.

Built on the Ile de la Cité, the largest of the islands in Paris, the site for Notre Dame was chosen not only for its centrality to the major trade route that was the river, but also for the metaphor comparing Christianity to a ship steering for harbor. The Ile de la Cité resembled the rear of a ship, and the ship eventually became the main symbol on Paris' coat of arms.

The site of the cathedral is not a new one, as a Roman temple was originally built on the same ground. The ruins of that temple, as well as other Roman ruins, can be seen by walking down the staircase located at the far side of the empty space in front of the cathedral.

One of my favorite things to do in Paris is just walk around the center of the city at night. It's perfectly safe, and the monuments, churches and governmental buildings are well-lit, providing for great photo opportunities and letting you know that you're in Paris, the City of Light.

Siena - the Embodiment of "Bella Toscana"

Siena is one of those towns where, just by speaking the name, you can capture the imagination of just about anyone. For those who have never been there, it’s a mystical paradise, a small town nestled in the sun-soaked Tuscan hills. For those who have been fortunate enough to walk its cobbled streets, it has the same basic effect.

Due to the vagaries of the Italian daylight savings time, I arrived in the idyllic town with my family after dark, when the shops were closed and everyone was in bed for the night. We took a cab from the deserted train station to our hotel, catching shadowy glimpses of the town’s hidden beauty.

When my alarm went off the next morning, I rubbed my eyes, dragged myself out of bed and opened the shutters of my second-floor room. Looking out the window, Siena, and Tuscany for that matter, was everything I’d anticipated.

Narrow streets were bordered by multistory buildings topped with mossy tile roofs. The view over the town was of rolling hills vaguely reminiscent of California’s Napa Valley in the spring. The hillsides were peppered with villas and other buildings that could have been 20 years old or 200 years old.

Breakfast in the hotel turned out to be one of those moments many travelers experience when outside their own national borders. The family-style meal was shared by us, the Italian owners and an Italian family. None of them could speak English, so a lot of finger-pointing and smiles from everyone made sure we each got our share of the food.

Once outside, we let my sister lead, as she’d been living in Florence for a month and a half and had already visited Siena.

Our first stop was the most magnificent – the Duomo. Built in the late 1300s, the cathedral embodies the Italian Romanesque architecture. It’s smaller than the builders originally intended, since money ran out before its epic proportions could be realized.

What is there, however, doesn’t disappoint. The façade is a medley of colored marble and carvings. The winged statue at the peak looks down on all who enter. Such elegance was built to inspire people’s faith, and standing at the base of the wall, it’s easy to see how that was achieved.

With such a beautiful exterior, I wasn’t expecting the interior to match its splendor, but my assumptions were unfounded. The interior was fantastic, and words really can’t do it justice. Unfortunately, my photos are mostly terrible, but the walls were covered in religious paintings and statues. The black marble floor had white inlaid images of saints and religious figures, and the inside of the dome was painted a deep blue and detailed with golden stars.

Leaving the Duomo, I didn’t believe my sister when she said Florence’s Duomo had a more beautiful façade. I marveled at the power the Catholic Church had in the middle ages, to be able to build so many cathedrals across so many lands that survive to this day.

Our next stop was the Piazza del Campo, where, twice each year, horse races are run, and Siena’s 17 neighborhoods renew their rivalries. When we were there, however, the piazza was full of people, most sitting in the sunlit open center and admiring the architecture surrounding them. We decided it was a good idea, so we bought gelato from a nearby vendor and joined them.

Siena’s old town is small, and we decided to see if we could lose ourselves within it. That proved to be difficult, but we were happy to wander the many small streets and alleyways, seeing how new buildings were built right on top of the old.

During our wandering, we came across many ceramics shops. The friendly proprietors of one invited us in, and explained that they make all of their wares by hand. The pieces are extremely good, and the prices tended to reflect that.

For lunch, we ate pizza, which always seems better in Italy. The thin crust and varied toppings complemented each other perfectly, and the Peroni beer had the effect of confirming that I was, in fact, in Italy.

With limited time in the town, we made our last stop before leaving for Florence – the Basilica of San Domenico. In stark contrast to the Duomo’s elegance and beauty, the basilica, which was built a little more than a hundred years earlier, is a mostly ugly, symmetrical brown building with a fairly boring exterior.

Despite its unimpressive exterior, it houses something I have yet to see anywhere else – the head of a Catholic saint. The head belonged to Saint Catherine, who lived during the building of the Duomo. I wasn’t at all spiritually moved by seeing the woman’s head (complete with skin I seem to recall was added after a hundred years or so), but it was definitely a memorable sight, as it sat there looking back at me.

Leaving Siena, I was left with the impression that it was everything it was cracked up to be – which should speak volumes for the town. Though I doubt I could live there for too long before feeling the need to be in a bustling city, it joins Rothenburg and Bruges as one of my favorite small towns in the world.