| he likes | she likes |
| late nights | early mornings |
| new things | old things |
| sweet | salty |
| action | drama |
| fantasy | real |
| sleeping | bike rides |
| crosswords | yoga |
| pizza in | Italian out |
| staying home | traveling |
| blinds closed | blinds open |
I learned what made William nervous about foreign travel. He didn't want to offend, get lost or stick out — all things bound to happen in the face of another language, currency, culture and landscape. I too could be apprehensive, but tended to jump in anyway, whereas he was content to remain on the sidelines.
We walked under and through the Brandenburg Gate into a crowd that bopped to live rock music, quaffed steins of beer and munched hot sausages. We bought our own sausage sandwiches and settled at a picnic table to people-watch.
This is the furthest I've been away from the Madison since I got here, William mused.
Directly behind the hotel was a high-rise mall with shops, movie theatres and a supermarket. On his one day off a week, William slept in, did laundry, bought groceries and maybe went to an English-language movie. Walking a total of perhaps three hundred feet from the Madison. If I hadn't come to Berlin, I'm not sure William would have seen much more than that. This is his nature, while mine is to coax and lure him into the world. The die was cast and we would be ever thus. The prodder and the prod.
William's work days began early and ended after ten at night. This left me alone to explore Berlin. I bought a seven-day bus and train pass. Berlin's subway trains are fast, quiet and clean; the buses smooth and efficient. I was struck, again, by a skyline etched in the silhouettes of cranes. The hammering of construction created the city's soundtrack.
Berlin is home to a large Turkish population. After a long morning walk, I stopped at a street vendor for a doner kebab, which is a Turkish wrap sandwich. Hot tender lamb and grilled vegetables crammed into fluffy pita bread. To work that off, I wandered over to the shell of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church.
Bombed in the war and nearly destroyed, Berliners have kept the remains of this church as a testament to what happened in their city. Its charred walls droop in a kind of artsy slouch. Newly built architecture has been added to the carcass, creating a modern sanctuary able to house 1,200 worshippers. Because so much of the former West Berlin had been replaced, it was evocative to see evidence of another time.
I bought a ticket and attached myself to a walking tour led by a young American fellow. We would venture a total of seven miles, beginning with Tiergarten Park and the Brandenburg Gate. We looked high up at the Reichstag, home of the German parliament. Reopened in 1999 after years of architectural renovation, including its signature glass dome, it was once again the hub of German politics.
Our tour continued into the former East Berlin, where grey monoliths of ugly Communist apartment housing still existed. We saw remnants of the Wall and took photos of the square guard box known as Checkpoint Charlie. We found the recently excavated site of Hitler's suicide bunker, where he and Eva Braun kicked off, and I was reminded it wasn't all that long ago his horrific reign existed. Knowing it as a historical event and then standing where it actually happened instantly transformed the concept into reality for me.
I thought of every movie I'd ever seen about WWII or the Cold War, with their black-and-white images of frightened people. It was chilling enough to step on the grave of a monster, but on that sunny, blue-skied afternoon, I didn't know it was a foreshadowing of further October adventures.
After the walking tour, I visited the "Topography of Terror," an outdoor museum strung along a preserved piece of the Berlin Wall. The site is where Nazi and SS headquarters stood before Allied bombing destroyed them. The exhibit tells the story of the Nazi rise to power and the hellish torture of the Gestapo. Black-and-white photos lay bare the rounding up of the Jewish, gypsy, intellectual and gay populations, along with details of the Nuremberg Trials. Excavations in 1987 unearthed Gestapo cellars where political prisoners were tortured and killed.
My long day ended with a meander home in a light rainfall. The sunny autumn weather disappeared and I wanted a glass of wine, a hot dinner and my boyfriend. He came home unusually early at seven-thirty. We supped on spaghetti and played Scrabble, and I told of what I'd seen in Berlin and how disturbing it was to be up close to that terrifying regime. We tucked into bed, and wrapped tight in his arms, I hoped the images of the day wouldn't seep into my dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment