I was last in Tubingen 40 years ago.
I arrived as a terrified teenage university student, studying there for six months as part of a language degree. I had only classroom German and had certainly never had to cope alone in a foreign country, rooming with a German family. But I somehow managed to fall in love with this historic city in Baden Wurttemburg, about 35 kilometres south of Stuttgart in southern Germany. Today, some 20,000 students crowd Tubingen during term time, creating an atmosphere at once modern and upbeat, yet quaint and charming. Would a return visit so long after my time here spoil my fond memories?
All these years, I have faithfully kept a dog-eared old book with a self-guided walking tour in it, and it's still remarkably accurate. My husband and I cross the bustling Eberhardt Bridge over the River Neckar and are suddenly transported back several centuries into the old town heart of the city. We duck out of the pedestrian rush and into a café for a hot chocolate piled impossibly high with whipped cream - our sugar fix for the day. Over this sinful drink, we have a view of one of the town's most photographed icons, the tiny circular riverside tower that was home to the famous German writer and poet Friedrich Holderlin during the 36 dark years of his insanity.
Tubingen has been home to many artistic giants: Hegel, Strauss, Kepler. A room in the Faculty of Medicine proclaims "Dr. Alzheimer worked here." Pope Benedict XVI held a chair in theology here. Today the town contains not only starving students but also solid Burgers in traditional felted jackets, white woolen hose, dirndl skirts and silver-buckled brogues. Despite all the ground breaking academic ideas, this region of Germany is strongly rooted in tradition and guards its history fiercely.
Our walk first takes us into the market square with its ornate Town Hall, built in 1435 and topped by an astronomical clock that was installed in 1511. The square's Neptune Fountain brings a classical touch to the square where, being International Workers' Day, there's a "Work for All" demonstration. But, perhaps because of the university student population, it's part genial activism and mostly an opportunity to hear some really good music. We linger a while, soaking up the atmosphere around the fountain, where people sit beneath bright sun umbrellas.
My feet remember these streets, and seem to have a will of their own. They turn me down long-forgotten short cuts and point me towards studious book shops where much of my allowance was spent on obscure textbooks, or to restaurants that were once favourite weekend haunts on my meagre student budget. They don't seem so inexpensive now.
Tubingen's old town remains a maze of secret alleyways and cobbled lanes, with ancient timbered and painted houses leaning out to greet each other above the streets. It's full of quaint corners hung with wisteria in rampant bloom and offers a smorgasbord of age-old architecture: a sixteenth century pub, The Lamb where students have caroused for 500+ years; the late gothic cathedral; the mighty oak beams of the Fruit Exchange building; the Crooked Bridge from 1308; the Protestant Seminary founded in 1536 and Tubingen's oldest house, Steifel House (1323), originally the home of Konrad Steifel, the tanner.
Energized by all that whipped cream, we toil up Burgsteige (literally "castle climb") to access the domineering bulk of Castle Hohentubingen, passing a haphazard parade of houses dating from the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries, crammed together with not an inch to spare between them. The castle that visitors see today dates back to the 16th century, and still looks ready to fend off intruders. Its lofty location gives spectacular views out over the city, which, from up here, is a jumble of steep-angled tile roofs jostling each other for space. Three enterprising students are enjoying a rooftop picnic atop one house below us. How they got up there is a mystery: we could almost reach out and share their meal.
Descending back into town, we pop into a wine cellar. We edge our way down the dim stone steps leaving daylight behind, to find the vaulted, medieval cellar. These cool walls have been witness to centuries of revellers, drinking a "viertel" (1/4 litre) or an "achtel" (1/8 litre) of local wine or a Weissbier (white beer) brewed with local hops, or packing on the calories with traditional dishes like Spautzle (noodles), Zwiebelkuche (onion tart) or Eisbein (pork hock). They are still cosy, homely places to enjoy a taste of the real Swabia if you don't mind sharing a table.
Back in the sunshine, we stroll along Platanenallee, the boulevard of massive sycamore trees, almost 200 years old, that line the island on the River Neckar. Beneath their shade, we stop to investigate statues of various dignitaries including the statue of writer and poet Ottilie Wildermuth (1817-1877), the only memorial in Tubingen dedicated to a woman, while my mind wanders back to the boyfriend I met 40 years ago on this very spot. We watch small groups punting on the river in boats called Stocherkahne. The facades of the historic buildings that face the island across the Neckar have been repainted recently and glow in shades of apple green and mustard yellow. Students still straddle the wall by the narrow river pathway as I once did, feet dangling above the waters, to see and be seen, and to watch the endless procession of flat-bottomed punts that ply up and down the Neckar - a magical way to spend a Summer day.
The house where I lodged as a student still stands alongside the river in a rather stately row of tall old houses but my memories of it are not of the best. My meagre room had been the attic before students began to supplement the family's income and the steep, slanting angles of the roofline held in the suffocatingly hot air. I remember having nowhere to bathe and having to use public baths in the Students' Union; of having only a shallow, stone sink with just a tired dribble of cold water for washing myself and my clothes; of using an electric element stuck into a jug to make a cup of instant coffee. Today, I thank all the travel gods for the Gasthaus Sonne, our traditional, welcoming, impeccably clean BB for this visit.
But I spent little time in that student attic, preferring to immerse myself in what - for me - was an exotic culture of languages, literature and learning at the Eberhard Karls University, founded in 1477 and reputed to be one of the top five German universities for studies in German, medicine and law. And, yes, it was the start of a lasting love affair with southern Germany. It has been 40 years since I was last here and it's fair to say that I have changed far more than the town has. Unlike me, Tubingen has retained every bit of its charm and its character.
