Gates

Before, when I thought of Berlin, I thought of the Brandenburg Gate. And when I thought of the Brandenburg Gate, I thought of Berlin. I could conjure up an image of the thing, standing solidly there, generally at night time and generally surrounded by a raucous mob. I was aware that it had played an important part in Germany’s history and that it was the most symbolic landmark of its capital city. London: Big Ben. Paris: Eiffel Tower. Berlin: Brandenburg Gate. It’s what they put on the postcards and t-shirts. Beyond these things, I thought little else of it and knew little else of it, not knowing that one day I would be able to walk to the thing from my place of residence in less than half an hour.

And this is what I have done today. Right out of my front door, left at the end of the road, all the way down and then a final right. Voila. There it looms staunchly, solidly, proudly immobile. 

The walk there involved a mosey down Friedrichstrasse, a hip, busy area lined with shops both of the high-end variety and those more commonly found on the high street. A hop over the busy river bridge and then a dive under the screeching noise of Friedrichstrasse station, where the homeless cower under layers of blankets and commuters and shoppers file in and out of its various entrances and exits.

View from the bridge on Friedrichstrasse

The road opens out into a wide intersection, at which I took my final right and was on the main drag down to the Gate. This road was quieter in terms of traffic, but bustling with tourists and the way down was paved with information points, touristy shops, cafes and even the Berlin branch of Madame Tussaud’s.

The Brandenburger Tor, as it is called in German, stands stoically amongst this swarm. This tourist hub lies to its east side. Sightseers drain like droplets from buses, trains, trams and walks, filtering into the pedestrianised cobbled basin. Like any tourist site, locals cash in: horses and carriages line up waiting patiently to provide sightseeing tours in old-fashioned comfort, rickshaw riders lay back in their vehicles hoping to swipe some business from the equestrian competition and the city tour buses all have stops strategically positioned here. The shops all have racks of overpriced postcards outside and the first commercial building beyond the Gate is, of course, a Starbucks. 

 

On the western side, a different picture. A busy road extends from the Gate, almost due west, vaguely resembling the way the Champs Elysee extends from the Arc de Triomphe. It’s a greener picture here than in Paris however, as the Gate marks the easternmost fringe of the colossal Tiergarten  - a huge city park hosting Berlin’s zoo. In addition, on the northwestern side of the Gate rises the glistening Reichstag building - Germany’s House of Parliament - its glassy roof arching upwards like a transparent beehive. A small pedestrianised area can also be found on this side of the Gate, home of information boards and often small scale political protests. Looking back through the monument to the East, the iconic TV tower looms on the horizon, visible as it is from so many locations across the city.

Reichstag Building

Through the Gate looking East.

Atop the Brandenburg Gate itself are the iconic quadriga (horses and chariot), replaced, added to and refurbished at various intervals in the monument’s tumultuous history following war damage. Together with the Iron Cross, they serve as a quiet reminder of the Gate’s role in the country’s military history, captured in a thousand daily selfies by the modern day, coffee-swilling crowd below. The place has its faults, just like any other tourist attraction worldwide. But it remains beguiling and altogether an impressive and humbling site.