A declaration of loveto Wuppertal.

Wuppertal isn't exactly a fashion capital and that's exactly what makes it interesting.

Cities like Paris, New York, or Rome are often carelessly dubbed the “most beautiful city in the world.” That’s a huge mistake. Paris has the Eiffel Tower and a remarkably inexplicable sense of self-confidence. New York has skyscrapers and thinks it’s the answer to every question anyway. Rome has history, ruins, and pasta—unfair, but that doesn’t win it the title. Because north of the equator, there’s only one city that can wear the crown with the right mix of pride, understatement, and curbs in need of repair: Wuppertal.

Wuppertal isn’t the kind of city that immediately grabs your attention. It doesn’t strike a pose like Paris at sunset. Instead, Wuppertal stands on the hillside with its arms crossed, gives a brief nod toward the valley, and says, “There it is. That’ll do.” And anyone who takes a closer look will realize pretty quickly: This city has something. Something unique. Something genuine. Something you don’t understand right away—but eventually can’t shake.

Wuppertal is like a person you only really grow to love after your second beer, your third walk, and at the latest after your first unplanned detour. At first, you might think, “Oh, okay.” Then, “It’s got something.” And eventually, “I think I love it here.”

Anyone who has ever strolled through the rolling countryside along the Wupper quickly realizes: this city is full of love. Not loud, not polished to a shine, not “Instagrammable” on command. But genuine. Love is found in the old facades on the Ölberg, in the winding streets of the Luisenviertel, in the magnificent villas of the Briller Viertel. Architecturally, perhaps a thing of the past, but with a dignity that many new developments will never achieve. Yes, the plaster sometimes crumbles here. But in Wuppertal, they don’t call that decay. They call it character with a certain charm.

And if you’re not in the mood for concrete, this is definitely the place for you. Green, green, green. Everywhere you look. This city isn’t just a valley—it’s forests, parks, hillsides, scenic views, clearings, and walking trails. About 60 percent of the city’s area consists of forests, open spaces, and green areas. This makes Wuppertal one of the greenest major cities in Germany. You don’t just notice this on paper, but at the latest when you accidentally climb 120 meters on your way to the bakery.

The Barmer Gardens are one of the largest private parks in Germany that are open to the public. A gift for anyone who needs to get out for a bit without actually going anywhere. And the Hardt? It’s considered one of the oldest city parks in Germany. While other cities build theme parks that charge admission, Wuppertal has simply been planting trees for ages and says, “Here you go.”

In general, Wuppertal has plenty of real places. Places where people walk, think, make out, jog, despair, take a deep breath, and wonder why the way back is always uphill. This city isn’t for people who believe in the existence of flat stretches. In Wuppertal, even the shortest walk can sometimes feel like a mini alpine training camp.

Then, of course, there’s the Wupper. It winds its way right through the city—sometimes visible, sometimes hidden, sometimes romantic, sometimes more like, “Oh, there it is.” And right above it: the Schwebebahn. This blue marvel that doesn’t run, but floats. A train that looks as if someone had said over 125 years ago: “Anyone can do a streetcar. We’ll just hang this thing in the air.”

And that’s exactly what Wuppertal is: a little crazy, but brilliant. Sometimes it seems crazy at first, but later, upon closer inspection, it turns out to be brilliant.

The Schwebebahn isn’t just a mode of transportation. It’s a landmark, a lifeline, a postcard scene, and a collective identity on stilts. Unique. Truly unique. Not like those railways at Düsseldorf Airport or in Shonan, Japan. No, our suspension railway is the only one of its kind in the world. And that’s a good thing, because the world probably wouldn’t be emotionally ready for two of them.

It belongs to Wuppertal as much as rain belongs to the city, as much as stairs belong to everyday life, and as much as the realization that in this city, you rarely just walk straight ahead. In Wuppertal, walking straight ahead is a theoretical concept anyway. In practice, you’re usually going up, down, or across a bridge you hadn’t planned on.

And since the new generation of trams has been in service, the ride has become even more enjoyable. That’s because it occasionally just comes to a stop. This isn’t a malfunction—it’s a chance to slow down and take in the view. Other cities market this as a mindfulness experience. Wuppertal simply integrates it into its public transit system.

But if all goes well, in about 30 minutes you’ll experience the entire valley in all its glory. Barmen, Elberfeld, Vohwinkel, Oberbarmen—it all passes by like a lovingly pieced-together panorama of industrial history, everyday chaos, and unexpected beauty. You see backyards, Wilhelminian-style facades, bridges, people, rooftops, the Wupper River, and sometimes things that make you think, “I probably wouldn’t have needed to see that up close.” But from above, almost everything is beautiful. Even Elberfeld on a Tuesday.

Wuppertal has been around for a long time. Well, at least its individual neighborhoods have. The city in its current form is actually still relatively young: it was formed in 1930 from several towns and municipalities. Barmen, Elberfeld, Vohwinkel, Ronsdorf, Cronenberg, and Beyenburg were merged into a single city. A forced marriage, perhaps, but one with a surprising amount of character. Today, Wuppertal sometimes feels like a family where everyone is a little different, but ultimately belongs together. Even if Cronenberg and Dönberg still act as if they need to test that out.

And that’s what makes it so appealing. Wuppertal isn’t a city built in a single style. There probably wasn’t enough money for that anyway. Wuppertal is a mosaic. A little rough, a little quirky, a little contradictory. Here, Wilhelminian-style architecture sits next to graffiti, mansions next to viaducts, the opera house next to a kebab stand, the university next to an allotment garden, the Engels House next to a skate park. Wuppertal isn’t smooth. Wuppertal has rough edges. But it’s precisely these rough edges that you get caught on—emotionally, and sometimes with your bike tire.

Of course, not everything is perfect. Wuppertal isn’t a glossy brochure. There are construction sites, vacant buildings, tight budgets, and streets where you can’t tell if they’re being repaired or excavated for archaeological purposes. The city is chronically broke—there’s no need to romanticize that. “Poor but sexy” isn’t just a Berlin thing. Wuppertal can pull it off too—just with steeper hills and less self-promotion.

So you don’t love this city for the money. But if you happen to have more than a billion euros to spare, you’re of course welcome to donate it. Wuppertal wouldn’t complain. It would probably give a quick nod, say “thank you,” and then start by renovating a staircase. Or commission a report on staircase renovation. Let’s stay realistic.

But perhaps that is precisely what makes this city so beautiful. Wuppertal doesn’t try to be perfect. It doesn’t try to please everyone. To do that, it would first have to figure out where to park. Wuppertal is a city for people who look a little closer. For people who don’t just find beauty where everything is freshly painted. For people who know that a place doesn’t have to be flawless to be lovable.

Wuppertal is rain on cobblestones. Light over the Hardt. Fog in the valley. A view from the Nordbahntrasse. The clatter of the suspension railway. A coffee in the Luisenviertel. A stroll through Barmen. An evening on the Ölberg. A city that sometimes seems tired and then suddenly comes alive again. Usually just when you were actually planning to head home for a bit.

Wuppertal isn't exactly the most beautiful city in the world.

She's better than that.

It’s the kind of city you learn to love. And once you do, it’s usually for life.

Even if the way back is uphill.