Singen

Singen grew at the foot of a volcano crowned by Germany's largest fortress ruin. The Hohentwiel — the Hegau's mightiest volcanic cone — carries the vast ruined fortress whose ramparts, casemates and bastion terraces sprawl across the summit: never taken in the Thirty Years' War under its stubborn commander, demolished by Napoleon's order, immortalised by Scheffel's bestselling novel "Ekkehard", which set its medieval romance on this rock. The climb through the fortress gates is the region's essential pilgrimage, the summit festival its summer high point, the panorama running from Lake Constance to the Alps.

The town below is the Hegau's industrial engine, and its aroma is world-famous: Maggi has seasoned from Singen since 1887, the plant a fixture of German kitchens' hinterland, joined by aluminium and machine industries that drew workers from across Europe — a diverse, practical city rather than a postcard one, with the border and Schaffhausen's Swiss cantons minutes away shaping shopping and wages alike.

Culture invests confidently: the MAC museum pairs art with classic automobiles in bold architecture, the Kunstmuseum holds the region's modernists, and the city's festivals fill the Hohgarten. Around, the Hegau's cone parade — Hohenkrähen, Mägdeberg, Hohenstoffeln — makes a volcanic sculpture park of the horizon. A fortress epic above, bouillon and aluminium below: Singen works and looks up.