Aachen, or Aix-la-Chapelle according to the French, was a much fought over border city which proved to be right there with Cologne/Koln when it came to locational funkiness. It sits pretty on the threshold of a host of cultural and social domains which freely intermingle in an atmosphere of overall friendliness.
The cathedrals were naturally a highpoint, spires and domes with elaborate masonry to engage the artistic neurons. Despite the growth of commercialism, the cathedrals are still the focal points of the city; street performers, artists, and hawkers gather at their base along with the ever encroaching outdoor
cafe tables bearing myriad fare. Strains of German, French, English, and Dutch are heard at every turn through the music and unrestrained conversation of the crowds, a conforting and much missed characteristic of the Mediterranean.
We ducked into a gourmet retail establishment and were welcomed to a host of olive oils, vinegars, mustards, and relishes that were on exhibition and which, with the aid of many breadsticks provided a refined starter to our lunch of rucola salad topping a pizza. We had of course had desert before all of this in a chocolatier's studio which makes fine pralines for the masses (us).
The latter part of the day was dedicated to art and photography shops, the obligatory browsing through garment merchants, and the exploration of one of those Eastern themed stores that rips customers off blind. I did buy a didgeridoo (priced well - about the same as mail order Aussie numbers) which I'm practicing daily, much to the dismay of the landlord who has mysteriously gone on vacation....
