Herrnhut is a small town in Upper Lusatia, in the far east of Saxony, with a name that means roughly "under the Lord's watch". It began in 1722, when Moravian Protestant refugees were given land on the estate of Count Zinzendorf and built a settlement here. From that settlement grew the Moravian Church, which sent missionaries to the Caribbean, Greenland and Africa within a decade and still has communities across the world. The town today feels calm and slightly austere in a way that suits the story, with straight streets, plain Baroque houses and a church hall whose big white room is simply there to hold people.
Look up as you ride in and you will notice the stars. The Herrnhut star, a many-pointed paper or plastic lantern, was first made in a boys' school here in the nineteenth century and now hangs in windows across Germany at Advent. A small manufactory still builds them, and there is a good chance to see the process. The Moravians also keep up a tradition of the Losungen, a daily Bible text drawn by lot, which has been published every year since 1731 and is read in dozens of languages. Both give the town a quiet, specific identity that has little to do with tourism.
The riding around is a gentle pleasure. Upper Lusatia is gently hilly country of timber-framed Umgebinde houses, a style of half-wood, half-stone farmhouse that you see in nearby villages, and low volcanic hills topped with forest. The Zittau Mountains rise to the south, and the Czech border is close enough that a day can swing across it and back. Roads are quiet and well surfaced by the standards of the east, with small towns offering bakeries and cake. Expect few real hairpins but plenty of rhythm, and watch for tractors and the occasional cyclist.
Herrnhut itself has a few cafés and a bakery, but for fuel, the nearest big station is at Eibau, about seven kilometres away, which is large enough to offer supermarkets and a proper choice of food. Spring brings blossom in the orchards, autumn brings mist in the valleys, and winter is the time for stars: the town, lit from inside every window, is at its most memorable in December.