Transylvania

Above this earth, this ancient earth

Which down below is toiled by hand, by human

Bodies bent and fixed at the waist:

An eagle’s view, o’er hours of flowers and hills,

Fading to distance, to relic.

Uninterrupted by modern machines,

By the noise of engines, the inorganic.

Instead, the distant clink of a cowbell;

The songs of crickets in the grasses;

The pounding of breeze between trees.

On top of this corner of Europe,

Crowned with a watchful stone cross,

Caught in this afternoon’s moment,

I found antiquity.

Festivals

Having just returned from a wonderful week in the UK, catching up with all my favourite residents of Kent and London, the break continued with the May Day Bank Holiday weekend here in Germany. Unlike back at home, it is always 1st May that's the day off, regardless of which day of the week it falls on. Luckily, this year it was on a Friday and so cue a long weekend of revelling.

This holiday is a big deal here, with many traditions manifesting themselves in big street parties and celebrations. On Friday, these kicked off (almost literally) in Kreuzberg, an area south of central Berlin. The event has traditionally been marked by protests, unrest and demonstrations from unruly left-wingers and indeed the police presence there was extraordinary. Vans lined the streets in every direction; officers decked out in riot gear stood attentive in large groups. It felt like most of the whole country's force had gathered on these streets, primed and ready for action. Conflictingly, this felt almost like an invite for rioting, as if inciting any would-be troublemakers to 'come and have a go if you think you're hard enough'.

Despite this, the day, soaked in Spring sunshine, was a carnival. A huge area of town had its streets closed to vehicles and was lined with stands selling barbecued meats and beer. The Turkish influence on the city came into its own: alongside the traditional bratwurst were stands selling temptingly delicious koftas, flatbreads, cous cous salads and yoghurts. At regular intervals, small makeshift stages pumped out live music, or DJs blasted dance tunes to squares jammed with revellers. Thousands and thousands of people milled around, including families with young children clutching helium balloons and sporting large ear defenders. Politics took a back seat to pure fun, with the only signs of it all afternoon the occasional anti-Nazi sticker or balloon.

We met up with a group of friends and wandered around, stopping to fuel ourselves with meat and bread and alcohol. We paused a while in a park strewn with people, then moseyed onwards until we found ourselves in a leafy square where people were dancing to techno music and a beer tent had been erected. People were gaining vertical advantage through any means possible: from climbing trees to standing on bus shelters. Smoke from cooking meat drifted across the scene. On occasion, someone would release a party popper full of sequins and confetti, which showered those below like glittering snow. The sunshine seeped through the trees and it felt like summer had landed. (I didn't take my camera, but if you're interested in seeing a sample of snapshots: https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=may+day+festival+kreuzberg+2015&biw=1366&bih=628&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=kUBHVZryKMndavSogfAJ&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ#imgrc=_ ... just bear in mind I didn't see any rioting, clashes or any kind of unrest whatsoever - in the time I was there the police were mainly standing about giving directions)

On Saturday afternoon, we headed to a suburb to the west of the city, Werder, where another festival was in full swing. Baumblütenfest (tree blossom festival) had taken over the sleepy town, set in beautiful surroundings by a lake (indeed, part of Werder is actually on an island). Again, everywhere was packed with people enjoying the sunshine and local, homemade fruit wines were on offer in plentiful supply.

Once again, of course, amongst the stalls were plenty of traders selling roasting meats (several advertising a half metre long sausage - impressive). There were also stalls selling cakes, gifts, jewellery, clothes etc. I sampled plum, rosehip and rhubarb and strawberry wines which were deliciously refreshing. A funfair was also available, including a huge ferris wheel and the opportunity to bungee jump from a crane (don't think you could pay me enough, especially after 3 glasses of obstwein).

True to its name, the most defining feature of Werder that weekend was undoubtedly the gorgeous blossom hanging from trees lining every street and dotting every bit of green space. These trees and their fruit are obviously hugely important to the town, so it seems only right they should have their own festival.

On our way back towards the station, we were sidetracked into an orchard, on a slope rolling down towards the river. There, hay bales had been set up as seats and people lolled about in the sunshine overlooking the water. It was peaceful and beautiful and seemed a shame to tear ourselves away.

One more event we hadn't expected but came to feature prominently in our weekend was the Berlin Gallery weekend. On returning to our street from Kreuzberg on Friday evening, we found everywhere unusually busy, with large groups of people hanging around outside the buildings opposite ours and further up the street. It soon transpired that the art galleries of the city were having a big open doors event, with many new exhibitions launching on 1st May. Whilst I had always been aware of the galleries on our street and in the vicinity, I hadn't appreciated just how many there are: in buildings that normally look impenetrable, or down alleyways I hadn't realised opened into courtyards hosting such venues. As is the norm as these openings, many of the galleries were offering wine to entice people in and inevitably these were the venues with the biggest crowds outside (the cynical part of me couldn't help but question these people's motives!) Anyway, we had a very interesting hour or so strolling along our street and popping into numerous galleries and getting to explore our neighbourhood in a way we hadn't previously been able to. We discovered quaint secluded cobbled courtyards and surprising buildings hidden within, hosting large exhibition spaces for a range of artistic styles. Much of it was contemporary, some admittedly beyond me but some very clever and certainly beautiful. There were also more traditional paintings hanging in some galleries which were seriously impressive. It was nice to see Berlin, famous for its artistic population, show off the fruits of its labour.

A map of all the galleries across the city was available, and so on Sunday we headed over to West Berlin, in an area of town new to us but renowned for its high end shops and restaurants: very much the Champs Elysee of Berlin. Another wealth of galleries were available in the side streets here, including one which had an installation of work involving light, and a picture one was encouraged to take a photo of using flash to reveal properly.

So, in all, a varied weekend, featuring the mixed bag of Berlin culture in a nutshell. From 50cm long bratwurst, to contemporary art; from raves in a park to lounging on a hay bale... happy May Day!

Culture

Having been resident here for over a month now, I'm starting to get a feel, from initial impressions, at least, of Berlin. What makes it tick, how the people live, what the vibe of the city is. From my very first glimpse of it, back in October last year, I was overwhelmed by how laid back it felt, how slow the pace of life was, particularly in comparison with London. I still see that but have also now tapped in a little further into what goes on beneath and around that. Berlin has earned the tagline 'poor but sexy', due to its comparatively cheap cost of living and bohemian, artistic pull. I'm trying to work out if this is still the case: it's certainly a lot less poor these days, but its 'sexiness' still exists in areas, rife with underground bars, pulsing live music and in the painters and writers you see smoking and drinking espressos in the independent cafes. Without meaning to make any sweeping generalisations, here are a few things I've picked up so far on Berlin life:

Beer

It has to be top of the list. People don't just drink it, they live it. Breathe it. It's a way of life. Beer is really the only beverage to drink here in bars. Yes, lengthy menus might be available listing a range of spirits, wines, cocktails etc, but looking around an average bar and there's only one drink that most people are clutching. Be it in bottles or large hour-glass shaped glasses and sporting a thick head of white foam, it's beer beer beer. It's incredibly cheap and yet care is put into its making. There are recycling points in shops where one can return their empty beer bottle and in return gets a small amount of change back. Essentially, each beer bottle purchase therefore comes with a deposit, which you get back when taking to be recycled. This makes the whole thing even cheaper and more attractive, and does no harm in encouraging a greener lifestyle. On walking around the city, especially on a Saturday or Sunday morning, one is likely to come across broken glass or discarded bottles. The idea is that those too lazy, drunk or, perhaps, thoughtful, to take their bottle with them to recycle, leave it on the street for the homeless to pick up and claim the few cents themselves. Nice.

It is completely fine to drink beer on the streets, on the go, on public transport, wherever, whenever. In fact, it's actively encouraged: when we bought a bottle in a corner shop recently, the shopkeeper offered us use of a bottle opener, assuming we'd want to quaff it on the road. Even better, whilst strolling through Hackesher Markt recently, I saw what is best described as a mobile bar, serving drinks, powered by the the punters pedalling. It seems to be a tourist thing: a group of mates can hire one of these things, pedal about town whilst having a huge supply of beer to oil their throats. Insane, or genius, I'm not sure, but it's very definitely unmistakably German. Haven't got a photo myself, but here's one from the internet:

Food
 
Germany does food pretty well, despite British prejudices. Yes, they love a sausage, it's true. Bratwurst are sold all over the place, in small kiosks and even on the move, by mobile sellers heating the things in trays slung around their necks. Bung it in a roll that's far too short for it, cover it in ketchup and mustard, and you have yourself a cheap, warming treat.

Meat is definitely a favourite here. Whilst in Berlin it would be perfectly possible to eat out as a vegetarian, German food itself is definitely all about the meat, particularly pork. Chicken is much cheaper than in the UK so I buy that the most for use at home. Potatoes are also something of an obsession - there is a whole restaurant here dedicated to them. One thing the Germans certainly trump us at is bread. Like most Europeans, really. Freshly baked, delicious loaves of a number of varieties are cheap to buy in supermarkets and bread is usually given complementary in restaurants before a meal. It's always delicious and often quite dense and heavy. And salty. My, is the food salty. Everything seems to come with added salt. We are slightly worried about what the state of our health will be after a couple of years here. Fruit wise, apples are big. Not literally. I should have guessed really, that before learning German, apfel and kartoffel were two words that somehow were already in my brain. And, at German class, the lesson on food seemed to feature those quite heavily. Well, they've certainly come in handy. Finally, I've also noticed that brunch is a big thing here. At weekends, after a heavy night, people meet in cafes for strong coffee and a spot of food, sometime in the late morning/lunchtime/early afternoon for 'brunch'. This generally seems to last a long time, and could quite feasibly, on a good day I suppose, merge into dinner. And why not?

Hipsters

The original 'poor but sexy'? They're still around, in plentiful supply, and there are plenty of establishments perfect for them. Whole areas of town, still a little dingy, but 'up and coming' are like flames to these beautiful moths. The artistic culture of the city spawns them like bacteria on a petri dish. On our trip to Teufelsberg, one particular couple stood out. He was carrying a leather satchel/backpack, wearing corduroy flares and a hat with a feather protruding from the side. She was a rainbow of colours, from her long hair to her shoes. Whilst everyone else in the group wandered about the site, exploring everything and taking hundreds of photos, they went immediately to the centre of one of those strange hollowed out white domes with the strange acoustics, rigged up a small sound system, put on some obscure classical music and set up camp for the rest of the visit.

On a recent evening out in Neukölln, one of the hip areas of town I'm referring to, we ended up in a small bar on a side street, intending to have a quick drink after dinner before heading home. The bar interior resembled a flea market: every chair, table and other item of furniture was entirely unique and fairly shabby (to be fair, it was probably furnished from a flea market: there are several in the area). We found a small table surrounded by a sofa, revolving chair and bathroom cabinet and ordered our beers. The place was packed, every last surface taken. Including, to our right, two people sitting and drinking casually in a bathtub lined with cushions.

Nightlife

Obviously, this is linked in to my previous points. It's big here. Aside from the hundreds of late-night opening cafes and bars (of both hipster and more run-of-the-mill variety), there are nightclubs which open not just til the early hours but to the later hours too. Not that I've experienced them yet, but I'm told it's fairly standard practice to leave such a club at 10am on a Saturday morning. I think some may just never bother closing, like casinos. But when the beer's flowing and the techno music pumping, who needs sleep?

Techno music is Berlin's baby and it's still hugley popular. However, the live music scene is vibrant too. There must be hundreds of gigs happening every night, in a host of venues. In my first week here, we went to a poky looking bar down the road from us which, when going down into the basement, turned unexpectedly into a thriving jazz club with an excellent band. On the road to the supermarket here, I pass what looks like a long-shut up shop, with barred windows and creepers growing all over its facade. Turns out, it's used as a live music venue too. We went last week to see an Italian electro duo and Irish indie band. The former were selling their album on casette tape for 5 euros. Last night, we headed to Kreuzberg, next to Neukölln, to another underground bar where, for 8 euro entry fee, 3 of which redeemable at the bar, we saw an excellent 5 piece rhythm and blues band who played their own songs interspersed with the odd bit of Eric Clapton, Dire Straits or Blues Brothers chucked in.

Unusually, perhaps uniquely (I haven't researched), smoking is permitted in bars in Berlin. This is still bizarre to me, having been used to the luxury of going out and NOT coming home smelling like an ashtray since 2006. It is not the case in all bars; I believe it's to do with the size of the establishment. The rule of thumb is, if there's ashtrays laid out, it's fine to light up. Last night, the venue was smoke-free during the music, with the ban lifted as soon as the band had finished their set. Often in these cramped, tiny, underground bars with only one small exit up some stairs, lit candles and people smoking, I have to deliberately try to stop worrying about fire regulations...

Religion

Berlin is a fairly multicultural city and I'm sure there must be people of just about every faith here. Christianity is predominant, however, and I enjoy the sound of church bells from several nearby places of worship drifting through our apartment windows on a Sunday morning. Just like things used to be in Britain, Sundays here are kept as a quiet day. The vast majority of shops are shut. Laundry and other noisy domestic activities is not permitted. People tend to spend the day with their families, walking the dog etc. I presume this is because of an ethos of traditionalism, but it also must help those rolling in from the club and into bed at lunchtime!


The nearest place of worship to us is the huge and beautiful Neue Synagogue. Badly damaged during the Second World War and not rebuilt until the '90s, it's had a turbulent history. Today, a nugget of that history lives on through the 24/7 police guard outside. Similarly, armed police constantly guard a smaller Jewish centre just around the corner. Germany is determined to protect its Jewish community, which is just beginning to properly regrow.

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.

Reichstag

This week I paid a visit to the Reichstag Building, the seat of the German Parliament (the Bundestag). I have mentioned the building here before: it is near the Brandenburg Gate and is an old-looking building but topped with a very modern glass dome.

The Reichstag from the River Spree

The dome itself was in fact my destination: if you book in advance, you can go up inside it for free. Last week, I had applied through their website and was allocated a time slot. In order to access the building, stringent, airport-style security checks are in place. In fact, it felt the closest to going on holiday it's possible to be whilst only travelling a relatively short distance off the ground. On arrival I had to show my passport as proof of ID and my name was checked off the list. My bag and coat were then sent through a scanning system identical to those in airports and I also had to walk through metal detecting gates. All perfectly understandable. Once through security, we waited until a big enough group had gathered, and the next person led us from this outside hut, across the front of the building and up the wide steps at its front.

The front of the Reichstag

We were held there at a door until yet another member of the staff relay team allowed us through inside the huge interior space of the lobby. At the far end, through a large glass wall, blue seats were visible where the members of parliament sit ('Reichstag blue', in fact - the colour was especially designed for this purpose). Although from the outside, the building looks as historic as the British Houses of Parliament, inside it is airy, modern and thoroughly built for purpose. This is in fact the work of a British architect, who preserved the shell of the building whilst kitting out its innards in an up-to-date and functional style.

Our stay in the foyer is short lived, however, as we are ushered over to a large lift with glass doors, capable of cramming large groups inside. An attendant presses the relevant button and we are swept upwards, past glass-fronted upper levels towards the roof terrace. On release, we are encouraged to collect a complementary audio guide, available in numerous languages, before we are finally free to enter the glass dome ahead and explore it at our own pace.

The dome sits above the plenary chamber where debates are held, partly for practical reasons, to allow natural light inside, but also partly for a more philosophical ethos; the Germans value the openness of their democratic system and want the public to feel involved in the decisions that are made there. This principle is taken further by them also allowing the public to sit in on debates: a visitors' gallery seating area is incorporated into the chamber itself.

Even on the very darkly grey day I visited, the dome was bright and open, looking up into the huge sky above. The central column is studded with mirrors, making the space seem even wider and, at some angles, reflecting images of those sitting in the chamber below.

The walkway up to the top wraps itself round the edge, with the way down in between, double helix style. Visitors are encouraged to start their audio guide when beginning their ascent, and an informative commentary is played, providing facts about the Reichstag and Bundestag, as well as, when the higher levels are reached, the landmarks that can be seen from the view outside. As Berlin is a very flat city, the dome is rather a high point, literally, and so virtually all of the city can be seen from up there.

The vast Tiergarten in its winter coat

The Brandenburg Gate and, just above it, the memorial to the murdered Jews is visible - the area covered with grey columns

Friedrichstrasse Station straddling the River Spree. On the far left, the gold dome of the 'New Synagogue' - this is right near my flat. On the far right, the Berlin Cathedral and of course TV Tower rising above all else.

There is a platform at the very top, but, of course, since we have moved inwards towards the apex, the view from here is not as good as it was on the way up. Thus, I continued my journey down again, and this time my eyes were drawn downwards, through the centre and into the chamber below. It was difficult to make out, due to the reflections from the white sky above, but the blue seats were indeed discernible from there and I could make out people inside (although whether these were polticians or members of the public I couldn't say!)

I can see you!

Back down at the bottom, it is possible to walk outside of the dome onto the roof itself (where, conveniently, there is also a cafe!). I had a quick wander around but it was blowing a freezing gale so I didn't linger!

The dome from the roof terrace

Retreating inside, I joined the queue to be ushered again, step by step, back out the way we had come. I thoroughly enjoyed my trip. Definitely a good place to take visitors, so if you're planning to visit me... sorry for the spoilers?!




* Various facts and figures in this post taken from the handy free booklet 'Facts: The Bundestag at a glance' I picked up inside.

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.