Konstanz

"This is better than Disneyland", expressed Lola as we meandered through the German streets of Konstanz. Both overjoyed, life unfolded before us in the plaza of the old centre of this German-Swiss hybrid town.

A Google search for 'Scenic train routes' placed Konstanz through a favourable route we planned to take in the proximity of Offenburg.

We arrived in Konstanz from Stuttgart, our second destination on our Interrail journey from The Hague down to Malta. Stuttgart offered glimpses of a city we weren't too excited about, therefore, we only stopped there overnight and found ourselves in Konstanz early the next morning.

As the train slowed down, Lake Konstanz revealed itself directly to our right. The smaller train station was filled with people. Getting off the train, an older man took his time getting down the stairs, blocking me off with his arm as I tried to walk past. A woman, also trying to get off, resorted to opening her arms in discontent, as people waiting to get on the train did not give her clear access to exit. Google Maps marked an eight-minute walk to our hotel. I checked the address to confirm the street, ending in Switzerland. Confused, I zoomed out to see the extent of the German Border.

Our hotel was indeed in Switzerland, yet all the landmarks we wanted to see were in Germany. We walked through the border, indicated by a red dotted line on Google Maps, and made our way to the hotel. The border gates were open, and the dilapidated buildings on either side had their windows boarded shut. We were unsure if we could simply cross through this apparent border, so we followed a stray dog that decided to lead the way. The cross-country jokes eventually died off as we made our way to the centre.

The architecture of Konstanz offered a rich, vibrant urban fabric, characterised by a prevailing uniformity in scale, colour scheme, and materiality. The repetitive elements on the facades gave the village a charming overall appearance. Picturesque, modest streets presented themselves at every turn. At the ground floor, a plethora of coffee shops, branded clothing stores, restaurants, bars, hotels and hotel entrances drew people into the narrow streets. Walking further, I admired a simple, almost modernist church, bare in ornamentation when compared to the neighbouring classical-style houses. Each house was beautifully decorated with ornaments, motifs, and, in some instances, hand-drawn frescoes. I wondered if these drawings of scenes from a bakery or a butcher cutting meat originated as a need to communicate with illiterate locals of a past society. One particular wooden facade was painted over with darker, pastel-like dots, adding to the curious charm that Konstanz so proudly boasted.

We stopped at one of these bakeries, their pastries as beautifully decorated as their facades. Sandwiches made from pretzel-like dough seemed to be a speciality here, so we decided to indulge in our quick lunch and head to the lake, a main attraction of the city.

Konstanz boasted favourable walking qualities, allowing one to cross the town and arrive at the lake in fifteen minutes. Here, we decided to take a paddle boat out into the lake for a quick swim. The beautiful, mountainous silhouette, pierced by Cathedral spires, was best admired from both the train and the paddle boat. How lucky we were to be able to compare such views only hours apart, I thought. 

We paddled outwards towards the smaller boats and visually traced our journey backwards to find the border. Walking back, we made dinner reservations at a restaurant that assured us they would be showing the Euro Cup quarterfinal, where hometown Germany faced off against Spain.

Freshening up at the hotel and walking back to the restaurant along the river, we were stopped by a waiter at the entrance.

"Can we enter, please?" we asked a waiter.

"No, it's closed, it's a private event".

"But didn't you tell us you were showing the game?"

"Yes, upstairs".

Assuming the imperative information that upstairs was reserved for a private event, we scrambled in search for another restaurant in the square, now filled with people wearing German football shirts. Luckily, an elderly lady pointed out an empty table for us, a few meters away from a wall-mounted TV. We ordered what we thought was sausage 'schnitzel', only to eat overpriced chicken breast and pork. Lola pointed out that their lack of English showed the authenticity of the place.

We drank beer, surrounded by German fans screaming at a TV screen, after spending the day commuting between two countries. Eventually, the restaurant got more crowded, and waiters started serving beer and pomme frites to people on public benches and on individual chairs squeezed between tables.

The scores were tied for Germany and Spain in the last minute of normal playing time; Germany held their home turf, at least, for now. We decided to stretch our legs and go for a walk instead of continuing to watch the game, as Lola's choice of words hinted at her desire to explore.

We walked towards the harbour area, navigating slightly sloped streets and eventually finding ourselves at the metro entrance. The sides of the train station allowed for informal seating through Pinterest-type elongated landings. We walked further south, away from the centre of Konstanz, mesmerised by the view of the lake. Slipways invited one to bathe in the lake, with the periphery lined with informal seating under trees, where people sat, trousers rolled up, legs submerged in the water.

Continuing, we found ourselves walking down a narrow street lined with smaller-scale houses. Nothing too exciting. Deciding to turn back, we followed the voices of a crowd cheering on the German team, leading us into a pub. The score was still tied up heading into the second half of extra time. Relieved, the bar was unfortunately too crowded to suggest finding a seat and a view of a screen. We walked further, admiring the uniformity and charm of the houses, while keeping an eye out for apple strudel and a TV screen.

Abruptly, piercing the sky through the townhouse roofs was a grandiose, masonry spire. We decided to walk towards it. The sound of familiar football cheers growing louder.

Meandering further through the streets, the space opened. We found ourselves in front of the church square. A large football screen was set up and projected onto a stretched sheet, with locals cheering on Germany as they entered the final penalty shootout. Amongst the sporting anticipation, I admired how people who didn't care too much for football sat along the church, watching people watch football. Children played on a steel water feature, and others slid down a gentle sloping cobblestone path. How pleasant it must be to live here.

The church itself was captivating, boasting an architecture that takes pride in its detail and massing. The superimposed layers of weathered skins of the facade accentuated the baroque nature of the columns and archways.

Distant sounds of song drew us deeper into the delightful neighbourhood, where the narrow streets now served as the remnants of an informal street party. Different music played at the crossroads of pathways. Unsure which one to follow, we randomly walked and stopped where we found musicians playing. A band consisting of three musicians in their mid-sixties, dressed in Dad attire, had drawn quite a crowd as they played classics from Metallica to John Denver's "Country Roads". The spontaneous, extended guitar solos, older people dancing and engaging with the musicians, coupled with the free-flowing wine, created a delightful and entertaining atmosphere. 

We walked even further into another square, having a brass band playing alongside the smell of BBQ-ed 'schnitzel'. We bought our larger-than-the-bun sausage and made our way towards another meandering road. We noticed that the area was filled with students, unsure of where the university was or what this remote village had to offer academically. Our thoughts were interrupted by a female a cappella group, singing to the notes of a middle-aged pianist playing on electronic keys. They were all dressed in white shirts and red skirts. Their take on 'Walk Like an Egyptian' made it difficult for me to pick a favourite when comparing it to the previous bands Red Hot Chilli Peppers' takes.

Suddenly, I realised how, in this now two-hour walk, I witnessed beautiful urban design that allowed for an unprecedented social pleasantness. Everything worked, and everyone engaged with the space in their own way.