Insektchau vs Butterfly House

There is something delightfully old-fashioned about a serious interest in insects. Long before wildlife documentaries and macro photography brought the miniature world into our living rooms, Victorian naturalists were filling drawers and cabinets with butterflies, beetles and moths, marvelling at the extraordinary inventiveness of nature. To visit either the travelling exhibition Insektenschau: Kunstwerke der Evolution, which came to Mendig last year, or the Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia is to tap into that same sense of scientific curiosity and aesthetic wonder.

The Insektenschau was, in many ways, a modern version of the Victorian cabinet of curiosities. Thousands of specimens from around the world were arranged in display cases, each one revealing some new variation in form, colour and pattern. Under the intense lights, metallic beetles gleamed like polished jewels, giant moths spread their intricate wings, and tropical butterflies looked almost impossibly vivid. The exhibition was fascinating, and anyone with even a passing interest in natural history could spend hours peering into the cases, appreciating the sheer diversity of insect life and the astonishing ways evolution has shaped it.

There was a genuine scientific pleasure in seeing so many species gathered together. Viewed side by side, the insects became more than beautiful objects: they were evidence of nature’s endless experimentation. Every wing pattern, every antenna and every iridescent carapace seemed to tell a story about adaptation and survival. Yet there was also something slightly unsettling about the display. However impressive the specimens were, they remained pinned, preserved and motionless. The exhibition had the faintly morbid air of a collector’s trove, beautiful but static, a world of wonders arrested in death. The presentation was educationally questionable to say the least!

At Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia, by contrast, those same wonders are fully (and literally) alive. Rather than standing at a respectful distance from glass cases, visitors enter a warm tropical environment where butterflies flutter freely through the air. They drift past your face, settle on leaves and flowers, and occasionally choose to land on a visitor. It is impossible not to feel a thrill when a butterfly alights gently on your hand or shoulder. In that moment, the encounter becomes personal and immediate in a way that no display case can ever replicate.

What makes Eifalia so compelling is that it offers a more holistic experience. You are not simply looking at insects as specimens; you are immersed in their world. The humidity, the lush vegetation, and the constant movement create an environment that engages the senses as well as the intellect. You can observe butterflies feeding, courting and emerging from their chrysalides, and in doing so gain a fuller understanding of their lives. The scientific interest remains every bit as strong, but it is complemented by a direct, embodied connection with living creatures.

Both attractions deserve praise for rekindling the spirit of the old naturalists. Each inspires admiration for insects as some of evolution’s most intricate and beautiful creations. The Insektenschau impresses with the breadth and beauty of its collection and offers a fascinating, if slightly macabre, glimpse into the diversity of the insect world. Schmetterlingsgarten Eifalia, however, ultimately provides the more memorable experience. By surrounding visitors with living butterflies and allowing moments of unexpected contact, it transforms scientific curiosity into something richer and more emotional.

A pinned butterfly can certainly be admired. But when a living butterfly lands on you, however briefly, the wonder becomes tangible. In that instant, nature ceases to be an object of study and becomes a shared experience. And that is why Eifalia leaves the deeper impression.

Below are a selection of photos from both exhibitions. Can you tell which ones belong to which event?

Frühstück mit John Sanders & Alex Seele

This was an enchanted way to spend a Sunday morning, on 1st July 2025 at the picturesque Villa Krain Atelier-Cafe. We got there slightly early (unusually for Germans, Frühstück being held after 10am!). Perhaps it was the moderating influence of my fellow countrymen and folk musicians, Jon Sanders and Alex Seel, that led to the laid back vibe. They played sublime tracks as we were served coffee on the terrace overlooking the mighty Mosel, with the moody, grumbling clouds overhead. The air was cool and the forest exhaled an easy, moss-scented hush. That was, until the heavens opened and we were treated to a dramatic thunder storm, which sent us rushing for cover. As we stood sheltering, the roof of the delicate performance area buckled and in flooded the volume of a small swimming pool of water. This led to great confusion, protecting of electronics and musical instruments, and eventually abandonment of the scene, with helpers carrying a variety of guitars, fiddles, and all sorts. I think I had a mandolin. Once inside the grand old villa, we were treated to a hearty breakfast as we dripped dry (and in some cases clothes were wrung dry), with the musicians hardly dropping a note. Such consummate professionalism, and love for the music. The show, as they say, went on!

Träumen in der Morgendämmerung

Träumen in der Morgendämmerung
A Journey Through the Pastoral Psyche of German Progressive Folk

What will you do, God, when I die? 

I am your jar (if cracked, I lie?) 

Your well-spring (if the well go dry?) 

I am your craft, your vesture I— 

You lose your purport, losing me. 

When I go, your cold house will be 

Empty of words that made it sweet. 

I am the sandals your bare feet 

Will seek and long for, wearily. 

Your cloak will fall from aching bones. 

Your glance, that my warm cheeks have cheered 

As with a cushion long endeared, 

Will wonder at a loss so weird; 

And, when the sun has disappeared, 

Lie in the lap of alien stones. 

What will you do, God? I am feared. 

Vineyard, pasture, old apple orchard, 

field that misses no spring, 

fig tree that even in ground as hard as marble 

bears fruit a hundredfold: 

Scent exudes from Your round branches. 

And You do not ask if I am watchful; 

fearless, dissolved in juices, 

Your depths rise quietly past me.

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 – 1926) 

From: The Book of Monastic Life (1899) 

Translated by B. Deutsch, A. Yarmolinsky, and C.L. Cingolani 

“Träumen in der Morgendämmerung” (Dreaming at Dawn) is not merely a compilation; it is an invitation to drift through the mist-veiled landscapes of German progressive folk and kosmische music, where poetry, protest, and pastoral beauty merge in luminous harmony.

Opening with the melancholic introspection of Hölderlin’s “Waren wir”, the journey begins in the half-light of memory and reflection. From there, we set out with Witthüser & Westrupp, whose warm acoustic textures and gentle psychedelia in “Lasst uns auf die Reise gehn” encourage us to wander, spiritually untethered.

The spectral reverie continues with Bröselmaschine’s “Gedanken”, a raga-tinged meditation that blurs the lines between inner thought and outer space. Carol of Harvest follows with “Put on Your Nightcap”, an English-language lullaby draped in melancholic electric folk, further deepening the dream.

A playful interlude arrives in Ougenweide’s “Der Fuchs und der Rabe”, whose medieval folk-rock retelling of Aesop's fable injects whimsy and charm. Emtidi’s “Touch the Sun” then lifts us into celestial realms with crystalline vocals and synth-laced serenity, before Gila’s “This Morning” steers us into a darker, more experimental awakening; quietly intense and emotionally raw.

Zupfgeigenhansel’s “Es dunkelt schon in der Heide” roots us again in folk tradition, a haunting evocation of twilight fading into night. Hölderlin’s “Requiem für einen Wicht” follows, echoing with poetic gravitas, a lament not just for the small or forgotten, but for the fragile spirit of a fading era.

The penultimate stretch brings social commentary wrapped in theatrical funk-folk via Floh de Cologne’s “Sei ruhig, Fliessbandbaby”, a sharp yet playful critique of industrial life. Emma Myldenberger’s “Unter der Linden” then unfurls like an ancient ballad rediscovered, its winding woodwinds and modal melodies casting a spell of tranquil nostalgia.

Finally, Denise Krüger’s “Hier lebst du” offers a quiet conclusion; an intimate, grounded reflection on presence and place, sung as if whispered into the first light of dawn.

Together, these twelve pieces form a lucid, undulating soundscape; a dreamscape where the utopian visions, earthy harmonies, and poetic souls of 1970s German folk-prog commune. It is a world best entered slowly, with open ears and a quiet heart.

Burg Ulmen and the Sleeping Craters

Burg Ulmen is a medieval castle ruin that sits on the southern edge of the Ulmener Maar overlooking the town of Ulmen in the Vulkaneifel region of Germany. The oldest parts of the castle were built around the 11th century, and it very likely stands atop the remains of an earlier Roman settlement. In the Middle Ages the complex grew to include an upper and lower castle; the lower portion reached down toward the maar and was once linked with the town’s defensive wall. The castle was home to regional knightly families and because of its size was rarely taken by force until the late 17th century. After the last descendant died around 1800 it was abandoned, quarried for stone to build local houses, and suffered further damage in later centuries. In the early 20th century it was placed under preservation and is now freely accessible to visitors. From the ruins you can see the maar and the surrounding volcanic landscape, and there are some remains of walls, a cistern and foundation traces of the original buildings.

Sitting quiescently below the castle, the Ulmener Maar itself is a volcanic crater lake formed by a phreatomagmatic eruption roughly ten to eleven thousand years ago and is the youngest maar in the Eifel. It is up to about thirty seven metres deep and is ringed by a wall of tuff and ash that marks its explosive origin. You can walk around the shore of the maar on a path that gives views of the water, the forested slopes and the castle above.

Just to the north of the Ulmener Maar is the Jungferweiher, a much older maar that was re-flooded in the mid twentieth century and now serves as a shallow lake and bird sanctuary. A circular trail of roughly three kilometres runs around it and there are observation points where you can often see waterfowl and other wildlife.

Between these two maars there is the Ulmener Maar Stollen, an old water tunnel cut through the volcanic rock that historically helped manage water between the basins and is now a visitor attraction you can walk through. Inside the tunnel you can see layers of volcanic deposits and sediments that tell the story of the region’s geological past.

Walking from the Jungferweiher to Ulmener Maar around Ulmen usually combines the connecting paths through forest and low hills, passing through the tunnel and returning through woodland and open fields, giving close contact with both crater lakes and the volcanic terrain between them. This is great on a hot day because the cool of the tunnel offers some relief from the heat and humidity of the lakes. 

If you want something longer and more like a journey over passes and through changing landscapes, there is a long distance trail that begins at Ulmen and leads south through the maar region and down into the Ueßbach valley, eventually reaching Bad Bertrich with its thermal springs. This route takes you from the high volcanic plateaus past lakes, through forests and over gentle ridges into a warmer river valley and is often walked over two days.

Altogether Burg Ulmen and the surrounding maars offer a rare mix of medieval history and dramatic volcanic scenery. Walking from lake to lake here is not about high alpine passes but about moving through a rolling, crater shaped landscape where castles, forests, tunnels and dark blue lakes all sit within a few kilometres of one another, making it both rich in atmosphere and easy to explore on foot. It's pretty accessible for disabled people or those who just want an unchallenging but interesting stroll.