Berlin Byways

I have a handful more photos of my wonderful week in Berlin, and before I completely forget all the interesting little details about my time there, I’d better finish up this chapter.

On my last two days in the city, I really pushed myself to try to touch the bases of the rest of the historical sections.  This is made a little easier these days by the fact that the Germans, in their traditionally well-organized way, have both created and recently enhanced Museum Island, historically the oldest part of the city and physically located near the heart of old East Berlin. According to Wikipedia, “it is so called for the complex of five internationally significant museums, all part of the Berlin State Museums, that occupy the island’s northern part.” Now a World Heritage site, these include art museums, historical museums, and archeological museums, as well as the Berliner Dom, the distinctive Protestant cathedral that is the largest church in the city and a significant profile on the civic skyline.

On my way down Unter den Linden to the Museum Island, I took in two key spots.  The first is Humboldt University of Berlin (established 1810; home of 29 Nobel Prize winners), where I encountered this friendly advert for shopping at the uni bookstore:

I’m ashamed to admit that, besides Karl Marx (second from right), I really don’t know who the rest of these folks are.  Guess it’s time for an academic refresher, and clearly I don’t qualify for the discount under any circumstances.

A little further eastward, one passes the Neue Wache, New Guardhouse, the building that since 1931 has served as the “Central Memorial of the Federal Republic of Germany for the Victims of War and Dictatorship.” This is a tall order for a small building, and one that has a lot to account for.  But it faces up to its historical challenge with gravitas.  I found myself extremely moved by the words placed in the foyer:

Peering through the bars into the inner courtyard, one sees a large space graced with “an enlarged version of Kathe Kollewitz’s sculpture Mother with her Dead Son. The pieta-style sculpture is directly placed under the oculus, and so is exposed to the rain, snow and cold of the Berlin climate, symbolizing the suffering of civilians during World War II.”

The next stop was the German Historical Museum (Deutsches Historisches Museum, or DHM). The museum “defines itself as a place of enlightenment and understanding of the shared history of Germans and Europeans. It is often viewed as one of the most important museums in Berlin and is one of the most frequented. The museum is located in the Zeughaus (armoury) on the avenue Unter den Linden as well as in the adjacent Exhibition Hall designed by I. M. Pei.” That short quote tells you a lot, and reflected my experience accurately – Germany as a part of Europe, AND the big division between old and new. The Pei building held the current changing exhibits and the Armory the permanent collection.

There was far more to see in the DHM that I could possibly take in during the time I was there.  Because I am working on a book about my uncle, I also focused my attention on the 1933-1945 time period, which the museum documented with both thoroughness and great compassion. The biggest takeaway for me of the visit, as well as of my entire time in Germany, is that the 20th century was far, far more devastating to Germany than I had thought, and that living in Germany today is far far more complex and nuanced than most of us may ever be able to comprehend.  (Okay, we had 9/11.  They had some version of 9/11 ….for a very long time.)

The cathedral was my next goal, figuring that the later the day became, the less likely I was to want to clamber my way to the top, as is my want with buildings of this nature.  Just ss I was heading in, I saw a group of hip tourists about to start their tour of the city on Segues.  Now THAT, I said to myself, is a damn fine idea.

Museum bagging

The Dom itself has been built and rebuilt many times during its nearly 550-year history, including of course significant restoration after the second World War.  It is large and beautiful and imposing, as are all cathedrals, but I found the Protestant stamp an effective way to keep most of the golden glitz and plump cherubim at bay.  It is a large, somber, dignified building, worthy of the center of empire.

That being said, like some altitudinally-addicted homing pigeon, I couldn’t resist climbing as far up as I could go (pretty far, actually, out into the air) and snapping some shots of the city from the top:

This view actually looks north, towards the museum I would visit later.  The crane is emblematic of those I saw all over the city as the inhabitants find themselves building, growing, moving boldly forward into the 21st century.  And the sculpture to the left signifies, to me, the sense of both surprise and empowerment that the church fathers must be feeling as they watch their city, phoenix-like, rise yet again from the ashes of history.

At that point, I headed to the second museum I had chosen to see,  the Pergamon Museum.  If you haven’t heard of it, and I hadn’t, it houses “original-sized, reconstructed monumental buildings such as the Pergamon Altar (currently unavailable) and the Market Gate of Miletus, all consisting of parts transported from Turkey…” (and available for colonial kidnapping since that area had been a British protectorate at that time) “…The museum is subdivided into the antiquity collection, the Middle East museum, and the museum of Islamic art. The museum is visited by approximately 1,135,000 people every year, making it the most visited art museum in Germany (2007).” I was literally blown away by the Gates of Ishtar (this is not my photo):

‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

There is one remaining remarkable discovery I made during my time in Berlin, and that is stolpersteine, plural of stolperstein (stumbling block), something over which one might trip on a street or path.  Before the events of the second World War, it was the custom in Germany for the tripping person to say, “A Jew must be buried here.”  Beat. Today, that term has been transformed through the work of Gunter Demnig, a German artist who creates and installs cobblestone-sized memorials for individual victims of Nazism. While most commemorate Jewish people, there are stolpersteine for Roma peoples, gays, blacks, Christians, Communists, people with disabilities, basically everyone that the ruling regime felt they had to eliminate through either violent means, suicide, or immigration.  Now numbering nearly 50,000 across Europe, these stones and their story make for good reading and google is your friend if you are interested.  They are placed by Demnig and any remaining relations in front of the last official address of the person who died, and the stone, actually a metal plate, lists the name, date of birth, date of removal, and date of death, if known, for each person who was taken from that site.  It is a profoundly moving experience to see one of these in situ.

Deep breath.

But at long last, weary of high art and culture and history and emotion, I began to long once again in the waning hours of my visit for the humble charm of the Christmas markets, so off I went to perhaps one of the most beautiful in the city,  located in the western section near the Charlottenburg Palace.  Situated in what normally serves as the site’s parking lot, this market just reeks Mittel-European charm (and gluhwein, naturlich!):

Another shot showing some of the artisan and food stalls:

Deutsch cheer in spades

Of course, all this walking made me mighty hungry.  And if the restaurants weren’t enticement enough for gustatory enjoyment, the small markets and delicatessens were constant seductions.  A photo here of all the wonderful things I managed NOT to eat:

No dieting allowed

Oh, how I enjoyed these markets and shops and museums and stores and streets and all my time in Berlin.  Sadly, not long after this, I packed my bags and headed to the airport for the long journey home.  As part of that trek, to soften the blow, I was able to spend some time in my favorite Istanbul airport cafe, which often serves as a touchstone for me as I head from somewhere to yet somewhere else.  And so, after all these jumbled images and impressions, let me leave you with this last vision of my international transit perch – Greenspot – which will, as well, serve as a promise to me that it won’t be too too long before I head out once again.

Cheers – Prost – Şerefe – Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and safe travels to us all.

N.B. I just noticed I am posting this entry on December 7th.  Life is full of little ironies, but that being said….

Well, after nearly wasting my first day in Berlin on the garden of earthly (retail) delights, I decided the next morning I Had To Get Serious about my pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. But where to start? From a tourist perspective, you can slice and dice the town in any number of ways – historical, political, cultural, geographic, commercial, und so weiter und so fort. Since I really enjoy the simple act of walking around a new city and seeing what presents itself to my magpie “shiny object” nature, I went for the geographic, meaning every day I picked a different section of town and tried to figure out what I could cram into a somewhat organized wanderlust until the light failed or my feet gave out or I ran out of money or all three.

Tuesday’s itinerary was somewhat decided by my host giving me a ride to his place of employ, a fitness gym in the Kreuzberg district. I strolled around the immediate neighborhood for a while – a gritty-but-interesting mix of restored buildings, Turkish markets, a 1950s-60’s vintage clothing store, hip cafes, and some serious graffiti. From there I took a fairly serious hike north to the Jewish Museum, one of the “must do’s” on my list.

One thing that I was specifically looking for on this trip was a sense of how Berlin handled, well, the whole Nazi-Jews-Holocaust thing. Since the topic had pretty well dominated the 1933-45 era there (as well as most everywhere else), I was curious to see how the issue was being framed today. This is a big subject I will speak to more when I write about the German Historical Museum, but my net impression is that the people here are being mindful, thoughtful, respectful, and inclusive on the subject. It’s good to see.

That being said, a Jewish Museum in Berlin is going to have a lot of unhappy news, since Jews have been documented in the area for about a thousand years and there were only a few epochs when things weren’t difficult for them one way or another. Murdered by the Crusaders as practice for the other infidels in Jerusalem? Check. Responsible for the Black Plague and killed by the thousands? Check. (They poisoned the wells, y’know, and that’s what did it.) But like the reliable Timex culture that they are, they took their lickings and kept on ticking. Jews made significant contributions to many areas of German development, too many to list here, and many countries around the world are now the richer for the unintended outmigration of thousands in the 1930’s. That Einstein guy, for one.

Equally important to the experience of the museum is its design, which is downright mind-boggling. The architect Daniel Libeskind distinctly intended the layout to create a significant emotional experience for the visitor, and so it does. The bottom floor has a series of dark hallways that convey the uncertainty and depression that accompanied both the exile of those fortunate enough to leave, and of course the tragedy of those who could not. There is a “Tower of Void” in which one stands, inside the building but unheated and exposed to the elements by high open windows, and senses the despair and hopelessness of what many experienced. Small spaces throughout the museum are left intentionally empty to signify the loss of that segment of the community in all our cities and societies. It is very very poignant. Here’s a picture of an installation by Menashe Kadishman, “Fallen Leaves,” that that reflects that idea as “over 10,000 open-mouthed faces coarsely cut from heavy, circular iron plates cover the floor.”

And yet…in celebration of continuity, the upper floors are alive, buoyant, interactive, downright fun. Classes of children sit in circles with teachers, exploring one aspect of history or another. There’s a display of a robot rabbi that is writing a copy of the Torah under a video of a human rabbi doing the same thing with a quill and ink. People are encouraged to write their wishes on paper pomegranates and hang them on a tree, sharing our collective hopes for a better future. There are fascinating videos of the Berlin of 1929, people going about their summer activities without a care in the world.

But then, in an absurdist motiv that is hidden all around the city, there’s the special exhibit about circumcision, called, appropriate enough, “Snip it.” I understand profound culture heritage and tradition, blah, blah, but even I could not bring myself to get too close, as it were, to this particular offering, and I took a pass on that wing. I’ll leave you with a pretty amusing advertisement:

From the museum I walked north along Frederichstrasse, the fastest route for me to get to Checkpoint Charlie, a classic “must do,” particularly this year, the 25^th anniversary of the demise of The Wall. If youve been there, or if you remember the pictures from the ugly days of division, you might have a picture in your mind of what it used to look like – wire, walls, soldiers, scary stuff.  Now, I have to say that that image has changed, for the better of course, but it’s a little anticlimactic, in a good way. Here you go:

Times change

Note the ironies, almost too many to count. The McDonalds sign – triumph of capitalism. The Einstein Coffee – triumph of a Jewish company over both the Nazis and the godless commies. The Christmas tree – triumph over the godless commies redux. And finally the indignity of the US Marines collecting Toys for Tots – the triumph of the nonprofit charitable world over the centrally planned economy. I just had a moment here, and had to take a deep breath.

Then I walked forward into what had been East Berlin, and I swear to goodness you can’t tell where the Wall was. It’s just a normal street, a normal sidewalk, a normal bustling day. I missed the celebratory balloons that had been here for the formal celebration, but in some ways, this is even better. You just can’t tell.  The Wall is still very much extant in other places around the city, and many museums even have bits and pieces available for sale, but in terms of this place, so significant for so long in the lives of so many, all that remains is a little white shack.

The checkpoint stands on Frederichstrasse, traditionally a famous commercial district in Berlin and now quickly regaining its mojo in that department.  Among the offerings is the French department store Gallerie Lafayette, doing its Gallic best to compete with KaDeWe and decked out in its best bib and tucker for the holidays:

Ooo la la

Onward to Unter den Linden, the classic boulevard that defines the center of the traditional capital, and a pilgrimage down that to the Brandenburg Gate, long a symbol of the city and now triumphantly displayed on walls and signs all over town. “It looks much smaller, now,” one lifelong Berliner confided to me. “When everything around it had been bombed, it looked much bigger.” It still looks pretty damn lovely to me.

I was equally enchanted by the Fassbender& Rausch Chocolate version:

Toothsome

Well, at this point I took a little look at my guidebook and realized I had walked right by one of the places I had really wanted to see that day, and it required a bit of a walk-back, but there was still light and I hadn’t had my Christmas Market for the day. So off I headed to the Gendarmenmarkt.  Guidebooks call this “the most beautiful square in Berlin,” and that’s the God’s honest truth. On Tuesday last, bedecked for the holidays, it was truly a sight to behold. Let’s see – Baroque cathedrals, hot red wine and chocolate. Is there anything not to love?

“Tis the season…”

On that note, I’ll leave you until the next time.  I have one more day to post, and I’ll try to have that up soon.

It occurs to me that I really like a lot of cities that start with the letter “B.” Boston, Berkeley, and Baltimore in the US for starters, but then the list gets a little more interesting….Budapest, Brussels, Brugge, Belfast, Bergen, Barcelona, and Bern, to name a few.  But now I have to add a real winner, and that is Berlin.

Why the heck hasn’t this town been on my radar before?  Well, for starters, for a long time it was a challenging place to navigate – a divided city, the remnants of the Nazi empire.  During my professional career I became fascinated with Eastern and Southeastern Europe, cities and countries that had also landed on the wrong side of history for a while, and I somehow failed to add this town to my “Must See” list.  But now, thanks to a Batumi colleague who hails from Berlin, I have made the trip over and I am smitten.

I’ve been here three days, I only have two more before I head back, but I feel as though I have lived half a lifetime already.  So in my typical way, I have to tell the tale in the approximate order that it has occurred. First, the wonderful moment in the Boston airport that reminded me in the best possible way I was about to head out into the unknown:

My airline of choice this trip is Turkish Airlines, which has just won “Best Airline in Europe” award for the fourth consecutive year – no mean feat in a field that includes Swiss Air, Air France, British Air, and a few other heavy hitters.  Why you should travel with the flying Turks – pillows! blankets! socks! and Real Food, lots of it. One of my other options, Lufthansa, has just today announced *yet another* pilot strike, which means if I had chosen them, I might have inhabited my colleague’s guest bedroom for an indeterminate period.  (Probably best for our friendship that I go home as scheduled on Saturday, and inshallah I will.)

So, my first day in Berlin, doused with massive amounts of caffeine and armed with the Berlin edition of the DK Travel Guide, off I went for a reconnaissance sortee.  My colleague lives in the Kurfurstdamm neighborhood – the heart of old West Berlin and forever a Beverly Hills-style shopping mecca – so I headed first to visit KaDeWe, the Harrods of Berlin. Occupying a full city block like Macy’s in New York,  it’s a fabulous eight-story monstrosity of an upscale department store. The Christmas colors this year are a beautiful and slightly unusual combination of gold, silver, and bronze, reflected in the ornaments on the tree and all the decorations in the story.  I was particularly charmed by the figure of Father Christmas greeting the incoming shoppers:

Upon reflection, this was an equally inspired choice of a first stop since it has been *really really* cold here (mid 20’s with a stiff breeze from the East, “courtesy of Putin,” as the locals say) and my first purchase with Euros was a set of Ugg sheering earmuffs which have allowed me to enjoy the frigid clime with impunity. Ears sufficiently thawed and debit card in hyperventilation from merely gazing at the price tags in KaDeWe, I went out to explore the environs.

KaDeWe is located on the Ku’damm, a few short blocks from the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedachtniskirke, according to Kindersley “one of Berlin’s most famous landmarks, surrounded by a lively crowd of street traders, busters, and beggars,” augmented just at the moment by one of Berlin’s 40  Christmas markets. That being said, what’s impressive about this church-monument is not so much what is there, but what is not, which is most of the church, destroyed by Allied bombs in 1943. There is a Memorial Hall (at left below) extent with historical information (I found this incredibly moving, particularly the Coventry Crucifix from England and the Orthodox Cross from Russia, both given in a spirit of love and reconciliation by former enemies) and the new church sanctuary, very new, beautiful, different, to the left of the old church, not the tower under construction nearby.  I do recommend it if you come.

From there I continued around the immediate neighborhood, hoping that I could hold out against the twin demons of  jet lag and dehydration. After I had had my fill of all the Louis Vuitton, Armani, Hard Rock Cafe, Gucci, and Mephisto boutiques,  I was able to see some lovely street scenes on a nearby street named Fasanenstrasse:

This photo shows in a simple way everything that I *love* about Western Europe, all in one picture.  The buildings, all approximately the same height, allow for a unified urban canvas. The retail establishments are found on the ground floor with the residential spaces located above, creating community and convenience of daily life.  The occasional small garden or park breaks up the street and provides views from windows.  The wide sidewalks encourage outdoor cafes and strolling and watering one’s dog, all contributing to a sense of human scale that supports and sustains civic spirit and sense of integration into the whole. (Sorry, America, you’ve really got this wrong in a lot of places, although thankfully not in Portland, Maine.)  I chose this street in particular to stroll because Kindersley told me that some of the few fin-de-siecle buildings that survived the war live here, and below is a detail of one of them:

And later on this same walk, a look behind the buildings, newer ones this time, with a slightly different sense of how people live here, particularly with children:

So there you have Day One, which ended with perhaps the nicest shots of all, that of my host after a multi-bottle dinner in which all manner of important life issues were discussed.  Cheers to you, K-HR!  And to you readers at home, more to come.