Welcome to Berlin

By most accounts, I am a wanderlust––a free spirited traveler who with rare exception, makes few travel plans beyond purchasing my plane ticket. My reasons for this are two fold. First, I like to go where the spirit moves me when I'm on vacation. Second, and perhaps most importantly, I'll never know what I'm missing if I don't do any research. Fewer expectations lead to less disappointment; my experiences will be perfect as they are. Much of my trip to Germany could have been characterized this way up until this point, but Berlin was going to be different. Being a prolific reader and student of World War II history for many years now, I knew too much to pass through Berlin as a casual observer. There were places and events I had read about that I need to put eyes on. I needed to do more than just walk by and snap a photo. I needed to absorb them and recall the events that had happened––for better and for worse––that forever changed the course of history.

I departed Heidelberg by train early Wednesday morning. My thoughts were consumed with where I had been, what I had seen, and of course my friends; I spent little time envisioning Berlin because much of it was already painted in my mind: Unter den Linden, the Tiergarten, the Reichstag, and Brandenburg Gate, all described vividly in Erik Larsen's In the Garden of Beasts. I knew I wanted to see these places, as most tourists do. But while I was there, my interests segued into the Cold War years that followed and by happenstance, into the political struggles we face today related to Syria and the immigration crises facing Germany, France, and the US. I can attest that three days in Berlin did not quench my thirst of curiosity. Instead, like taking in a spoonful of water while hiking through the desert, it only wet my parched lips and left me longing for more.

Gregor met me at the Berlin Hauptbahnhof late in the afternoon. We walked through Alexanderplatz where we waited for the M4. Gregor pointed to an old white building and said casually, "The Stasi operated from that building." I snapped a photo and Gregor laughed, "Dani, really? Your first time in Berlin and that's what you take a picture of?" I was completely dumbfounded and that's when it started to sink in. Gregor has lived much of his life in the eastern part of Berlin; he was 13 years old when the wall came down, a moment he described as the 'most touching and moving moment of his entire life...'. His life story and everything around him is utterly captivating to me.

Former Stasi Location on Karl Marx Allee

The Only Electric Sign in East Berlin Before the Wall Came Down

We took the M4 to the Antonplatz stop and walked to Gregor's apartment. Later I met Gregor's son, Anton, and we spent the evening playing together and catching up on our post-Camino adventures.

M4 Stop Near Antonplatz in Berlin

Gregor

Anton and Gregor

Gregor and Anton's Christmas Tree