Tour audio di Aquisgrana: Echi e leggende dei tesori nascosti di Eilendorf

In front of you is a life-sized bronze statue of a barefoot boy playing the flute, balanced on a circular stone base-look slightly to your right by the cobblestone path to spot it. Imagine yourself in the 1920s, hearing soft flute music drifting across a garden in the heart of Aachen. That’s when the artist Matthias Corr created this charming sculpture, which once stood proudly at the edge of a tranquil pond in Elisengarten. The round pool sparkled in the sun, and right in the center, a water fountain shot up as if trying to dance along with the boy’s magical tune. But the best part? Even in the winter, the fountain gushed cheerfully because, thanks to Aachen’s thermal springs, the water was always warm! Over the years, people gathered here, listening and relaxing, until in 2008 the fountain and statue were carefully taken down so the garden could change. Just when our little friend thought his performing days were over, in 2010, he made his grand comeback right here in Eilendorf! Now he’s piping his tunes for all-perhaps you-and with a bit of imagination, you might still hear that old, warm fountain bubbling nearby.

Directly in front of you at the corner of Von-Coels-Straße and Lindenstraße, you’ll spot a towering stone cross standing proudly behind a decorative iron fence, topped with a detailed crucifix and framed by leafy trees and brick houses. Now imagine this spot more than two centuries ago-storms of fear and hope mingling in the air, as locals would gather at the very place you’re standing, casting nervous glances at a modest wooden cross that once stood under the old linden trees. They were praying, not for sunshine or good harvest, but for their very lives. Around 1652, a dreadful plague swept through Eilendorf, taking many with it. As a result, the villagers built a humble chapel nearby, dedicated to St. Rochus of Montpellier, the patron saint believed to protect against the plague. An act of hope during really tough times. Fast forward to 1908, and the simple wooden cross was replaced with this grand monument, crafted in the ornate Gründerzeit style. Imagine a mini cathedral of stone and metal, gleaming with gothic details like tiny towers and swirling ornaments. Peer into that niche-there sits a statue of St. Rochus, showing his leg marked by the plague, with a loyal dog by his side. Legend has it that the dog brought him bread while he was sick and shunned by others. If you look closely at the metal corpus, you’ll spot an inscription that was hidden until 1980: a gift from Leonhard Geulen, a local with a generous heart and a sense for dramatic surprises. This cross wasn’t just a landmark-it was a blessing station where locals gathered each year for processions, hoping for peace, health, and perhaps, a little break from life’s mischiefs. And today, you’re part of that story, standing where prayers and perseverance met at the corner of faith and daily life!

To spot the Church of Reconciliation, look for a striking modern building with high brick walls and a tall, white bell tower that stands proudly against the sky. Now, imagine you’re standing here in the late 1960s, when the air buzzed with excitement and the ground rumbled as foundations were laid for this church. The neighborhood’s population was growing faster than a baker’s batch of rolls, and the local pastor, Hans Freyberger, liked to joke, “We could finally afford it, and, boy, did we need it!” Designed by architect Otto Gercke, this church opened its doors just in time for Christmas in 1971, a perfect holiday gift to the community. As the congregation grew, so did the church’s responsibilities, eventually forming its own parish center in 1979, just as the neighboring Stolberg community branched off. Fast-forward to 1988, and picture the shimmering pipes of a brand-new organ, built by Orgelbau Schumacher, coming to life and flooding the hall with music. Since 2009, this church has continued welcoming all, now as part of Aachen’s bustling North Parish. So, whether you’re here for the architecture or the echoes of hymns past, this is a place where history, harmony, and a hint of good humor all meet.

Right in front of you, you’ll spot a weathered wooden crucifix standing against the trunk of a chestnut tree, nestled behind a small iron fence at the edge of Von-Coels-Straße. Now, let’s imagine this very spot back in 1829, when the ‘Cockerill’schen Straße’-as Von-Coels-Straße was called back then-was newly upgraded and muddy boots were all the rage! The Kind family, proud owners of a lively tavern right here, decided to place this wayside cross outside their pub. Good marketing, if you ask me-nothing says “welcoming inn” quite like a new cross! Over the years, the cross got nudged closer and closer to the road, keeping up with the changing street layout, until 1911 when Nirmer Straße met Von-Coels-Straße just as you see it today. But there’s drama too! In the 1930s, during Nazi times, some very unwelcome party members tried to remove the cross-but the pub’s owner chased them off with an axe. Now, that’s what you call fiercely protective! After many makeovers and a shiny new cross in 1955, standing tall on a crisp autumn day in 1988, it enjoyed another careful restoration. Now it rests peacefully against its chestnut, guarding number 199, watching over passersby and serving as a lively landmark with stories that just won’t quit.

Just ahead of you, you’ll see a small, charming stone chapel with a wooden door and a tiny bell tower perched on its roof-look to the side of the road, where the sunlight falls on its rough, old stones and the rounded blue-stone-framed entrance. Let’s take a journey together-imagine it’s the year 1774, and some bold locals of the “Oberdorf” area are quietly putting up this little chapel on their own, hoping nobody important notices. Well, the parish priest gave a cautious thumbs-up, but they definitely forgot to tell the big boss at Kornelimünster Abbey! Three years later, the administrator, Carl Casper Freiherr von der Horst, finally found out… but instead of handing out punishments, he offered a very German “official permission slip.” Well, better late than never, right? And by 1780, the Archbishop of Cologne made everything proper with a blessing, officially making this the place to honor Apollonia of Alexandria-the legendary patroness of dentists, whose statue inside still holds her famous tools: tooth, pliers, and palm branch. Watch out, or she might check if you’ve been flossing! For a long time, this was the heart of religious life in Eilendorf’s upper village. Imagine villagers, dressed in their Sunday best, streaming here for mass (well, whenever the chapel wasn’t being fixed up, or, of course, during those rather inconvenient world wars). Even after the main parish church was built, the Apollonia Chapel kept its starring role each year on February 9th, when the festival of St. Apollonia bursts into life and her sacred relics are formally brought to visit. During the grand Corpus Christi procession, this chapel’s little courtyard would become a second festive altar, buzzing with celebration. The Schützenbruderschaft, Eilendorf’s local marksmen’s brotherhood, made this their spiritual clubhouse in 1926-imagine moustachioed fellows in green jackets, gathering here, eventually starting a fund for repairs (because, let’s face it, old chapels aren’t exactly low-maintenance). Over the years, everything from the battered benches to the little lamp hanging inside got replaced, donated, or lovingly restored; and in 2010, a new group, the Apollonia Chapel Preservation Society, took stewardship, ensuring that the ancient altar (stocked with not just one, but three saints’ relics!) and all the quirky fittings would survive for future generations. In 2016, the chapel was hooked up to the electric grid-finally, no more “medieval mood lighting”-and old benches were swapped out for new chairs in 2020. Today, the stone walls might look nearly the same as they did 250 years ago, but like all the best characters in history, this little chapel has plenty of stories tucked into every nook and cranny. And who knew, in Eilendorf, you’d discover a place where a tiny bell tower, a hidden altar, and some very determined parishioners made an everlasting mark!

In front of you, you’ll spot the Wayside cross rising from a small patch of flowers and greenery, with a life-sized figure of Christ under a wooden roof-just look toward the grassy area opposite the Müselter Weg junction. Now, let’s travel back in time for a moment. Imagine muddy roads and clattering hooves-because until 1908, this cross stood at a busy old crossroads, right next to a water trough where thirsty cows would gossip after a hard day’s graze. Along with a public pump, it was the social media hub of Eilendorf… until roadwork in 1908 uprooted the whole scene, sending the cross on its very own journey to Bruchstraße! It thought it could settle down, but no-by 1978, construction chaos forced it to move again. Not one to complain, the cross got a proper spa day in 1980, as Eilendorf’s history buffs rolled up their sleeves for restoration. Before modern streets crisscrossed the area, this spot marked the entrance to the tiny hamlet of “Im Bruch” and the old road to Stolberg-so there’s a pretty good chance a cross watched over travelers here nearly 200 years ago. In 2015, vandals damaged it badly, but after weeks of repairs, the cross stood tall again, ready to keep watch. This cross has definitely earned its roots-let’s hope it’s finally found a forever home!

To spot St. Apollonia, just look for the striking, modern church with light brown brick walls and a tall, rectangular bell tower with a white top right beside the main entrance-it's the largest building around! Now that you’re standing before St. Apollonia, picture this: a humble village on the edge of Aachen, way back in 1774, where the townsfolk decided they needed a little more spiritual style in Eilendorf. They built a small chapel dedicated to Apollonia of Alexandria, and-wouldn’t you know it-the priest said, “Why not?” but the official permission took three more years! Back then, getting the proper paperwork for holiness required a certain patience, and perhaps a few prayers for speedier mail delivery. Fast forward, the little chapel became the heart of the village-rumor has it, it was the only one of five to survive the test of time and now it’s protected as a monument. By the 1920s, locals busted out their best handshakes and formed a church-building club, even starting a marksman’s society named after St. Apollonia. In true German style, they mixed efficiency and celebration-holding parish festivals to raise money for their big dream: a new church! When the new church finally rose between 1959 and 1961, it didn’t skimp on style-just look at those stunning stained-glass windows designed by Ludwig Schaffrath and the contemporary metal work by Albert Sous. And those church bells? Four were cast in the Eifel region and still sing out over Eilendorf today. This church isn’t just a building; it’s a story woven with determination, creativity, and an unspoken rivalry with construction permits. Today, St. Apollonia stands not just as a church, but as a memory keeper for the whole neighborhood-always ready for the next chapter!