9-ish hours in Berlin

I recently found myself with a "free day" while working in Germany. It was my last project for my former agency. (More on my next adventure in the future). But, it was definitely a project and trip that meant closing a major chapter in my work life. I flirted with flying home early to start the next chapter post haste, but the ticket change was twice as expensive as the hotel bill. My next chapter could wait a day.

An XY I had been working with suggested Berlin.

Berlin. Sexy. Different. Full of art and architecture and history and cool bars and late nights. Well, I had a day so the second half was out. But a day in Berlin started to sound pretty sweet.

I checked with friends who had been there for fun or business and the rave reviews kept coming. But I only had a day. Less than a day really. A two-hour high-speed train ride there and back combined with a freakishly early flight out the next morning, made every second precious.

Suggestions, great suggestions came from everywhere. My former boss and friend. A producer I'll miss working with. A co-worker who actually lives in Berlin and works in Hamburg.  He and an acquaintance with the exact opposite situation arranged a symbiotic "house swap" during the week. Smart.

Okay, let's start with the "must do" list: East Side Gallery, shopping around Hackescher Market/Rosenthaler Str, Topography of Terror ("it's not what you think," I was assured), the bust of Nefertiti at the Neues Museum, the Reichstag (Parliament), a walking tour, a brunch place called Entweder Oder, The Tacheless, Mustafa's food car, climb the Kreuzberg, Curry 36.....

That's a lot of must-dos. I went to the front desk of the hotel and after the first woman vaguely pointed to the lobby computer when I asked for help, I was saved by her colleague who offered to help me book the train ticket. She helped me read the time table, the special pricing, and printed it out for me. Love her. Emboldened by that, I decided to plan the day around my train schedule. I booked a ticket to the Neues entirely in German. I tried (and failed) to get a time pass for the Reichstag. On recommendation ("I know it sounds stupid but it's really great," I think were my old producer's words) I booked a free walking tour. In English.

All I had to do was get from the train station to the Brandenburg Gate. I could do that. Yeah, a three-year-old could do it. It was a sneeze of a walk across a bridge and past the Reichstag. I was immediately struck by the architecture. The old and the new together. This city doesn't ignore its past, it respects it. Honors it. Creates memorials lest we are tempted to repeat our mistakes.

The tour was worth every penny. (Just kidding, the guides work for tips. He was a bit of a tourist hater but he hid it well. And he knew his stuff. Yes, I tipped him well.)

Memorial to the
Murdered Jews of Europe 

He took us through Brandenburg gate, showed us the famous "Michael Jackson" baby dangle hotel (still can't look at that photo), pointed out the little cobbles in the road that are your indicator of a Wall that once sliced through this city. He pointed to the Reichstag and told of the rise of Nazism and the irony of "Dem Deutschen Volke" (To the German People) inscribed on a building repurposed for a dictator.
All fascinating and amazing.

But in a day filled with life changing moments, I was unexpectedly faced with the first. We walked through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. I couldn't keep from crying and as it was a rainy day, the monuments were crying, too. 

Harrison Ford Doppelgänger?

From there a deep breath. We moved on to many other sites: my first glimpse of the Wall ( I saw Topography of Terror only on the outside, but again another amazing architectural structure), 1980's communist luxury housing, Checkpoint Charlie, the office building that provided the set for Valkyrie (I never saw it but I was intrigued by another Hollywood lookalike on a mural there. Does this guy look like a young Harrison Ford or what?)

There were churches of all sorts: for the French, for the German, for a variety of religions. My guide pointed to the bank from "Run Lola Run." All along, there were  history lessons. Then, our first view through the fog of the Fernsehturm, the famous television tower build by the DDR in the sixties to claim its place as the "symbol of Berlin."

Amazing architecture at the
Deutsches Historisches Museum

The funny thing about Berlin is, you can be standing in the middle of a great (or horrible) place in history and it's an innocent plaza, or a nondescript parking lot. But as I was standing, robotically snapping church photos, my guide asked us to look at the plaza we were standing on. It was the site of the famous Book Burning. The memorial is underground and is viewed from above. Thousands of empty book shelves representing the books lost that day. More history, more heart-wrenching memorials, more amazing architecture, and then I was on my own with five hours to go.

I visited the Neues Museum (could have spent hours there, gave myself just under an hour.) The bust of Nefertiti, which I remember from my art history book in college, is exquisite. No photo can do her justice.  Then, under the advice of my tour guide who vaguely pointed behind him, I set out to take the public transport to the East Side Gallery. Just under four hours to go.

My free guide told us the sad story of
this 19-year-old earlier in the day.

Forty-five minutes later (and after a major iPhone directions failure), I hopped in a cab and went to the East Side Gallery. Best eight euros I ever spent. I walked the entire length, captivated by the stories, the art, the pain, the happiness, the different voices and subject matter. It was all there right in front of me. A new beginning. A new start. A new chance. A brave new step. Thousands of XX's and XY's made a choice to fight for a better life. Over the years, many paid with their lives. It was humbling. It was inspiring. It was life changing. 

Thank you, Berlin. I'll be back.

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