Following the Man with the Keys

Yesterday we toured the Salzstadel (“Salt Barn”), which I’d show you a picture of if my server were up. It’s the big Swiss-cheese-shaped building by the Stone Bridge. I think it’s one of the first 30 or so pictures I took. It was part of a restoration tour with our art class. The man who took us around was the head of restorations in Regensburg for some time. He was a nice guy, very Bavarian. Our art teacher called him "The Man with all the Keys," which was pretty accurate given the size of the massive key ring he carried around like a mace. His accent wasn’t terribly thick, though, which was good since the entire tour was given in German. Dr. Griffin and our art teacher occasionally translated when we started looking lost, or when they were afraid we might be. I’m really not sure what Dr. Mulligan (who is just now learning German) did. Anyway, our guide led us up and around the Salzstadel, showing us the pine rafters caked with set-in-salt and explained how the entire building had to be kept at about the same temperature to avoid (more) damage to the wood. This is accomplished by a heating and cooling system built into the thick walls, so the air in the room doesn’t dry out from the heat or thicken with humidity.
The Salzstadel is almost 400 years old, by the way. It’s one of the city’s more recognized features, and was built for that purpose. It sits right on the Danube and right by the stone bridge, so all the traders from all over the world see it’s big yellow wedge. It’s not meant to look like cheese, it’s meant to show how much salt (the “white gold” of the middle ages) is available in Regensburg. Then, as now, economic prowess mattered most.
After the Salzstadel visit we hurried through the cold to a couple of restored houses. Regensburg’s old city was in pathetic shape until it was bought out to be turned into an interstate running alongside the river. Luckily, that project was dropped, and the city found itself in possession of dozens of historic homes that it could rent out instead. They did so, but only after extensive renovations. Many of the old features are still on these buildings, like indoor wells or original work. Our guide put it this way: “The goal of restoration is never to return to one single period in development. Rather, a true restoration shows the development of the building from its creation to the present, and in this way shows its life as well as its history” (as translated by our art teacher, who I think added a bit of the poetic flourish on her own). So in one building there was a well on the ground floor, original oak paneling and archways from the 16th century, a 17th century banister, 18th and 19th century doors upstairs, a 20th century stairwell and added supports. Such a progression is typical of architecture here in the Altstadt. I often find myself wondering how long the walls around me have stood, and what’s been added recently. Often it’s hard to tell, but sometimes it can be amusingly obvious. For example, in the second house we visited there was an old door leading out to the courtyard. Either the building had sunk, the courtyard grown taller, or the door was just that low to the ground because people were shorter back then. At any rate, the door was probably not even 5 feet tall. So one day a resident decided to fix the problem the easy way. He took out the top of the arched door and cut out a rectangle. With this new feature, the door is about 8 feet tall, with a pretty window at the top and an utterly bizarre shape.
It wasn’t the first time I’d wished for my camera on this trip, but all the wishing never did any good.
Anyway, as I’ve told you before, Regensburg has proven to be a marvelous example of a living medieval city. Things from the past and present exist here in relative harmony, though sometimes restoration isn’t done as quickly as it should be and sometimes it isn’t done at all. The altstadt has more layers down every little alleyway (“fox’s alley” and “unicorn alley” were two we visited) than I’d ever imagined.
Also, I’m going to attempt to hunt up a book one of our tour guides wrote. It’s the stories of many of these little alleyways and the people who named them. It sounds like quite a read, and since all I have left for humanities is to write a paper (which I have to choose a topic on soon!), I should have a little time for books again.
After this our art teacher took us into a little Rococo chapel. I can’t find the exact name right now, but I imagine it was something about the Holy Cross, since that’s what it was dedicated to. It’s attached to a large Benedictine convent that serves a large school and runs a program to feed the poor of Regensburg. We were monitored by a white-gowned nun the entire time.
Describing this church is difficult. Rococo is just one of those overwhelming things you really have to see. Everything there was typical of the style, which is kind of a playfully ornate Baroque with brighter colors and an emphasis on the theatrical feel. Most of the art there was by local masters, which I found impressive, and it was all done to look more expensive than it actually was. It’s one of only a few truly Rococo churches because Rococo was typically reserved for secular buildings. Once again, I am unable to provide you with pictures. Forgive me!
Now I have to hurry off to meet Dr. Griffin and discuss our thanksgiving plans, our closing plans, and anything else I’ve forgotten about. When I get back I’ll try and tell you more about the past few days, and hopefully this won’t be a problem again!