Berlin, Germany

Mon, August 13

I wake early, 20 minutes before my alarm clock.  I get up and ready to spend a slightly more casual morning with my hosts than expected.  Breakfast?  Bread and jams.  Yummy!  We drive to the train station, and Till arrives minutes before the train is to depart.  Till jumps off with his bike, one stop later.  The rest of us get off in Hannover, where I’m immediately escorted to my track to make sure I don’t miss my connection to Berlin.  Even though I’m getting pretty good at this train thing, I’m coddled and think it’s cute.

Hours later, I arrive at Berlin’s main train station.  I don’t know where the time went; no photos, no blogging, no postcards.  Sometimes, I admit that I’m a bum.  Anyway, I get off the train in Berlin before it heads south toward Dresden.  I make my way to the platz (huge concrete square) in front to get my bearings.  I need to walk east, across the river that previously divided East Berlin from West Berlin.  I wonder if I remember this area from 1985; I was here once before.  I know I looked at The Wall in one location, and over the river in another.  I’d have to look at my photos to see if any of the buildings are the same to know for sure.  I convince myself that I’m in a familiar place.

I do the previously forbidden and cross the river.  I’ve entered East Berlin.  I expect the buildings to all look like big Soviet concrete blocks, yet they appear quite similar to those in Washington, DC; some old with ornately detailed architecture, some modern primarily made of glass, some concrete blocks.  I follow my map to Heart of Gold Hostel.  Peter checks me in.  He’s a little bit goofy but with a dry English-type of humor; I love it.  I drop off my bag and realize that I’m rooming with a younger hostel crowd interested in Berlin’s party scene.  It’s 2:00 pm, and 1/3 are sleeping.  No matter.  I only have two days to see the city, so I’d better get started.

Thanks to Peter’s map, I head north to Bernauer Strasse (or Street in American), home of The Berlin Wall Documentation Center.  I find much more than a center.  Shame on me for not knowing the details beforehand, but I’ll try to make up for it now.  After WWII ended in 1945, England, France, Russia, and the USA divided Germany into four parts.  The Russian government supported a communist party in East Germany that imposed communism on their residents.  While check points were in place to prevent East and West Berliners from relocating, nearly 20% of East Berliners moved to the west side by 1961.  Perhaps insulted, but definitely concerned about a reducing workforce, knowledge base, etc., East Germany began “building” the Berlin Wall on August 13, 1961.

Bernauer Street was an immediate target.  An old cemetery was known to be poorly patrolled, and people would pack a bag and walk through the cemetery in the cover of darkness.  Once The Wall construction began, East Berliners recognized the implications and made a dash for it before it was too late.  Nearly overnight, the whole street had been blocked off with barbed wire, doors were nailed shut from the outside, and ground level windows were sealed with brick and mortar.

That was enough to start freaking people out, so in the first few weeks a number of people snuck past the police and jumped out of 2^nd and 3^rd story windows.  Watching video clips of this almost seems comical, like an old, high-speed silent film where people made ropes of bed sheets, or jumped onto the old-style fire department trampolines.  The East Berlin police didn’t take kindly to this and continued blocking off higher level windows while building The Wall.  Attempts for the first couple of weeks appear to be mostly successful, but by the end of August, people started dying as a result.  Perhaps they jumped from too high up; one was horrifically shot while climbing The Wall.  No matter, escape was few and far between after September 1961.

I’m a big believer in the power of numbers, so I’d think that there would be an organized effort to escape.  I mean, if so many people want to get out, how can they be held back?  Unfortunately for the liberals, there were plenty of conservative nationals that were on board with Communism and wanted to help keep East Berlin unified.  These people were motivated by the Stasi (East German investigators) to rat out the liberal minded folks and to reveal any escape plans.  So, if Big brother is always watching, how does one find a group to plan an escape without fear of imprisonment?  All of a sudden, I realize that I take “freedom of speech” for granted.

The most successful escape occurred in October 1964.  At this point, East Berlin is basically a prison.  These folks tunneled out!  They dug straight down through a toilet and began a long, slow climb under The Wall to West Berlin.  Before the police had been notified, 57 people escaped over two nights.  When the police arrived on the scene, shots were fired, and an East Berlin officer was killed.

                                                                           

I bought a 48 hour Berlin Tourist Pass with unlimited transportation, and I make use of it.  I make my way south east to Alexander Platz.  I emerge from the underground to see the ginormous TV Tower above.  I pass on a tour in favor of food.  I make my way to Zur letzten Instanz, supposedly the oldest restaurant in Berlin.  I arrive to a sign with 1621 in the inscription.  That’s one old restaurant!  I have a fantastic meal of a meatball, potatoes and vegetables.  And, this meatball ain’t the average Italian or Swedish variety.  It’s about a ½ pound of ground beef and pork with lots of seasoning.  Essentially, I have my own personal-sized meatloaf with an amazing sauce and perfectly prepared veggies.  Yum!

                                              

After a long day of walking the cobblestone streets in high-heeled sandals, I realize that I’m a terribly sloppy walker.  I think I nearly broke each ankle about three times.  Tomorrow’s going to be a sneaker kind of day, regardless of how American it makes me look.  One thing is for sure, I’ll have some very well developed ankles and calves when I get back to The States.

Tue, August 14

I wake at dawn to discover that others are only now returning from a long night of clubbing.  Holy Crap!  I wonder if I could have kept up when I was their age, and I remember a number of mornings when I crawled home at dawn.  I’m just too old for this stuff anymore.  I will admit that these kids are excessively polite.  When they arrive in the middle of the night, they’re like church mice.

I make my way to the breakfast buffet for €4.  It’s a standard fare of breads, granola, yogurt, coffee, and tea.  The best part is that they have wifi widely available and a few outlets to recharge.  I plow through some e-mail and chat with local travelers to get the skinny on the town.  I head out in sneakers, as promised.

First stop, the Berlin Zoo.  Not that I’m going, but supposed a walking tour starts there.  As it happens, I see no tour and make my way to a church nearby to make the trip worthy.  I find that the 100 and 200 buses originate here and get in line.  My Aunt and Uncle gave me the head’s up about these two.  The routes travel along the major sights; if only they had an audio tour.  ;-)

I take the bus past Siegessaule, an enormous victory column with a lovely sculpture of Victoria on top.  The monument was to celebrate the Prussian (German) wins over the Danish, Austrians, and French from 1860-ish to 1871.

We pass the Reichstag and Brandenburg Gates, likely West Berlin’s most famous structures.  We travel along Linden Street, the original main road, across Museum Island, and end in Alexander Platz.  This time, I take my time and find the World Clock and find some interesting TV Tower angles.

Another train takes me to the East Side Gallery, the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall.  I walk the entire 1.3 km.  In 1990, this portion was professionally painted by artists, with their feelings for the reunification.  There are 105 paintings in all, and I managed to find a number of them interesting.  Perhaps more interesting was the fact that the river side of the wall has become a beach party.  I’d guess that sand was imported, and this place is hopping all night long.  They’ve got bars and drinks galore, beach volleyball, foosball, paddle tennis, a skate park, dance floors, DJ booths, hammocks, food stands, a boxing bag, you-name-it.  So far from any type of residence, this place is begging for drunkenness until the dawn.

Not interested in drinking quite yet, I make my way to Checkpoint Charlie.  This place is over-the-top commercialized for the terribly tacky.  There’s a little guard shack with an American Flag above.  Signs say, “YOU ARE LEAVING THE AMERICAN SECTOR.”  Dark, no-so-American-looking gentlemen are sloppily dressed in US-ish Army uniforms, taking photos with tourists for a little extra cash.  Oh My!  Through it all, I hear a woman bad mouthing generic US brain-washers and watch her do a little dance while shaking her butt and fingers at passersby.  I feel right at home, as though I’m in Times Square.

I make it past the spectacle, to a fairly well-developed outdoor museum with specifics on Checkpoint Charlie and The Wall as a whole.   It’s hot, and I make my way to the Stasi Museum.  I learn about a handful of outspoken radicals that were “released” from East Berlin and safely dropped off on the west side so as not to continue polluting the East Berliners’ minds.  I wonder if there were others that didn’t have a post-release story.  I begin to understand how the Stasi grew allegiance through children in sports, were able to plant whistle blowers in work places, and watch vacation hot spots.  The whole thing reminds me of Big Brother, and I wonder about the plenty of Americans accused of and wrongly persecuted for being Red.

I move on and see a bit of The Wall and people behind.  Curiosity takes me to the other side where I see some holes dug into the ground.  Signs reveal that these are basement walls to the former Gestapo and SS Headquarters from 1933 until it was bombed and destroyed in 1945.  Holy Crap!  I feel uneasy but walk on to read that people were tortured in these basement rooms.  Ick.  I see a very plain but modern structure ahead and go in.  I’ve entered a Museum that houses TONS of persecution history throughout the Nazi reign.  It covers every type of persecution from political alliances, sexual orientation, religious affiliations, disabled, nationalities, and beyond.  The whole facility, indoor and out, is called the Topography of Terror.  Accurate, but I’m not sure I like that name…

I move on to the Memorial of the Murdered Jews of Europe.  While it’s monumental for sure, I’m exhausted and overwhelmed and simply walk through the 2,711 concrete slab labyrinth without realizing that there’s also a museum below.

I’m spent, but I remember the tip I got to stand in line for Reichstag tickets late in the evening for the next day.  I go and wait a seemingly endless 2 hours to find that the last people in line have a chance to take a “final tour” if they can only attend that day.  Sure, I could go tomorrow, but why wait?  I cash in on my good fortune and watch the sun set from a ramp to the top of its glass dome.  This Parliament building, opened in 1894, mysteriously caught fire on February 27, 1933.  Hitler blamed the Communists, giving him the opportunity to begin political persecution, starting a long chain of events that resulted in WWII.

I make my way past the Brandenburg Gate to see it lit up at dusk then look for food.  I hate to admit to it, but a highlight is overhearing a Berlin prostitute talking to a very handsome man, “It’s always the same.  Fifty for outside; eighty for inside.”  I assume she’s talking blow jobs, but I can’t be sure.  Let’s see; do I take what’s in the parking lot, or what’s behind Curtain #1?

Wed, August 15

My train leaves late in the afternoon, so I make my way out once more to see Museum Island by foot.  Honestly, my brain is rather exhausted, so I simply walk around without entering any.  On Linden Street, I see car stores.  When I say car stores, I don’t mean just car dealerships.  They have cars, concept cars, cafes, logoed clothing, jewelry, etc..  Just in case you want one, they have a Bentley belt buckle for over €1,000.  The belt may come with it, so maybe it’s a steal.  OK, it’s time to go.