To Trier, and Luxembourg, and Back Again

Inside the Porta Nigra.

At 2000 years, Trier is Germany's oldest city. It was the Roman capital of northwestern Europe. An electorate on the Holy Roman Empire. The birthplace of Karl Marx. It sits in one of Germany's wine regions.

And I never would have thought of visiting the city if it wasn't one of the closest stops on the Bane's European farewell tour that was not sold out.


Bye Bye Bane

Seeing this band before they call it quits would be coming full circle for me. I saw them when I was still in high school at one of London's local dives. Fast forward a few years to Budapest, where, for some strange reason, the Hungarians are crazy hardcore kids who become a lively bunch whenever Bane comes to town. The band responds in kind and plays there often, so I managed to catch them again twice while I was living there.

Budapest is also the final stop on the farewell tour, but we couldn't fly down to Budapest that close to our Canadian trip, so I looked at the tour dates and a map. The show in Cologne was sold out, but I found another nearby city with a show on a weekend and started booking.

We checked into our hotel in Trier on Friday evening, then cleaned up and had a drink before walking to the venue.

Everything on a map is farther away then it seems, but this feeling is magnified when you're on foot and in a hurry to get somewhere. We walked through the old town past the Porta Nigra, down a few quiet streets, then down the wrong side of another street before we asked for directions. At this point, it was getting late and we were worried we might miss the show.

The venue was a monastery that was turned into a Napoleonic barracks that was turned into warehouse that is now a youth art centre covered with graffiti and hardcore, punk, and metal concert posters. My kind of place!

We walked through the front doors, into the courtyard and couldn't hear any signs of a band in progress: no loud, angry vocals and no snap from a snare drum. Had we missed it already? Are the Germans that punctual?

We found an entrance, near a group of hip-looking, teenaged smokers and found out the concert space was downstairs, in a bunker.

No better way to see Bane, than in a bunker.

The show itself was fantastic, as you would expect from Bane. Kata, who is no hardcore fan, at least noted she liked the hardcore scene's ethos. The band played an encore and left the stage, then to our surprise, almost everyone left. The place emptied in minutes, leaving a few stragglers chatting with the lead singer by the stage. 

Kata convinced me to go chat with the lead singer, which I nervously did. As someone who sometimes feels too old for this sort of music and these concerts (we were among the oldest people in the crowd), it's a nice feeling to talk hardcore with someone a little older than me (Bane has been playing since 1995).


Touring Trier

If Friday night was the Night of Bane, then Saturday was the Day of Trier. We had a delicious, overpriced breakfast at the hotel, put on some layers of clothes for the autumn chill and went out the see the city we had rushed past on our way to the concert the night before.

Trier was once the capital of Rome's northwestern European provinces, so they naturally built some nice things that are luckily still standing today. Emperor Constantine's old throne room is now an impressive, and beautifully austere, Protestant church: the Constantine Basilica. There is no overly Catholic ostentation here, no tacky gilded wood or gold plating all over the place, just incredible, ancient engineering to say 'Whoa' at.

Inside the Constantine Basilica

Not to be outdone by the Protestants, the Catholics have their own monument nearby: a Cathedral. It's Gothic, ostentatiously Catholic, with a lovely, quiet cloister attached. Its claim to fame is its prized relic: the Tunic of Jesus. You cannot see it of course. It's in a gold box locked behind a door near the altar. But you can look at the door, which is about as exciting as it sounds.

Is it an organ? Or is it a spaceship?

We took this opportunity to walk about the Old Town, eat some frites, and do some clothes shopping for Kata. Trier is a small city, and a touristic one, but its Old Town is thankfully doesn't feel so touristic. There are no unending streets of bars, like the Dorf, and very few so-old-they're-clearly-fake buildings, like Cologne. Trier's centre has discovered a comfortable balance, so you get the sense that locals also do their shopping and other things in the old town.

We visited the Porta Nigra, the Roman city's old main gate. Apparently the limestone from a local quarry turns black from bacteria in the air. It was likely meant to be a nice colour, then became a scary, ominous shade years later. Oh! They made it into a church too, so it was probably a scary place to pray, which might fit with the whole medieval Catholic Church vibe back then.

We also walked along the Moselle River and came upon the old Imperial Baths later in the evening.

The Porta Nigra

Eat like a Trierer... Trierian... like you're from Trier

If you're a tourist in Germany, you're going to be accustomed to roaming pretty old towns and eating traditional German meals, which typically include sausages, potatoes, and pickled cabbage, washed down with beer. This is great stuff, but sometimes you need a break with some lighter fare (not always a long break, because I ate that stuff the next day).

Thankfully, this is a corner of Germany that makes some fine wine. Ignoring the beer halls, we found a wine tavern, and let the local wine flow and devoured a platter of smoked fish, local cured meats, cheeses, and, yes, salad.

This is not a meal that epic nights begin with. It wasn't really instagram-worthy either (and the platter would not have fit the frame) it's just great, local food that doesn't leave you laying in bed trying to sleep feeling like a beached whale. 


To Luxembourg, or not to Luxembourg

The next morning we awoke and thought about what we had seen and what was left to see. There was a Roman museum we had not visited, but the town would be deserted, since in Germany most businesses are closed on Sundays by law. 

Was it is worthwhile sticking around?

We thought about leaving. This is not such a difficult thing for us to do. We had weekend flex passes, which gave us unlimited travel on the local rail lines. We looked at a schedule and decided to go to Luxembourg. We never would have came to Trier if it weren't for a hardcore concert and we're not likely coming back to the area, so why not take an afternoon to discover a country that wouldn't normally be a destination for us?

It was a foggy, chilly walk to the train station and we wondered if it was a good idea to travel. Why not go back to bed? The foggy train ride into L-Bourg didn't reassure us much. 

When we got to Luxembourg we noticed a few things right away. It didn't feel like Germany, which is a nice feeling sometimes. The signs were in French, so I could read them. It was foggy and cloudy, but we were used to that. And the tourist office is closed on Sundays, so no city maps were available.

Undeterred, we followed the signs into the city by guess work and came upon the old town.


What's the deal about Luxembourg?

Today, Luxembourg is known for being a little corporate tax haven, but years before that it was known for being an impregnable fortress.

The now-destroyed walls of the fortress surround the old town, which sits atop of a cliff that overlooks two rivers that cut deep gorges through the city. Down below, there are other city quarters next to the rivers. Tall brick and stone arch bridges span over these river gorges.

If we had visited the city in the middle of the summer, we'd be impressed, but during the autumn, once the sun came out, the city was breathtaking.

Along the wall.

Now on the casemates, just as the sun finally comes out.

The city is not cheap (those corporate tax savings got to be spent somehow). Desperately hungry for lunch, we walked into one restaurant. It was like one of those movie scenes where the hero walks into a biker bar and everyone stops talking and stare at them when they enter, only instead of bikers at this Luxembourg eatery, it was all seniors staring at us. 

So, we left quickly and Kata managed to find a nice cafe – it felt like a tidy ruin pub with a fresh coat of paint – where we had a nice lunch, and I had a couple of frosty, tasty Belgian beers.

Seeing the Luxembourg was one of those pleasant surprises that never would have been possible if I hadn't dragged us down to a remote corner of Germany for a hardcore show. So, I guess we have hardcore music to thank for this awesome trip. 

Thanks, hardcore!

Thanks, hardcore!

If you go:

Eat and drink and be merry at Weinstube Kesselstatt in Trier. It's casual, so you have to order everything at the bar. Think that's not romantic? Well, it is if you're a gentleman and get off your butt to bring your lady some food and drink.

In Luxembourg, you can eat like a German retiree at the fancy schmancy French bistros in the Old Town, or you can go to Konrad Cafe. Good food, Belgian beer on tap, nice ruin pub feel in the basement.

This Year's Good Decision

Just me and the barges along the River Rhine.

Do you like loud bar noises all through the night? How about streets strewn with broken bottles and puke? Drunks everywhere, peeing in doorways and shouting German at passers-by? Then I humbly recommend renting a flat in Dusseldorf's Altstadt.

A 21-year-old me might have loved it here, but not the 33-year-old me who needs beauty rest and likes reading a book in the evenings.

Its only advantage, aside from the central location, is its proximity to the Rhine River. Every morning I walked to work along the river and every evening I returned home along this route.

In the mornings, it's just you and the fog and the river barges. In the evening, weather depending, it's you and the runners and the dog walkers and the tourists and the homeless afternoon drinkers with the fog and the river barges.

I did this all throughout the Rhenish 'winter,' which is really just a cold, windy and rainy day that lasts until the spring. 

Stepping onto a stuffy tram and subway car in the middle of winter so you can be dropped off in front of your office for a day of indoor office stuff is one of life's truly soul crushing experiences. It's a relief to shake your legs and step outside with just your two feet and a heart beat (and the appropriate amount of clothing) and walk along one of Europe's mightiest rivers to the office. 

When we finally fled the Altstadt to less rowdier environs, I joined the soul crushees on the tram to the office. That only lasted a few months before I bought a Dutch Cruiser for Kata's birthday, and nifty street beast for myself.

I have mastered the bike commute to work, once again. But the real thrill has been taking out our bikes for pedalling adventures in the Dorf's neighbourhood, which inevitably means cruising along the Rhine.

This has been a turning point for me. 

I once lamented the lack of hills, now I'm happy for the flat bike-riding terrain. We hated the long monotonous smooth distances when we were walking, like on our trip to Zons, but we relish it now with our bikes. We resented shelling out wads of Euros for train trips for distant locales in our corner of Germany. Now, we boldly attempt to reach them on our own – not always succeeding, but then we just boldly look for a closer destination.

Beer and Flammkuchen in Benrath

When I moved into my apartment in Baldwin Village in Toronto, I pulled boxes and furniture from my parents' basement in London. I also raided the garage for my old bicycle.

As a student in London, I would ride to campus, shooting along the bike trails along the Thames River. The bike was left hanging from the garage ceiling when I moved out.

Living in Toronto without your own transportation means contending with Toronto's public transit system. A system that is likely the most soul-crushing of all transit systems, and I have encountered a few of them.

When I took the bike out on the streets of T.O. for the first time, my immediate reaction was "Why didn't I do this before!" The less immediate reaction was a love for the city began to grow where there was a lot of cynicism before.

Riding a bike in Toronto allows you to forgo public transit most of the time. You ride to work, zig zagging up and down side streets you never would have discovered without the bike. 

In Toronto, I discovered the city with the bike and loved the city more because I discovered more. Staying off Toronto's subway and tram system definitely helped my outlook too.

We point out to friends and family that the a posh little town, but it's a nice place to live... and then we trail off. The bikes have allowed us to get out and discover more of the town, and a lot more of its surroundings. Given time, we might learn to love the Dorf. Maybe.

One of many suspension bridges along the Rhine.

Voting From Afar

The Gregorians had it all wrong when they put the beginning of the new year in January. September truly feels like the first month of the year. By then, vacations are over, along with the fiscal year for some businesses (like ad agencies), school begins, and people slowly shake off the summer laziness. 

By now, a month into the 'New Year,' life has picked up where it left off before the summer. At work, I'm juggling several projects with looming deadlines. Money must be saved and preparations made for the coming Canada trip. There's an urgency to drink patio beers and partake in outdoor activities before winter becomes a reality.

In the midst of this, a Canadian election is scheduled for October 19, and there is one thing I wanted to ensure I made time for.

Casting my Voting as an Expat

As a someone who has lived outside of Canada for less than five years, I am happily still able to vote. I applied for my voting kit (which meant simply sending a scan of my passport and my address to Elections Canada) and cast my vote today (by mail).

It's an interesting process. I didn't tick a box for a candidate; I write in the name of the candidate. Then I put the ballot into a little envelope. Then I took that little envelope and put it into another envelope, which I signed and dated. Then I put it into another envelope, which is the mailing envelope. It felt more like putting together a lickable Matryoshka doll than voting. 

Nevertheless, I miss voting in person, not for the ease of it – although licking my way through the voting kit was a little weird. It's a comforting ritual to walk in the polling station, mark an X beside my candidate, and drop it into the ballot box. 

Elections Canada made this process very easy for me, but it's startling to see that only 6,000 Canadians out of maybe 2.8 million living outside of Canada cast a vote. 

It's startling, but somewhat understandable. I didn't know I could vote from abroad, and I've always made a point of voting, but a similar ignorance might keeps expats away. Or a perception that it's difficult (which it isn't). Or old fashioned indifference (not unlikely).

Exercising my right this way might not last long. A court struck down Canadian citizens' right to vote if they've been living elsewhere for over five years. The court's decision was rooted in the argument that expat's votes would upset the social contract between the government and current residents in Canada. 

I understand that argument, but to me that means the system should be tweaked just a bit. 

My Parliamentary Expat Reform Bill

My suggestion? Expats should get our own Member of Parliament. Just because we've been away for a while doesn't mean we don't have ties to Canada (property, investments, family, citizenship) or that we never intend to return.

Having our own MP would attract more voters and bring a different perspective. We're copywriters in Germany, teachers in Indonesia, and hockey players in the United States. Where we live shouldn't invalidate us from making an informed decision – we are still Canadian citizens, after all.

Recently, Prime Minister Harper has proposed more changes. Mostly, it would make it difficult to vote from afar. Rather than emailing a scan of my passport, I would have to get someone to vouch for me that I am from the riding that I intend to vote in. 

There is a pattern here. In the last election, mysterious robocalls sent voters to the wrong polling stations. A new law that should have countered this instead instituted rigorous identification procedures for voting. The stated purpose was stopping people from voting more than once, but it merely succeeded in making it more difficult for students, pensioners, and the homeless to vote. Budget cuts to Elections Canada and for voting advocacy have not helped either.

This obfuscation of the democratic process is shameful enough, but it's not the only problem. Voter turnout was only around 60% in Canada. 

It's so disheartening to see people throw away their vote by not voting. yes, the country's and the world's problems can seem so daunting that our vote seems like it won't make a difference. But it's also so ridiculously easy (for now) that there's no reason why we all shouldn't give it a shot.