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ABOUT The great composer's house in the former West German capital on the Rhine River. SOMETIMES in life, things can pleasantly surprise you; the one you were warned about turns out to be thoroughly captivating, with a warm, soft side. This is the case with the Rhine, which among the world's great rivers, has possibly got the worst reputation. The Nile is steeped in history, the Amazon in natural wonder, the Danube in art and literature, but the Rhine is generally seen as being lined with billowing smokestacks and grim factories. Indications to the contrary become available when seen from the air. The state of North Rhine-Westphalia is the industrial heartland of Germany, but there are unexpected patches of greenery everywhere. On closer inspection, the craft winding their way down the river through Bonn are a varied bunch. For every hulking industrial barge there is a ferry or a rich man's plaything. With the temperature hitting 35 or 36, dusty banks have been turned into impromptu beaches, while the suspicious brownish tinge of the water is overlooked in favour of its refreshing coolness. Bonn is a curious oddity. As a German friend succinctly puts it, "This was the capital city for nearly 50 years. That would be like making Launceston the capital of Australia." It's a city that no one has ever taken altogether seriously, barring a few of its inhabitants. Even during the Cold War, when it became a major political heavyweight, world leaders could be forgiven for scratching their heads and asking: "Well, where is it exactly?" For the record, Bonn is only the 10th biggest city in the state and the 19th biggest in the country. Its status as temporary capital during the tense political and ideological split between East and West was largely due to one man. Konrad Adenauer, the first West German chancellor after the end of World War II, was pretty much the only person to enthusiastically cheerlead for Bonn, a short drive from his home. These days, most of the capital facilities are in Berlin and Bonn is left to trade a little on its past glories. Other than being a choice for a capital, the city's history is linked largely to one man: Ludwig van Beethoven. Saying you're not a great fan of the lauded composer here is a bit like walking into a Dublin bar and loudly proclaiming that you think the work of U2 is a bit torpid and lifeless. A lot of chin-stroking is going on, as people trickle through the old house. On their faces is a look of concentration; one that says: "I know I should be impressed by this, but it's just not happening." However, the rest of the city is a thorough pleasure. A short stroll through the grand university buildings leads to Poppelsdorfer Allee, which is almost a boulevard in reverse. Two little laneways flank a narrow stretch of parkland, which is filled with the sort of trees that loom over you with almost staggering importance. It's here that a few of Bonn's eccentricities come to light. One man has a little roadside stall, and is selling raspberries. That's all he's got, and he must only have about 10 servings of them to sell. Another woman has just hauled her bookcase into the park, and is trying to sell dusty old paperbacks to passers-by. At the end is the Poppelsdorf Palace, one of those buildings that despite being a little worn around the edges, just looks happy. It's painted in a cheerful canary yellow with a jaunty blue trim, and a wispy-bearded man sits outside, whiling away the day by doodling what he sees before him onto a large canvas. The palace is home to the city's Botanical Gardens, which are an absolute delight and a horticultural round-the-world trip. Sweating in the greenhouses, we have cacti from the American desert, gum trees from Australia and the biggest lily pads in the world from the Amazon. Nature morphs into culture on the feted Bonn Museum Mile, just south of the city centre. It's packed with goodies, with art, film, zoology, and technology all covered within a short stroll. You can smell the remnants of a Government trying to make its capital suitably important by splashing money at it, and the highlight is right at the top. Named with typical Germany snappiness and dreamy wordplay, the Haus der Geschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (German National Museum of Contemporary History) takes visitors through the vast changes that have gone on in Germany since 1945. You walk through the body of a plane used during the Berlin airlift, you take your seat in a mock-up of the Federal German Parliament, you watch the Wall coming down. It's all well done, making you part of the history rather than just dictating it to you. That history does hang over the city, though, and the battle these days is for relevance. Bonn effectively ceased to be a major player when the Wall came down and has had to forge an identity since. It's not quite there yet, but that's part of the charm. Largely overlooked by tourists, it becomes a treasure to amble around; the location without the big city stress and the attractions without the crowds. Like the Rhine that weaves through it, Bonn is one of those pleasant surprises that are all too rare these days. TRIP NOTES * Cologne-Bonn airport is half an hour by the train from Bonn. However, it is primarily used as a hub for European low-cost carriers so the flight is likely to go a roundabout route, such as via Kuala Lumpur and Amsterdam with KLM. The other alternative is to fly into Frankfurt and take a two-hour train ride to Bonn. * More information and accommodation bookings: www.bonn-region.de. Source: The Sun-Herald, Sydney, Australia (October 25th, 2006)
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