Ich bin ein Berliner

Aren’t clichés great? You see this one everywhere in Berlin, where I spent last weekend.



What an impressive city. I fell in love with the magnificent parks and tree-lined streets, which somehow I obviously didn’t pay much attention to when I was there at the age of 18. Mind you, it was in winter then and still divided into East and West, so firstly, the trees had no leaves and secondly, my mind was more intrigued by those evil communists who had their trigger-happy fingers hovering permanently over the launch button. Looking back, that’s how I spent most of my teenage years: worrying about nuclear war.





This time for me it was a very poignant trip. Maybe it’s because almost the last bit of youth in me is shrivelling up, but I actually spent much of the weekend in reflective thought about the world and Germany and the war/s.



For anyone who’s not been to Berlin, let me tell you it’s a vast city, at least compared to Copenhagen. When you fly in, you pass over lush green countryside and as you come into land you can actually see how treed the streets are. On the ground, they’re even more impressive: flowering horse chestnuts, lindens, planes and oaks planted out along long boulevards and even the side streets. Quite idyllic and made even more pleasant by Berliners who were very friendly everywhere I went, even if they were a tad perplexed at my insistence in speaking Danish quite frequently. (Obviously, I will never make one of those sophisticated internationals who can switch from one language to another instantaneously.)






Of course, there isn’t a great many magnificent old buildings as most of those were bombed to buggery in WWII. Never the less, there is still considerable architectural interest and Berlin’s history is nothing if not interesting. It was that, that put me in a pensive mood.



I don’t have much trouble reconciling the Great War. For me it boils down to the Kaiser who was a despot with a huge chip on his shoulders. He hated his British mother and English relatives and kept the former under – more-or-less – house arrest, fearing she was some sort of spy. He had a huge chip on his shoulders about the might of the British Empire and wanted the same for Germany, devoting his whole life to trying to achieve it. I think what sums him up can be found in one of the letters he wrote to his grandmother, Queen Victoria, when he became sovereign. He began the letter with, ‘Dear Colleague’. What a nong. Anyway, he did such a good job on furthering Germany’s stance in the world he lost the throne and made the Hohenzollerns the laughing stock of the world at the price of millions of lives.

But what occupied my thoughts this time was Nazism. I was thinking of it as the plane landed which, rather bizarrely, saw us all packed into two busses waiting on the runway. It probably wouldn’t have affected me so much were I not the last on the bus, squashed against the door facing outwards, which given my thoughts at the time, and being in Berlin, immediately made me think of something else.

It went on from there and culminated in a trip to the Jewish Museum.
The museum itself is extremely interesting and insightful as it takes you through Jewish history since biblical times. It’s an impressive, unusual modern building that meanders over a few stories. The Holocaust doesn’t overwhelm the place but two parts of the building affected me deeply. The first was called the Holocaust Tower.

You walk into a concrete room with a heavy door closing behind you. Immediately you feel sort of imprisoned. You can hear the world going on outside but the effect is one of detachment. It’s only a small, oddly shaped room but stretches up three floors. At the top, there is a slit in the concrete that lets in a small amount of light. I guess (I can’t say for sure because the iPod I was using kept skipping) it represents Jews stuck in the camps, knowing some kind of ‘life’ was going on outside while they were imprisoned in one of the most awful to imagine kinds of hell.

What was even more sobering was another void called The Void of Falling Leaves. This is one you actually hear before you see. As I got nearer, I could hear this very grating chinking of metal. It was very disconcerting and irritating.

You enter a huge space covered on the floor with hundreds of circular shapes of thick metal, each with eyes and a mouth bored into them. The noise comes from people walking over them and the sound is utterly awful and jarring. It made me think of stomping over the wounded, sad souls. In fact, I couldn’t walk over the exhibition. I just stood their listening to the noise, feeling sadder by the minute. At the same time, I found it interesting that architecture could have this effect on me.



After that, I wandered down the streets and found the remnants of that other dark piece of history, the Berlin Wall. The last time I’d been in Berlin the wall had been complete and in full working order, but this time I felt a bit disoriented. The city had become one again and I found it hard working out which way was east and which way was west. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.

As I continued my very long walk (I still have the blisters to prove it) I found it hard to reconcile that such a lovely city, full of what I found to be friendly and helpful people, had not that long ago been the seat of such evil. Almost incomprehensible evil.

I’ve never spoken to any Germans about that part of their history. It’s not something I guess I’d want to bring up but I wonder how they cope, knowing they have such an ugly history. Certainly it not the Germans of today’s responsibility or fault but it can’t be very nice, looking back at your own country’s past and being met by a black wall. To their immense credit, in Berlin at least, that history is not hidden. There are reminders everywhere and that, in itself, must be hard to face and see as you go about living your life.

Not long ago, the German Chancellor, Angela Merkel, made a trip to Israel and a speech at the Knesset, about Germany’s past. It must have been a terribly difficult thing to do – to know you must do it, but probably don’t want to be the one to do so.

A number of Israeli politicians boycotted listening to the speech saying they couldn’t bear to hear the German language in their House. Part of me understood that but another part of me thought it was a shame. I doubt Ms Merkel wanted them to forget – or even forgive Germany for what happened but I guess she just wanted a chance to speak for her country, today, about it. The boycott also made me feel sorry for all the German Jews who still live in the country and are no doubt understandably proud of their land as it is now.

She said: "The Holocaust fills us with shame. I bow my head before the survivors and I bow my head before you in tribute to the fact that you were able to survive."

They were words of the deepest solemnity and I’m sure she meant them. It must have been overwhelming for her, however much she may have wanted to do it, knowing who you were addressing and just why.

Personally, I wish I’d had longer in Berlin because there is just so much to see and do. Next time I’m going to tackle the Cold War. I missed out on the DDR Museum due to time but want to find out more about life in East Berlin back then. And the third time I go back I’m just going to relax and enjoy the fun Berlin is known for today!