Teufelsberg

A trip west yesterday took us to an area called Grunewald (literally 'Green Forest'), which geographically is not far from the city and yet feels like another county altogether. On disembarking the train, we walked through the periphery of the huge forest area, where the singing birds and warm woody smell plunged us into nature.

Our destination was the intriguing 'Teufelsberg', an artificial and modern place yet one which has the most fascinating history and has played vital roles in Germany's recent history. Teufelsberg is a hill - the highest point in the area of Berlin in fact. It rises suddenly and steeply in the middle of the forest and is criss-crossed with paths frequented by walkers and cyclists.

The hill is artificial because it is in fact made of the rubble of the Berlin destroyed during the Second World War. Millions of square metres of it. As we ascended, this became obvious as bones of the city poked up from its grave: bricks; bits of piping; glass. The whole hillside is strewn with it, amongst the grass, leaf detritis and tree roots. Ollie pointed out the peculiar paradox of feeling like you're miles from Berlin, when in fact you're standing on it. Interestingly, beneath all the rubble lies a Nazi school that was too robust to be destroyed, so instead had tonnes of rubble mounded on top of it, hence the exact choice of site.

Amongst its more innocuous uses, the hill has played host to a couple of large ski jumps and at one stage a lift was installed to carry competitors to the summit.

However, what really sets Teufelsberg apart now is the curious structure at its peak. Visible from the forest below, a series of huge white buildings capped with domes resembling collosal golf balls. These domes lend an Eastern feel to the construction, like an alien Taj Mahal. Altogether, the site looks like something you might see on a science fiction film set on Mars.

Teufelsberg Hill as seen from the surrounding woods

In fact, the buildings on top were built by the Americans for use as a listening post during the Cold War. Given its vantage point, it was ideal for using radar to spy on the Soviets and on East Germany. However, it was closed after the reunification and left to ruin. Before long, street artists moved in and made it their own, it becoming one of a number of large, abandoned sites around Berlin that people broke into, explored and left their mark on. These days, however, a sturdy fence surrounds the periphery of the building site itself, inside which we spotted someone patrolling with a guard dog.

Another hill is next to it, this one flat-topped and exposed, open to the public and a popular place for families, picnickers, kite fliers and couples. We took a brief excursion there and discovered a wonderful view of Berlin, suddenly appearing a lot closer than it had felt down in the woodland. The view reminded us both of that of London from Primrose Hill.

Whilst the listening post site is now closed off to passing walkers, however, it is possible to pay and get a tour of the site. So, after completing a lap around the outside, we gathered at the main entrance to be allowed in.

The 'tour' was probably the least formal one I've ever attended. Whilst they also run what they call 'Historical Tours' during the day, this shorter, more informal one is run also at a cheaper price and to be honest it was preferable to us. We were not bombarded with endless facts. In fact, quite contrarily, we were led inside the main building, the tower-like one and pretty much allowed to wander freely, one floor at a time. Perfect! And honestly, it was one of the coolest, most bizarre, fascinating places I've ever been. From the layout of large spaces, smaller rooms, stairwells and even a lift shaft, complete on some levels with doors and the electronics where buttons once were, you can sense the offices that were once there. No equipment or any other signs remain, but it is just about possible to image hundreds of busy workers going about their days there. However, it's the more modern history that really stands out: it is like wandering through a street art gallery. Every surface is plastered with graffiti. Examples below:

The old lift

 Through the gaping holes where windows once were were amazing views of the city to the east and the Grunewald forest to the west.

On the roof, we could get up close and personal with two of the curious domes. Their tattered covers had also been painted on and inside the echoing acoustics were quite eerie.

    

Above, between the two, extended the huge white tower, its exposed sides resembling the Tower of Pisa and torn canvas flapping in the wind ghost-like. Our guides let us inside a few people at a time and so at our turn we climbed the pitch black stairwell. At each floor, doors opened out onto balconies beyond which afforded amazing views across the surrounding countryside.

Finally, we reached the top and were inside the dim, large dome. Here, the least amount of graffiti of all, but it would be unnecessary. The place speaks for itself. The inside has two male figures drawn on it, their fingertips linked by string. Below, some writing and that's pretty much it.

Inside this dome, which felt not unlike being inside a circus tent, the acoustics were truly bizarre. Your own voices echoes around you from every angle, reverberating for some seconds after you speak. However, if you're having a conversation with someone near you, you only hear one version of their voice. Yet, suddenly, a noise that could have originated anywhere within the space suddenly might loudly come in your ear. It's utterly surreal.

Back down on the ground, on the way out we noticed all kinds of curious artefacts, abandoned there for who knows how many years and many more examples of graffiti, from the comical to the political to the scruffy. It is honestly a fascinating place that could be explored time and time again. A true modern relic in every way. Photographs are the best way to describe it, so I'll finish with a few more.