We would be spending the day in Berlin before driving to Dresden for the night. The plan was, we had no plan. As I was getting out of bed and attempting to look semi-decent, my mom looked at flyers in the hostel with the hope of finding something to do. We found a free walking tour which would be a perfect way to spend the morning, especially after sitting in the car for over four hours yesterday.
Luckily I've had quite some practice with the public transportation systems, so finding the metro and the correct stop was not a problem at all. The Three Little Pigs Hostel was only two stops from the meeting place of our walking tour, and from there everything was fairly centralized. We had a few minutes to spare and needed some strong coffee to kickstart the morning. The meeting point was at a Starbucks, but we decided to go someplace with a more authentic German style. Bäcker Wiedemann might still have been a chain coffee shop, but at least we would be getting more of the German experience compared to Starbucks. We got a strong coffee and a pesto and mozzarella sandwich which was turning into the staple of our diet.
Our tour started in Pariser Platz at the Brandenburg Gate. Before we got started with the dense history of Berlin and Germany, our tour guide pointed out the hotel we were standing next to. The least expensive rooms at the Hotel Adlon start around 260 euros and range up to 5,300 euros. Hotel Adlon is where Michael Jackson was seen holding his son out of the third story window. Our tour guide told us to go ahead and take pictures, but I thought it was a rather strange picture to be taking considering the context I would be taking it in. If I was just taking the picture for the sake of enjoying the grandiose hotel that might be acceptable, but taking a picture where another human being endangered a child seemed wrong. It wasn't until our walk home at the end of the day that I decided to just take the darn picture.
Our next stop was the Brandenburg Gate, one of Germany's identifying landmarks. The Gate is a beautiful, six column masterpiece with Quadriga at the top led by the Roman goddess of victory, Victoria. I was forced to infer that Quadriga referred to the sculpture of a chariot led by horses that I was observing. Our tour guide later confirmed my suspicion and said these chariots were modeled after those present in the Ancient Olympic Games. The grand 12 Doric column gate was commissioned by King Frederick William II around 1790, back when Berlin was declared the capital of the Kingdom of Prussia. Originally, citizens were only allowed to pass between the outer two columns, but today everyone is allowed to snake their way through the structure. The Gate was built as a symbol of peace and although the structure has undergone drastic additions, alterations, and modifications since its creation, it continues to hold the status as a symbol of peace. The Quadriga, independent of the Gate, has a dynamic history of traveling extensively in Europe, considering its' size and weight. After the Prussian defeat in 1806, Napoleon took the Quadriga to Paris where it lived for eight years. In 1814 Prussia occupied Paris and the Quadriga was restored to Berlin and redesigned by Karl Friedrich Schinkel as a Prussian triumphal arch. The new statue contains the Prussian eagle and Iron Cross on Victoria's lance within a wreath of oak leaves. Our tour guide continued to spit out endless information and facts pertaining to the gate and Berlin's history. I knew at once I would not remember every detail and the words began to blur together. My brain was likely to explode with knowledge by the end of the day and we were only at our first stop.
Our tour guide took an interesting perspective of German history, particularly Hitler's reign. He started the tour by being honest about his fascination with Hitler, but choosing to look at his time as a ruler objectively. Instead of leading a tour with emotion and opinion, he chose to rely on the facts. In retrospect, this is how a tour should be, and how most tours are, facts and no opinions. But when you are in a place with such a history of death and destruction, it is hard not to laden your thoughts with hurt and sadness. However, I appreciated our guide bringing to light this perspective because otherwise I would have held tight to the sadness. I would have missed out on truly enjoying how far this country and city have come since Nazi Germany and World War II.
Hitler started his reign as the chancellor of Germany from 1933 to 1945 and during this time served as dictator of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust. As a decorated veteran of World War I, he won the hearts of Germans by prompting economic growth and condemning restrictions forced on Germans following World War I. He slowly annexed ethnic Germans and sought Lebensraum, "living space," for the German people. He vilified the Jews as promoting communism and international capitalism. We were deep in the fires that ultimately gave Hitler power and the loopholes used to arrest the Jewish people when our tour guide compared this to the legislation Obama recently signed. Slow down, rewind, what? In January 2013, the President of the United States, Barack Obama, signed the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) ensuring his power to arrest and detain Americans indefinitely based solely on suspicion of involvement with enemies in the War on Terror. I imagine it would take drastic measures for the President of the United States to suspect someone of terrorism; however, it was an interesting and slightly scary comparison to Hitler's justification for detaining and murdering the Jewish people.
We soon approached the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, an expanse of grey concrete structures. Each of the 2,711 concrete slabs has the same length and width, but with varying heights. Nearly 5 acres of blocks were placed on unlevel ground, allowing you to see over the entire structure while standing on the outside. But when you enter the memorial you get a whole new perspective, cut off from sound and view, engulfed in the isolation and sheer magnificence of the memorial. Architect Peter Eisenman drew inspiration to design this memorial from the Old Jewish Cemetery in Josefov, the Jewish Quarter in Prague. The cemetery in Prague ran out of space, so graves and tombstones were constructed on top of one another and in some places there are up to 12 layers of graves.
Eisenman hoped to elicit an unsettling atmosphere for visitors to the memorial, and it worked. The loud, buzzing noises of the city soon disappeared as I walked deeper and deeper into the structure. Now that my environment was altered, my senses were heightened. With no one within proximity I heard nothing, I saw only varying colors of grey, I felt the coolness of the concrete beneath my fingertips, and I smelled only concrete. Upon arrival at the concentration camps, Jews were not only stripped of their clothing, but also of their identity. They were given numbers in exchange for their names. They were given jumpsuits in exchange for their clothes. Their heads were shaved and they were given little food, if any. Everyone became uniform, except for their height. The cement slabs provided an eerie metaphor to the Jews who were stripped of their identity, except for their height.
We were afforded a limited time walking through the memorial, and I knew this was a place I would need to investigate closer later in the day. We continued on our way, flying by historical monuments and museums with a brief sentence or two on their history. We stopped at the Nazi Luftwaffe Headquarters, now the German Finance Ministry. Staring at the large, grey building I realized why Berlin looks and feels so different than any other place I've been in Europe. The grandiose, intimidating, 2,800 room building made me feel insignificant and unworthy in this city of cement. That was it, I was finally able to put my finger on it. Everywhere I turned I found tall grey buildings, cement on nearly every surface, square architecture with hard lines, and coldness. Berlin was a cold city with hardly any gardens, colors, or warmth in design.
The next stop of considerable historic significance was the Berlin Wall. Constructed in 1961 by the German Democratic Republic (GDR, East Germany), the Berlin Wall separated West Berlin from East Berlin and East Germany. The Wall, also referred to as the "Iron Curtain," divided not only Germany, but Europe as well. In a post-World War II era, three of the occupying powers of Germany banded together in the hopes of unifying Germany. Soviet leader, Joseph Stalin, stood in the way of those plans by creating the Eastern Bloc, a combination of the former communist states. Originally claiming to protect the population from fascism, the Eastern Bloc sought to prevent emigration and defection. Fear was inflicted into the hearts of Germans by propagandizing that West Germany was not completely de-Nazified when in fact it was West Germany that was working towards a more democratic system of government.
Most of the 12 foot tall segments of the Berlin Wall have been damaged or destroyed; however, a few pieces remain scattered throughout the city on display. The cement segments are brightly colored with graffiti and artwork, providing Berlin with some of the color I felt was missing earlier in the day. Even during a time of tragedy and unrest like the divide of Germany, it is important to find beauty in the small, everyday things.
Just beyond the Berlin Wall artwork was Checkpoint Charlie, a border crossing point between East and West Berlin during the Cold War. Further along our walk was Bebelplatz, a well known site because of a Nazi book burning ceremony. On May 10, 1933, more than 20,000 books were deemed subversive and a threat to Nazi ideology by the German Student Union and were therefore burned. What appeared to be an ordinary square in Berlin, was again the site of rich and significant history. To honor the great authors and books lost during this burning campaign, a memorial was built. Walking through the square you wouldn't notice this memorial at first glance, but instead you would notice people in groups awkwardly staring at the ground together. Only on further inspection would you find a panel of glass embedded within the cobblestones. Below the glass is a 7 by 7 by 7 meter space with empty bookshelves. The space represents the 20,000 works of literature lost. As a book enthusiast, this broke my heart. There are books I love and others I dislike; however, no one has the right to destroy a book simply because they don't like the author or don't agree with their message.
A plaque beside the memorial reads, "Das war ein Vorspiel nur, dort wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man am Ende auch Menschen." In English, "That was only a prelude; where they burn books, they will in the end also burn people." This is a quote by Heinrich Heine from 1820. Reading this passage sent shivers through my body. Even 100 years before World War II, Heine had a frighteningly accurate insight into the trajectory of the Nazis throughout the Holocaust.
Shivers continued to race through my body at our next stop. Neue Wache was originally built as a guardhouse for Prussian royalty in 1816. It later became a war memorial in 1931 and since then has adopted many different names, sculptures, and representations. The most current memorial was rededicated in 1993 as the "Central Memorial of the Federal Republic of Germany for the Victims of War and Dictatorship." It wasn't the large Neoclassical architecture that sent shivers through my body, but instead what lies inside of the building. During the most recent remodeling, Käthe Kollwitz's sculpture of Mother with her Dead Son was placed in the memorial. Amidst a large, empty room is a sizable black sculpture with an eerie glow. At first glance it appears to be a cloaked person sitting down, but as you got closer you notice a second body, laying limp in another's arms. Directly above the statue was an oculus, exposing the statue to the harsh Berlin climate and providing a spotlight on the figures. There were small crowds of people scattered in the building, but you wouldn't notice them because no one dared approach the statue or speak above a whisper. There was a general sadness and discomfort that spread throughout the crowd.
I was very moved by the memorial; however, it was refreshing to leave the building and the omniscient presence of the statue. Our last stop on the walking tour was the Berlin Cathedral where we sat in the shade of the trees and learned the history of the fall of the Berlin Wall. During early November 1989, the Peaceful Revolution was gaining momentum with protests against the German Democratic Republic and East Germany. Less than a week before the fall of the Berlin Wall, 600,000 people gathered in Alexanderplatz screaming, "We are the people!" Government officials were prompted to take action, so an emergency press conference was called on November 9th. Günter Schabowski, spokesman for the regime, was handed a list of border control reforms that were meant to provide stricter guidelines for documentation when crossing the border. Schabowski had not been present at the meeting to debrief the staff about changes; as a result, he was unprepared for the questioning journalists. Five minutes before the end of the press conference, a journalist asked when these changes would take effect. Schabowski looked down at the paper and read the current date, believing the reforms would take effect immediately. With further questioning, he confirmed the regulations included border crossing into West Berlin, a reform that had not been mentioned until then. East Germans began gathering at the Wall, overwhelming the unprepared guards. The outnumbered soldiers were finally forced to let the ever growing crowd through. This clerical error along with pressing journalists were just a few of the contributing factors to the accidental fall of the Berlin Wall, each historical event adding to the domino effect resulting in free passage through Berlin, Germany, and Europe.
We retraced our final steps of the walking tour and walked along the river, visiting street vendors. I was impressed with the unique artwork, sculptures, and jewelry on display. After great deliberation, we walked away with a pair of earrings and a sand sculpture for my grandpa. A sand sculpture seems like a completely random gift, but he collects marbles and the intricate designs the sand created reminded my mom and me of the beautifully colored marbles all throughout his house.
My mom and I slowly backtracked to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, grabbing a bite to eat on the way. We spent considerably more time walking through the cement structures and observing disrespectful youths jumping from block to block, despite the security guard's warnings. The museum was hidden underground below the block structures with the entrance and exit positioned within the block maze. We waited in line to enter the museum, a worthwhile endeavor. The museum was very sparse without elaborate exhibits; however, the information provided was powerful. I found the most alluring display to be a dark room filled with excerpts by friends, family, and people who were impacted by the Holocaust. It was a beautiful, somber experience to read personal stories and my heart ached, like it had innumerable times throughout the day.
The information we learned during the short day we spent in Berlin was enough to be used in a year long German history course. Our legs were slugglish and the dirty, bumpy metro ride back to the hostel was a welcomed ride. We were about to go inside and pack out belongings until we heard the sound of tambourines coming from the church neighboring the hostel, and we changed our mind. It was just about time for Sunday mass and we decided it might be nice to stop in and get a new perspective on a German service, especially one that is highly musical. St. Clemens Kirche was beautiful, but had no people playing tambourines in sight. The service hadn't even started yet, but we decided to stay anyway. When the priest began in German, like I should have known he would, I became distracted. I enjoyed people watching and even though they were speaking a different language, people had the same peaceful expressions as they do in churches back home. We stayed for a few more minutes, before sneaking out the back to go pack our belongings and drive to Dresden.
We chose Dresden by looking at a map and picking a halfway point between Berlin and Prague. Who would have known that we would find such a breathtakingly beautiful city? We reached Dresden as the sun was setting and our bellies were growling. Most restaurants were closed on this late Sunday night, so we wandered the cobblestone streets admiring the architecture. We finally stumbled upon Augustiner An der Frauenkirche. We sat outside in the beer garden at the same table as an older couple just finishing up their meal. The couple were celebrating their anniversary, and even though they lived close by, they loved Dresden enough to make it one of their regular vacation spots. Our thoughts were confirmed that we had found yet another gem of Europe.
We ordered Tiroler gröstl, meat, onions, and potatoes fried in a pan with mixed dumplings. My heart was ready to stop after one bite. This dish was going to send my cholesterol through the roof, not something I should be thinking about at 20 years old. I could feel my blood slowing down with every bite, but it was so delicious. We certainly did not need dessert, but we ordered some anyway - wachauer marillenknödel, apricot dumplings in bread and butter crumb fresh cream, vanilla ice cream and fruit. Another divine, authentic German meal and we were asleep with very full bellies.
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