Ramblings about a divided Germany

Many of the German classes that I’ve taken over the past seven or so years have had some sort of German history unit, be it a cursory two week overview of the whole of German history or an entire semester discussing Germany in the 20^th century. When I came to Berlin I thought that I had a pretty decent understanding of German culture, especially the relationship between the East and the West (the German department at IU loves divided Berlin). After an enlightening afternoon in class, I came to realize that really had no idea how things actually work here.

After the collapse of the Wall, and subsequently the German Democratic Republic, Germans on both sides of the border were calling for reunification. The West knew that it would have to support, for a time at least, the impoverished East, but this seemed a temporary situation. 20 years after reunification, I learned, West Germans are still supporting East Germany financially with a special tax. Unsurprisingly this financial backing is unpopular in the West, with fringe elements even calling for a return to a divided Germany.

Even from the short time that I’ve been here, I can tell whether I’m in East or West Berlin. Visually, the Eastern part of the city is crumbling and still shows damage from World War II, which isn’t seen as often in the West. When looking at a map of unemployment rates and household incomes, there is a perfect division that once again separates Germany and Berlin into East and West.  The same goes for voting patterns, with the left-wing party Die Linke winning the most votes in the East. Interestingly, Die Linke is more or less the direct successor to the Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands which ruled over East Germany.

Tangentially, one of the most fascinating and disturbing aspects of Berlin that I’ve encountered so far is the ever-present police officer stationed outside Jewish buildings and businesses. Apparently, there is still enough anti-Semitic though and threats here to warrant daily protection. Down the street from out hotel is a Jewish café, called Beth Café, which looks as it has been abandoned. No light comes through the windows, the doors are always closed, and I’ve yet to see anyone sitting outside or going inside. The only indication that the place is still in business is a large sign out front proclaiming that yes, they are open, come on inside. Before coming here, I never would have imagined that there are Germans sick enough to continue this line of poisonous thought and action. I realize now how naïve that was. 

Berlin At Night

Finding out that Berlin night life starts around 2 am and ends at noon the next day, I knew it would be a challenge to participate. I'm used to Indiana bars closing around 2 or 3 am not starting at that time. But challenge accepted!

Since being here I have experienced a good amount of bars around Mitte and Kreuzberg and it's definitely been an adventure. Not that many people in the group are up to go out on these adventures but we manage to get a group of us together.

I did some research of places we could all go. I read online that it is extremely hard to get into big clubs here. I wondered what could be so hard, I am 21, I thought drinking was more laid-back in Europe. I found tips to get into Berlin's best bars, some of these tips included: speak german, travel in small groups, must be 21, don't dress to impress, and convince the bouncer you know a DJ playing that night. Yikes. I can't speak German.

One night we went to a bar here in Mitte to get a few drinks, their were some locals out front that spoke english and were very friendly. They told us some good place to go to with people our age.  One being Watergate the other being Berghain. Both clubs I read about online. We asked if there was any chance we could get in, they said we could totally get it. One guy told us if the guard asks questions we should reply, "Shut the fuck up I'm on the list!" Not sure I could say that to a scary bouncer and I'm not fully convinced I won't get denied, but it is nice to know there is a chance. 

So far I have not tried going to these crazy hard to get into bars but I plan to go for Maggie's birthday. Aside from the most famous clubs I have been to a few smaller clubs/bars and the atmosphere compared to American bars is noticeably different. 

I like how it is more casual here, unlike at IU most of the girls are wearing high heels and fake nails. I tend to dress casually so I feel like I fit in pretty well. The music is a lot different. One club called Gretchen was playing only techno music. I usually like techno, but it eventually got boring and all the songs started to sound the same. The dance moves aren't too crazy either, you definitely don't have to be a good dancer to let loose in Berlin. Which is another thing I liked, you don't worry so much about not knowing how to dance and instead just have fun. Another club we went to was similar except the music seemed more circus like and turned out to be a gay bar. We did not realize this despite being there for a few hours, it was so strange but very comical. 

I enjoy going out and experiencing how people my age spend there nights out here. It has been a struggle to find the best places to go but I look forward to adventuring more during my final week here and hopefully getting into one of Berlin's most famous clubs.

Posted for Kelly (see Aidan below)

This week in Berlin consisted of both personal and group exploration of the city.

With the World Cup going on, the night life in Berlin is thriving. It is a completely different experience than sporting events in the States. Once Germany scores, car and air horns start to blare. Everyone stops what they are doing to cheer for their country. From what I can tell, residents of European countries do not have strong support for their local teams, but rather their national teams. I see no evidence of college or professional sports (other than soccer) getting any attention. This is the reason soccer, or any other national team, is not popular in the US. There are some fans, of course, but there is not the same nationalism that is prevalent in other countries. Everyone has their favorite local teams that they root for passionately. However, on thing remains the same-- walking through a town in the wrong team colors can get you some pretty dirty looks.

I have learned everything is ever wanted to know about divided Berlin. The whole thing seems almost comical to me. How did the Stasi not realize what they were doing was so ridiculous? Wearing popular clothes? Socialist-hater. Antennas pointing towards the west? Lost your job. Reading a western publication? Unthinkable. There were so many things that could get someone blacklisted, it’s no wonder there was one informant for every five residents. I wonder if in present day, past informants feel regret for turning their family or friends in to the Stasi. I imagine such, but it is very difficult putting myself in their position. I have never been so thankful to grow up in the US.

Even though this division of the city and country is no longer in effect, you can still feel the division. We ventured off to the deep east side of town this week. I can’t even describe the sort of eerie feeling that I get when I go to the east side of the city. Buildings are made out of cement. I bet it is cold inside. I get colder looking at these unimpressive structures. I find it strange that people take pride in those silly Trabi cars. Why would you take pride in a poorly made, smelly machine? Yet, a Trabi Safari passed us while we were walking the streets. They seem to be a sort of memorial, memorializing how life used to be. Which makes me think—do people miss these cars? Do they miss their old lives in Socialist Berlin? I suppose if that is all you knew growing up, it would be hard to let go. 

Thank you, Berlin

It’s not uncommon for a woman of my age to feel self-conscious when in public settings. When I walk down the streets in any major U.S. city, and even in Bloomington for that matter, I am conscious of my body and wondering if my outfit is “trendy” enough. I feel like judgment is evident on the face of every person I pass. Berlin is completely different and in the most amazing way possible.

My first week here, I passed by a woman wearing a plain, white t-shirt with bold letters stating “FUCK YOUR STANDARDS OF BEAUTY.” If I could summarize the ideals of people wandering the streets of Berlin in one sentence, this would be it. I feel like there is a great sense of empowerment in being whatever you want to be here, not just for women, but men as well.

Some women here wear makeup. Some don’t. Some women dress conservatively. Some layer many different styles together to create a more unique look. I have never seen the conservatively dressed woman look judgingly at the woman not dressed like her, and vice versa. Because this is a city of so much urbanity, I believe it is an open and accepting culture.

This observation I had of standards of beauty in Berlin came at a time when a controversial topic surrounding the Miss USA pageant was occurring back in the states. Many people were praising our very own Miss Indiana for being the only contestant with a “normal” and “curvy” body. Many were upset that the media and society were setting yet another standard of beauty unattainable for many women. What is “normal” anyways?   

Berlin does not seem to have a “normal.” Everyone, and I mean everyone, looks different. You do not walk down the streets and see at least ten women wearing the same variation of an outfit they saw in this month’s InStyle. And, rarely do you see a stick-thin model in a tiny bikini plastered all over every billboard here. “Normal” is irrelevant to society in Berlin. “Normal” is whatever is normal to you.

I love this city for this reason. I love this city for improving my confidence. I love this city for letting me be the real me, and not some forced and fake version of myself I think is acceptable.

Because hijab isn't a word, apparently.

I remember a few semesters ago in international relations when Daniel Wernicke and I were assigned to represent Germany in a model UN summit on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. We studied for weeks the effects of the holocaust and reparations payments and national guilt on German-Israeli relations. Today I finally saw a German broadcast about the area, and I found myself both surprised and somehow not surprised at all to find a much darker picture portrayed than what I had expected. Granted, I come from the US where Israeli policy is all rainbows and butterflies, but I did not expect that the German report would emphasize the “security wall” that Israel is putting up quite so heavily.  With only a cursory glance I immediately began to pick up on the similarities between the wall going up on TV and the one sitting in pieces a few hundred yards from my hotel. I have to wonder if this is normal or if there is some sort of shift in public opinion going on here. And if there is a shift away from supporting Israel, what kind of effect will this have on (in particular) the Muslim population within Germany? Am I experimenting during a time when relations are set to improve?

Attempt #2 (of all time. No, I’ve never done it in the States) at eating at a restaurant by myself (the first being the time I wasn’t allowed to read): the server takes ahold of my arm, leans over into my face, admits to having only :20 left in his shift, and implores me to come out and have a  drink with him. Is this what it’s like to eat by oneself as a single woman, with every server either your self-appointed father figure or a potential date? Or is this just Berlin?

Wherever I go, everyone always tries to talk to me in English if they can. This despite the fact that literally every other person in our group has been mistaken for German on multiple occasions. But when I put on a hijab the world suddenly seems to assume that I’m a native. Are there no hijab-wearing tourists coming here?

Again with the invasions of my personal space. The woman who guards the breakfast buffet (who normally recognizes me quickly enough that she no longer asks my room number, simply wishes me a good morning), stepped so far into my personal space that she nearly made physical contact. She was supposedly trying to read the room number off of my key tag, but it was laying on the table in front of her, so taking that extra step and nearly bumping me was wholly unnecessary. Then, again, when I was at the buffet she came up behind me and started reorganizing the silverware while I was serving myself, standing close enough for me to feel her breath on the back of my scarf.

While I don’t speak German, there are enough cognates for me to understand the general course of most conversations now that I’ve gotten used to the accent. This morning at breakfast the couple at the next table over had a conversation which began with the news, ranged into American foreign policy, hit on Iraq, and then settled on Islam in general. Each of the last two steps was done with cautious glances in my direction, with the husband becoming more and more confident and boisterous as I failed to look up from my mobile phone, even as his wife’s shushing and embarrassed giggles became more frequent. I have no idea what he was saying, but I’m betting it was at least mildly offensive.

It occurs to me now that I don’t remember putting the scarf on this morning. That means that somehow I went from taking 10 minutes to put it on to being able to do it quickly while still half asleep in a matter of two days. I keep forgetting that it’s on, too. It’s amazing how quickly you get used to it.

Maia and I went to Potsdam today. Everything was closed, so we made due with wandering Sanssouci Park, which was a wonderful treat. The relatively few people in the area meant that we got mostly clear shots of everything we wanted to photograph and didn't have to worry about stepping in front of anyone else's cameras. 

Etc.

The place was extremely peaceful with so few people around, but at the same time we got the feeling that it was the kind of place you don’t want to be caught after dark. It’s very easy to get lost here if you don’t already know your way, and despite being so close to the center of town many areas were quite isolated.

There were also some less isolated spots. For example, there is one particular yard that seems to be the place where couples go to try their hand at public fornication. Of course, it’s not labeled thusly, so it’s very easy to stumble upon (and in fact walk into the middle of, as we found) without realizing what’s going on all around you until you look up from whichever landmark you happen to be perusing. Luckily, while the women had much of their clothing off, the men tended to be content remaining mostly clothed, so I’m still unburdened by the knowledge of what men look like naked.

Three separate couples in one shot

            The man stepping between myself and his newborn-carrying wife this morning was a new one.

            I went and got a new scarf and some pins today. No one bothered me on the train, though the perpetual stares were there. I went the wrong way out of the Ubahn and had to backtrack several streets in order to find the place that I had been looking for, but once I got there I learned that no one spoke English (this is my first encounter with this problem, believe it or not). Two employees were pulled out of the back to be asked how well they spoke, but neither could understand what I was saying. Eventually another customer was asked to communicate with me on their behalf, but she couldn’t understand what I was saying either. I was finally able to make my intention known with very specific hand movements, only to learn that they didn’t have what I was looking for. The employee with the best English lead me down the street several blocks (I soon realized that probably every clothing store in the area had what I was looking for) to a particular store where pins were in abundance. The woman behind the counter spoke very good English when it came to cashier work, and very little English related to anything else, but was much more receptive to my (largely) unspoken appreciation of her help. At no point did anyone seem to think that I looked out of place. Perhaps it was simply that I was obviously foreign and therefore could be expected to be different. Aside from a bunch of American foreign exchange students from the University of New Hampshire joking about getting “halal numbers,” the train ride back was largely uneventful. After a few minutes of listening to their banter I made contact and revealed the purpose of my dress in casual conversation in order to gauge their reaction.  They seemed very uncomfortable and no longer wanted to speak amongst themselves as long as I was standing nearby, which wasn’t very long; they moved a few cars up the train in short order. Perhaps the Americanization of Germany is a poor idea for more reasons than the ones I'm used to hearing. 

            I feel as though the look that I get from men who are familiar with the hijab is much like the look that I give people I don’t know when I hear them speaking English. Finally, something I understand!

            Apparently I can still get hit on at a restaurant while wearing a hijab and sitting in a large group of other students. This has got to be a Berlin thing.

            I locked eyes with a lesbian couple while waiting for the tram. We looked each other over, me half expecting them to come up and explain how oppressed I was, them likely wondering if my religious beliefs would lead me to rail at them somehow. Both groups were mildly surprised at the other’s quiet acceptance. I get the feeling that these two groups of people are not always in accord with one another, and wonder what it would have been like walking through the GLBT festival with this thing on.

I find myself running to put on a hijab each time I leave our hotel room. Even breakfast comes with a headscarf now. I feel uncomfortable being seen by other people without it, even the other people in our group who have clearly seen me without it before. When I began to overheat while we walked yesterday one of the other students suggested taking it off, and I have to confess that my first reaction was horror; being told to take it off, especially in public, felt like being asked to strip naked. I’ve become attached to it now; I like wearing it. Even if I know that saying so probably has my father grinding his teeth.

Pictured: Rebellion

Also (and while this doesn't pertain to the class or Berlin I do find it interesting) this website keeps trying to correct hijab into hijack. 

Homesick?

The other day I was asked if I was getting homesick. At first I say, "No way! I could stay here forever!" And the more I think about it, the more difficult that answer becomes.

In Berlin, I love the city.
There are so many things to do and see at almost anytime of the day; Like parks, clubs, cafes, random U- and S-Bahn rides, and that's just what I've encountered.
The food is diverse in more ways than I could imagine, not to mention it all tastes great! Italian is my favorite food and I never get sick of it. Here, you can go to a different restaurant, order the same meal, and it tastes entirely new.
Uneven cobblestone, dogs leaving presents for others to discover, construction everywhere, the unsettling smells, and the unpleasant citizens going about their everyday lives are just some of the things that can be found in the streets of this city. All having it's own character. Back at home, I encounter much less variety in the streets.
All of the history you can find among the streets. Everyday, I walk over where the Berlin Wall once stood and its memorial, one of the only Synagogues to survive Kristallnacht in 1938, a Jewish cemetery that was destroyed by the Nazis and the Soviets, not to mention all of the lives that have been lost in the exact place I stand. I didn't realize it would be this emotional until I set foot in Germany.

As much as I could go on about this city, I could say just as much to why I miss home. Not a day goes by where I don't think, "Mom, look at this!" but when I turn around, she's not there. Or cuddling with my little kitty, Mr. Gizmo. Or seeing my Bob Evans family: Jon and Dorothy, Glo, Ron, Susan, Hannah, Jazzy, and so on. Or my dad, with all his knowledge about this country and pretty much anything else, and yet I don't get to share the experience with him (or find that food he keeps telling me to try, Kluese? I don't know). My friends, family, and people I would see everyday seem to have disappeared.

Although I wouldn't say I'm homesick, exactly, I am patiently waiting to see everyone and everything upon my return. I am also not looking forward to leaving such a beautiful, mysterious, historical place, which has changed my perspective of the way I see everyday things.

Posting this for Aidan, who is having trouble getting to the blog ....

So far while in Berlin, few monuments and memorials have had quiet the impact and omnipotence as the Berlin Wall, most likely because of its proximity in time. The city is functioning as a post wall society, and it can be seen in all aspects of the culture and personality of the citizens. This week, we had the chance to visit the east-side gallery and nowhere else in the city could such a 'strong' personality exist. Immediately upon coming within view of the lengthy slab of concrete, the mood of the area seemed different. What was small cafes and restaurants turned into a mile long display of art depicting a wide range of emotions. 

Starting from the beginning sector of the wall, the intricacies of the paintings are most evident. Vivid picture one after another begin to explain some of the strong emotions that people may have had to repress during the time the wall was operational. One word statements such as 'freedom' and 'liberty' to 'rock music' and more western ideals become more apparent. As we proceeded down the wall, we noticed the wall art becoming less vivid and thematic as the earlier parts, suggesting that the better artists were used for the beginning parts of the wall. Adding to our experience, we picked a perfect grey and rainy day to appreciate the wall which made the viewing all the more surreal. It's hard to put into words the impact the wall had on our brief viewing compared to how it would have been had we actually been living through it in East Berlin. What I personally found most fascinating about the East wall was that it seemed to almost memorialize and commemorate the wall, which I would assume to be contradictory to how people want to remember it. It's a stark reminder of the hardships Berlin had yet to go through even following the deprivations faced in World War II. Yet for all the wall represents to those who lived through it, the East side gallery now serves a different purpose because of its message: appreciation. The wall has been stripped of its intimidating bare concrete walls and given new meaning through the works of art labored over its bare body. Despite the mood altering weather we faced while visiting, I couldn't help but feel as if the wall were being treated less seriously than it actually is or was. It's interesting to notice an artistic vibe being used on an object that was used to strike fear and oppression into its inhabitants. It makes the 'new' meaning of the wall seem more cryptic, can an appreciation for art mask a horror that was rampant just 25 years ago? Only the art and viewer will ever be able to tell.

As an American, the whole concept of a wall dividing a city based on ideology seems fairly foreign. My only appreciation for the walls significance lies in the sympathy I hold for those whose lives were ruined by it. Upon reflection, I found myself unable to let the art distract me long enough from the true personality of the wall. It's the quintessential symbol of Eastern oppression, the term "Iron Curtain" couldn't have described it better. Learning to appreciate foreign concepts and history is one of the chief goals I've had while in Berlin, seeing the wall heightened these senses yet at the same further complicated the never ending question in my head; does Berlin want to remember or forget its past? I believe in a third option that the East Side Gallery presents, remembering the past in a new light. Perhaps the best way to view an old wound is to beautify it.