Güstrow

Güstrow belongs to an angel. In the brick-Gothic cathedral hangs Ernst Barlach's "Hovering One" — a bronze figure suspended horizontally, eyes closed, grieving over the war dead with a stillness that stops visitors mid-step; the Nazis melted the original as "degenerate", but a hidden second cast returned after the war, and it has become one of German art's essential works. Barlach spent his last three decades in this small Mecklenburg town, and Güstrow keeps his world complete: the lakeside atelier where his oak figures and bronzes crowd the workshop light, the Gertrude Chapel's collection among the trees, his grave — a pilgrimage in three quiet stations.

The town he chose deserves him: the Renaissance palace of the Mecklenburg dukes, with its stucco halls and gardens, counts among northern Germany's finest — Wallenstein resided here during the Thirty Years' War, briefly making Güstrow a ducal capital of his improvised empire — while the cathedral adds, beside the angel, a medieval altar and the ducal tombs, and the parish church a magnificent carved Brussels altarpiece.

Gabled townhouses ring the market; lakes and beech woods ring the town — Güstrow styles itself the gateway to the Mecklenburg lake country, and inland dunes and deer parks oblige. Concerts fill palace hall and churches; but the town's deepest note remains that suspended bronze silence.