Rothenburg: A Fairytale Respite from Modern Life

Rothenburg is charm materialized in hand-painted street signs and vines hanging out of windows.

Separated by wide stretches of greenery, German cities are as vastly different as the geography suggests. The country is a buffet of textural diversity in terms of both history and architecture, with cobblestone and concrete on the menu.

For example, a mere three-hour commute by train can take one from ultra-urban Frankfurt to tiny Rothenburg ob der Tauber (roughly translating to “over the Tauber river,” an important qualifier given the several other Rothenburgs in Germany), a medieval old town sitting on a plateau in the Franconian region of Bavaria. Often compared to the larger town of Heidelberg, whose famous castle burns bright red in its nest of aging trees, Rothenburg is a more compact alternative; here you can do everything there is to do in a day, if you start early.

It was about nineteen degrees when I arrived there in the middle of summer. The bite in the air was spring’s very last hurrah, the following days warming up enough for lighter clothing.

Right across the train station was Hotel Rothenburger Hof, a quaint, charming inn that was half-way between suburban vintage and medieval-inspired. As with most accommodations in the locale, the hotel had a food service annex in the form of a bar/café hybrid offering standard German fare—schnitzel, sausages, and beer. In my room, there was not much in the way of air circulation, except for a half-open window. Inns in Rothenburg rarely offer air-conditioning because evenings are cool, and daylight on half-timbered houses is an effective seductress to even the most jetlagged traveler.

... the entrance to old town, stone structure straight out of a fairytale book.

From the train station, it is about a ten-minute walk to Old Town, the entrance of which is a stone structure straight out of a fairytale book. The cobblestone streets begin here and are lined with quirky establishments that range from 100-year-old hand embroidery businesses and kitschy, medieval-themed souvenir shops (I even found a replica of Game of Thrones’ Longclaw displayed next to a knight’s suit of armor in one store window).

Just walking down the street is an experience all its own. Rothenburg is charm materialized in hand-painted street signs and vines hanging out of windows. Every street is lined with beautiful, small buildings painted in pastel shades so well curated they’re anything but gauche.

The main street opens into the town square.

The main street opens into the town square, which features Rothenburg’s most popular museums, more souvenir shops, a few cafés with al fresco seating, the tourist center, and a gelateria with alcohol in half of its menu offerings. But perhaps its most prominent feature is the Rothenburg Rathaus (Town Hall), to which is attached a tower that takes about ten minutes to climb, give or take a few cramps, and a measly two minutes to enjoy. The steps get steeper as you progress upwards, and the viewing platform itself can only hold a maximum of twenty people. Your reward is commensurate to your tolerance of heights; for me, it was an almost breathtaking view consisting of mostly roofs.

Back on the ground, the Rothenburg Historical Vaults is almost hidden away on the side of the building. The museums here are not cutting edge, by any means—and the wax displays are a far cry from Madame Tussaud’s—but they nevertheless flavor one’s trip with nuggets of fascinating stories like the legend of one mayor saving the town from annihilation by drinking a tankard of wine.

Across the Historical Vaults is the Deutsches Weihnachtsmuseum, or simply the German Christmas Museum. The museum is actually less grand than the store it upsells, but both provide a fascinating insight not just to German Christmas practices but to the evolution of the holiday itself. For the sentimental, the store can be a dangerous place, as it is filled with the most beautiful (and tasteful) tree toppers, embroidered placemats, and other yuletide baubles.

And for those with a taste for the macabre, the Medieval Crime Museum offers much more than the standard witch hunt dioramas and torture paraphernalia, which are pretty much the same all over Europe. Did you know, for example, that there is no definitive historical evidence that the Iron Maiden was ever used for torture?

Frozen in time, this tiny building is stuffed with haphazardly arranged knickknacks from several eras.

If, aside from the town’s colorful history, the architecture so far has fascinated you, spare ten minutes for a trip to the Old Craftsman’s House, which dates as far back as 1270. Frozen in time, this tiny building is stuffed with haphazardly arranged knickknacks from several eras, objects left behind by the artisans who lived there. A loom sits forlorn in the attic, and in one of the bedrooms, a spinning wheel waits for Rumpelstiltskin. The house remained preserved thanks to a hermit who lived there during the modernization of its neighbors.

As for food, I enjoyed the simplest fare the most—döner kebab and deep-fried chicken wings, both from simple, cafeteria-type Turkish restaurants. Not many people are particularly crazy over German food, and while this trip didn’t necessarily make an exception of me, the little pastry shops at every turn certainly improved my opinions. Available in these patisseries, as well as most any restaurant, are Rothenburg’s signature schneeballen, large, biscuit-type balls of layered shortbread often covered in chocolate or a flavored sugar.

A schneeball can be difficult to eat—it was larger than my fist!

A schneeball can be difficult to eat—it was larger than my fist!—so for an alternative dessert that won’t let you down, always choose cake. You will never appreciate German perfectionism more than when you are sitting outside on a beautiful day, a spoonful of moist, fluffy cake melting in your mouth. Paint Rothenburg in the background, and you’ll never want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, again.