22 January to 2 February 2019

The last time I visited Berlin was 1988, one year before the fall of the Wall. I had the good fortune of meeting some fun-loving, night-clubbing artists there. The West Berlin they showed me was a non-stop party of art, music, film, and dance. Going into East Berlin, through Checkpoint Charlie, was like leaving the Technicolor scenes of “The Wizard of Oz” behind and waking up with Dorothy in black and white.

I’d considered going to the united Berlin several times, but somehow never got there. However, while in Egypt one of the guides mentioned the iconic Nefertiti bust on display in Berlin’s Neues Museum. It was the incentive I needed for a visit. And, by chance, the Australian couple from the Nile cruise would be in Berlin too.

In planning my stay I sought information on the city. It was helpful that a website compared the neighborhoods to those in Brooklyn. I chose an apartment in Prenzlauerberg, the “Park Slope of Berlin.” It was a great choice. Neighborhoods, like this one, previously in East Berlin, have retained much of the prewar architecture, cobble-stoned streets, and ornate buildings from the beginning of the 20th century. It was quiet, yet had an abundance of charm, cafes, restaurants, and a cultural center nearby.

People said I wouldn’t recognize Berlin. “So much has changed.”

Whether it was all the changes, the long time lapsed, or both,  I’m not sure. But it was true, I didn’t recognize much.

Coming from Switzerland I was prepared for the low temperatures. But I wasn’t prepared for a bone-chilling rain during a city bike tour in which a flat tire prolonged my time in the cold. Fortunately a cozy cafe with hot chocolate and ridiculously good fruit pie restored my spirit. And I got an overview of the city.

The cold weather was admittedly an incentive to spend some hours indoors with paper and paint, listening to Amy Winehouse, Peggy Lee, Dinah Washington, Billie Holiday, and S***Town( yes, the asterisked letters are “h-i-t” ) an engrossing, aka perfect for bingeing podcast, recommended to me by the Australian. He’d told me, ” I haven’t been reading much since I got hooked on it.” After getting hooked myself, I saw his point. However, my craving for books, and my discomfort for getting tied up too long with any series proved stronger.

I went back to reading Marco Polo’s Travels. Admittedly it’s not particularly well-written, despite the wonderful potential. While Polo was imprisoned by pirates for years, a writer he met there listened to his tales of world travel and unfortunately penned them in a repetitive, lackluster style. This, however is offset by the described wonders and should not dissuade anyone from reading it.

Berlin boldly displays its past in memorials, sidewalk markers, statues, public exhibits, and museums. It does not shy from the injustices and sufferings nor the horrors of its recent history. I cannot think of many other places that have made a comparable effort in confronting their own shameful chapters.

The weather made it challenging, but not prohibitive for long leisurely strolls, and ideal for visiting the city’s many outstanding museums.

These institutions prompted an array of emotions: joy and awe seeing masterful works of art; outrage and sorrow confronting the anguish and murder of millions.

Seeing the Nefertiti bust in Egypt, where most agree it rightfully belongs, would have been ideal, but controversy aside, I was spellbound by the ancient sculpture and its classic beauty.

There were no all-night dance parties this time, but time flowed easily in the company of my Australian pals, charming locals, and expats–friends of friends–discussing translating, filmmaking, travel, and seeing firsthand the transformation of a derelict building, which came with a cellar of dead rats, with herculean efforts, into a wonderful, welcoming home.

The initially confusing walking, tram, and metro routes quickly became familiar, as did the landmarks. I eased into local life, with few challenges, except at the supermarket, and at a local pool, where there was nary a word spoken or written that I could understand.

I tried some local cuisine–the spätzle was delicious.  But my cravings for Japanese, Thai, Vietnamese, and Korean food won out. I’d missed them terribly these past months in countries that lack Asian cuisine entirely or offer disappointing ersatz versions. I indulged in the excellent ramen, sushi, bibimbap, Thai curry, and other delights, as often as I could.

Despite my extensive wanderings in Berlin, there was still so much I didn’t see or do, but I’ll be cherishing the many memories I’ve gathered here.