Welcome to Wernigerode

Sitting here, the dining table in my single-room apartment, sipping a glass of hot Fix Waldbeere tea, I'm contemplating the advent of my fifth week in Wernigerode, "the colorful town in Harz mountains." With October's cold air seeping into the leaves and changing their tones from cheerful green to a golden yellow tint reflecting the sun's last autumn appearances, I can see how the name fits. Add to the mix the panoramic view of red rooftops tucked into the valleys of the small town and the various hues of paint decorating the half-timbered houses, for which Wernigerode is famous, and, suddenly, the slogan makes sense.

Wernigerode, Saxony-Anhalt, is known as "the colorful town in the Harz," a designation recognizing
its traditional half-timbered houses and its location on the border of the Harz Mountains.

In some ways, I feel like my observations romanticize the city, but walking around the Lust Garten (pleasure gardens) yesterday afternoon, smoothing over the 400-year-old landscape beneath the fairy tale castle perched on its hilltop abode, I couldn't help but think that Wernigerode is a place for "happily ever after." True, the night life lacks verve (actually, it lacks existence), and shopping is, more or less, constrained to the stretch of Pedestrian Zone spanning Westernstrasse and Breitestrasse. But the traditions that have remained make the town an ideal locale.

For instance, I already mentioned the half-timbered houses that compose basically all of Wernigerode's Innenstadt, their brown lumbered timbers slashing angled designs through white, green, pink, yellow, and red backdrops. Signs throughout the city designate special houses of interest, for example the smallest house, the crooked house, and the oldest house. The Rathaus (city hall) is also a prime example of the beauty of Wernigerode's tradition. In just over a month, I've seen countless couples, clothed in wedding array, descend its front steps to the congratulations of a handful of friends or to the music of a full-fledged band. I've also seen a group of young men littering those same steps with sand and beer bottle tops, carrying a curly black wig and loud floral dress with which to "celebrate" a single friend inside who happened to be marking his 30th birthday. Poor guy was met with the task of restoring the Rathaus to its pristine cleanliness before being whisked away to really celebrate, presumably with enough beer to equal the amount of bottle caps strewn over the steps. Entertainment may be sparse, but the moments of  hilarity catch you off guard with their hearty spontaneity.

The 500+ year-old Rathaus sits prominently in the center of Wernigerode's Marktplatz, offering an attractive location for weddings and other cultural events as well as being featured in the city's landmark attractions.

At any rate, I can't complain about my current location--two minutes from woods that border the Harz National Park: a wonderland of forest hiking trails, hidden ponds, and light-dappled meadows; and half an hour (walking) from the center of town with its offerings of Italian-style Eis, luscious bakeries, and conditeries laden with their buffet of mouth-watering cakes. When I close my front door upon leaving the house, I can look to the left and just make out the silhouette of the towers on top of the Brocken, the mountain formerly marking part of the border between Soviet East Germany and free West Germany. To the right, Schloss Wernigerode rises above the church steeples poking into the air between the town's red-roofed canopy. Especially in the mornings on clear days when I'm lucky, the sky, still pale blue but streaked with luminous pinks and reds, paints a backdrop to the castle that outdoes any artist's rendering: a reason to smile as I round the final corner to school on my bike and, as my mentor teacher described her relationship to the castle, a feeling of being home.

Schloss Wernigerode, situated on a hilltop, is visible from many locations throughout the town, including this panoramic view, taken on one of the main greens in the Lust Garten.