Memorials

Yesterday was glorious, probably the nicest weather I've seen here so far, so I took advantage by heading out to see a few more of the places recommended in the guide book. I plotted a route so I could avoid using public transport but walk all the way beneath the deep blue sky instead.

My first port of call was the infamous 'Checkpoint Charlie', the site of the erstwhile border control point between the East and West; between the Russian and American sectors of the divided city. Today it straddles the metropolitan Friedrichstrasse, nestling up against a busy intersection and U-Bahn station. However, in an attempt to capture the original look of the barrier, a literal 'checkpoint' in the shape of a white guard hut, signs, pile of sandbags and even a 'real solider' (an man carrying a Stars and Stripes flag, dressed up in army uniform and posing for photographs). I was disappointed in the uncharacteristically gimmicky-ness of it all. It made me feel a little uneasy; what had been a dangerous and reputed point of control was now somewhere tourists went to pose for photographs with an actor. Berlin is not somewhere that normally stoops to such theme-park style cheapness to showcase its monuments, normally favouring a much grittier approach. A woman was weaving in and out of the tourists, begging for money and the monument was flanked on one side (the American side, appropriately, I suppose) by a large branch of McDonald's. I hear there is a good museum somewhere near by which is far less plastic, yet I squeezed my way out of the crowds and moved on.

My next port of call was in fact a mystery to me before arrival, but intriguingly pointed out on my map as the 'Topographie des Terrors'. This involved walking westwardly away from Checkpoint Charlie, past a further stretch of tourist pulls such as tethered balloon flights and finally to the site itself, which at first glance looked like a building site that had been cleared but not yet worked on. Recognisably, however, one side was bordered by a stretch of the original Berlin Wall, in its original location, its stark flat grey surface and curved top unmistakable.

Beneath this stretch of wall were bits of brick and rubble, discernible as parts of buildings. Information boards informed me not only of what they were, but indeed the whole purpose of this site being on the map. This street, in fact this whole area, had once housed the most crucial offices and departments belonging to the Nazi Party. It was where, in short, some of the most earth-shattering decisions in the whole of human political history were made.

 In much more typically simple, stark style, this fact is remembered here. No frills. Just parts of destroyed basements, with occasional signs pointing out which cavity once held prisoners, or which was the headquarters of the SS Main Office.

In the centre of the open area, a squat square building, which I headed for next. Admission free, inside turned out to be a fascinating timeline bursting with information about the rise and fall of the Third Reich. Boards hanging from the ceiling chock-full of facts, stories, photographs and newspaper clippings chronicled the events, explaining in a way that's never before been so clear to me, exactly how Hitler manipulated his Party and the people and how his power and influence swallowed up so much of Europe during those black years, not so long ago. An hour or more was easily passed in that information centre, and I'd thoroughly recommend it to anyone.

Tourist balloon hovers above the Berlin Wall

 

 

 

 

I emerged, dazzled, into the sunshine again and continued westwardly and then north, until I met the ultra modern, uber shiny Potsdamer Platz, the complete antithesis of where I had just come from. Everything here is square, and silver, and white, and tall, and glass. It is offices, restaurants, a busy train station, cinemas and bars. It is a capital city. 

It is also just a few minutes' walk from the edge of Tiergarten, the enormous park which lies just to the west of Berlin's centre and Brandenburg Gate. I was heading for the Holocaust Memorial, located across the road from the park and just south of the Gate, but first I had spotted on my map something intriguingly labelled as Denkmal für die im Nationalsozialismus verfolgten Homosexuellen, just inside the park. It had to be investigated. I noticed the information board for it first, pointing towards the street so that passersby would notice it more readily, I suppose. It explained that homosexuality had been made a crime in 1935 and how homosexuals (men, in particular) were one of the target groups identified by the Nazis to be elimated, thousands being sent to and murdered in Concentration Camps. It went on to explain that whilst other victims of the Holocaust were commemorated in the years that followed, the ban on homosexuality remained in force until 1969. Thus, since then, "due to its history", as the sign goes on to explain, as a nation Germany actively opposes the violation of the human rights of gay men and women. The 'Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism', as the label on the map translates as, plays a small role in honouring this. From the outside, a tall black box reminiscent of the top of a periscope. But as you approach, a moving image catches your attention. Through a window in the box, a video is playing, showing a loop of 2 men embracing. They look at each other tenderly, one whispers into the other's ear, they smile and kiss. It is quite touching. It still seems quite bold, even in 2015. I liked it very much.

My final destination was across the road. The memorial to the gays was on the west, and the Jews on the east of Ebertstrasse. I had heard mixed reviews of this next memorial, ranging from 'very emotional' to 'just a load of concrete blocks'. Well, although the latter is technically true, and I can see why it wouldn't appeal to all, I thought this load of concrete blocks had rather a lot to say for themselves.

From the outside, indeed, ahead all that is visible are rows of grey blocks, of varying heights, with a general rise towards the centre. It resembles the skyline of an American city at some angles, yet with a more Soviet feel, considering the greyness of it all. 

 Its narrow lanes between blocks invite you to delve inside, and as you furrow further in, the columns get taller, giving the impression of being in a dark maze. The pathways undulate, so from time to time you get closer to daylight again, before being plunged back down. It is deliberately disorientating; the scale is oppressive (later reading - thanks Wikipedia! - has informed me that the site is 4.7 acres in size and consists of 2711 slabs in total). 

Entering the Jewish Memorial

I get what the designer has tried to achieve here. Its scale is impressive. It is bleak and stark and no-nonsense. Its columns are not furnished with names, numbers or explanations. You can invent your own path through the columns and experience your own ideas and emotions without being told what to think. It is a very long way from brash Checkpoint Charlie. For want of a better analogy, it's one of those 'Marmite' things I suppose. And from my Christian, British, Western, born-in-the-1980s perspective, I rather enjoy Marmite.