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A prehistoric walk on Dusseldorf's wild side

A fictional representation of a neanderthal man

By Steve Zwick

(TIME.com Europe) -- Dusseldorf is cursed with a reputation for snootiness, partly because many of its nearly 600,000 residents insist on dragging visitors to the Konigsallee -- a shopping strip that purports to be a shrine to the virtues of conspicuous consumption.

There's something unsettling about the place, and after a few minutes it hits you: Everyone's orange. The "Ko" is where you go to see what happens to pale Germans who lie too long on a tanning bed. But it's not where you go to see Dusseldorf. For that, you hit the cozy neighborhoods and a few select corners of the Altstadt (Old Town).

But if it's old you want, try something prehistoric. Literally. Less than 20 minutes by train from the city centre is a 50-metre-deep gorge on the Dussel River, named for Joachim Neander, a 17th Century principal at a local Latin school.

The German word for valley is Tal, and in 1856 workers renovating a grotto in the Neander Tal found 16 bones that seemed to be human but couldn't be found in anatomy books. The bones belonged to the original Neanderthal Man, an early human ancestor of ours who roamed much of Europe and Asia until roughly 30,000 years ago.

The Neanderthal train -- the S-28 -- leaves Dusseldorf's main station from track 13 at five and 25 minutes past the hour on weekdays. On weekends, it goes at five and 35 past. You hop on, pay your fare (press Preisstufe A and then Einzelticket on the ticket dispenser), and then enjoy the slow popping feeling in your ears as the train glides up through thick forests that materialise just seconds away from the train station.

Neanderthal is in its own world between Dusseldorf and the so-called Bergisches Land, a sort of little Switzerland known for its landscape, waffles, berry wines, and half-timbered and slate-covered houses.

The same soothing voice that announces every tram stop in North Rhine-Westphalia intones "Neanderthal." Get off, cross the tracks and follow the road to a sharp left turn above a steep valley. A mud path disappears over a cliff to the right under a little white sign that reads: Privat Weg. Benutzung auf eigene Gefahr (use at your own risk). That's the shortcut, and it's impossible not to imagine Neanderthal Men grunting their way up and down as you go into a controlled slide toward the back of the museum (www.neanderthal.de).

The exhibit itself is a two-hour interactive journey through the ascent of man, myth and media; and you walk out wondering who you are and who they were, and noticing that some of them were a little orange. It puts you in the perfect frame of mind for the wildlife reserve that fills the valley across the street. Wandering through this German rain forest affords an occasional glimpse of the protected bison and tarpans -- a type of horse -- which, unlike our Neanderthal cousins who hunted them, are not yet extinct. You don't get more Neanderthal than this.

Outside the jungle, a cluster of restaurants offer local wines. But if you're looking for something a bit stronger, in half an hour you can be back in the Altstadt. Head for Killepitch, a bar at the corner of Bergerstrasse and Rhein-Flinger-Strasse, which makes its own herbal schnapps. You won't find any of the snootiness the city is unjustly accused of, but the Killepitch crowd did have that Komagnon orange tint. Maybe it comes from the schnapps.