And why not? Weimar is little more than an hour's drive on the autobahn
from the border and, for Germans, travel between the two nations is now possible with virtually no red tape at all. Besides, as the cradle of German literature and culture, this city of about 60,000 has long been something of a mecca for Germans.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, whose position in the development of German literature is comparable to that of Shakespeare in the English-speaking world, lived and wrote here for many years. So did the famous poet and dramatist Friedrich von Schiller, the Hungarian composer Franz Liszt, and the philosopher and critic Johann Gottfried von Herder. Lucas Cranach, one of the principal artists of the Reformation, painted here and died here. And other great names are associated with Weimar, including that of Walter Gropius, considered the founder of the Bauhaus school of architecture.
All have left their mark on Weimar. The houses of Goethe and Schiller are open to the public today, as are adjacent museums spotlighting their works. Liszt's house, furnished as it was when he died in 1886, is also open. The paintings of Lucas Cranach and his son, Lucas Cranach the Younger, are among the priceless artworks in Weimar Castle.
This rich cultural and historic tradition is one of the crucial overlays to any visit to Weimar or, for that matter, any journey through much of East Germany today. But there are at least two others. One is the dramatic failure of communist systems here and in the rest of Eastern Europe, combined with the electricity and anticipation of an uncertain, but promising, future. The second is the presence of very visible reminders of a devastating war and a sad, inglorious past.
Throughout the country, a great sense of excitement and anticipation has dominated the months leading up to today's election of a new governing party. Everywhere in the streets and bars and coffeehouses, the talk is not just of the election - the first free vote here in decades - but of the anticipated union of the two German nations.
"We are one people," say the posters of the Christian Democrats.
And what of the Communists? "I think the Communist Party is kaput here," said Felix Severt, of Magdenburg, a retiree, as he paused during a recent visit to the town of Wittenberg. "They will get 5 percent (of the vote), no more."
The election is a promise of changes to come - changes that will continue to lend excitement and purpose to any trip to East Germany this year, despite the fact that it's still not easy for Americans to go beyond East Berlin. Although there are rumors of plans to drop visa requirements for Americans, it
hasn't happened yet. This means that planning for an East German visit must begin at least two months in advance. To get a visa, it's necessary to reserve and pay for hotels ahead of time.
LIKE 1960 IN THE WEST
Travel in East Germany right now is reminiscent in some ways of travel to West Germany 25 or 30 years ago. Hotels are more expensive, but, for Americans, food and shopping are incredibly cheap, and everyday life simply does not measure up to Western standards. Yes, East Germany is behind, not as far as many might expect, but behind nevertheless.
"Fifty years (behind)," said Hans-Joachim Schumann, a retired Fiat executive from West Germany who had returned, deed in hand, to reclaim the home his father left in 1955.
"Oh, no; 50 years is too much," said his wife, Renate, as they dined at the White Swan restaurant in Weimar. "Maybe 20 or so."
At the White Swan (adjacent to the Goethe House; probably the best restaurant in Weimar; reservations a must), it is possible to dine a la carte on venison steak served in a perfect mushroom-currant sauce, with soup, potato, vegetable and dessert, for $5. Add a bottle of wine and drinks: perhaps $8. And the food is excellent.
Elsewhere, decent lunches and dinners - full meals - can be had for a
dollar or two, and they will be adequate; just don't expect gourmet quality. A bottle of beer might cost 50 cents; a cup of coffee and a piece of cake $1.
Hotels are more expensive. They range from adequate to very good, with prices for a double room, per night, of $65 to $85 in the first category, and $100 or more in the second. If the cost is below $50, you probably don't want the hotel.
What many travelers will notice most about East Germany is that Westernization - some might say Americanization - simply doesn't exist. The distinct lack of visible commercial enterprise - neon, colorful advertising signs, street vendors, larger cars - lends the air of another era to all but the largest cities, where giant "socialist" architecture tends to dominate.
Weimar itself, by almost any definition, is a lovely city to visit, nestled in a tranquil valley along the Ilm River. There are three major parks in town, and the Ilm flows through the largest and most beautiful of them, known officially as the Park on the Ilm, but unofficially as Goethe Park. The park was laid out by Goethe himself, and the great writer spent some of his time in a small cottage on the river's east bank, also a tourist shrine.
Weimar suffered some damage in World War II, but not nearly as much as many other German cities. With its city center now closed to all but pedestrian traffic, and its narrow streets and old churches and castles, the town maintains a pleasant, almost medieval air.
There is a dark side: The infamous Buchenwald concentration camp, where 65,000 men, women and children died at the hands of the Nazis, is five miles outside of town. It's a must visit for anybody who comes to Weimar, a city that is, after all, perhaps best known as the seat of the old Weimar Republic, the weak German government that immediately preceded Adolf Hitler's rise to power. There's no sign of Hitler or the Weimar Republic here today, not a trace, although the Weimar government met in what is now the National Theater.
SOVIETS ON DUTY
While the two German nations move toward unification, no visitor can ignore the fact that this is still very much an occupied country. Uniformed Soviet soldiers are often seen on the street, as are army trucks and other vehicles of deep olive-drab color, with little red and white circles on the doors that contain the hammer and sickle and the letters "CA"- for Soviet Army.
There's a big Soviet army post on the outskirts of Weimar, near Buchenwald, and two major Soviet cemeteries. One, in the Park on the Ilm, is for Soviet soldiers killed in the battle to take Weimar, and the other, on the hill just outside town where Belvedere Castle stands, contains graves of Soviet forces who occupied the area immediately after the war, and some of their dependents.
There is no better way to pick up the right mood for a stay in Weimar than by visiting the Goethe Cafe, on Wielandstrasse in the center of town, for a cup of coffee and a pastry or crepe. Most likely you'll have to share a small table with somebody else; one of the more pleasant aspects of traveling in either East or West Germany is the fact that others are often seated - or freely seat themselves - with you.
Under such circumstances, one might easily meet, as a recent visitor did, a young man from Mozambique who works in a nearby tractor factory; a Hanoi woman studying electrical engineering in Leipzig; a West German engineer and his wife on vacation, or an East German woman about to join the capitalist ranks by opening a bed-and-breakfast in her home.
All seemed to share some common interest in Weimar's culture and literary past. Virtually no one, for example, comes to Weimar without roaming through Goethe's house on the Frauenplan, where he lived for most of the time between 1782 and 1832, and where he wrote most of his major works, including his most famous, Faust.
Playing on an ancient myth, Faust is a dramatic poem about a learned man who makes a pact with the devil in an attempt to find absolute truth and the meaning of existence, but instead dies bitter and disillusioned. Even today, it is considered the singular masterpiece of German literature. This and other works gave Goethe a position of unprecedented esteem in the literary and intellectual circles of his time.
Passing through his house today, one is struck by both its large size, and the expensive and cultured tastes of the man who lived there - the collection of Greco-Roman plaster casts, the frescoes, friezes, oil paintings and engravings, the many art objects from the poet's sojourn in Italy in 1786-88. The nearby house of Goethe's friend Schiller, also on the Weimar pilgrimage list, is tiny by comparison, as are Herder's and that of Liszt, although all reflect the status and tastes of the 19th-century upper class.
MAGNETIC DUKE
And how did Goethe and others of such high intellectual pursuits come to gather in Weimar? Much of the answer lies with Duke Karl August of Weimar, an enlightened ruler who gathered many talented writers and artists at his court. Goethe, in fact, held responsible positions in the Weimar government of Karl August for a decade in the late 18th century, at a time in his life when he found it particularly difficult to be creative. And the duke continued to pay Goethe long after he stopped work at the court, assuring him of the time and independence necessary to write.
Like Goethe and his colleagues, Duke Karl August is well remembered in Weimar, the most prominent reminder being a large equestrian statue that overlooks Weimar Castle.
One could go on indefinitely about the collection of art and antiquities in Weimar Palace, or in the Wittums Palace and Wieland Museum in another part of town, for that matter. Or the wonders of Tiefurt or Belvedere castles, on the city's outskirts. Weimar's treasures of art, literature and culture dwarf those of European cities many times its size, and would be the envy of any American museum curator.
Potential travelers to Weimar must take this richness into account. This is not Dresden, where one comes to see the great art collections but finds little else, thanks largely to Allied terror bombings near the close of World War II. Weimar rates some time and care; three days would seem the minimum.
Perhaps the most pleasant way to see the city is to plan a visit around its biggest park, the aforementioned Park an der Ilm. The park was laid out from Goethe's plans between 1778 and 1828 and is without doubt the city's most tranquil setting. Goethe's summer home is on the river's east side, and Karl August's - the Roman House - is on the opposite bank.
Most of the museums and sights are either in the park, at its edge, or within five minutes' walk. The Weimar Castle Museum is on the park's north boundary; the Goethe House nearby; the Liszt House a five-minute walk from there, and the Roman House another five minutes beyond. Goethe's summer house is less than 10 minutes across a foot bridge over the Ilm. In the center of town, at the Weimar Information Bureau, a combined ticket to eight museums can be purchased for three East marks, five pfennigs - a little over 50 cents.
One recent Sunday morning at the Liszt House, where there is a resident
caretaker, the smell of cooking rose from the first-floor kitchen to mingle with the notes of one of the Hungarian composer's piano concertos emerging
from upstairs speakers. It was an eerie moment, standing alone in the house, beside Liszt's grand piano, in the room where he composed and played and where many of his students practiced. Of all Weimar's public properties, it is Liszt's that seems to have the most character and authenticity, due in no small measure to its tranquil setting and because it is not overrun with tourists, as are the Goethe and Schiller houses.
While these two houses have adjoining museums full of letters and personal effects of the two writers, most of the original manuscripts and valuable literary documents are in the Goethe-Schiller Archive, another of Weimar's great treasures. The archive is not open to the general public, but it seems worth noting that it is the largest literary archive anywhere in the German language.
Perhaps the only other Weimar shrine that can't be bypassed is the tomb where both Schiller and Goethe are interred in carved oak caskets, along with the remains of Karl August and his family. The tomb in Weimar Cemetery was originally built for the ducal family in 1818, but Schiller's body was brought to the mausoleum in 1826 and Goethe's in 1832, the year he died.
Approaching the mausoleum up a long path through the cemetery, a visitor can appreciate its Classical style, with open columns, wide gables and a conical crest atop a flat pavilion roof. But there is one startling incongruity: The "onion" domes of a Russian Orthodox church, which appear to be sprouting from the roof.
The church was added at the rear of the mausoleum in 1860 as a burial site for the Weimar grand duchess Maria Pawlowna, the daughter of Russian Czar Paul I. On one recent Sunday morning, a group of Russian tourists from Moscow was participating in a service here, as West German tourists visited the Goethe- Schiller tomb on the opposite side.
While German tourists continue to throng the bookstores, coffeehouses and other stores along the pedestrian ways of Wielandstrasse and Schillerstrasse in Weimar, the strain of changing times shows through, as it does elsewhere in East Germany. A coffeehouse closes early; no help to run the place, says the owner. Belvedere Castle is closed, "for renovations." So is the Herder Museum, although nobody seemed to be working on either place during a weekday visit. Same for the huge reconstruction project on Market Place in the center of Weimar. And, at the edge of the park, the 530-bed Hotel Belvedere is ''under construction" and scheduled for an opening this year. But where are the workers?
GONE WEST?
"I guess they've gone to work in the West," said a woman waiting at the bus stop near the hotel.
But there are other signs of change as well. On the same Monday morning, in the square in front of the National Theater, a large, panel-body truck was parked, thronged on one side by a crowd of shoppers. Boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables - oranges, strawberries, bananas, cauliflower, tomatoes, cucumbers, kiwi fruit - were stacked on a makeshift wooden table.
The two men selling the vegetables and fruit were from West Germany, they said, and this was only the third Monday that they'd driven across the border to Weimar to pursue their capitalist venture.
While a nearby grocery store with some forlorn and shrunken oranges in its
window was empty except for its proprietor, the West Germans were doing a terrific business: cauliflower, 4.5 marks a head; oranges, 3.5 marks for a small bag or 1.8 marks per kilogram; strawberries, 4 marks a box. And these were West German marks, which trade at 3 East to one West at the official rate and close to double that on the black market.
"But only West (German) marks," cautioned the vendor. "We can only take West marks."
