I am currently writing this blog
post from inside a McDonalds, (ou ‘Macdo’ si vous voulez sembler comme un vrai
Parisien), close to my school as it is the only location nearby with free
Wi-Fi. It is actually quite a lovely workspace I have created here and I think
that (unfortunately) with a view of Rue Daguerre, outstanding internet
connection and tables with large surface areas, I now proclaim my nook in this
local Macdo my workspace of choice.
I apologize for that tangent—I’ll
blame it on the fact that it is Monday. Dreary Monday’s aside, I am particularly
excited to share some stories, thoughts, perceptions and gastronomic adventures
regarding my latest European trip to Berlin, Germany. I cannot exactly pinpoint
why, but prior to leaving for this trip I just had a sense that I was going to
absolutely love Berlin.
After a bright and early wake up
this past Friday morning, we arrived in Berlin at around 9 in the morning,
leaving us with a full day to explore everything that the city had to offer.
From the moment we stepped foot onto the U-Bahn (metro of Berlin) I was
surprised how drastically different the city seemed from Paris. Metro riders
were smiling, loud and gregarious—a site unseen within the Parisian public
transportation system. As I happily flashed my pearly whites at passerbys
without apprehension, I also quickly noticed the size of the Berliners. I felt as if I was back at Coon’s Franklin
Lodge in Arbor Vitae, Wisconsin with the entirety of the Mueller clan. Every local seemed at least a head taller
than me and I didn’t mind it one bit!
We quickly checked into our hostel
and hopped back onto the U-Bahn towards Potsdamer Platz, which has been dubbed
the ‘Times Square of Berlin’. Another thing I found fascinating was the
language. Since English is a Germanic language, it was interesting to see how the
German language consisted of words that resembled its English counterparts
almost exactly and then there were words that had so many consonants—they
seemed like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.
Because we weren’t exactly
navigation whizzes, we decided to go on a free three-hour walking tour of the
city. The tour met in front of a Starbucks located within the Parisian Platz,
which is home to the iconic Brandenburg Gate. Our Australian tour guide Stephen
did an excellent job of showing us the city and giving an abbreviated yet detailed
synopsis of Berlin’s rich history. On the tour we saw the Brandenburg Gate, the
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the site of Hitler’s Former Bunker,
Lutwaffe HQ, the Berlin Wall, the Former SS Headquarter, Checkpoint Charlie,
the 1920s Cabaret Mile, Gendarmenmarkt, the old Royal Boulevard and the TV
tower. After the tour we then walked throughout Museum Island—a section of the
city surrounded by water that houses five internationally renowned museums.
We finished off the day with a
trip to Dunkin Donuts, which was everything I could have ever wanted. Although
I quite enjoy my café allongé (espresso
with an added cup of water) paired with a pain au chocolat—a big ol’ caramel
coffee with one munchkin could not have come at a better time. I was
particularly happy after this pitstop as I am rarely ever allowed to purchase
one sole munchkin at the Bethelehm Dunkin Donuts. Therefore, as the gangly
German man passed me my one allotted munchkin, I knew that the rest of the
weekend was going to prove to be just as successful as the first day.
That evening we took advantage of
the Berlin nightlife and signed up for a pub-crawl that ended at one of
Europe’s most famous streets for nightclubs. The pub-crawl was an absolute riot
as we ended up meeting an entourage of 25 guys from Manchester, England who
were in Berlin for the weekend for a bachelor party, or as they called it, a
‘stag party for their best mate.’ Each one had a little green army man
figurine, and since they had a few extra, we all received our own army man
figurine. When I asked why they were carrying around these toys for the
evening—one of the guys looked at me—looked to the entourage of 25 and then
yelled something absolutely indecipherable. The entourage all quickly assumed
the position that resembled their individual army man. Immediately realizing
what was going on, I looked at my army man and hastily assumed my position, which
was a lunge while pretending to fire a missile. It was a great night and after
the entourage of 25 had indulged considerably, it was becoming increasingly
difficult to understand them. By the last pub I knew that they were trying to
speak English to me—they were
speaking English to me—but through their thick Manchester accents they might as
well have been speaking German.
The next day was a sharp contrast
to the prior evening as we had signed up for a guided tour of the Sachsenhausen
Concentration Camp. It was an absolutely unforgettable experience and I am glad
that we mustered up the courage to sign up for the visit. It was particularly
meaningful for one of the girls I was travelling with as her great-grandparents
were both holocaust survivors. It was a very moving experience and it was
fascinating to see how Germany collectively dealt with their dark history. As a
whole, German residents acknowledge their past, they do not hide it, they do
not justify it nor do they exploit it. For example, many of the bunkers within
the concentration camp had been destroyed after the camp was liberated in 1945.
Although Germany sought to preserve the camp and its historical relevance
several years after its Soviet occupation, they refused to rebuild the decaying
and/or destroyed buildings within the camps. They refuse to reconstruct what
once served such a dark purpose.
After a quiet train ride back to
Berlin, we then lifted our sprits with a trip to the East Side Gallery at dusk.
The gallery is simply the Berlin Wall redefined. For about a kilometer the wall
is painted, graffitied and made into a medium for artistic expression. Again,
this is an instance for maintaining Berlin’s history without glorifying the
past. Quickly realizing that none of us had really eaten that day, we headed to
what seemed like heaven-on-earth: Burgermesiter. Burgermeister was a teeny tiny
hole-in-the-wall joint that was under a U-Bahn terminal. With no seating area
and a 40+ person line coming out of the rugged building—we knew it was going to
be a good meal. After our big gooey messy burgers, we rolled over to a local
pub, enjoyed a pint and then headed back to our hostel to get a good night
sleep.
The following morning we were
headed to the famous Mauerpark outdoor market. With thousands of vendors
selling unique jewelry, waffles-on-sticks, fur coats, currywurst and everything
in between, it was easy to see why Berliners love their open-air markets.
All in all it was a fantastic
trip, but I am definitely happy to have some days by myself here in Paris to
decompress. Whenever I leave Paris, I can’t help but feel some sort of
nostalgia for the city. As I sit here in my bed trying to digest Chantal’s ‘healthy’
dessert of chocolate covered everything (bananas, strawberries, oranges etc.),
I realize that yes, Paris has its flaws—but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Auf Wiedersehen!
Burgermeister
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