GOING PLACES: The German city drops its reserve during carnival week, Gemma Tipton discovers on a weekend break
Weekends away should be available on prescription. With so many excuses not to go - too busy, too broke - you forget that getting away can let you step outside yourself for a while. You also forget until you get to Dublin airport that, however annoying the terminal is, departure gates cast a spell that causes nagging anxieties about lists unwritten, e-mails unsent and phone calls unmade to evaporate with a wave of a security guard's metal detector.
I loved Cologne, which was four hours from my doorstep. It hadn't been a plan to go there. When I'm online and dreaming of leaving, places with more exotic and romantic names - Venice, Trieste, Salzburg - tend to win. What made up my mind was that the city's carnival would be on. "Carnival" comes from carnevale, the "farewell to meat", and, just like mardi gras ("fat Tuesday"), it's an ancient end-of-winter festival adopted by early Christians to become those last days of fun and feasting before the Lenten fast begins.
Cologne's carnival is one of the biggest in Europe. It officially begins at 11.11am on the Thursday before Ash Wednesday, with Weiberfastnacht, when women storm city hall with sharp scissors to cut off men's ties. All over Cologne, men wear old ties to work on Weiberfastnacht. The days of carnival in Cologne are called the crazy days, and although some of the city's million inhabitants leave town for them, many more arrive from all over Germany, and elsewhere in Europe, lured by the parades, the balls, the parties and, perhaps, the tradition that on Weiberfastnacht, when women are allowed to do whatever they want, it is considered more or less okay to cheat on your partner.
Most people spend the carnival in fancy dress; costumes range from pirates, penguins and policemen through birds and bees to satirised politicians. I saw one man dressed as a lampshade and another as a bottle of 4711. Eau de cologne was, of course, invented in the city, and 4711, the most famous of the colognes (which I think smells a little like fly spray), is named for where it is made. When Napoleon invaded the city he had his army go through the streets, ordering the buildings with chalk figures on the doors. One perfumery turned out to be house number 4711 (you can visit it at Glockengasse 4711). Napoleon is said to have hated the smell of sweat, and apparently he ruined many uniforms with liberal splashes of cologne (he is reported to have got through a couple of litres a week).
Cologne's cathedral, which Napoleon used as both a prison and a stable, is Germany's most- visited tourist attraction and Europe's largest Gothic cathedral. Building began in 1248 and didn't end until 1880. The Allied bombing raids of the second World War went carefully around it: although a staggering 93 per cent of Cologne was reduced to rubble, the cathedral wasn't even scarred. You can see its twin spires from all over the city, and until the Eiffel Tower was built it was the tallest structure in Europe. It takes a walk around the perimeter to get to grips with its size.
The brilliance of Gothic architectural innovations, such as flying buttresses and lacy spires, gives an unexpected lightness to such a massive building. Go in daylight to get the full wonder of the stained-glass windows or after dark to watch it hauntingly illuminated. Behind the main altar is a fabulously elaborate sarcophagus said to hold the relics of the Magi (their bones were looted from Milan in 1164). You can also climb 509 steps to the top of the south tower, but I didn't.
Cologne was once a major Roman city, and remains are found almost every time any construction work is done. Developers often treat them with contempt, similar to that of Dublin Corporation, say, at the excavation of Wood Quay. A flight of steps between the cathedral and the Römisch-Germanisches Museum (which has a fabulous collection of artefacts) leads down to an area of paved Roman road. More intriguingly, perhaps, and to the other side of the cathedral, the rather grotty entrance to an underground car park takes you to sections of Roman wall.
Living in Ireland, we can find ourselves very removed from the effects of the second World War. The El-De Haus (at Appellhofplatz), a museum housed in the former Gestapo headquarters, feels more like a testament to, and reminder of, the crimes of the National Socialist period than a tourist attraction. Cologne deported 11,000 Jews to concentration camps.
The devastation of the bombing at the end of the war makes walking around Cologne a poignant affair. Here and there are houses that survived miraculously intact. Many of the more significant damaged buildings have been restored, but the gaps have been filled in with rather drab examples of 1950s utilitarianism. Most attention has been paid to restoring the lovely Altstadt, the medieval quarter, and to Cologne's 12 Romanesque churches, originally built between 1150 and 1250.
Staggering out after a night at the carnival, the rather expensive Hyatt Regency Cologne, on the banks of the Rhine overlooking the cathedral and the Altstadt, serves a delicious breakfast in its restaurant. Less posh but still nice is Café Fleur, on Lindenstrasse, which is like a Viennese coffee house.
Boat trips along the river looked fun, but instead we opted for some window shopping on and around Breite Strasse and Apostelnstrasse. The main shopping street is Hohe Strasse, but we avoided that, as I can never see the point of going abroad and heading straight for familiar chain stores. Then it was back for a nap - a vital ingredient of a successful weekend break - before another night's carnival adventure.
During the festival many of Cologne's bars and beer halls suspend their menus in favour of selling nothing but beer. The city brews more than 25 varieties of Kölsch, a light, tasty local beer that definitely grows on you. Perhaps it is because it is served in 200ml glasses - less than half a pint - called strangen (strings), or perhaps because the people of Cologne are more reserved than us, but even after a long evening drinking Kölsch in fancy dress, a walk back through the late-night streets held none of that sense of walking through an alcoholic Armageddon that so tarnishes St Patrick's night in Dublin.
Having noted that difference, however, there are some odd similarities between the two events. Carnival-night parties involve lots of singing. There seems to be an inexhaustible number of songs about Cologne, all sung in the local dialect (also known as Kölsch). And yet even without a word of German, or Kölsch, you can sing along, as a great many are set to Irish tunes. We're on the One Road turns up in many guises.
Sustenance is important for a night of singing. A stop along the way took us to Eifeler Schinfen, a small cafe on Eigelstein, for Spiessbraten brätchen, delicious sandwiches of roast pork and onions. You can order chips to accompany them, but beware of the ketchup, which has an odd curry flavour. Other traditional food includes halver Hahn, which means "half a chicken" but is actually rye bread with gouda and mustard. Halver Hahn is tasty, but Kölscher Kaviar might be less of a treat: it turns out to be black pudding and raw onions. You may also fail to warm to the romantic sounding Himmel un Ääd, or heaven on earth. What arrives is an oily black-pudding pancake with a dollop of apple sauce.
The carnival culminates on Rose Monday, with the main parade. On Tuesday, carnival effigies that have been hung over the doors of bars and beer halls throughout the weekend are ceremonially burned while those gathered round mentally cast their problems, bad memories and anything else they don't want to think about into the flames. On Ash Wednesday, bars and restaurants serve fish as the city slowly gets back to normal.
The carnival is a good reason to visit Cologne, but plenty happens at other times of the year. The city hosts one of the world's biggest and most highly-regarded contemporary art fairs each November, attracting more than 70,000 visitors. Later, in December, it holds Christmas markets. At other times of the year you can simply enjoy a quiet Kölsch in one of the breweries, such as Früh am Dom (beside the cathedral), relax at one of the wonderful thermal baths, such as the ornate Neptunbad (on Neptunplatz), visit the Ludwig Museum, with art by everyone from Magritte, Dali and Chagall to Warhol, Johns and Rauschenberg. Or there's the Wallraf-Richartz Museum, with its collection of art from the 13th to the 19th centuries. Or the chocolate museum.
Perhaps carnival week isn't the best time to visit Cologne after all.
GETTING THERE Cologne Bonn Airport is a 90-minute flight from Dublin. Direct flights online from www.germanwings.com start at €19 each way, plus taxes. A taxi from the airport to central Cologne takes about 20 minutes and costs about €25. There is also a shuttle bus to and from the main bus station, which runs every 15 minutes from 6am to 11.30pm and costs €4.65. Public transport in Cologne is excellent, with a subway, trams and buses to help you get around. Tourist information is available online at www.koeln.de/en and www.stadt-koeln.de/en. The tourist office is beside the cathedral.