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Blog progress is a little slow at the moment given my laptop keeps malfunctioning, but hopefully my two loyal blog readers will persist until I can permanently fix the problem later this week. I arrived into Dortmund a few days ago expecting the usual German city break fodder, perhaps half-timbered houses, cobbled streets, medieval charm or even a large pretzel offered by someone in an apron. What I found instead was slightly less decadent, more smashed glass, graffiti and a friendly man who handed me a free ticket to the football museum (I liked him). Dortmund, it turns out, is not what I expected although my lack of research meant that I didn’t have a very defined vision anyway. And, I’m not even sure what it expects of itself, it’s a quirky place and it’s had some interesting decades historically.

The city was pretty much flattened in the Second World War, quite literally, with over 90% of its centre destroyed in Allied bombing raids, and what stands today is, in many ways, an architectural shrug. After the war, there was even debate over whether to rebuild at all or simply start again elsewhere. A similar discussion was had with Warsaw, I do wonder whether turning a huge German city into a museum would have been something that might have been a permanent reminder of the Second World War, but I imagine the residents wanted normality to resume. Given that, the authorities opted for rebuilding, albeit in a way that perhaps prioritised function over flourish. The result is a city centre that follows the original medieval street lines but feels decidedly post-apocalyptic Ikea.

Heritage here is elusive. Some older buildings remain, especially as I edged further from the centre, but they don’t shout about it. In fact, most of them don’t say anything at all as there’s a distinct lack of signage about the city’s history, I’m unsure why they couldn’t have splashed out on a few more information boards. The only trail I encountered was football-related, although that was a common theme across the city in numerous ways and I can see why the German Football Museum was located here. In Dortmund, history is mostly told through football it seems, which is fitting, really, because the one thing this city has managed to preserve, polish and proudly display undamaged is its sporting spirit. The German Football Museum is an actual triumph as it’s glossy, modern and enthusiastic, so it’s not an entire surprise that so many other cities wanted to hold it. I wasn’t here when Borussia Dortmund were playing, but I imagine that there is an all consuming atmosphere and excited feel.

I walked a lot, as might be expected as it seemed the best way to understand the place, and to avoid the metro, which was pricey and I thought a little poorly signed. Walking revealed a functional city with reasonably well-maintained pavements, an interesting if slightly stern street layout and a distinct lack of benches. Want to sit? Buy a coffee or lean against a wall. Public space is clearly for movement, not musing. Green spaces, on the other hand, are plentiful when going further out and, in the summer heat I experienced (and hardly complained about once), heaving. Families sprawled across lawns, teenagers argued over Bluetooth speakers and a general sense of life pulsed through the parks. The former walled city ring provides a helpful visual guide for the pedestrian, a sort of phantom moat that lets you know where the city used to end and now endlessly continues into the suburbs.

I mentioned that the metro was pricey, and it cost me £3.50 to go three stops, but it was so hot that I found that a useful service and I wanted to experience the network. But that’s a ferocious price and it was no surprise to see just how many cars there were in the city. The signage on the metro was frankly not ideal and I sometimes wonder whether anyone from the network actually looks at the signage and follows it through, to see if it’s logical to visitors. Most networks don’t struggle with this. I note this as I ended up going back on myself and I don’t claim that I’m entirely competent in these matters, but a bit of assistance would have been useful from signs rather than having to seek comfort in Google Maps. I didn’t see a single staff member anywhere on the metro system which also felt sub-optimal in case anyone did need assistance.

I don’t like Deutsche Bahn for numerous reasons, but I don’t want to dwell on that for too long as balance is the key as my friend Richard always says. But there was again a lack of staff availability at the city’s main station, it was expensive and there was again poor signage (a bit of a theme in this city) although it was relatively clean and a staff member was enthusiastically clearing debris from the steps. I don’t like the ticket barriers on the UK rail network, but at least it means that staff are available and easy to find if anyone needs help. If I had a disability, I would have struggled here to get any assistance at the city’s main railway station. Having just come from Poland, the city was a country mile behind their neighbour in terms of public transport, whether that was price, ticket acquisition, cleanliness or signage. But, to give Dortmund some credit, their public transport network is integrated and extensive so it is very useable.

But Dortmund is not without its complications. The city’s scars are not just historical. There’s a visible and extensive homelessness problem, begging is common, anti-social behaviour is evident, there’s litter, graffiti and a smattering of smashed windows. One doorway with smashed windows was scrawled with the phrase “drug dealer”—not exactly the kind of street art you hope to discover on a cultural wander. And yet, despite these signs of wear and worry, I never felt unsafe, but the situation often felt sub-optimal, it was all just a bit gritty. The centre of the city has numerous shopping options with a number of international chains, although I didn’t notice any shopping malls, with independent shops located more in the suburbs. I’m not sure how many tourists the city gets, there isn’t much in the way of guided tours, city sightseeing buses or the like.

The people, however, were a different matter entirely. Everywhere I went, I encountered friendliness. A man with a spare football museum ticket gave it to me with a smile, although this arrangement rather confused the reception desk as two people arrived with joint tickets and one spoke fluent German and the other, well, didn’t. But back to the generality, the city’s bar staff were engaging and the staff in the hotels were particularly helpful. It was the kind of warmth that might catch one off guard when they’re surrounded by concrete and broken glass. Dortmund’s people are, if anything, its redemption arc. It’s a multi-cultural city with a fair amount of immigration, which brings a breadth of food and cultural depth along with it. The city has depopulated over the last few decades and I wonder whether the migrant population has been used to prop up the local economy, but either way, there’s a substantial Turkish community here and from what I could see they have integrated well.

On Friday evening, the city centre came to life following a day where a fair amount of stuff seemed shut. A food and drink event had taken over the heart of town, and for a few hours, it all made sense in terms of its vibrancy. This is what Dortmund is striving for: community, togetherness, a reason to gather. It was joyous, and it felt like the city had shrugged off its trauma just long enough to have a dance and a sausage. I’m sure locals would tell me that the sense of community in the city is just fine, but in the couple of days I was there, it wasn’t blatantly obvious to me. Beer, maybe oddly but maybe not as it’s Germany, is where Dortmund seems oddly restrained. The local Pils dominate the arrangements, with little craft variety, but this is a constant theme that I go on about. The bars are more old-school than cutting-edge, but again, the service was warm and the beer was refreshing. You won’t find pretentious (also read delicious) flights of IPA here, just solid lager and people who’ll chat to you about football, the weather and how much better things used to be. One day the craft beer will come though, I’m confident about that, the Reinheitsgebot will just have to evolve. I did go to the brewery museum, a recommended affair that is free of charge and relatively extensive.

Perhaps the biggest surprise was the persistence of cash. Many places didn’t accept cards, and finding a cash machine was more of a treasure hunt than a convenience. For a city with such modern trappings, Dortmund clings to coins and notes with curious enthusiasm. The whole arrangement is a nuisance, it’s evident from the signs, often in English, that tourists expect cards to be an option and the direction of travel here seems to be one way in terms of giving visitors choice. Numerous takeaway stands made clear they accepted cards, fearful likely of losing considerable amounts of trade if they didn’t.

If I had to sum Dortmund up in one word, it would be: troubled. But that feels too harsh, although there’s no immediate beauty to be found here as there might be in other German cities. Perhaps “full of potential” is better. This is a former industrial city which has had to change into a service led economy, research and tech is pretty big here, but that’s a challenging transformation. It’s a city with bruises but also heart. It’s not polished or pristine, but it’s trying its best. And perhaps it’s worth visiting not because it’s perfect, but because it isn’t. I think my return visit to Dortmund, as I’m sure that there will be one, will be made with an open mind, a pair of sturdy shoes and some spare change. I might not fall in love (it’s not Poland or the Baltic states after all), but I might, just for a moment, understand it a bit better and it’s certainly a resilient place. Oh, and it loves football.

I remember the 1990 World Cup, although I was very young indeed, so this shirt was something quite exciting to see (although with a caveat below). It was worn by Maradona, one of the greatest ever football players alongside Tony Cottee, in Rome on 8 July 1990 when West Germany beat Argentina in the World Cup final. I think it’s here as Maradona swapped it with the West German Guido Buchwald who was marking him throughout the game, but either which way, it’s a little moment of history. Although the shirt that Maradona wore in the 1986 World Cup quarter-final, the Hand of God one, went for £7.1 million at auction, so there’s some value to these things.

The caveat is that I’m not entirely sure if this is original, although the panel says that it is. It’s just that very little mention is made by the museum about this exhibit, and given its potential substantial worth, it seems to be something that they perhaps should do. Anyway, I like a bit of confusion added into the mix….

I’m the last person to complain about the heat of course, but it has been stupidly hot today, reaching 33°C earlier on which is way above my comfort levels (which are around 7°C to what I consider a balmy 10°C if I’m being honest). That meant I felt the need to pop into this pleasant little bar which is located in a park. There was outside seating, but I wasn’t going anywhere near the sun. The park is actually Nordmarkt, which seems to have a fascinating history of its own, but the heat (which I might have mentioned) did distract me from being too engaged about that.

It was generally busier than this, but I try and avoid getting photos with people in them and it was busier outside. The service was friendly and welcoming, it was a rather laid-back and comfortable little place. There were around five or six beers to choose from, the prices were all moderate and under £5 for a half litre of beer. They do food as well, but I was too hot to think about that.

I went for half a litre of the Allgaüer Büble Bier Edelweissbier as I rather fancied a refreshing Weissbier with that tropical touch of banana flavour. It was refreshing certainly, slightly sweet and didn’t make much difference to cooling me down since the temperatures were so extreme that I don’t think anything short of sitting in a freezer would have helped me earlier. But, I’m not one to complain, but let’s just note that my thermal recalibration was sub-optimal today.

This is one of the star exhibits in the German Football Museum, a football which was used in the 1954 World Cup Final and it has also been signed by members of the winning team. I’ve already mentioned about the ‘Miracle of Bern’ in my excitement over a brick, but this really surpasses that. ‘Rahn schiesst!’ and all that, one of the most enthusiastic commentaries that I’ve heard. The ball was made by Basel based company Kost Sports and FIFA at the time insisted that there was no branding on the ball. This was the ball used in the game and it marks the winning of the first German major football trophy. They’ve won the World Cup three more times since then, which is better than England have managed, but there we go. A piece of German heritage.

I had to discreetly take this photo as I didn’t want other visitors thinking that I was taking a photo of a brick from the Wankdorf Stadium. But, I think these things are interesting, a small reminder of what once was. It’s located in Switzerland (well, it was) but it’s relevant here as it’s where the ‘Miracle of Bern’ took place, a match where Germany won the 1954 World Cup against Hungary in what was something of a shock result. This game is an important part of German football history and it was also emotional as they were banned from taking part in the 1950 World Cup due to the Second World War situation, so it was something of a comeback. The stadium had been built in 1925, it was for a long time the largest stadium in Switzerland and it remained until 2001 when it was demolished and replaced with the Stade de Suisse. Who knew a bit of masonry could be so poignant?

And this post is more exciting as it might have first appeared as there’s more, here’s a seatback as well from the same stadium. I should probably get out more…. Although this isn’t exciting enough, my next post is a bit more mainstream and likely more interesting to German football fans….

I think that this might still be a live issue amongst German football fans…. The controversial goal scored by England in the World Cup Final in 1966 and whether the third goal for England actually crossed the line.

Of course it was a goal. I’m slightly surprised that I was one of 41%, I thought that there might be some bias creeping in here amongst German football fans.

Although I’ve to AI to ask what Google Gemini and ChatGPT thought….

Google Gemini said:

“So, the official answer from the time is “yes,” it was a goal, because the linesman said so. But if you’re asking about the scientific, pixel-by-pixel reality of it, most modern analyses say “no,” it wasn’t.”

ChatGPT said:

“Most likely, no, the ball didn’t fully cross the line—but it was given, and history was made.”

They’re both wrong obviously.

This exhibit at the German Football Museum is the original football (or one of them, I imagine they had hundreds) from the 1972 Olympic Games, the ones which were meant to be known as the ‘cheerful games’ until there was a terrorist attack on the Israeli team which rather deflated matters to say the least. The great country of Poland won those Olympic Games, the only time that they’ve won the football tournament. British players don’t take part due to a panic amongst the FA that it might jeopardise the situation that Wales, England, Scotland and Northern Ireland all play as independent teams in European and World competitions, whereas we’d have to submit a British team for the Olympics. The FA do somewhat panic, they did manage to submit a team for the 2012 Olympics Games when they were in London, I’m sure that they could cobble something together. If not, perhaps we should just enter some random players from the lower leagues, give them a nice kick about.

In the first of (yet) another series, I’ve been to the German Football Museum today and there were many exhibits that I thought were noteworthy. This one is British from 1917 and it was designed to mock the Germans during the First World War, with ten enemy soldiers forming obstacles for the ball which has to be guided into the mouth of Kaiser Wilhelm II. Mimicking the western front, the obstacles included von Hindenburg at Inside Right, von der Goltz at Right Half and Count Zeppelin at Right Back. I rather like the ‘British Design’ and it’s a quirky little item to have in a German football museum.

This historic bar is located in the Gänsemarkt, formerly the Goose Market, and it’s a Kneipe or a bar which doesn’t serve hot food. There was a spacious outdoor drinking area which I ignored as I made my way inside and it’s relatively small inside, but it felt like it had some character.

It had a traditional and authentic feel to it, but I just needed somewhere to visit that wasn’t insanely hot. I couldn’t be dealing with Germany’s backwards approach to cards, so I had got some cash out to make matters easier for me. The welcome at the bar was friendly, but there were no beer pumps or signage visible, but my request for a beer was accepted readily with no further questions. Well, there was a question of small or large, but I could deal with that one. I think it usually attracts some of the local sporting crowd who watch football, but that seemed to be true for nearly every bar that I’ve seen so far. I’m guessing that football is very important around here.

The beer here is the local Thier Pils from Dortmunder Actien-Brauerei. It’s a traditional local Pils and Dortmund beers have something of a unique taste and it was refreshing if not particularly innovative. But, if I’m being honest, German beer is usually not burdened by the need to be innovative, it’s meant to be robust and consistent I think.

It’s a handy little location and I liked the distinction between bar and restaurant, which I often find is a little blurred. This place was primarily about the beer, although other drinks are available, and that made matters much easier. The service was friendly and I thought that the price of €4.60 for the beer was reasonable, so just over £4. I didn’t try to pay by card, but that seems a good call as I’ve noticed that some reviews mutter on that they accept cash only.