Hello, again, Blogonauts! Today we have tales of resilience! Re-emergence! Reconstruction! (OK ... Admittedly, that shows an optimistic spin. Told from another viewpoint, we might conclude instead that humans are too bellicose to have nice things, at least in the long run. I leave it to you to judge.) So on with the narrative: Ancient Greek myths gave us the hope-infused metaphor of the phoenix. The allegorical bird lived allegorically for 500 years before barbecuing itself far beyond the well-done stage and then rising again from its own ashes. The city of Cologne (or in German, Köln) seems to have crossbred with a phoenix, because it has repeatedly had to arise from an (often literal) ash heap. For example, the countries that comprise modern Germany represented the wellspring of the Protestant Reformation. The aftermath of that ecclesiastical schism included the brutal Thirty-Years War, which made the entire matter seem more related to power and politics than to theology. Now despite all this, Cologne is most famous for its massive, Roman Catholic cathedral (or Dom). The cathedral and Cologne's main railway station share a large plaza, which means that your first vision of the city when you emerge from the gray Gothic mountain looming before you. All of this is by design. Though its construction began in the 13th century, the Reformation essentially ceased the building project because Catholic Pilgrims stopped visiting the various relics and artifacts, and bringing with them donations to support the church. For 500 years it sat less than one-third completed ... capped at the end where the nave would attach. But in the latter half of the 19th century, big political changes were afoot in Germany. Its various city states and regions were uniting as a country. And to commemorate the unification, many cities launched building projects they had been avoiding until that time. In that time less marked by religious divisions, Cologne decided to finish the Cathedral, and since this was the era of railways, they added a train station to the deal. So the construction begun in the 13th century (funded by pilgrims) did not reach completion until 1880 (and now greets visitors immediately upon their arrival to the city). Then again, six decades later war raged again. The Allied bombers of World War II targeted Cologne to retaliate for the bombing of London. Pictures taken from above show how 95% of the city's buildings were damaged by the bombing. But even more devastating was the drop in population: from a pre-war 800,000 to only about 30,000 by war's end. Allied bombs hit the Cathedral 5 times. But unlike less hefty buildings, it did not crumble from the damage. Still, there are parts of the exterior that remain scarred. Cologne itself rebuilt after the war, and its population rebounded to 400,000 soon after Germany's surrender. City & Cathedral both rose from those asked, as well. I spent only about 8 hours in Cologne, but I could have filled a couple of days here. It was Monday, so the museums were closed. The cathedral was indeed impressive, and it houses some amazingly ancient Christian art works. The Catholics, however, make heavy use of the building, so red-clad "Schweizer" (referencing the Vatican's Swiss Guard) often boot out the tourists before an episode of Gottesdienst (worship) occurs. I followed a walking tour found in my guidebook to see some of the city's architectural sites (almost of which were rebuilt). The Rathaus (town hall) tower was inspiring because it notates in stone metaphor the separation of the church from municipal government. Apparently that, too, was a long struggle. On Tuesday I took a walking tour around Frankfurt-am-Main before launching the second segment of the trip, in Portugal. Blog to you later!