DRESDEN

As sure as the River Elbe runs through Dresden, so too does an undercurrent of dignity and stoicism. Even without prior knowledge of the city’s history, you can feel it like a physical force emanating from Dresdeners, who, I learn, have plenty of reasons to be proud of their home. Located in eastern Germany, 30 miles from the Czech border, the Saxon city was bombed to near-oblivion by Allied forces six months before the end of the Second World War. Its baroque edifices were reduced to rubble and, under the Soviet control that followed, even more of the city was left to crumble and decay.

“We always say the Russians destroyed buildings more efficiently than any bombs,” says my guide, Susanne, with a wry smile. “Since the wall came down, we have rebuilt our city brick by brick.”

Perhaps the most pertinent example is the Frauenkirche (Church of our Lady), a beguiling sandstone masterpiece softly glowing golden in the sunlight. Until 1994, it remained a blackened ruin, but in the aftermath of German reunification in 1990, Dresdeners appealed to the world for funds to help resurrect their beloved church.