The Wonders of Berlin: Its History and Its Culture

Berlin is a wondrous city, as I discovered in my recent visit and extended tour.  Actually, it is two cities in one.

The first city is historical Berlin, which is marked by the very visible remnants of the Cold War and, to a lesser extent, the World War that preceded it.  The Berlin Wall was erected in 1961 by the Soviet Union to separate the eastern portion of the city that it controlled (by virtue of the treaty between it and the U.S., Britain and France at the end of World War II).  It came down in 1989, but its memory is ever-present, especially at Checkpoint Charlie and at the Berlin Wall Memorial, where the no-man’s land between the divided city, which was patrolled by East German snipers (in towers) who fired on anyone attempting to cross it, is still visible.

The evidence of the Second World War is primarily focused on the Holocaust, which is captured powerfully in the Holocaust Memorial.  It consists of a simple construction of blocks of concrete that are of varying heights in row after row on a large plot of land.  The concrete blocks speak for themselves, and walking between them evokes the sense of horror that the Holocaust was.  That horror is also presented, more literally, at the Jewish Museum, where the historical record of the Nazi atrocities is displayed, as is the history of Jewish persecution in Germany dating back to the ninth century.

Seeing the remnants of the Wall vividly captures the reality of the experience that residents of Berlin lived with for 28 years.  Quite literally, neighbors were suddenly divided from each other overnight, as the Soviets erected the Wall in the space of a week across the entire length of the city.  The purpose, of course, was to keep those living in the Communist half of the city from moving to the non-Communist half.  If totalitarian rule ever needed a PR campaign, this wasn’t it.

But it is the memory of the Wall that is dominant in the first of Berlin’s two cities.  Many residents lived through that period, while far fewer were alive during the Holocaust.  And yet, as grotesque an act as the construction and maintenance of the Wall was, its destruction, by the residents of Berlin, created a liberated spirit that remains very much a part of the other city that is Berlin.

That city has an energy and vitality that I found magical.  It’s a culture that permeates much of the scene, from the museums (all housed in amazing architectural structures from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries), to the parks (some bordering the city’s canals; others consisting of large open fields with trees and greenery abundant), to the nightclubs (some of which host excellent jazz, while others are hot spots for socializing), to the excellent restaurants (where the servers are compensated enough so that tipping is really not required, or, in many instances, even expected).

On Sunday afternoons at one park a large karaoke festival takes place with hundreds of residents sitting on a hill overlooking the open-air stage where the singers perform.  Nearby, a people’s market features booths and tents loaded with handcrafts and souvenirs.  At another park, folks play very serious games of bocce, with measuring tape used to determine winners.  At still another, friends gather at an outside eatery next to a pond and have a beer and pizza or an ice cream cone.

The city exudes a sense of freedom and respect for artistic creativity.  Serious graffiti is prevalent, and most of it is the kind that Banksy might produce.  Art galleries abound, and the many museums feature art from the time of Rembrandt to the most avant garde current creations.

Museums of note include Pergamon, where ancient Babylonian relics are on display, and the Hamburger Bahnhof, which featured a Cy Twombly exhibit while I was there.  And it is not unusual to see classes of public school children on field trips in these museums.  One such class consisted of first graders who were given crayons and large tablets on the floor of one museum room after they had been given instruction about the art they were viewing.

In the Kreutzberg region of the city, small shops are intermingled with art galleries.  Beer parlors and ice cream shoppes line the narrow streets.  In Tiergarten, another restaurant looks out onto the park and the little canal that weaves through it.  Picturesque would be one word for the scene; idyllic would be another.

Police officers are rarely seen.  One resident said that crime is minimal, largely because everyone is well-cared for by the vibrant economic conditions and the abundant aid that is provided by the government.  Berlin’s economy is capitalistic, but on the spectrum from laissez faire to socialistic, it is far closer to the latter.  As a result, there is less evidence of a widely divergent income spread.  Everyone seems content with their lot in life, and there is almost no evidence of poverty or homelessness.

Am I painting an overly rosy picture?  Perhaps.  I readily admit that my observations were largely influenced by my son, who has been a resident of the city since last fall and loves it.  But I did witness the city’s celebration of May Day, which is the German equivalent of Labor Day.  On the eve of the holiday, large crowds marched through the city’s main streets proclaiming workers’ rights and sounding very socialistic.  They were uninhibited by police barriers or other signs of government concern.  It reminded me a little of the anti-war protests during the Vietnam War, without the limitations imposed by government oversight.  The next afternoon, those same streets featured rock bands and a party atmosphere I have only seen rivaled on New Year’s Eve in the U.S.

I felt very comfortable in Berlin.  Many residents are fluent in English.  Most are friendly; none I encountered were antagonistic or hostile to my American identity.  Everyone in the city seems happy, or at least not angry at their government or “the system.”

It’s a refreshing place.  One I hope to visit again, and soon.