My German grandmother never liked to talk about the past, but her eyes lit up when I asked her about Baden-Baden. This sublime seaside resort in the southern German city, a short distance from the French border, was the only place in his deserted homeland. that she once communicated about revisiting; in occupied Hamburg just after World War II, she fell in love with a British officer and followed him to Britain. “We’ll get back together,” he told me, but we knew that would never happen. Too old to travel, but I think the genuine explanation of why she was scared, afraid of being reminded of what she had left behind.
After her death, I went to Baden-Baden and also fell in love with her. Hidden in a green valley, through the dark forested hills of the Black Forest, it looked like a relic of those beautiful days of which I spoke, before the Third Reich, before the war. The city is majestic but quiet, with a grandeur that does not fit its compact size. Incredibly, it’s home to many of the country’s superlatives: its top-productivity hotel, largest opera house, ultimate casino opulence.
The Roman-inspired indoor pool at Brenners Park-Hotel
The explanation for such a simple progression in this unpretentious little town, and what has attracted visitors here, are the thermal waters of Baden-Baden. The Celts arrived first, before the birth of Christ, followed by the Romans, who were attracted by the promise of the healing powers of water, or simply through the prospect of some rest and leisure. After the fall of the Roman Empire, the rest of the world forgot about Baden-Baden until the early nineteenth century, when bathing in hot water, smelly mineral water (and even drinking it) has become fashionable again. Aristocrats from all over Europe came here to participate and an extravagant beach hotel sprang up around Baden-Baden’s old public baths and drinking fountains.
Around the same time, dozens of other spa towns began to flourish throughout Germany. The country was booming: the advent of railways made abroad less difficult and more affordable, and the new wealthy bourgeoisie had free time and money to spend. There is no boom underway right now, but after the endless cadres of COVID-19, adding my own fight against the virus, the restorative promise of those places caught my attention.
Aachen, 4 and a half hours of exercise from London, the first to call. Today it is a bustling suburban city, close to the Dutch and Belgian borders, but at one time it was the center of the Western world. Founded by the Romans, it was revived in the Middle Ages through Emperor Charlemagne, who crowned it as the capital of his European empire (it also enjoyed a great bath).
A view of Baden-Baden, with the spa of Friedrichsbad on the right
A prawn dish at Brenners’ Wintergarten restaurant
During World War II, Aachen was the first German city to fall to the Allied invaders, but only after a fierce street battle, of which it still bears the scars. However, the Altstadt, or Old Town, is charming, a cluster of gingerbread houses. and cobbled alleys, like a scene from a fairy tale by Grimm. Usually full of tourists, it was quiet as it walked, slowly, reluctantly, waking up from the specter of the pandemic, I realized, the last siege in its long history.
At Carolus Thermen, the sprawling bath complex of Aachen’s verdant Stadtpark, whose waters Charlemagne once trusted to soothe his rheumatism, the gentle cascade of tumultuous water punctuated through the trill of voices. It had been very crowded on my last visit, however, tonight was even more the case, and the clientele looked younger: teenagers and over 20s, flirting, chatting, having fun. The Romans would have felt perfectly at home here today, I thought. After all, bathhouses would possibly be new, but humane. Nature has not changed. Then, as now, other people came here to get some exercise, but more commonly to meet friends, to stick to local news. And today’s daily report is pretty much the same as it was then: “Did you see who so-and-so dated the other night?The teenagers chatted. ” I don’t know what she digs it up!”
Well renovated, I returned under ink-black skies to my chambers at the Parkhotel Quellenhof, a formidable early twentieth-century monument to Prussian pride, requisitioned as an army hospital for World War II of the Luftwaffe and now a sublime hotel with spa. In the morning, with my brain intact, I did an exercise south of Wiesbaden.
the ornate Friedrich-von-Thiersch-Saal corridor of the Wiesbaden Kurhaus
the historic cityscape of Baden-Baden, the tower of the Stiftskirche
Like Aachen, Wiesbaden was founded by the Romans, but its later history is very different. A dark backwater in the Middle Ages, it became a booming city in the nineteenth century, when seaside resorts were the must-see resorts of the top. tuition. As I wandered its lonely avenues, I felt the legacy of this lost golden age weigh around me: colonnades and fountains; wide boulevards covered with austere villas, vestiges of a time that disappeared during the First World War.
The sumptuous Kurhaus, home of the city’s casino, is one such ornate artefact. Often the main construction of those places, the Kurhaus (literally, the healing space) combines casino, restaurant, banquet corridor and, infrequently, Trinkcorridore, or source of drinking water, but there are regularly no genuine toilets. This is where Dostoevsky lost all his money, a calamity that animated his dark short story The Gambler. “I sit down to reflect in this small, melancholy village,” he wrote, “and how melancholy the small towns of Germany can be!”
Wiesbaden emerged unscathed from World War II and today is a bustling city, full of trendy boutiques and ingenious restaurants. Therefore, the original fabric of the spa is a bit darkened. After a while, I discovered the Kaiser-Friedrich-Therme. Built in 1913, the public bath is a room of the best time, an exquisite example of fin-de-siècle decoration.
As in many classic public baths in Germany, swimsuits are prohibited, which takes some getting used to. . The first time I undressed in one of those places, I felt extraordinarily embarrassed, but at the time I was younger and still worried about what others might think of me. This time I felt more relaxed. Now, burly and middle-aged, he was invisible. No one listened to me. I would become a kind of ghost.
Cakes in Brenners
The façade of Brenners
The next morning, after another trip south, I arrived in Baden-Baden. I had booked a room at Brenners, my favorite hotel in Germany. It is a position that never changes, just like the city itself, which has remained virtually intact through the mistakes of the last century. From the sunny dining room, you can see the Lichtentaler Allee, a wooded park where women in fur coats walk their dachshunds. Although my grandmother passed away 20 years ago, I can believe her among them. They got along with us, but there was something impenetrable, unknowable about her. When she left Germany after World War II, she closed the e-book about the first component of her life, and nothing I said could convince her. to open it again. The holiday in Baden-Baden was one of the few things I was willing to talk about.
Caitlin Morton
Melissa Liebling Goldberg
Erin Florio
Editors of the CNT
Walking through the hotel park after dinner, I stumbled upon the casino. Decorated with mirrors and chandeliers and dripping gold leaf, it is even more extravagant than Wiesbaden’s. You can see why Marlene Dietrich called it the most charming casino in the world. world. Dostoevsky also arrived here, so Baden-Baden claims credits for the player, but the city resort in his e-book is called Roulettenburg, which I think is an addition to Wiesbaden and Baden-Baden.
Its golden ornaments still shone in my imagination, I headed to the waters of the Caracalla de Brenners spa later that evening, propelling myself through a narrow tunnel into an outdoor pool. It’s dark, but I can still make out the silhouette of the wooded hills above. The bloodless and menthol air, and the steam coming out of the hot water. I surrounded myself with other people of all ages, all of whom seemed so happy, so satisfied. “I left my rheumatism in Baden-Baden,” writes Mark. Two. Baden-Baden is welcome. “
The lush domain of the Carolus Thermen spa resort in Aachen
Where to stay: A position steeped in history, the Parkhotel Quellenhof Aachen is being relaunched through the Adlon Hotel Berlin team. It’s a painting in progress, but this iconic monument has a bright future.
Where to eat: The cosy Goldener Schwan Brauhaus and Zum Goldenen Einhorn serve old German dishes in an ancient Germanic setting.
What to see: The Rathaus, or town hall, which resembles Aachen Castle, is magnificent, especially the Aachener Dom, a ninth-century cathedral through UNESCO, dazzling with its intricate mosaics.
Where to swim: Fed through Aachen’s hot springs, Carolus Thermen has 8 indoor and other temperature pools, as well as a variety of saunas and steam baths.
Where to stay: Founded in 1813, the Hotel Nassauer Hof is one of Germany’s oldest and most prominent hotels, with an intimate and informal atmosphere that belies its august heritage.
Caitlin Morton
Melissa Liebling Goldberg
Erin Florio
Editors of the CNT
Where to eat: Benner’s Bistronomie is an elegant bistro in a prime location in the city’s historic Kurhaus.
To see: The Wiesbaden Museum, a sublime collection of Art Nouveau and an excellent variety of paintings by Alexej von Jawlensky, the Russian artist who made his home here. The Jugendstil wing is an art painting in its own right.
Where to swim: Kaiser-Friedrich-Therme has a dozen other stations — luminarium, frigidarium, sudatorium, tepidarium — that allow visitors to swap between heat and cold, dry and wet. The place has barely been replaced since it opened on the eve of World War I.
Where to stay: Le Brenners Park-Hotel
Where to eat: Rizzi the Restaurant serves quality European cuisine in a friendly atmosphere. This is what Germans call a “Treffpunkt,” a place to meet friends.
What to see: Examine state-of-the-art fresh art at the Frieder Burda Museum, housed in a sublime, airy gallery designed by legendary architect Richard Meier.
Where to swim: The Caracalla Spa is a world-class audience with hot, bloodless water caves, a brine inhalation room and aromatic vapors.
This article appeared in the November 2022 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
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