Architecture in Germany is historically significant for its lack of consistency. You can have buildings ranging in age from 300 years old to last year on the same block. This patchwork effect is the visible scarring from centuries of war and division. Germans feel no need to maintain their reputation for a fairytale aesthetic; you often see 18th century buildings with neighbors or additions done in a completely modern style.
The War is ever-present here, which should come as no surprise to most people. From monuments to memorials to concentration camps to bullet holes in the walls, the scars of battle, death, and tyranny are everywhere. One of the most moving symbols of the war are the “Stolpersteine”, or “stumbling stones”. They are small brass plates placed in the sidewalks among the cobblestones in front of houses and buildings with the names of Jewish people who had lived there before before being murdered by the Nazis.
They are everywhere.
Once you start to notice them, the magnitude of the Holocaust begins to come into focus. Entire families. Everywhere you walk. Where you buy your groceries. At the pharmacy on the corner. At the tram stop. Everywhere.
However, one of the saddest things I have seen is a photo of a dead German soldier, laying in the street during the Battle of Berlin.
Being here during the 71st anniversary of the turning point of the war has been an exercise in empathy. Perhaps because while I had considered the millions of Jews, Russians, Roma, LGBT, and other groups murdered by the Nazis, I hadn’t really though of the German people as victims before. Understanding that we have turned “German” in to “Nazi” and “Nazi” into “disposable fictional enemy” has made me understand better how easily we marginalize people we know nothing about. Learning about the people who opposed the Nazis and paid for it with their lives was eye opening. I suppose I knew on some level this was the case, but when you realize that the entire nation paid for the deeds of a powerful few, it breaks your heart. With everything going on in America right now you get a sense of the helplessness and rage so many Germans must have felt as the monsters took over their homeland.
I look at that dead young man and I don’t see a Nazi. I see a boy who, at this point in the war, was in all likelihood conscripted into serving on the threat of death. And now he’s gone, giving his life in a lost cause to feed the horrible dreams of a megalomaniacal fascist state. Making anyone a caricature makes it easy to dehumanize them, easy to kill them, and easy to lose your own humanity in the process.
“Ostalgie” is a term used to describe a nostalgic longing for the East German state and all of its trappings. Contrary to popular belief, while most East Germans were grateful to be intergrated into the West, it hasn’t been a smooth process and the struggle continues today. Former East Germans often feel that their culture and traditions were obliterated in favor of the capitalist West. Also, the East German states continue to be on average poorer and less prosperous than their Western counterparts. Symbols of the East are everywhere, from Trabant rental services to the growing presence of “Ampelmann”, the ubiquitous crosswalk guardian here in Berlin with his origins in the East.
As a child of the Cold War whose uncle was stationed in West Berlin for the better part of the late 70s-early 80s, I am intrigued by the fact that I am living in East Berlin. Our U-Bahn stop, Rosenthaler Platz, was a “ghost station”, where trains from the West would pass through but were unable to stop. The Wall is everywhere, and the meandering path was confusing for me until I remembered that West Berlin was a literal island. The prevalence of Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants in our neighborhood seems out of place, until I remember that these were allied nations with East German communist state. From the Soviet Brutalist architecture to the remnants of The Wall and the towering Fernsehturm, it has been exciting to finally be here and see the Forbidden City with my own eyes.
Street life is everything in Berlin. Life is lived in public, in the parks, the cafes, and on the streets. Germans love the outdoors and have structured most of their cities to make use of the natural beauty of the land and create the most delightful and usable spaces possible. Cafes almost always have outdoor seating, and graffiti and advertisements seem to be intended to decorate the cityscape rather than pollute. Berlin is a walking city, as I quickly learned. My reliance on public transportation was very difficult for me at first due to my mobility issues. After a few weeks I was walking with the best of them, had lost a considerable amount of weight, and had managed to build muscle and stamina where I hadn’t been able to before. I almost dread coming home to a lack of so much as a sidewalk, let alone a pedestrian friendly environment.
