Pay No Attention

Shaken, not stirred

While in Nuremberg, my friend Lauren and I took ourselves out to dinner at the best restaurant in Nuremberg (and one of the best in Germany, supposedly).  It was one of those tiny places with six tables and a tasting menu that changes every night.  At the table next to us, there was a distinguished-looking older couple. When they got up to leave, they were standing next to our table (which was next to the door) for a couple of minutes. Somehow, we ended up in a brief conversation with them. (After the flight of wines I drank -- six glasses plus an aperitif -- I'm a bit fuzzy on how that came about.) The man looked vaguely familiar; I told him so, and we joked back and forth about it. I recall saying, among other things, that perhaps he just happened to look like someone I'd worked with in a law firm. He was quite charming and had a fabulous British accent. Anyway, when the couple exited the restaurant, Lauren and I saw a barrage of flashbulbs go off, and it belatedly occurred to us that perhaps there might actually be a reason the guy looked familiar.

Turns out it was Roger Moore.   Apparently he had been attending some kind of UNICEF function in Nuremberg.  http://www.roger-moore.com/course-nuremberg2007.htm

Nuremberg

My friend Lauren and I spent a couple of days exploring Nuremberg.  The best part of the sightseeing was our visit to St. Lorenz cathedral, which was built in the 1200s, devastated in World War II along with most of the rest of the city (and Europe, for that matter), and rebuilt.  A series of posters showed the cathedral before the war, during the war (draped in Nazi flags), the pile of rubble that was left after the war, and the rebuilding of the cathedral.  The final picture showed Nuremberg citizens holding candles and singing in their reconstructed cathedral.  With each photograph were a couple of lines from a poem about the cathedral, its destruction, and its resurrection, translated into several languages.  It was a very moving display, and as Lauren and I were looking at the last picture, a group of older (retirement age) men gathered together at one end of the cathedral and began to sing.  It turned out they were a traveling choir group from Italy, and they were wonderful.  We gathered near and listened until they finished singing and dispersed.   I can't speak for Lauren, but I had tears in my eyes -- it was just lovely.

Luckily, the Nuremberg church authorities had the sense to put their treasures in underground bunkers during  WWII, so while the churches were devastated, the treasures were not.  My absolute favorite was in St. Lorenz --- the 16th century Annunciation with the Chandelier of the Madonna.  I'm no art historian, and neither are most of you, but I'll take a shot at a description.   It's this giant carved funky medallion thing that is suspended from the ceiling of the cathedral, consisting of a carved circle with carved figures standing within it of the Angel Gabriel announcing the birth of Christ to the Virgin Mary. (My friend Janet found a picture of it, so now you can see what I'm talking about.  Thanks, Janet!)