Sorry, in note form. Packed up, sad, pleasant hotel, efficient, friendly. Coffee again at favourite place.
U-Bahn running (only closed nights as found last night). Trip left over from yesterday to Stasi Museum at Normanenstrasse ... huge complex - not in correct building (refurbishing) - apologised not enough English signs - fascinating anyway - chatted to staff, explained about Dad and his job/post, all staff were ex-DDR.
I later wondered ... would it possible to explore my own, or his, Stasi File? Must research this possibility.
Back to hotel for bags, Schönhauser Allee by S-Bahn to Flughafen Schonefeld, too crowded (new BBB airport will open sometime on same site) but smooth through airport.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
Last post from Berlin
Last day!
Well, I'm all checked out, bags are stored for later, and it's time to head out on another little adventure. Flight is at 1830, so I have a few final hours to enjoy Berlin. I'll update once I'm home.
Monday, 8 August 2011
Four out of five ain’t bad
The waspy café a few doors up from the hotel (where I had a less waspish pasta – indoors – at lunchtime yesterday) had its doors open, but wasn't open – as I was rudely told when I wandered in. So they didn’t get my breakfast business, not will they ever again.
Instead I strolled the other side of the hotel, to an altogether more pleasant establishment, where coffee-making is clearly a passion. In fact, I had two – and a croissant - the while planning my day. After breakfast, I managed to time leaving the hotel with the heavens opening – rather wide – and a gale blowing. In the two minutes it took me to walk up the road, realise how stupid I was, turn round and run back, I, my jeans, jumper and hat were soaked.
I swapped wet jumper for dry jacket, and tried again, just as it was easing. In point of fact, my coat was essentially a nuisance to carry for the rest of the day, but life is perverse like that.
Where I was heading before the abrupt wardrobe change was Bernauer Strasse, which in 1961 found itself on the front line, as it were. The houses on one side of the street were in the East, and the pavement was in the West, as the border was enforced overnight. People jumped from windows, three to their deaths, here. The houses were later bulldozed by the DDR, but there is still waste ground where they stood.
I then took a stroll to the old Schultheiss Brewery, now a cultural centre called – perhaps unsurprisingly – the Kulturbrauerei, but there wasn’t much to see. Architecturally interesting, but that was about it.
My third point of call was some unfinished business from last year. You may recall I went to the site of one of the checkpoints in the Wall, and tried to work out where the hospital was where I had been treated in the winter of 1978. Only thing was, I got the wrong checkpoint. So today I was off to the right one, which is to say Invalidenstrasse. Which I found, and I’m pretty certain the large building which is now a Federal Ministry was the hospital. Back in the day it was for Party officials and other privileged people, including, it luckily turned out, the children of British diplomats who happened to have an abscess in their middle ear.
I then did one of those unfortunate things … not being completely certain I’d got the right building, I took a picture and thought, “I’ll show that to Dad and ask him, he’ll remember,” until, of course, I remembered myself why I couldn’t. This still catches me out, once a week or so.
No video this time.
No video this time.
From there I took U- and S-Bahn trains to Orianenburger Strasse, to visit the Synagogue. It was a cutting-edge modern building when it was built in the nineteenth century, with under-floor heating, clever illumination of double-glazed stained-glass windows by means of gas light and reflectors, and a beautiful and innovative onion domed-roof. Burned and smashed about in 1938, it was more or less finished off by Allied bombing in the war, and what was left was demolished by the small Jewish community that still existed in the East during the Cold War years. But since reunification the front third or so, including the façade and dome, have been restored using as many as possible of the recovered original parts (some of which were found buried in new floors). It reminds one a little of Pompeii, inasmuch as there are original bits held together by plain modern bits: for example a ceiling painting will have patches of original, with the outlines of the rest drawn in; or there will the base and capital of a column, with a plain modern column between.
It seems rather sad that there is a permanent armed police guard outside, and that to enter you have to pass through a complete airport-style security check.
However, the building contains a must-see exhibition of the history of the Jewish community in Berlin
After a delicious coffee and cookie nearby, it was now a little too late to visit the fifth place on my itinerary, so that can wait until tomorrow.
Coming back through Friederichstrasse Station, I recalled that this was essentially another border crossing in the Wall, although very much in the East, because, with the right papers, you could travel from here to the West by train. The catwalks high above the tracks at either end of the station canopy or roof are still there, and I can remember seeing armed East German Grenzpolitzei, or border guards, patrolling up along them. Back at my hotel, it’s cooking up a storm again outside.
I’m going to have a little sleep before dinner, and see if it goes away.
After a delicious coffee and cookie nearby, it was now a little too late to visit the fifth place on my itinerary, so that can wait until tomorrow.
Coming back through Friederichstrasse Station, I recalled that this was essentially another border crossing in the Wall, although very much in the East, because, with the right papers, you could travel from here to the West by train. The catwalks high above the tracks at either end of the station canopy or roof are still there, and I can remember seeing armed East German Grenzpolitzei, or border guards, patrolling up along them. Back at my hotel, it’s cooking up a storm again outside.
I’m going to have a little sleep before dinner, and see if it goes away.
Saturday, 6 August 2011
Je suis flâneur
After last night's interesting excursion, any vague notion I may have had of getting up in time for a hotel breakfast was wasted. So my restorative strong coffee and selection of breads with wasp-attracting strawberry jam and Nutella was taken a few doors up the street, in the sunshine.
My work routine back in the UK usually means very late to bed, and very late up; it so happens this really suits having a lively time in Berlin, which is the original twenty-four-hour city.
I had a plan: go to the big shops of West Berlin. The U-Bahn chucked me off several stops early (cf last year's holiday blog - this is becoming a habit).
So I emerged into the dazzling sun right where just over twenty years ago was no-man's-land and the Wall: Leipziger Platz and Potsdamer Platz. It took me a couple of wandering minutes to get my bearings and work out which way to walk.
I decided on a meandering route along the southern edge of the Tiergarten, Berlin's great urban park (think Bois de Boulogne, Central Park or Hyde Park). This took me past a number of new embassies, specifically those of South Africa, Italy, Japan, Saudi Arabia, and South Korea. The architecture of embassies are a great way of expressing your country's style and character abroad. Shame Great Britain, then (see last year, again). Sadly I missed the Scandinavian complex.
I was somewhat taken aback on reaching the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche to discover what should hav
e been the bomb-ruined remains of the old church (irreverent Berliners call it "the hollow tooth", next to the "powder box and lipstick" modern church and bell-tower) appeared to have been replaced by a monstrously ugly block of flats, which on closer inspection seemed to be some sort protective cladding, presumably whilst restoration works are underway.
The Kürfurstendamm was just too packed with tourists to make for any enjoyment, and the shops are the same ones you can find in London or Paris. I came, I saw, I was disappointed.
So I walked up the smelly edge of the zoo towards the Bahnhof Zoologischer Garten, then followed the train tracks through the Tiergarten again, up towards the Strasse des 17 Juni, but keeping inside the park. Berlin is sandy, and the ground often keeps the moisture, so from some recent rain there were muddy puddles to avoid in the shady areas, despite the heat of the day.
I skirted round the Siegessäule, the Victory Column, and headed straight for the Brandenburg Gate, that great, glorious, powerful and historical symbol of Berlin, through which armies have marched, which has been fought over, claimed by the Russians, and is now the happy centre of the city once more. But before reaching it I stopped as a noisy procession, or series of floats and followers on foot, was escorted past by police. I don't know what the protest was about; I suspect a political faction, possibly anarchists from the state and attitude of some of the participants, a few of the younger members of whom I witnessed, at close hand, square up to impassive, body-armoured police parked nearby. It never seemed dangerous, but thrillingly close to danger. I'm reading Isherwood* at the moment; there were faint echoes.
And so to Pariser Platz, the new-built square just on the western side of the great Gate, at the edge of which I remember in 1978 standing, behind steel barriers, to observe the Brandenburger Tor at a distance, and through it, the white strip of the Wall. But today, in the sunshine, it is teeming with street artists and dancers, tourists with cameras, horse-drawn carriages ... and life! Zest! Zing! There's a video on YouTube, or will be shortly, because I was one of those tourists with a camera.
I toyed with the idea of visiting a Kennedy exhibition in one corner of the square, but there were no admission prices on display, and besides I was tired, and had walked a long way already. I wanted my hotel bed for a nap! So I popped down the new underground station and onto Berlin's latest U-Bahn, the U55, just three stops to the Hauptbahnhof; then the S-Bahn to Alexanderplatz, and my line U2 to Senefelderplatz, a couple of hundred metres from my hotel.
I did indeed nap, fought the netbook to get some photos loaded, Skyped with Steve, then headed off to The Bird for a very late meal.
Please, if you come to Berlin, visit The Bird. If you're on your own, sit at the bar, chat to the American and English staff, get talking to strangers. I spent a happy couple of hours next to two Americans who were engaged in a half-hearted drinking contest with great 1.5 litre glass boots of beer; and then chatting at length to Dara, a young Dubliner doing the Interrail thing. Imagine the voice and mannerisms of Father Dougal crossed with one of the hairier Avett Brothers (for looks).
Then burger and fries consumed, off for a drink or two ...
Upon returning to my hotel, I discovered that I couldn't get online, so this is posted a little late.
*I brought Christopher Isherwood's Berlin Novels with me: Mr Norris Changes Trains and Goodbye to Berlin, partly because my long-held desire to read them was recently re-ignited by the BBC's Christopher And His Kind, and because the time seemed just right for this trip.
My work routine back in the UK usually means very late to bed, and very late up; it so happens this really suits having a lively time in Berlin, which is the original twenty-four-hour city.
I had a plan: go to the big shops of West Berlin. The U-Bahn chucked me off several stops early (cf last year's holiday blog - this is becoming a habit).
So I emerged into the dazzling sun right where just over twenty years ago was no-man's-land and the Wall: Leipziger Platz and Potsdamer Platz. It took me a couple of wandering minutes to get my bearings and work out which way to walk.I decided on a meandering route along the southern edge of the Tiergarten, Berlin's great urban park (think Bois de Boulogne, Central Park or Hyde Park). This took me past a number of new embassies, specifically those of South Africa, Italy, Japan, Saudi Arabia, and South Korea. The architecture of embassies are a great way of expressing your country's style and character abroad. Shame Great Britain, then (see last year, again). Sadly I missed the Scandinavian complex.
I was somewhat taken aback on reaching the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche to discover what should hav
e been the bomb-ruined remains of the old church (irreverent Berliners call it "the hollow tooth", next to the "powder box and lipstick" modern church and bell-tower) appeared to have been replaced by a monstrously ugly block of flats, which on closer inspection seemed to be some sort protective cladding, presumably whilst restoration works are underway.The Kürfurstendamm was just too packed with tourists to make for any enjoyment, and the shops are the same ones you can find in London or Paris. I came, I saw, I was disappointed.
So I walked up the smelly edge of the zoo towards the Bahnhof Zoologischer Garten, then followed the train tracks through the Tiergarten again, up towards the Strasse des 17 Juni, but keeping inside the park. Berlin is sandy, and the ground often keeps the moisture, so from some recent rain there were muddy puddles to avoid in the shady areas, despite the heat of the day.
I skirted round the Siegessäule, the Victory Column, and headed straight for the Brandenburg Gate, that great, glorious, powerful and historical symbol of Berlin, through which armies have marched, which has been fought over, claimed by the Russians, and is now the happy centre of the city once more. But before reaching it I stopped as a noisy procession, or series of floats and followers on foot, was escorted past by police. I don't know what the protest was about; I suspect a political faction, possibly anarchists from the state and attitude of some of the participants, a few of the younger members of whom I witnessed, at close hand, square up to impassive, body-armoured police parked nearby. It never seemed dangerous, but thrillingly close to danger. I'm reading Isherwood* at the moment; there were faint echoes.And so to Pariser Platz, the new-built square just on the western side of the great Gate, at the edge of which I remember in 1978 standing, behind steel barriers, to observe the Brandenburger Tor at a distance, and through it, the white strip of the Wall. But today, in the sunshine, it is teeming with street artists and dancers, tourists with cameras, horse-drawn carriages ... and life! Zest! Zing! There's a video on YouTube, or will be shortly, because I was one of those tourists with a camera.
I toyed with the idea of visiting a Kennedy exhibition in one corner of the square, but there were no admission prices on display, and besides I was tired, and had walked a long way already. I wanted my hotel bed for a nap! So I popped down the new underground station and onto Berlin's latest U-Bahn, the U55, just three stops to the Hauptbahnhof; then the S-Bahn to Alexanderplatz, and my line U2 to Senefelderplatz, a couple of hundred metres from my hotel.
I did indeed nap, fought the netbook to get some photos loaded, Skyped with Steve, then headed off to The Bird for a very late meal.
Please, if you come to Berlin, visit The Bird. If you're on your own, sit at the bar, chat to the American and English staff, get talking to strangers. I spent a happy couple of hours next to two Americans who were engaged in a half-hearted drinking contest with great 1.5 litre glass boots of beer; and then chatting at length to Dara, a young Dubliner doing the Interrail thing. Imagine the voice and mannerisms of Father Dougal crossed with one of the hairier Avett Brothers (for looks).
Then burger and fries consumed, off for a drink or two ...
Upon returning to my hotel, I discovered that I couldn't get online, so this is posted a little late.
*I brought Christopher Isherwood's Berlin Novels with me: Mr Norris Changes Trains and Goodbye to Berlin, partly because my long-held desire to read them was recently re-ignited by the BBC's Christopher And His Kind, and because the time seemed just right for this trip.
Ow
I have a headache this morning, which isn't surprising. 2-4-1 drinks ... nicht so gut.
Going to have a look around the big shops of Westberlin this afternoon. But I definitely need to find some coffee first. Catch you later.
Going to have a look around the big shops of Westberlin this afternoon. But I definitely need to find some coffee first. Catch you later.
Friday, 5 August 2011
Don’t mention the wars
This is the first post in my holiday blog for my 2011 trip to Berlin, following very much in the footsteps of my little jaunt last October. I’m hoping it’s going to be a different experience though, and not a complete repeat.
Yesterday lunchtime I was actually ready early, the taxi came on time, and I got a train from East Croydon directly to St Pancras (I would have taken this train last year if I’d known about it, rather than messing about with the Tube).
Getting to the Eurostar terminal ridiculously early does slightly defeat the idea of taking the train partly to avoid hanging about in airport departure lounges, but hey-ho.
The Eurostar got away exactly on time at 1502. I assume it has to hit its slot at the Tunnel, merging in with freight and car shuttle trains, and soon other continental railway operators too.
We thus arrived at the Gare du Nord bang on 1817 local time. At 2:15 that’s the fastest I’ve ever got to Paris, using the new HS1 line, and no stops at Ebbsfleet, Ashford or Lille.
It is literally a ten-minute walk to the Gare de l’Est, so I had nearly two hours to wait, as I did last year. I really should catch the later Eurostar but I’m so afraid of it being delayed or getting stuck. Obviously one cannot catch a later sleeper from Paris to Berlin!
There are very few seats in the station; as last time I wandered, went outside to smoke too many times, watched everyone (which is huge fun in stations and airports), bought and ate a ham baguette … Oh, and noted that this time my train continued on to Moscow and Belarus. Really important I get off in Berlin!
As before apprehensive as to with whom I would be sharing my compartment. Once I boarded I found I wasn’t the first in: Augustine from Argentina, an 18-year-old student travelling on InterRail (as I had done at his age) was already there, excited by his first inter-continental train. We decided that as only two bunks were made up, it would be just us. However, after a short while up turned Eric, who was booked into our compartment too. He apologised and hoped to stay with his mates further up the carriage, but might be back later.
And so it turned out. He was soon back, turned out by the slightly fearsome female German steward. So we had to work out how to move the middle bunk down a notch so as to set up the top bunk, which we managed.
Eric, who is nearly 20, is American (at school in Philadelphia, lives in NYC, but from Boston) and travelling through Europe with friends. We all got talking. Agus’s English, though not perfect, is far better than Eric’s limited, and my non-existent, Spanish. I thought of Geoff, who would have been in his element!
A funny thing: I had to literally produce my passport to prove my age, as they didn’t believe I was 44! I like Agus and Eric!!
I didn’t mention the Falklands or the Revolutionary War. I’m tactful like that.
We talked until we drifted off to sleep.
During the night there seemed to be lots of stops, as there were last time, some quite extended, and some shunting. It was a longer journey too via I’m not sure where. Overall, I didn’t sleep very well.
In the morning we remade the compartment cabin with seats; they had too much luggage for it to be entirely comfortable or practical, (these back-packers…) Breakfast was delivered, and Eric’s disorganised friends came by. I do hope they get on OK in Berlin.
Agus didn’t seem very awake. Anyway, we all exchanged Facebook details, as you do these days.
Once we’d stopped I headed straight out of the station for a smoke, saw Agus come out, look vaguely at a map printout and head off in a hopeful direction, and saw the Americans head straight for a taxi.
I wasn’t entirely with it, not enough sleep and not enough good coffee, couldn’t remember where in the Hauptbanhof to get a U-/S-Bahn/tram/bus ticket, but eventually remembered - on the platform. I may have bought a slightly too expensive A+B zones ticket when, on looking properly at the map, I probably only need zone A; but at least this time I decided that I will buy tickets daily as I need them, rather than end up with one unused at the end like I did last year.
The hotel is a little nearer Alexanderplatz and is pleasant enough, even if the room is rather too like so many of the hotels I stay in for work in the UK, but it’s friendly and has free internet, so it’s all good.
There’s a noisy building site opposite, but I won’t be in here much during the day.
I’m going to have a little kip now.
Yesterday lunchtime I was actually ready early, the taxi came on time, and I got a train from East Croydon directly to St Pancras (I would have taken this train last year if I’d known about it, rather than messing about with the Tube).
Getting to the Eurostar terminal ridiculously early does slightly defeat the idea of taking the train partly to avoid hanging about in airport departure lounges, but hey-ho.
The Eurostar got away exactly on time at 1502. I assume it has to hit its slot at the Tunnel, merging in with freight and car shuttle trains, and soon other continental railway operators too.
We thus arrived at the Gare du Nord bang on 1817 local time. At 2:15 that’s the fastest I’ve ever got to Paris, using the new HS1 line, and no stops at Ebbsfleet, Ashford or Lille.
It is literally a ten-minute walk to the Gare de l’Est, so I had nearly two hours to wait, as I did last year. I really should catch the later Eurostar but I’m so afraid of it being delayed or getting stuck. Obviously one cannot catch a later sleeper from Paris to Berlin!
There are very few seats in the station; as last time I wandered, went outside to smoke too many times, watched everyone (which is huge fun in stations and airports), bought and ate a ham baguette … Oh, and noted that this time my train continued on to Moscow and Belarus. Really important I get off in Berlin!
As before apprehensive as to with whom I would be sharing my compartment. Once I boarded I found I wasn’t the first in: Augustine from Argentina, an 18-year-old student travelling on InterRail (as I had done at his age) was already there, excited by his first inter-continental train. We decided that as only two bunks were made up, it would be just us. However, after a short while up turned Eric, who was booked into our compartment too. He apologised and hoped to stay with his mates further up the carriage, but might be back later.
And so it turned out. He was soon back, turned out by the slightly fearsome female German steward. So we had to work out how to move the middle bunk down a notch so as to set up the top bunk, which we managed.
Eric, who is nearly 20, is American (at school in Philadelphia, lives in NYC, but from Boston) and travelling through Europe with friends. We all got talking. Agus’s English, though not perfect, is far better than Eric’s limited, and my non-existent, Spanish. I thought of Geoff, who would have been in his element!
A funny thing: I had to literally produce my passport to prove my age, as they didn’t believe I was 44! I like Agus and Eric!!
I didn’t mention the Falklands or the Revolutionary War. I’m tactful like that.
We talked until we drifted off to sleep.
During the night there seemed to be lots of stops, as there were last time, some quite extended, and some shunting. It was a longer journey too via I’m not sure where. Overall, I didn’t sleep very well.
In the morning we remade the compartment cabin with seats; they had too much luggage for it to be entirely comfortable or practical, (these back-packers…) Breakfast was delivered, and Eric’s disorganised friends came by. I do hope they get on OK in Berlin.
Agus didn’t seem very awake. Anyway, we all exchanged Facebook details, as you do these days.
Once we’d stopped I headed straight out of the station for a smoke, saw Agus come out, look vaguely at a map printout and head off in a hopeful direction, and saw the Americans head straight for a taxi.
I wasn’t entirely with it, not enough sleep and not enough good coffee, couldn’t remember where in the Hauptbanhof to get a U-/S-Bahn/tram/bus ticket, but eventually remembered - on the platform. I may have bought a slightly too expensive A+B zones ticket when, on looking properly at the map, I probably only need zone A; but at least this time I decided that I will buy tickets daily as I need them, rather than end up with one unused at the end like I did last year.
The hotel is a little nearer Alexanderplatz and is pleasant enough, even if the room is rather too like so many of the hotels I stay in for work in the UK, but it’s friendly and has free internet, so it’s all good.
There’s a noisy building site opposite, but I won’t be in here much during the day.
I’m going to have a little kip now.
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