First things first. (Even though this is almost last.) Europe is all about preserving history. Lucky for us. Unluckily for us tourists, that means that it is a fact of life that it is absolutely impossible to go somewhere without some big important famous sight coyly getting re-dressed behind some scaffolding. In Berlin, that was the Victory Column. Here's what postcards and the internet purport exists:
Back to Berlin. Day One marks the arrival of Brendan and little else. Day Two was the epitome of dreary: wet, cold, drizzling, and we weren't quite prepared for it or its unmotivating effects. We walked to the Brandenburg Gate and had some cheesy pretzels from a street vendor. We sought an indoor activity and opted for viewing the city from above from within the glass dome on top of the Reichstag, the parliamentary building. The only flaw in this plan was that to get to the top we first had to stand in line outside for about an hour, and we were a numb, glum, drippy quartet when we finally made it to the portico. Still, the thought that aside from a security checkpoint this was completely free and open to the public made me keep loving Berlin. The Reichstag, over 100 years old, with its dome of not even 20 years, exemplified what I would find to be the character of Berlin. A fusion of past and present, historic and modern, memories and dreams. Inside the dome, one walkway spiraled up while another spiraled down, forming a traffic-preventing double helix. The free audio tour read stripes of paint on the path to sense your location and tell you about what you could see from where you were. The joys of German efficiency. I may love the rusty crusty, but a lesser known fact until now is that I also have a passion for clean lines, structure, and glass. Berlin, full of both, was true love.
Day Three started out with adventure. Matt lured me into his vague plan with promises of 'the most moving statue his brother had ever seen,' and I was curious enough to find out what could make a statue moving (and just generally wanted to see as much of Berlin as possible), so I woke up early and joined in the adventure. We arrived at Treptower Park, one of the many beautiful green areas in the city, and began our quest for this elusive statue. Instead, we ran into people setting up some kind of fairground. We consulted a vague map before inquiring with a solitary man who seemed strangely happy to help. He gave us complicated German directions with lots of lefts and rights and forks and more rights and lefts, all the while seeming like he was leading us to his den of robbers. Regardless, we made it. As is typical in Europe, we first saw a clearing with a small statue, but as we approached and turned a bend, the world opened up to reveal what was in store for us. I firmly believe that Europe loves the grand reveal, complete with mental fanfare.
The rest of the day consisted of a tour full of sights and the details necessary to appreciate them.
Day Four was the art day of the trip. We all went to the Guggenheim, and though I think I was the only one who really enjoyed it, I think I liked the exhibit of Wangechi' Mutu's work enough to make up for the rest of the group. I waxed on about it in my journal. For once, what really made it for me was the artist's statement, which, combined with her work, yielded much thinking on my part concerning the relationship between an artist's intended message and a viewer's interpretation, and whether one is more correct than another. Other sights for the day included the only Catholic church in Berlin, a chocolate store where you can get custom-made chocolate, the Tiergarten, and allegedly the Victory Column. From here Matt and I pushed further while the other two stayed behind, and after much navigational miscalculation we arrived at the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. Once a grand church at the center of the intersection of several thoroughfares, this church was heavily bombed during the war. Instead of fully restoring it, however, the remains of the church were made structurally sound, and a modern chapel and campanile were constructed on either side of it. Now, with its gaping wounds and jagged spire, it is a blatant reminder that the past cannot be allowed to stay in the past. I wondered what it would be like to drive past it every day on the way to work. Surrounded by strip malls and fast food places, I wondered whether locals saw it as an open wound, as I did, or whether the construction around it indicated that it had been allowed to scar.
Day 5 was mostly conclusions and preparations. Matt and I journeyed to the East Side Gallery, the longest remaining section of the Wall (over 1km), covered in paintings. We met up with Brendan and I finally had the famous Black Forest cake, as instructed. In the evening we all reconvened for currywurst and bratwurst from the best locale for it in Berlin, a pre-dinner before our real dinner, which ended up being at a 'Mexican' restaurant. This would be our final meal as a group of four, and we made it last. On the way home we found a photobooth, and crammed in to make some final memories. Though we weren't quite enough to make the tiny booth overflow with people, there was laughter enough to fill the whole street.
