-
Bruges, or where cities go when they die
A man walks the streets of Bruges at night. He is a widower these past five years. When his wife died he moved here, since this city, like his wife, is dead. Evening after evening he spends wandering aimlessly along the grey, deserted streets, thinking of death, of the dead. On one such night, walking…
-
Paris, or why we hate
Visiting Paris can be an overwhelming experience. You may be struck with the so-called Stendhal Syndrome: the state where you are so overcome by the beauty and opulence of a place that you simply collapse under the weight of the impressions. More likely, you will experience the more aptly named Paris Syndrome, where you discover…
-
Cremona, or the year technology peaked
In 1637, an Italian monk by the name of Fulgentius Micanzio wrote an acquaintance who was considering purchasing a violin. On the advice of an expert, Micanzio could assure his correspondent that the best instruments were to be found in the city of Cremona. What makes this letter so particularly interesting is that the expert…
-
Strasbourg, or the day Europe split in two
Strasbourg, with its quarter-million souls, has a curious small-town feel to it. Intersecting the street grid is a parallel network of picturesque canals. Bridges crossing the waterways are in summer adorned with magnificent floral decorations, and along the banks lie centuries-old half-timbered houses, as colourful as the flowers. The atmosphere is as much that of…
-
Anemospilia, or how much human sacrifice is too much?
On a certain day around the year 1700 BC, on the slopes of Mount Juktas in central Crete, a small group of people had gathered in a temple for a religious ceremony. A young woman assisted a man a few years her senior: the high priest. His status was obvious from his splendid adornments, perhaps…
-
Castillon, or how to win at war
In the south-west of France, about forty minutes by train from Bordeaux, lies the town of Castillon. Few people get on or off at this small station. From there, a street leads down into town, passes a few restaurants, a church, a mairie, crosses the Dordogne River and that’s it. It is a small, sleepy…