Frauenkirche

Just inside the entrance of Munich's cathedral, there's a dark footprint stamped into the floor tile. According to legend, the Devil made a bet with the architect Jörg von Halsbach that the church would have no windows. When the Devil came to inspect, he stood in the entrance and — thanks to cleverly positioned columns blocking every window from that exact spot — saw nothing but walls. By the time he realised he'd been tricked, the church was already consecrated and he could only stomp his foot in rage. That footprint, the Teufelstritt, is still there. So is the wind the Devil supposedly left behind when he stormed off — locals say it never stops blowing around the Frauenkirche.

The twin onion-domed towers are Munich's most recognisable silhouette, and by law no building in the city centre can be taller than their 99-metre height. They were actually a last-minute design change — the original plans called for pointed Gothic spires, but the money ran out in 1525 and the builders capped each tower with Renaissance-style copper domes instead. The happy accident became the city's defining architectural feature.

Built between 1468 and 1488, the cathedral is a masterwork of late Gothic brick construction. It can hold 20,000 standing worshippers — an astonishing capacity for a building that took only twenty years to complete. Halsbach, who also built Munich's Altes Rathaus, managed to create a vast interior space using just twenty-two octagonal pillars. The optical illusion from the entrance, where the pillars seem to block all natural light, only works from that one spot. Walk a few steps forward and the church floods with light from seventy-two windows.

Emperor Ludwig the Bavarian is entombed here in a grand black marble cenotaph surrounded by kneeling bronze figures. The real tomb is in the crypt below — a fact that confuses roughly everyone who visits.