Thinking of Visiting Munich? 9 Reasons You Should go to Nuremberg Instead

If you are planning a trip to Germany, then chances are you are considering visiting Munich. If you Google “top cities to visit in Germany”, Munich will definitely be on the list and most likely in the top five recommended cities. Nearby Nuremberg, meanwhile, rarely makes the top of the list.

What most people are looking for in a trip to Munich is CULTURE and TRADITION. Bavaria, the state that Munich and Nuremberg are both located in, is known for its thriving, old-world culture, medieval towns, and romantic castles. As the largest city in Bavaria, Munich tends to draw the most attention while Nuremberg, less than two hours to the north by car (or about an hour by high-speed train), is largely overlooked.

Here are just a few of the many reasons why you should skip your trip to Munich and head to Nuremberg instead.

1. It has a Medieval Castle

A portion of the Kaiserburg as viewed from within the dry moat.

Ok, Munich does have the Nymphenburg Palace, which was built in 1675 (and is beautiful). But Nuremberg has a true medieval CASTLE! It was built and expanded over the course of many centuries, but the earliest parts date back to 1138. The Kaiserburg (Imperial Castle) was most notably the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. The castle holds a commanding location on top of a hill on the northernmost edge of the old city (Altstadt). This lends the city unique dimension, as you can see the castle looming over the city from many vantage points. I highly recommend visiting the castle overlook for a gorgeous view out over the cityscape.

Admission to the castle interior is inexpensive and well worth the cost but, for the budget-conscious traveler, the castle courtyards, overlook, and glorious castle gardens are all free and open to the public.

Did I mention you can STAY in the castle? The city Youth Hostel is located in the portion of the castle pictured above.

2. It is a Walled City

Looking out from the city wall on the Neutor gate.

Nuremberg’s city wall runs almost continuously around the 5 kilometer circumference of the old city. A paved pathway and parks run through the dry moat beside the wall, making for a lovely stroll with gorgeous views, especially behind the Kaiserburg. There are several places where you can walk around on top of the walls, including several restaurants with seating or biergartens built onto them. My favorite way to explore the walls and ramparts (and feel like Cersei Lannister while doing so) is through the castle gardens. You can stroll around the manicured gardens on top of castle ramparts and then follow the gardens along the wall for about a kilometer.

3. More Meandering Cobblestoned Streets and Charming Half-timbered Houses

Weissgerbergasse (the street with the city’s most beautiful half-timbers)

 The old city of Munich is quite limited; the architectural style is predominantly Baroque– streets like this one above are nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Nuremberg sports far more beautiful half-timber houses and numerous winding cobblestoned streets.  You can visit the Albrecht Durer House (the home of Germany’s most famous Renaissance artist) to explore a medieval half-timber house and gain a glimpse of what life looked like during the time period.

4. More Pedestrian Streets and Better Walkability

The old city of Nuremberg is largely car-free and no major roads cut through the center–making it extremely pedestrian friendly. The city has a population of over 500,000, but within the walled old city you could easily think you were in a small town. You can wander the streets staring up at all the sights and rarely have to worry about passing cars.

Pretty much everything you might want to see is within the city walls, making walking the ideal form of transportation.

5. More Beer and Better Bratwurst

Enjoying a delicious Dunkel beer at a riverside biergarten.

Okay, all of Germany has a lot of beer–and most of it is excellent. But Franconia, the region of northern Bavaria that Nuremberg is located in, has the highest density of microbreweries in the world. If you happen to be in the city for a beer festival, then you are in for an extra special treat. But even if you are not, high-quality beer is in abundance.

And what is the perfect pairing for a good beer? Bratwurst! The city’s famous Nuremberger sausages, while admittedly smaller than Munich’s boiled weisswurst, are widely recognized as Germany’s tastiest bratwurst. These little numbers, made exclusively with grade-A meats and herbs, are boiled in vats of red wine and onions and smoked over beechwood. Snag a Drei-im-weckla (three sausages in a fresh baked roll) to-go to enjoy while exploring the city, or sit down at a restaurant for a whole plate served with sauerkraut and potato salad.

6. TWO Gorgeous Gothic Churches

St. Lorenz, the largest church in the city. Photo cred Devan Johnson Photography

Munich has some stunning churches, but none that can compare with Nuremberg’s dual gothic architectural gems: St. Lorenz and St. Sebald. St. Sebald, the older of the two, dates back to 1225.

The interiors of both of these churches will instantly transport you back to the middle ages. Dimly lit, with iron-studded doors, faded frescos, and lots of medieval art, the atmosphere is laden with the ghosts of ages past.

7. The Largest Christmas Market

The Christmas Market in the Hauptmarkt (central market square).

The Christmas Market is one of the few things that Nuremberg gets fair recognition for, as it is the largest in Germany. If you happen to be visiting Germany in December, then a visit to Nuremberg’s Christmas Market is a must. It is as if all of the beauty and joy of Christmas is made manifest in one place. A magical mixture of Bavarian nuts, bratwurst smoke, and the warm spices of Glühwein (mulled wine) fill the air. The streets glow with Christmas lights and people shuffle up and down the rows of stalls looking at glimmering, handmade ornaments while sipping hot beverages from keepsake Nuremberg mugs.

8. Medieval Dungeons and Beer Cellars Under the City

Underneath this medieval city is a labyrinth of tunnels, cellars, and dungeons. You can do a tour of both the beer cellars (ending with a beer tasting at one of the cities oldest breweries) and of the medieval dungeons.

9.  Better Accessibility to Day-Trips

 

Regensburg on the Danube.

If you want a home base to explore the many cultural gems of Bavaria, then Nuremberg is the place to be located. Most of the region’s best day trips are as close or closer to Nuremberg than they are to Munich. Set up camp in Nuremberg and utilize Germany’s amazing rail service to access smaller cities like Würzburg, Regensburg, Bamberg, Rothenburg-ob-der-Tauber, Dinkelsbühl, and more!
I hope that by now I have convinced you to visit Nuremberg. To be fair, Munich is a nice city and worth a short visit if you have the time. But if you are looking for an authentic German cultural experience steeped in history, then Nuremberg is where you want to be.

From Germany to Vermont: The Pain of Calling Too Many Places Home

My hands are four inches deep in rich, freshly tilled earth. I dig a small hole and nestle a lettuce seedling into it, pressing the soil around the tender roots. The sun shines bright and the smell of warm soil fills the air. I raise my eyes to rolling mountains against a vivid blue sky. I view all of this as if observing someone else’s life. The disjointedness of my existence makes me feel a bit dizzy, even nauseous at times. As if I had just stepped off of a rapidly spinning ride. The beauty all around me pushes futilely against a deep aching emptiness inside me.

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous blur. When my visa application was rejected we had only a few weeks to leave Germany, to pack up our lives there, fly back to the US, visit our families, find jobs, housing, a new life all over again. And here we are, in the Green Mountains of Vermont, on an organic hippie commune farm. Living in a tree house. I spend my days working in the greenhouse, planting in the fields, or baking artisan bread in a wood burning oven. It is all like a dream–one we would have wished for not long ago.

Now I feel numb and hollow.

---

As a kid I always loved spending time with friends–parties, sleepovers, road trips. But there would always reach a point where the fun would still be going on around me, while I would become withdrawn from it, wearied of the excitement, and all I would wish for was to go home, curl up in my own bed, sleep in late and wake up to the sounds of my mom bustling around the kitchen.

I feel that now. That weariness. That ache. A homesickness. The pain is familiar, but now it is different. Why? Because when I feel that ache, the desire is undefined. I’m homesick, but for what?

I have always been someone who loves slowly, but deeply. Once that love is established, it is there to stay. My first love was a little crooked house on top of a hill in the foothills of the Catskills. For 19 years that was my only home. My family, my friends, my world was that place. When I ached for home, the direction of that longing was clear.

Now, when I long for home I see that little house on a hill, I see familiar faces of my childhood, the deeply forged friendships of college, winding cobblestone streets, castles, the Alps, a warm blue ocean crashing on a sunny beach, and over it all the never ending throbbing of the bells–from cathedrals, ancient and grand.

But this home does not exist as a whole. It is fragmented and scattered across, states, countries, and continents. And my heart aches and throbs like the ringing of the bells, but it does not know which direction to turn, to head home, to rest.

Can you love too many people? Too many places? Can the heart endure it?

The party and the excitement, new people and adventures go on around me, but I am weary and I long to rest.

I wonder if I have loved too much.

Will I ever be content to call one place home? Or am I doomed to forever seek what does not exist?

Three Greek Men: A Modern Greek Comedy

August, 2013
Island of Crete, Greece

When the taxi dropped us at our villa it was already nearly 10pm–we had left Athens on a ferry at 7am that morning. We were exhausted, but also restless. We could hear waves crashing in the near distance and the softly glowing lights from the waterfront restaurants beckoned to us. Travel weary though we were, we could not go to sleep without first getting a glimpse of our surroundings.

We dropped our bags in our rooms and then headed for the beach front–we just planned to walk along the water and then head to bed. But, as we passed a building on the outskirts of the town, we heard raucousy live music pouring from an upper floor. It was a roof-top restaurant. We took one look at each other, nodded in unison, and headed up the stairs, where we emerged upon a crowded scene. The roof-top seating area was small, with one corner occupied by the band and the rest filled with guests. We were still absorbing the situation when we were ushered to the one empty table–in the center of the room.

In the next 15 minutes every Greek stereotype we had ever heard would be lived out. Over the clamor we ordered some food. As we waited we observed the restaurant staff run from cooking in the kitchen, to serving food, to drinking with the musicians, and back to the kitchen again. After a few moments our fairly inebriated waiter brought our food and we were served complimentary drinks. They demanded our names and then began singing them in some sort of drinking song. Our waiter headed to the kitchen and promptly dropped some dishes with a crash. Instantly everyone shouted “Opa!” over the music.

We had barely begun eating our food when the guests formed a circle around the room with us sitting in the center) and began a traditional Greek dance (if you are thinking of My Big Fat Greek Wedding , you have the right image).

Needless to say, our first night in Greece was a surreal experience.

——–

A few nights later we decided to visit that same restaurant again–we hoped to get another hefty dose of the local culture. When we arrived on the roof, however, the place was empty except for three men in their fifties at a table in the corner. Despite the change in atmosphere we decided it would be well worth it to share a drink looking out over the moon-lit ocean.

We perused our menus while making lovers conversation in soft tones. We were jarred from our sappy world by a loud voice with a thick accent saying, “Hello! Where do you come from?” We looked in surprise at the table with the three men who were now all looking at us intently.

Tyler replied, “We are from America.” “Well, what are you doing here?” The man demanded. “We are on our honeymoon” I replied. “AH! Honeymoon, eh?” The man turned to his companions with a grin. “What are you drinking? Do you drink wine? Come drink with us!” We had barely begun to decline the offer when we were shouted down, “No, no, you must come drink with us!”

Next thing we knew they had pulled up two extra chairs and we were sitting down at their table. We had, in the few days we had been on the island, discovered the unique approach the Greeks had towards eating out–when they go to a restaurant they don’t simply order a dish apiece; they order a massive variety of dishes and share–and then continue to order more, eating and talking for hours. This group of men were no exception. The table was spread with a dozen dishes–octopus salad, fried sardines, cheese pies, fruit salad, Greek salad, and many other local staples.

The moment we sat down we were handed glasses of white wine mixed with Sprite–we never saw the bottom of those glasses the rest of the night. We were presented with plates which each of the men promptly began to spoon a selection of the various dishes on to. This was a curious group of men–all pretty washed up looking with large, protruding guts. There was one man who spoke no English and was silent most of the time, a particularly large man who interjected occasionally, and the loud one who had first called us over and did most of the talking.

The wine had barely hit our lips when they began to interrogate us (mostly Tyler–they didn’t pay me much attention and I was happy to sit back and drink the wine)– Loud Greek Man–“So, you just got married, ah?”
Tyler–“Yes, 5 days ago.”
“Five days ago! How old are you?”
“I’m 22 and Martha is 23.”
“WHAT? That is too young! Why would you get married? Now you are stuck with each other for the rest of your lives! You can’t go off and do whatever you want, you have to be together! No one wants that. You are crazy.”
“Well…that is why we got married. We like to be together. That is what we wanted.”

“No, no, you say that now, but you will not say that for long. We know, yes?” Loud Greek Man nods to his companions. “I have been married and divorced 3 times. And they have each been married and divorced 2 times. We know.” Silent Greek Man nodded, grinned.

Fat Greek Man pushed the plate of sardines at Tyler with a knowing look, saying, “Here, these are an aphrodisiac. Eat them!” Tyler attempted to decline the offer, but Fat Greek Man continued to hold out the plate of fish–heads, tails, and all–saying, “Yes, aphrodisiac! You must eat them!” Tyler shrugged and picked one up by the tail, then dropped it in his mouth, chewed , swallowed the whole thing. They loved that–and so the plate was passed to me–“Eat one!”

Not terribly excited about the prospect of crunching on skin and bones, but these men were not to be put off. So I picked up a fish–to their great delight–and proceeded to cut off the head, tail and pull out the tiny ribs. I closed my eyes and quickly chewed and swallowed. It was actually pretty delicious if you could get past the idea that you were chewing on skin and bones.

The Greek men’s delight grew and they continued to heap more of everything on our plates–heralding each item as a powerful aphrodisiac. Some times they would simply put a piece of something on a fork and wave it in front of our faces until we would allow them to hand feed us. I was a bit perturbed by this until I realized that they did it to each other as well. When in Greece…

After the sardine success they attacked the topic of our marriage with renewed vigor. Loud Greek Man turned once again to Tyler and said, “So, why do you think it is a good idea to get married so young? Don’t you want to be free to do what you want? Go where you want?” (Apparently they weren’t overly concerned with my need for freedom or experience.)

Tyler–“But Martha and I like to do things together–we want the same things.”
“Ahahaha!” The Greek men all laughed–“But what about other women? Don’t you want other women?” (Mind you that I am sitting  right there this whole time.) “Here, eat another sardine. It is an aphrodisiac! You will be up all night! Ha-HA!”
Tyler, choking back laughter and a mouthful of sardine, valiantly defends our relationship, saying, “No, Martha is the best! I don’t need any other women because Martha is the best!”

“Ahh! Martha is the best!” They seemed to love this and immediately set about the business of confirming or denying its validity:
“Stand up Martha! Ahh, yes!! Turn around! Yes, turn around!”

…

“AHHH-HAAHH!!! Yes! Martha is the best! Yes! Ah-HAH! Yes, she IS the best!” They raised their glasses, toasted, and went on shouting incoherently for several minutes while force-feeding us more “aphrodisiac” foods. “Here! Eat this octopus! It is an aphrodisiac. Ahahaha! Yes, it is! And this, too! Here, more wine. Drink, we must all drink to Martha! Martha is the best!”

“Yes, Martha is the best, so I don’t need other women.” Tyler lit his pipe, laughed, and leaned over to kiss me. They began shouting and waving their arms: “No! It is forbidden! No!” We laughed and leaned apart–we were both greatly amused by these strange, kinda dirty old men, and even if they were making fun of us for being married young (and being highly inappropriate)  we were getting a great meal out of it–and some serious entertainment.

Loud Greek Man regained his composure, “Ah, yes, Martha is the best, but so is lobster. Lobster is the best! And if you have lobster every niiiiiiiight…you will be sick of lobster!! Ahahaha! Here, drink more wine! Have you ever had Greek woman?”
“Nope…can’t say I’ve ever ‘had Greek woman’.”
Fat Greek Man–“What??! Never had Greek woman!” They were horrified at the very notion of someone in the world going without this experience.

“No, Martha is the only woman for me.”
Loud Greek Man–“This is terrible! We must find you Greek woman!”

Keep in mind that we are five days newly married and these men are trying to find my husband another woman in front of me. At this moment the waitress walks by to replenish our wine pitcher and Loud Greek Man turns to her saying, “Here, this boy needs Greek woman.” The waitress looks from them to Tyler and I and back again, raises an eyebrow and says, “I think he is with her.” She nods in my direction and walks away.

This option of hooking Tyler up with the waitress being shot down Loud Greek Man suddenly proclaims, “Then we must go to Irepatra [neighboring town]! We go to strip club, we find you Greek woman!”
“No, no.” Tyler shakes his head, laughing and spilling wine. “I’m on my honeymoon, dude!”

At this point I get up to go to the bathroom. In my absence the men see their chance, “Ok! It is time. She is gone, and we will leave. We go to Irepatra, we go to strip club! We go!”
Tyler–“That is a terrible, terrible idea, amigo.”
“No, no, it is ok. She will come back and see you are gone. She will go home. When you come to bed she will be there waiting for you. We go to strip club! Here, eat another sardine!”
“No, no, no, you’re all forgetting…Martha is the best!”

I walked back at this moment to the Greek men chiming in and raising their glasses to me. “Yes, Martha is the best! We drink to Martha!”

By  now it was at least 1am and the time, the Sprite-wine, and the weird, weird situation was beginning to catch up with us. Feeling the wine, Tyler turned to the men and started demanding ice cream. “I want ice cream! Buy me some ice cream.” Like Greek magic, a moment later a huge dish of ice cream materialized on the table.

By the time we had consumed half the ice cream we decided it was about time to head to bed–but the Greeks would have none of that. “No! You must stay! Drink more wine! Eat more ice cream!” Resistance was useless.

At some point in the next hour we found ourselves in a tikki bar where the Greeks once more attempted to score Tyler a “Greek woman.” And somehow after that we managed to escape to our bed. We awoke there in a daze the next morning after some seriously bizarre dreams–but none so strange as the night we spent on that roof-top.