No matter from which direction one enters our town, Freiburg, it is picturesque. One sees the tower of the Gothic cathedral, famous for its laced stonework, above the houses nestled around. If one approaches from the east the little train carries one through Hell's Valley, narrow and steep, so steep that the train needs a second engine when it travels uphill. At one point the rim of the ravine came so close on both sides, so the saga goes, that a mighty buck jumped across to escape from a hunter. In fact, if one leans far out of the train window, just before the train rattles into the tunnel, one can see a deer silhouetted against the sky. Further down, the densely wooded mountains ease into gentle hills full of vineyards.

Most trains and highways enter from the Rhine Valley and cross the Dreisam River, which carries the waters from mountains through the middle of town. The inner ring proudly presents its thousand-year history, now rebuilt and cleaned up after much destruction during World War II.

The Romans came here and built the first roads and a way station. It became the market place for the "Hinterland." In the twelfth century the merchants and townsfolk were rich enough to start a cathedral big enough so all could hear Mass at one time. The enormous project involved everyone and took over two centuries to finish. The wide plaza around the cathedral is flanked by the Archbishop's Palace, different trade and craftsmen's meeting halls and taverns, one trying to outdo the other with a fancy facade. There are stained-glass bay windows, graceful arcades and gilded wrought-iron balconies. On Wednesdays and Saturdays farmers still come to display their produce laid out under striped umbrellas.

The plaza and the narrow streets and alleys have cobblestones, made to last but not pleasant for high heels or bicycles. The old main street, called the Emperor Lane, is not wide enough to accommodate the car and streetcar traffic, which has to bypass two Gothic fountains where the townsfolk used to fill their buckets. It becomes still narrower when traffic squeezes through the old tower which was the gateway to town in the Middle Ages, locked up during the night so the burghers could sleep in peace. Today only streetcars and pedestrians are allowed in this part of town, and one notices that no one wears high heels and all shoppers have big satchels to carry their purchases.

My high school was nearby and a good half-hour walk from home. Three times a week we had afternoon classes and were finally dismissed at about five o'clock. That was the time when the Emperor Lane was lively with shoppers and fraternity students who ambled slowly in order not to miss the sight of a pretty girl. Usually walking in small groups, they wore different colored caps according to their fraternity. Seeing a lady or girl they knew, they would pull off their caps in unison and bow. One went there to see and be seen, and we teen-age girls didn't miss this ritual on our way home even if it meant a detour. However, to stop and chat with a boy was not proper.

Every church, the town hall and even the university building had a big clock on its facade. Every half-hour these clocks would chime and remind one that it was getting late. Then one caught the streetcar which rattled with a lot of clanking and bell ringing to the suburbs. There the streets were wide, shaded by trees, and the single houses called "villas" were half hidden in gardens, behind fences and often locked gates.