“spirtually and passionately alive”
Continued from You’re So Vain…
The ground above Hitler’s old bunker, where he shot himself after his fall from power, is a parking lot. Good to know. The tour guide joked that Germans now bring their dogs to poo in that lot. Nothing more than a sign flags the historical space. The tour guide informed our group that the city didn’t want any sort of historical recognition of the bunker below to inadvertently become revered as a memorial for Hitler. So, you have a sign and a parking lot.
But let’s back up. The wild, yet kind, rideshare driver dropped me off at the exact address of my Couchsurfing host, Yannis. Unfortunatley, Yannis was not home but at work, and I needed to call him to let him know I had arrived. But when I tried to call him, the number didn’t work. Great. Another couchsurfer had offered to host me previously, though, so I called him. No problem! Carlos could still host me!
Carlos cooked me dinner my first evening in town and we chatted as Couchsurfers do over a few glasses of wine. That night, we were off to a Couchsurfing house party in Berlin. And this was truly the eclectic couchsurfing party. Art was everywhere. Handmade jewelry, photographs, drawings and paintings could all be found displayed around the flat. One Italian woman showed up in full body paint. The bathroom was its own, unique art exhibit complete with a wrapped chicken and fake vegetables floating in the bathtub. Guitars eventually emerged and singing commenced. Hahaha. It was quite the Bohemian party to say the least and I loved it! It was the perfect party to introduce me to Berlin. As the cheapest major metropolis in Western Europe, Berlin has quite the Bohemian reputation. This party was a full-on introduction to the character and intrigue of Berlino! At the party I met a Spaniard and an Argentinian with whom I would wind up sharing the rest of my weekend in Berlin… with my host Carlos of course.
I didn’t have much time though – just one full day. Thus, on Sunday Carlos and I met up with Alvaro, the Spaniard, and Flor, the Argentinian for a tour of the major sites of Berlin: The infamous Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, various museums and monuments and numerous facades riddled with not just bullet holes but huge, blackened gashes from rockets. This is the first time I’ve seen such battered evidence of war. This is the closest I’ve gotten to any war. It was startling to see it. I tried to imagine what it would have been like when those bullets and rockets were actually slamming into the places many families called home, where buildings shook then crumbled around you, where loved ones were dying beside you. And… I couldn’t. I just couldn’t imagine it. I have not an inkling of what it would be like to survive such destruction and doom. 
Yet, there are so many parts of the world where the people can’t imagine what life is like without war – without all that battering destruction. As for me, I could only conjure up scenes from movies. And, it just didn’t sit right thinking of all this. The questions started haunting me. Why do I get to be so protected and sheltered? (Thank God!) Why do others have to endure so much suffering – suffering that I’m so far removed from I can’t even grasp it? The questions frustrate me. They make me want to do something. I’ve wanted to do something for as long as I remember though. Thinking about that frustrates me as well. When will I do something then?
The Holocaust memorial was just as though-provoking and troubling. The site of the memorial actually has no historical significance but it sits amidst the center of the city, sprawling and vast, where – as the tour guide explained – people will have to confront it. There is no escaping it, just as there was no escaping the murderous Holocaust for millions of Jews.
What the memorial is exactly isn’t very explicable. It’s an expanse of dark cement cubes piled at staggering heights. The layered cubes are reminiscent of coffins, walls, barriers. Our tour guide explained it was not meant to be a pleasant experience walking through the memorial and he was right – it’s not. You’re walking through rows and rows of sterile, cement cubes. You glimpse someone and then suddenly you’re cut off from them… you’re alone. You move, not sure which way to go – left, right, backward, forward. You might glimpse someone again… only to lose them again. Interesting how that made you feel. Cut off. Alone. Confused. Unsure. Scared.
We also saw Hitler’s bunker parking lot – where the dogs now poo. The tour guide was excellent. He had an enthusiasm for sharing his knowledge and laced his information with witty jokes. He was a great communicator that kept his audience intrigued, listening and engaged. Despite my feelings of frustration with what I saw and with what I couldn’t imagine, or fully ingest, by the end of the tour I felt inspired. What a history this city has evolved from! And now it’s a beloved city brimming with expression, culture and art. The exact opposite of what Hitler was trying to form. Bohemians thrive here. The underground culture is alive with a fury. Alvaro knew many dark, cozy corners of Berlin full of alternative music holes, independent cinemas and drabby-chic lounges. Voices of all peoples, all cultures shouted from the posters and signs plastered to the walls, the graffiti art tagged to the cement. Expression! It was in the air and it was enlivening. The city possesses a strong, fortified heartbeat that you can’t help but feel – and feeling it gives you a tingle. Because… you know. You know what this city represented not so long ago: suppression, destruction, death. Now I know why so many people insisted, I HAD TO GO. You can’t understand and truly appreciate the city until you’ve been there, until you’ve felt it – until you’ve breathed in a lung full of the hope that saturates the air there. Things can change! What a powerful effect this city had upon me. Yes, just one day, and I was already in love… in love with Berlin!
That night Carlos and I went to “the cheap wine place.” Nobody knows the name of it, but if you’re truly plugged into the city you know exactly where to go to find it and several other places just like it. Alvaro clued us in on where to go. The low-lit lounge had big, old, plush but worn sofas and soft candlelight. The coffee tables and dining tables were antique and chipped. Just two euros bought you a wine glass and the freedom to fill that wine glass with as much as you want from a selection of worthy wines. If you’re hungry, grab a plate and pile on the succulent vegetable rolls, the tasty pasta. Fill your bowl with a seasoned soup that washes an explosion of taste over your tongue. Go back for seconds and thirds. When you’re full and pleasantly drowsy from the wine and good conversation, go home – dropping a few more euros in the tray as you exit. You pay what you think you should pay.
The next day I met Flor in the morning for a last bit of sight-seeing before my flight later that afternoon. We both met with Carlos for lunch and then, I was off… to Barcelona!
Click here to view the entire Flickr album of Berlin.
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