Castles, Steam Trains and a Mickey Mouse Republic

The former East German state of Saxony has a wealth of history as Mark Bibby Jackson discovers on his trip to Dresden and Radebeul.

There is a scene in Trigger Happy TV when the show’s creator, Dom Jolly, dressed as a Belgian tour guide, takes a couple of unsuspecting American tourists on a tour of Bruges in a horse-drawn carriage. If you haven’t seen the show then the allusion will most probably escape you, but please bear with me.

Only it isn’t any old tour of Bruges – well, it isn’t a tour of Bruges at all – but rather of the city’s square. It’s on about the third time round the square that the tourists eventually lose their rag, as Jolly keeps on saying “on your right is the town hall”, and demand to be let off. Both show and sketch have lived with me and in part explains my aversion to escorted tours, especially those that involve transport.

This explains my reticence as I get on a hop-on hop-off bus in Dresden, courtesy of the local tourism department, one Saturday morning. Dresden is the UK’s Coventry. Not the metaphorical place where you are sent to when you have betrayed your fellow workers, but the city that was most heavily bombed in the latter stages of World War II in a game of cataclysmic tit for tat that Trump and Jong-Un might envy. It is also a city that I have both longed to and dreaded visiting, not knowing what the reaction would be to a British tourist even all these years later.

I need not have worried. The recorded English-language tape on the hop-on hop-off bus hardly mentions the war. An oblique reference to a business person who made a fortune under the Third Reich and a statue that bears a passing reference to a Nazi salute but predates Hitler aside, the guide informs us of the history of baroque Zwinger in the centre of Dresden, its castle, opera house, cathedral and museums, the majority of which were restored in the decades following the Allied bombing.

Zwinger literally translates as cave, for bears used to be kept here, now cars are largely banned as the city aims to reduce its carbon footprint. However, as we follow a circuitous route around the centre through which I walked the previous afternoon, after checking into the Hotel Am Terrassenufer, I do find myself wondering whether it’s Mr Jolly behind the wheels.

The previous evening I had no such misgivings as I was led on an “anti-pub crawl” by the eccentric Danillo, a former teacher and hostel owner, who runs tours of the Neustadt by night. The “new town” on the other side of the River Elbe to Dresden, Neustadt is in fact the original settlement, with the baroque Disneyland on the other side a relative newcomer. This is where the workers of Dresden lived while the courtiers twirled their waltzes in the Zwinger, until an 18th century fire devastated it. However, it did emerge largely unscathed from the war, at least relative to its sister town across the waters.

Neustadt also has a very interesting history of its own. From 1990 to 1993 the citizens in a 0.7 square kilometre area declared themselves the Bunte Republik Neustadt – the Colourful Republic of Neustadt. A micro-republic much like Christiania in Copenhagen, it had its own laws, currency, passport and coat of arms, the latter two bearing the head of Mickey Mouse, thus making it the original Mickey Mouse Republic.

Despite the republic’s demise, there still exists a Bohemian spirit here that attracts a very young, artistic and political population – McDonald’s is banned, as are banks – and the party lives on well into the night, as Danillo demonstrated. Each June, the Bunte Republik Neustadt is relived in a three-day street party and cultural festival of the same name, with DJs, balcony raves and impromptu performances.

All of which seems a million miles away, the following afternoon as a second hop-on hop-off bus takes me along the glorious banks of the River Elbe with their wide meadows that double as flood plains. My next port of call is the castle at Pilnitz, which has pleasant gardens and fantastic views up and down the river, although unfortunately the castle itself was closed during our visit.

Eventually, I hop off for one last time and emerge in the centre of the Zwinger and glory in the wonderful architecture, before settling down in the main square overlooking the Church of Our Lady for a dunkel beer while the sun is setting.

I am too old for Thomas the Tank Engine, but Ivor the Engine has always held a cherished spot in my heart – second only to The Clangers in terms of quality nonsensical children’s programmes. As such, the following day’s excursion on a steam train to Moritzburg is one that I am looking forward to. Radebeul is a short tram ride from Dresden, and from there a steam train takes you to the castle at Moritzburg.

Standing throughout, as the train weaves its way beside narrow streets where car passengers await with their camera phones at level crossings and then through some beautiful forests, the smoke from the coalfuelled engine almost chokes me. I am blessed as this is the only sunny day on my brief sojurn in Germany. It is blissful.

Right on cue, as our train pulls into the final station, my guide for the castle and its grounds, Kristina Kroemke, is awaiting for me with a driver and a horse-drawn cart – I did say bear with me at the outset. There are no squares in Moritzburg, only a straight road leading from the station to the castle grounds. Once I discard all thoughts of Jolly and his American prey from my mind, I relax into the trip, and admit that the gentle sound of the horses’ hooves plodding on the stone and the inevitably slow progress we make, ensures a most relaxing excursion.

Kristina proves a most amenable host, much in keeping with the Moritzburg tradition, where guests were expected to consume two litres of wine upon arrival. Like the Zwinger, the French baroque castle was designed by the architect Matthäus Daniel Pöppelmann, for King Augustus the Strong, who died of diabetes, possibly from an excess of hospitality. Fortunately, Kristina only invites me for coffee and Eierschecke cake at the Adams Guest House, which has stood here since 1675, at the end of our journey.

In addition to having the grand castle, used as the set for the GDR Czech Cinderella film here in the 70s, in the 13 square metre Pheasant Palace, Moritzburg has the smallest palace in Saxony, built by August III, the less macho grandson of August the Strong. Sadly, there are no peacocks here any longer just their huts, but the beautiful palace has striking views down to the main palace and is set next to a large lake.

On my way back for dinner at my hotel, the Radisson Blu Park Hotel, I stop off in Radebeul town for another dunkel. The sun is setting and I take my beer out with me to sit on the grass island in the middle of the cobblestone road. Just at that moment a phone goes off in the distance and someone says, “allo” into it, but nothing can destroy the moment. Eventually, I finish my beer and consider how to return to my hotel, perhaps I’ll take the bus?