ich bin ein berliner

The second, and last, city that we visited in Germany was Berlin.  Visiting only Munich and Berlin while in Germany involved making a difficult choice.  We only had a week allocated to spend there, and had heard great things about Dusseldorf and Cologne, as well as the western parts of Germany in general.  Alas, we could not fit them all into our itinerary in one week. Consistent with our long held belief, when you try to squeeze too many places in too little time, you wind up with less of an overall experience, because you only skim the surface of what you see.  So we had to limit ourselves to two cities, and we couldn't leave Germany without seeing the historically and culturally rich capital of Berlin.

The 6-hour train ride from Munich to Berlin was an exceptionally comfortable one as compared to some of the more, um, interesting train rides that we had experienced in Asia.  As we boarded the sleek modern ICE train and sunk into our two first-class window seats – which we reached without a mob of people pushing us from in front and behind (India) and which were not located next to a broken WC (Thailand) – we looked across the table between us and smiled with delight.  We've come along way since Delhi, huh, Aman asked.  You got that right, I replied.

When we reached Berlin, under gray skies on a late afternoon day, we found our rental apartment on a quiet cobble-stoned street in Prenzlauer Berg (i.e. East-Central Berlin), dropped our bags and immediately hit the ground to explore.  Using the iconic Fernsehturm (i.e., the television tower built in the 1960s by the former German Democratic Republic, or GDR, which remains the tallest structure in Germany today) as a guidepost, we walked in the direction of popular Alexanderplatz, a busy public square in the city center, before veering north to Hackescher Markt, which we heard was a pretty happening part of town. Along the way, we admired the graffiti and street art characteristic of Berlin’s urban landscape. 

Given the off hour, not much was going on at Hackescher Markt, so we kept wandering in the direction of Berliner Dom, where we found the well-known bronze figure study, known as Three Girls and A Boy, which sits on the eastern bank of the river Spree.

Nearby, we also found the DDR Museum, which was on our short list of things to see and do in Berlin.  One of the most unique museums we have seen yet, this place is an interactive environment that gives a feel for what it was like to live in socialist-era (1949-1990) East Germany (known in German, for short, as the DDR).  Every aspect of daily life is on exhibit, from the durable Trabant car that most people in East Germany drove, to the school materials that were used by young children, to the programs one would watch on state-controlled television, to the replica of a government-manufactured concrete slab flat, to the wardrobe that was fashionable in the day, to the shortages of jobs and food, to the surveillance equipment that was used to keep tabs on those suspected of harboring radical ideas.  Very interesting, we spent a couple of hours there and only left after we both realized that we were starving.  We skipped the modern-looking restaurant serving GDR cuisine located next door to the museum and, for that matter, every other restaurant in the Markt area serving entrees starting at 25 Euros or more.  Not in the mood for anything fancy, we decided on some cheap doner kebab, which seemed to be an infinitely more palatable option, both financially and gastronomically.  We ate our delicious street food, well, on the street, where it's meant to be enjoyed, as we took in our new surroundings.  There, we decided, upon a good six hours or so of being in town, that Berlin was cool.  It was much grittier and dirtier than Munich – much as New York City is to, say, Chicago – but that was exactly what we liked about it.  

When we had finished eating, we started back in the direction of Prenzlauer Berg. Despite the late evening hour, it was still quite bright out and it felt a bit strange to be calling it a day before nightfall.  We were huddled (literally, as it was cold out) on the corner of our street debating what to do, when I noticed the dimly lit, graffiti-covered, no-name bar on the corner.  That could be fun, I suggested.  Aman and I walked in and had a seat at the bar.  A small altar decorated with a Buddha statue and votive candle sat on the wall behind it.  The establishment did not serve food, but the guy sitting next to us had a plate of something delicious-looking from the Thai restaurant two doors down.  It seemed to be a very down-to-earth kind of place, and so we ordered a round of drinks from Betty, the sweet, blond-haired, blue-eyed girl behind the bar.  Over the course of the night, we chatted with her about Berlin, how it was different than other parts of Germany, where the locals hung out, traveling, etc.  Before long, it was midnight and Betty was bringing me a shot of vodka and cloudy apple juice with a sparkler on top... It was the official start of my birthday, and the official end of a great day in Berlin. 

Over the course of the next three days, we did a little bit of everything and a little bit of nothing.  First, a little bit of everything.  That took place the next day, on my birthday, where we fashioned ourselves a full-day walking tour of the city, beginning at the famous Brandenburg Gate.  Originally built in the late 18th century, the gate was inaccessible during post-war era partitioned Germany, and not reopened until late 1989 as the Berlin Wall began to fall.  Today, it stands as a symbol of freedom and unity.  

Through the Gate, we made a right and stopped at the Reichstag building – the assembly place of modern-day German parliament since 1999.  We inquired about going to the top of the building to check out the Reichstag Dome, designed in the early 1990s by Norman Foster to symbolize the reunification of Germany, which looked fairly cool in person, only to learn that one needs a three-day advance reservation to do so.  (Thanks again, Lonely Planet....)  Instead of touring the dome, we sat on the lawn behind the building, where we placed bets on (a) whether Chancellor Merkel was in the vicinity on that given day, and (b) whether the contents of the beer / wine bottles littering the lawn were enjoyed the night before or earlier that morning.

Pressing on, we walked along the outer edge of the Tiergarten (without venturing in, as we heard that it was too touristy and that we should visit other more genuine local parks) in the direction of the Holocaust Memorial, a series of stone slabs set upon an undulating plot of land, which sits adjacent to the park.  Not surprisingly, the experience of walking within the rows of “stelae” has a much more powerful impact than simply looking at them from the outside.

We did not stop at the underground Holocaust Museum because there was a very lengthy wait to get in, but rather, we continued in search of Checkpoint Charlie, the best-known Berlin Wall crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.  Along the surrounding streets, there is an open-air exhibit that documents the significance of the checkpoint and related history but, apart from that, the area is very touristy.

From Checkpoint Charlie, we went in search of the nearby Topographie Des Terrors, an outdoor museum that focuses on the crimes against humanity committed by the Nazis during World War II.  Not until we were there, did we fully appreciate where we were and the activities that took place in some of the buildings that previously stood in the area.  (The museum is built upon the site of the former headquarters of the Gestapo and SS, buildings that were demolished during and after WWII.)  The museum itself was, at times, disturbing, yet very informative and brutally honest.  In one picture, a massive group of people is being marched off to a death camp and, a few pictures down, a group of smiling camp officers are shown on a break from their duties along the shore of a picturesque lake.  Again, a pretty thought-provoking look at the grim and not-so-distant past. 

To lighten things up, Aman and I set off in search of dinner, which we found at the Hofbräuhaus near Alexanderplatz.  It was still my birthday, after all, and I fancied a beer in honor of the big day.  When we walked in, the place was full of a lively bunch and a band on the center stage was playing an entertaining mix of songs with which we were unfamiliar.   We ordered a round of Hofbräu lagers and some tasty German fare, which we enjoyed as much as the scene unfolding before our eyes.  The band had started performing a German rendition of Achy Breaky Heart, prompting many of the older patrons to hit the dance floor for some very enthusiastic line dancing.  Even those not adventurous enough to hit the floor were singing in their seats and clapping their hands overhead.  For sure, it was a birthday dinner like none other.

The following day, we decided to relax and explore Prenzlauer Berg, where we were staying.  A vibrant neighborhood full of shops, cafes, bars and restaurants with lots of little streets great for wandering, it did not take us long to find a tiny Italian café (Toccasana) that suited our purposes for the day (i.e. Panini, cappuccino, and, most importantly, Wi-Fi).  There, I spent the entire day sorting through, organizing and uploading photos while Aman took a walk to check out what was happening in the vicinity and, of course, take more photos.  (As of today, we have taken some 18,500 photos since the beginning of this trip.)

Upon his return, Aman excitedly informed me that he found an excellent-looking, heavenly-smelling Indische restaurant nearby (Simla).  And so, we ventured off and enjoyed the rest of the evening over copper-plated bowls of aloo palak (potatoes with fenugreek) and mutton biryani.

Our last day in Berlin was an interesting one.  I had a 2 p.m. doctor’s appointment in connection with a routine medical issue.  The doctor’s office was not far from our apartment, and Aman walked me there.  Do you know how long you’re going to be, he asked me fairly.  No clue, I replied.  Never been to a doctor in Germany and I am not sure about the process.  He told me that he would wait for me outside the office – there was an inviting-looking bench in the shade nearby – and I went inside where I was promptly given a patient intake form… in German.  Umm, I’m not really sure what you need me to fill in here, I told the receptionist apologetically as I made a sweeping, circular motion with my palm over the entire form.  She helped me fill in the bare requirements.  The preliminary medical questions were also fun.  Do you know how tall you are in meters, asked the medical assistant.  Nope, I replied honestly.  Weight in kilos?  Not exactly, I offered.  She smiled and kicked a scale my way in response.  I then went back into the waiting room until – finally – over an hour later, the doctor was ready to see me. 

Meanwhile, outside, Aman was passing the time by playing poker on his iPhone.  He had just won a big hand, when he looked up and noticed two police officers standing nearby, whispering and looking in his direction.  As soon as he made contact with one of them, the officers walked over to him.  What are you doing here, asked one of the officers.  Sitting on a bench, replied Aman.  The police officer asked Aman for his passport (which he didn’t have on him).  Upon further questioning, Aman told the officer that he was waiting for me and pointed to the doctor’s office.  The police officers turned and walked into the doctor’s office (I didn’t see them, as I was with the doctor).  Minutes later, they walked out, nodded to Aman, and said everything was fine.  Not long after he had returned to his poker game, however, Aman looked up and saw that the officers will still standing at a distance and watching him.  Upon eye contact, the officers approached Aman once more.  Sir, we’d like you to come with us and point out your fiancé.  Aman stood up and shook his head.  By this time, I was done with the doctor, sitting in the waiting room and waiting for the invoice so I could pay and leave, when I saw Aman come in with a German police officer.  Ang, can you say hello to this nice officer please, asked Aman.  Baffled, I looked at the officer and asked him what was wrong.  Nothing ma’am, nothing ma’am, everything’s okay, the officer reassured me as he turned on his heels and started for the door.  I’ll be right out, I told a weary-looking Aman.

Back on the street, the police officer apologized to Aman and explained that they had received a complaint about an Indian woman in the area who was begging for money and bothering people.  Apparently, they thought that Aman was “affiliated” with her…

And so, after an exhausting afternoon for the both of us, we went for a leisurely stroll in a nice neighborhood that Betty had recommended.  Along the way, we stopped at a park, Volkspark am Weinberg, where we spotted what looked like a small outdoor café-bar.  Excuse me, Aman said to the lone barwoman.  Do you serve beer?  She cocked her head to one side and studied Aman carefully.  I wouldn’t work here if we didn’t, she replied. 

As we sat beneath an overhang at the café, a brief downpour passed through, sending everyone in the park running for cover.  When the rain stopped, Aman and I left the park and turned down Torstrasse in the direction of Prenzlauer Berg.  Nearing our apartment, we stopped at our favorite little neighborhood bar (Uebereck, I would later learn) to say hello, and good-bye, to Betty who was working that night.  After we told her about our day, she promptly poured a round of vodka with cloudy apple juice shots for us all and immediately restored our faith in the kindness of Berliners.  

And that is pretty much how our time in Berlin came to a close.  Despite Aman being mildly harassed by the police on suspicion of being a pimp (an unfortunate incident indeed), we still think that Berlin is a pretty cool place -  youthful, vibrant, multiculturally diverse - and, no doubt, shaped into the city it is today by some very tough times in its past.

deutschland

As some of our loved ones have noticed and, love you guys, helpfully pointed out, it’s as though our blog itself has been on holiday in the Mediterranean this summer.  Touché. What can we say?  July and August have been pretty busy for us (read: we’ve been horribly tied up at the beach…), as we traveled extensively through Greece and Turkey with family and friends who came from overseas to partake in our globetrotting adventures.  Lots of great stories to share, and we can’t wait to get to them all, but you know us by now – only in due order.  Shall we pick up where we left off?  It’s been an interesting summer…

From Bohemia, Aman and I made a haul to Bavaria – Munich, to be precise.  Why Germany?  Well, with all that’s going on in the global economy, we were curious to see how people were living in the Eurozone’s wealthiest nation.  More importantly, Aman was interested to see whether German beer lived up to its legendary reputation (no better place than Munich to put it to the test…).  And frankly, our Eurorail “select” passes only allowed us to travel between bordering European countries.  And, so, Germany was next on the agenda.

The five-hour express bus ride from Prague to Munich was a quiet one, as we cruised down a not-so-heavily trafficked, late-afternoon highway.  From the window of our double decker bus, we gazed out at the expanse of rolling green fields, dotted now and then with a thicket of trees or a small village nestled in the hills.  The landscape changed so little as we drove along, in fact, the only clues that we had crossed the Czech-German border were the signs on the highway, which at some point, started sounding less and less Czech, and more and more German.  While Aman and I debated how far into Germany we likely had traveled, the bus approached the limits of a big city and passed a high-rise corporate building bearing an oversized BMW logo.  Ah, we must be here…

When we arrived at the main station, it was past nightfall and raining steadily.  Given the hour and the dismal weather, we quickly opted for a quiet night in and made our way straight to the taxi queue.  Rather than a hotel, we were staying in a private apartment, which we found on www.airbnb.com.  Aman and I had used this website only once before – while staying in Santa Monica – but, for several reasons, we really liked it.  For starters, the cost of staying in a decent apartment seemed to be not much greater – and, in some cases, significantly less – than the cost of staying in a reasonable hotel.  Plus, staying in an apartment provides way more space and a much more authentic, less touristy feel for a place.  So we figured we’d give it another go.  It turned out to be a great choice – our Regerplatz apartment was pretty hip, super comfortable and conveniently located in a cute, quiet residential neighborhood two S-Bahn (subway) stops away from the city center.  Of course, we were elated that first night when our taxi driver dropped us off within a mere block of the address we had provided upon getting in the cab (given the language barrier and the fact that we were not heading toward a conspicuously marked hotel, you couldn’t ignore the opportunity for serious confusion…).  And, sans a helpful concierge and piles of local maps at our doorstep, it took some extra diligence to figure out how to get out and about the next morning.  But, never mind, all part of the fun of being in a new city.

We spent our first day in Munich checking out some of the city’s more popular sights, starting with Marienplatz, which has been the center of the city since the mid-12th century.  The Gothic architecture of the New City Hall (Neues Rathaus), which dominates the north side of Marienplatz, was beautiful, and the people in the square were, on another level, also quite interesting. 

The Glockenspiel of the New City Hall Tower coming to life...

… and stopping people in their tracks.

Wandering north from Marienplatz, we stopped briefly to eat at a pleasant German restaurant (Zum Franziskaner) where we feasted on the house specialty, the “wuerstenplatte,” – a platter featuring five varieties of sausage – soft pretzels with sweet mustard, and a round of draft beer.  Not our typical lunch by any means, but delicious! 

Afterwards, we continued our leisurely stroll north on Ludwigstrasse (one of the city’s four royal avenues) in search of the Englischer Garten, one of the world’s largest urban parks.  After all, it was a glorious summer day, and we couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon than by relaxing at the park.  We entered from the south onto a sprawling green lawn that was bisected by a narrow stream.  People on picnic blankets sat on either side of the water.  Aman and I ambled this way and that, looking for the perfect spot, before settling in underneath the shade of a tree where we proceeded to soak it all in – it wasn’t too crowded, but there were plenty of groups of people strolling, riding horses, sunbathing, playing music together, having picnics, etc.  The only thing we were missing on such a splendid day, we thought, were a couple of good ole German beers….  Aman closed his eyes for a nap, and I grabbed the guidebook.  Lo and behold, I discovered that the Englischer Garten was home to several beer gardens, in fact, some of the largest in Munich.  How did we almost miss this??  Aman was quickly awake and we were on the move again.  It didn’t take us long to find the beer garden at the Chinesischer Turm (“Chinese Tower”), which was, by far, the biggest beer garden either of us had ever seen before.  As we approached, we heard some incredibly lively polka music coming from the wooden pagoda structure and could see that it was absolutely packed.  Brilliant!  So this is how Münchners enjoy a weekend afternoon at the park…

Note that I was drinking the “small” beers:

Note that the “small” beers were also the size of my head:

Our afternoon at the Englischer Garten was, hands down, our favorite day in Munich – beautiful weather, a laidback vibe, some tasty beer, as well as a great chat with some nice guys we met from Denmark. 

The other highlight of our Munich visit came two days later with a trip to the BMW Welt.  Cool place, totally worth the visit.  The only disappointment about our trip, however, was that we didn’t arrive at the Welt until the afternoon, when we really should have gone bright and early in the morning.  Had we done so, Aman and I would have had enough time to get involved in BMW On Demand, a featured activity that allows you to rent a BMW for the day.  Not only do you get to test-drive the fine German automobile of your choice, but that automobile also comes fully equipped with a pre-programmed GPS route that brings you on a 3-hour scenic drive along the Autobahn and through the picturesque Bavarian countryside.  Thanks Lonely Planet, we really could have used a heads up on that one…

So rather than taking a joyride on the Autobahn, we went back to the apartment to get organized and pack up.  Might as well be productive – our three days in Munich had gone fast, and we were leaving early the next morning for Berlin.  And, talk about being productive, I decided at the last minute that, before leaving we should really, really take advantage of the washing machine in our apartment… we hadn’t seen a Laundromat since California and who knew when we would get an opportunity like this again.  So what if every setting on the machine was listed in German?  I could do this.  I started by dragging the Mac into the kitchen where I carefully proceeded to Google translate every word on the front panel of the washing machine.  Silks?  Nein.  Whites?  Nein.  By process of elimination, I selected a setting that seemed okay, added some powdery white detergent in the tray, threw some of Aman’s clothes in the machine, and pressed the starten button.  But, nothing happened….  I pressed starten again.  Nichts.  What the…  I quickly grabbed the Mac to start retranslating the washing machine as Aman sauntered in to see how things were going.  Something’s wrong, I said, but I can’t figure out what.  Helpfully, Aman started toying with the knobs and pressing buttons.  I think you have to call Martin, I implored.  I just can’t understand why this thing won’t run, but it’s frustrating me to no end…  Aman picked up the phone as I again turned my attention between the machine and the Mac.  How can it be this difficult to use a German washing machine, I thought.  In the background, I could hear Aman’s end of the phone conversation with Martin:

Martin, it’s Aman, how’s it going man…. Yeah man, it’s great, so we’re just trying to do some laundry before we head out tomorrow morning, and we’re having some difficulty…. Yeah, yeah, we actually bought our own detergent [Aman double-checking detergent tray].  The problem is that when we hit the start button, nothing happens… Right… okay, yeah, I think we’ve got the setting right.  Yeah, we’ve done that…. [Aman readjusting knobs]  Yep, yep, we closed the door to the machine….

Now, had there been some reminder to close the door on the front of the machine, perhaps I would’ve translated it into English and thus remembered to double-check that I had in fact closed the door before declaring that the machine wasn’t working.  Alas, there was not.  And so, when Aman went to double-check it, the door swung right open. Shooting me a curious did-you-seriously-forget-to-close-the-door-to-the-washing-machine look, he shut the door firmly, and the machine came to life.  Uh, thanks Martin, you know, I think we figured out the problem…. Yep, yep, thanks man…  Seems it wasn’t so hard to do laundry in Germany, after all.

Aman and I woke up early the next day to find that it had turned unseasonably cold overnight.  Making our way out of the apartment, the morning air had a crisp autumn feel to it.  We made a stop at the bakery downstairs, where I quickly decided on something that looked like a cross between a bagel and a soft pretzel while Aman surveyed the contents of the glass showcase.  Pointing one-by-one, he asked the friendly shopkeeper (who naturally didn’t speak a lick of English) what was in each pastry.  Cheese, he inquired of one kind in particular.  “Meat cheese,” she responded.  Meat cheese, Aman repeated happily, I’ll take that one.  Minutes later, we dug in as we walked down the mossy tree-lined street with our bags in tow to the S-Bahn stop.  How is it, I asked.  It’s good, Aman replied, but I don’t think there’s any meat in this, I don’t know what that woman was talking about…  It took me a few seconds before I realized what had happened.  Maybe she meant “mit cheese,” I suggested, you know, maybe “mit” means “with” in German?  With a sheepish grin, in between bites, Aman admitted this might be a plausible explanation.  It’s okay, still good, he added with a laugh.

And so our adventures in Germany had begun…