Breaking It Off With Berlin. . . .

I just wanted to post a brief update since it's late, but I finally, sadly left Berlin and moved on to Prague today. I'm already homesick for Berlin. It sounds silly to say that a city swept me off my feet, but that's exactly what it felt like. Berlin has so much character and energy, and such a unique ambiance, that almost any other place pales in comparison. I've visited a lot of cities on this trip, and while I've liked many of them, and they've all been distinctive in at least small ways, Berlin is utterly original, in a class of its own. Sure, parts of the city are breaking out in rashes of international fast food chains, H&Ms, and Starbucks, but usually within a block or two of the cookie-cutter robo-store outbreaks, you can find a family-owned sheet music store, or a funky home design store, or bratwurst stand where locals gather for a quick bite and a visit. No matter what part of town I was in, I was not thinking, "Oh, this looks like Turin, or Madrid, or Rome." Its appearance, mood, and people are not the slightest bit interchangeable with those of other places.

A big part of why Berlin feels so unique relates to its history, of course. During World War I, World War II, and the Cold War, Berlin's buildings took a beating, and the city lost much of its aged architectural history. Most of the great historical buildings were destroyed or severely damaged, and during the Cold War, the Soviets razed flat the area around the Berlin Wall. Even though some of the areas have been built up again, it still looks like somebody knocked out a few of Berlin's teeth. And the buildings that have replaced those that were destroyed are often so modern that they feel futuristic. They're enormous glass and steel cages, but many of them seem to be designed with a much more conscious appeal to the aesthetic than their American cousins. I think I posted some pictures below of a couple of Berlin's train stations, which give a bit of a flavor of this contrast.

In addition to the physical look of the city, the mood on the street feels different in Berlin than anywhere else. It's a young, restless city--a major world capital city, a university town, a magnet for the arts, a center of technology, home to cutting-edge design, high arts, street graffiti everywhere, a vibrant and assertive immigrant community, a deep and scarring legacy of shame, open reminders of the world wars and the Cold War everywhere. All of the museums seem to be confronting the ugly elements of Germany's past head-on, in an endless quest for atonement. At the same time that so much of the city's public space is dedicated to recalling the horrors the city's forbears inflicted on the world, there's also a palpable live-fast-and-try-to-forget element of its makeup. It is plainly haunted. Berlin's pulse is easy to find, but even though I found myself falling in love with it, I'm not sure I perceived its soul. I'm not sure it has one. With or without one, it is enthralling and beguiling. I cannot wait to return.

Over the past week, I kept imagining living in Berlin. I found a neighborhood I loved right across the river from the East Side Gallery (one of the longest surviving stretches of the Berlin Wall, now an open-air museum where famous artists have covered the wall in murals. See pictures below.). Just inside border of West Berlin, it has apartment buildings that look like they might have been constructed right after the war, most of them 6 to 8 stories high, with great retail spaces on the ground floor. Independent music shops, bookstores, quirky fashion boutiques, gritty coffeehouses, organic grocery stores (or, as they're called in Germany, "bio" stores), and ethnic restaurants of every kind. In my Berlin fantasy life, I'd have an apartment right up under the pitched eaves of one of the apartment houses, with a desk in front of the window. I'd sit up there and write, or daydream and gaze out the window if the words wouldn't come. And in the afternoons, I'd descend to the street with my dog for a quick walk and refueling with the (admittedly horrible) espresso at the grittiest coffeehouse of all (I know this for a fact--I tried it the other day, and it was the worst espresso I've ever tasted, but the shop had such a great vibe that it was sort of worth it).

Anyway, I practically left fingernail marks in the train station platform as we pulled away towards Prague. And I have to say that my arrival here was less than auspicious. The Czech Republic doesn't use the euro, and I stupidly hadn't checked the currency conversion rates before my arrival here, so I got charged more for my taxicab ride to my hotel than my room cost!!! I was furious with myself for being so stupid, and also angry at being treated like prey. (It isn't an easy conversion at all, either--it's 16.2 Czech crowns to the dollar. It's not splitting the atom, but it's still not the easiest mental long division.) I'll give Prague a day or two, but if things don't improve tomorrow, I will not linger here. I haven't decided what my next port of call is, but I'm considering Vienna. If anyone has suggestions, I am all ears! Until next time, good night!