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. 

When In Berlin...

It's already Friday? Wow. I'm honestly amazed with how quickly this week has come and gone. Last week we saw Sachsenhausen, and that took a toll on us. But this week was full of gay pride, fußball, palaces, poorly attributed museum, and the East Side Gallery. This was a much-needed, interesting week. Although there are clearly different opinions in this city, it seems that the community either looks the other way, or (more optimistically) accepts the views of others. I've learned the true meaning of "When in Berlin..." -- after the more famous "When in Rome..." it holds the same meaning.

Sunday was the LGBT festival, and that was a blast. Music, costumes, and liberal individuals made the atmosphere worth the trip. I was interested to see that not only were there people celebrating their own sexuality, but there were many people supporting the sexuality of others. Men, women, children, straight, gay, transgender -- it didn't matter. Everyone was so kind and loving and happy to celebrate (with the help of the ever-so-sponsored Beck's, I'm sure). Nonetheless, it was a breath of fresh air. Not once did I see a protester opposing the event. It goes on to support my idea that Berlin must accept "live and let live" policy. At least, I sure did.

Monday continued the hype with Germany defeating Portugal. They dominated with a final score of 4-0, and I was so excited. Normally I don't follow soccer too closely, but I'm in Europe during the World Cup for God's sake! I've always known the sport and loved it, but I never followed it as a professional sport. I am now an avid beer-drinking, brot-eating, referee-hating Germany fan. I can't wait  for the next game!

Tuesday was a wonderful adventure to Potsdam. Now, this isn't your typical "Berlin" atmosphere... but  it was probably my favorite adventure since I've been here. The gardens are immaculate, and the structures are awe-inspiring. Literally with every corner we took, there was something unexpected and beautiful. This is sort of how I feel here in Berlin... nothing is expected. There is something different around every corner, and sometimes it will take you in a different direction than before. For me, that's the most beautiful part.

Now we come to the Stasi Museum on Wednesday. This museum was the headquarters to the State Security of East Berlin following WWII. One would think this museum would be full of interesting displays, and wonderful explanations. Possibly there wasn't enough information to give out, as they were so thoroughly secret. However, the more likely cause of poor execution is the lack of funds in this wonderful city. As a result, this is the only item in the museum I found interesting enough to take a photo of:

I really love Mickey Mouse, okay?

Finally, on Thursday, a group of us went to the East Side Gallery.

This was a great experience. One of the few memories left in this city that aren't heart-wrenching. There are murals that stretch the 30 kilometers on both sides. Most of these murals attribute to the memories of those affected by the wall, but not always. It was beautiful, and the gloom day seemed to add to the dreary atmosphere. With all that said, it was still a more light-hearted experience. There must be some sort of regulation to the graffiti-art, but it seems that "anything goes" on the wall. Just as this city produces an "anything goes" atmosphere.

With all the diverse experiences I have encountered in this city, I remain attached to that phrase.

"When in Berlin..."

...and we've still got another week.

Uplifting Festivities and Slight Disappointments

The activities in Berlin this past week weren't quite as tear-jerking as last week's activities. I found myself in a dark mood for several days after our trip to Sachsenhausen concentration camp. However, that all changed when the group and I headed over to Nollendorfplatz to partake in some of the festivities of Berlin's 22nd Gay and Lesbian Fest. The general mood of the festival was upbeat and full of acceptance for Berlin's gay community. Once again, I saw tons of nudity. There were men walking around in chaps with their rear-ends sticking out and women with painted faces and scant clothing.

Everyone was getting drunk and dancing, and literally having a gay ol' time. I saw men dancing and grinding on other men and I even saw several kissing, without a care in the world. I wish I could have gone to a festival such as this in the United States so I could compare it to my experience here in Berlin. However, seeing all these people from this counter-culture celebrating life and love was very heart-warming. All the various political parties of Germany also had tents set up at the festival, including some of the more conservative ones. The fact that so many of Germany's parties stand behind gay and lesbian culture made me smile, since gay marriage is currently such a huge controversy in the United States.

The week ended with some slight disappointments. I was very excited about going to the German resistance memorial to see when Colonel von Stauffenberg and his crew of Operation Valkyrie were shot to death after being convicted of treason and the attempted murder of Adolf Hitler. Once I got to the right facility, which is still a government building, I found myself wandering around the outside for at least 30 minutes before I could find a way in. There were no signs to point me in the right direction of the memorial, only gates, cameras, fences, and guards. I almost turned back to the U-Bahn station because I was slightly intimidated by the place, but I ended up going up to a guard and asking him where I needed to go. At first he had no idea what I was talking about, but then he pointed me in the right direction. The museum itself looked as if it were a temporary exhibition. There were no artifacts, only posters with information. I left disappointed. The only thing that had any impact on me was the actual courtyard where the members of Operation Valkyrie were executed, just because I knew what had happened there.

I only have two weeks left in Deutschland, and only one more week before our study abroad program is over. The time has flown by. I'm going to be sad when it is over. Berlin is so rich with history and culture, it's going to be hard for me to go back to the United States. I love it here, and honestly wouldn't mind staying forever.

Political Berlin

 

Compared to last week's powerful visit to Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp and our tour through Jewish Berlin, this week seemed fairly insignificant.  However I think that we saw some  important political sights throughout the city, which sort of fit in with our political class discussions. One of the highlights of my week was attending Berlin's 22nd Annual Lesbian and Gay City Festival on Sunday.  I thought it was very enjoyable, and I think that the most ridiculous thing we saw there was a mohawked man walking on stilts, wearing a strange half-thong- but that pretty much topped the craziness.  I wish that I had an American Pride Parade to compare this experience with, but I have not yet attended one in the United States.  Our group enjoyed watching karaoke and a group of men and women dressed as cowboys, square dancing to country-pop music.  That was definitely not something that I was expecting to see, since here "country" back home is typically associated with very socially conservative political beliefs.  Something that I also found very interesting here was that there was a row of tents for some prominent German political parties- including the SPD, Bündis 99/Die Grünen (both middle left-wing parties), and none other than the CDU/CSU (Germany's mainstream conservative/middle right-wing party).  I think that this shows a major difference in American and German politics.  Although, as I said, I have not attended a Gay Pride Parade back in the USA, I am almost 100% positive that if I did I would not stumble upon a Republican Party tent there, because of both their historical position on gay rights, and because it is right in their party platform that they support only traditional marriage- between one man and one woman.  I am aware that there are more far-right, fringe parties in Germany that probably are extremely opposed to gay rights, but it makes me very happy to see that Germany's middle-right party does support gay rights.

 

Another highlight of my week was visiting the East Side Gallery of the Berlin Wall.  There was so much beautiful artwork on this portion of the Wall, and it makes me sad to think that this could get torn down for apartment buildings.  Much of the artwork appeared to be political in nature- some even having messages in German such as "many small people in many small places who do many small things can change the face of the world."  There also was a large German flag with the Star of David in the middle of it, which I thought was a strong gesture after learning about the Jewish history of the city and country.  However there also were some that appeared to simply be beautiful paintings, although they may have been political and I just didn't realize/understand the message.  Pictured in this blog are some of my favorite paintings on the wall, and I would be interested to see what changes and what is left alone when the wall is painted over for new graffiti artists.

 

 

Jewish Berlin

This past week has involved visiting many of Mitte’s memorials to its Jewish community; we’ve seen the site of the first synagogue, the first Jewish cemetery of Berlin, Christian Boltanski’s “Missing House” (which, interestingly, is not, despite its location in a historically Jewish neighborhood dedicated to anyone of particular Jewish heritage. It instead memorializes the families who moved into the building following the deportation of its original Jewish renters), the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, a synagogue that was miraculously spared during Kristallnacht by a lone policeman, and to top off the week – the concentration camp Sachsenhausen. While none of what we visited this past week could be called cheery, I (along with most of our group) left Sachsenhausen feeling especially emotionally and spiritually drained. After a week of sightseeing and beer drinking, I was truly unprepared for what the afternoon held.

To be in a place such as Sachsenhausen and to hear tales (thanks to our awesome and extremely knowledgeable tour guide, David) of the almost unimaginable cruelty and barbarism performed there in the name of National Socialism is enough to put one in a sour mood, but couple that with first-hand accounts and relics of the time and the afternoon is well and truly ruined. I’ve heard my classmates talking about being in tears after reading the diary entries of some of the inmates of the camp, but what pulled at my heartstrings the most were the examples of selfless giving and artistry that also occurred. One prisoner had fashioned an ornate and colorful shoe and bouquet out of his bread rations and had given it to his friend as a gift shortly before dying of tuberculosis. The plaque next to the artwork contains a quote from the recipient, “This gesture came from the heart. It was the most beautiful present of my life.” Personally, this artwork only manages to stress the horrible loss of life that occurred at Sachsenhausen, drawing attention to how creative and intelligent many of the victims of National Socialism were and the many works of art that the world never got to see.

However, what stuck with me the most about Sachsenhausen was its post-war treatment by the East Germans. Immediately upon passing through the gates of the camp, one is accosted by a 40 meter high monument decorated with 18 red triangles – the identifying patches worn by the political prisoner s of the camp. The DDR seemed hell-bent on distancing itself as widely as possible from accountability for the atrocities National Socialism, instead playing the victim. It baffled my mind that an entire regime could be as insensitive as to push aside all of the other suffering endured there just to further the party line. But then I remembered where I was, and that human suffering didn’t much matter to anyone in possession of Sachsenhausen.  

Eating canned peas on the other side of the world

My collected thoughts from this week, organized roughly by topic rather than date:

I thought people here would be very sensitive to any reminder of the Second World War, mostly because of the foreign exchange student who had himself removed from our history class when we watched Schindler's List. But today the top story was about the start of the D-day invasions, and there seemed to be very little open discomfort about the idea. Maybe the reminders are so ubiquitous here that it's not really an issue. It's strange living in and amongst so much history all of the time. I wonder if they don't become numb to it at some point?

I keep running into people who look exactly like the ones I left behind. I was sure, last night, that I had run into Brittany Cash, whom I haven't seen since the fifth grade or spoken to since high school graduation. She was a surprise; running into someone who looks like Travis Huber or Phillip Schmidt or any of the Werners or my own godmother, Melania, is always less of a surprise. I guess it's to be expected, having grown up in the German part of town, that the people would feel familiar in Germany.

Typical German responses to:
     Eating outside: no issue.
     Walking outside: ignore.
     Eating while walking outside: Holy crap what the hell are you doing?!?

Got chastised by my server for reading while I ate lunch today. When the language barrier was too large he simply picked up a coaster and stuck it in the pages of my novel, then pointed at my food. The restaurant was practically empty, so it wasn't about clearing my table. I got the idea that I was supposed to be enjoying my meal. Before coming here I wouldn't have known just how close Germans are to the romantic cultures.

Utensils and napkins are given out separately here, before appetizers but after drinks. I like it, actually. The utensils they bring out match what you're eating, so there's never anything washed unnecessarily.

For all their insistence on recycling and reducing waste, I'm surprised that nobody uses boxes here when they can't finish their food. What do the restaurants do with all of the leftovers?

I find myself drawn to this little Italian place on Gartenstrasse called Spaghetti Western, not because their huge portion of lunch spaghetti with drink costs an even 6,90, but because they struggle with German almost as much as I do. The Italian they switch to when talking among themselves is quite understandable to me, however, so even though I can't speak back well enough for them to understand I can finally listen in to all of the soothing little snippets of conversation that you take for granted when you are home, like one waiter asking another to help move tables together for a party.

I think one of the reasons why I like public transport so much is because I don't speak the language. Not being able to understand what other people are saying helps to maintain that sense of separation that you really need in such situations, especially when everyone is crammed together like sardines.

My classmates will occasionally break into German, even for just a few words, when speaking to me. I seem to be the only one in the group who doesn't speak it, so I don't feel offended, but at the same time I do feel left out. I've begun to counter this by asking for a translation and then repeating what they say in Spanish. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, except that it makes me feel a little bit better.

There are so many small children here. If I took every child that I've seen everywhere else in Europe and put them together they wouldn't equal a quarter of the number I've seen in a few days here.

There are so many dogs here, and they're so well behaved. It's like the first thing they're taught is how to heel, because I haven't seen a single adult dog on a leash. I've only seen one bark or freak out, and that was a young dog passing another young dog who had food. Also: so many look like German Shepherd mixes, but not a single purebred yet.

Weird development today. We're debating Locke vs. Rousseau in my online polysci class. I did what I usually do, writing down the main areas of interest in each person's theory and then stating what I like and dislike about each. Apparently this was worthy of an email from the professor stating that I had posted one of the best defenses of Rousseau that he had ever seen. I have to wonder: 1. what does it say about the other students' positions that my neutral pluses and minuses were seen as positive and 2. to what extent was my view of Rousseau influenced by the fact that I posted from East Germany?

What is it about this city that makes me want to fall on my face in public... repeatedly?

The liquor store on the next block is apparently closed on Sundays. Tomorrow is a public religious holiday. For an incredibly secular country (compared to the one I left behind) they can be very religious here.

I heard a helicopter go almost directly overhead today and got a sense for what it would be like hearing the planes come overhead during a raid. The sound of the blades chopping the air echoed down through the courtyard, becoming deafening, and by its power I was sure the vehicle would fall directly on top of us. Every other sound was drowned out so that it seemed almost as if the courtyard was holding its breath with me, tensely waiting for what I could only imagine; what it had surely seen before.

Somebody is really good with female anatomy. Yet another way that having a central courtyard that echoes sounds back and forth can make you intimately familiar with your neighbors.

A vacuum cleaner turning on on the other side of the building paralyzed me for a moment this morning. That first rising sound was the exact replica of an air raid siren, so common back home but seemingly absent here. I have to wonder whether the surviving units weren't all ripped out after the war. You certainly couldn't have used them for severe weather as we do; too many survivors would be driven mad by the sound.

I got a terrible sunburn yesterday and decided to use my hiding of it to perform a social experiment (a regular headscarf wasn't enough so I twisted it into what might be loosely thought of as a hijab). Of course, I didn't have any pins with me, so I had to keep everything in place with twists (ties were far too bulky looking) which started to loosen in the rain, but when it dried up outside the twists actually worked quite well, even if they didn't look quite right. This would be the day that I would run into a group of about 80 Arab students on the platform at Nordbanhof station. About a dozen of the young women (all younger than me) in the group wore their hair covered in a similar but much less clumsy fashion. They seemed content to ignore me, despite the fact that my covering was clearly climate and age inappropriate. Once they left (they were taking a different train) I was the only one on the platform so dressed, and I can say that the new passengers who wandered in over the next few minutes thought me quite the spectacle (not that they wished me to know this - wearing the hijab, I suspect, is much like being in a wheelchair: everyone stares when you aren't looking, but realizing that what they are doing is rude, they quickly look away when you turn your own gaze towards them). I also found that, with my hair covered, people wanted to give me less personal space. As I stood on the platform, my back to a pillar so as to stay out of the way, several people walking by actually swerved so as to walk closer to me than they otherwise would have. I find this completely bizarre. One woman trailing a suitcase had been following the white line of the subway tile demarcating a "stand behind" line on the floor, but upon seeing me swerved three feet out of her way in order to walk past only a foot in front of me. After the initial moment of eye contact when she began to swerve while still several yards away she did not in any way acknowledge my presence. Generally when people are attempting to be rude there is some sign: a flick of the eyes to check if you noticed, a scrunch of the brow as they tell themselves why you deserve it, a clench of the jaw as they imagine doing much worse. None of these things were present. I can honestly say that I do not believe that this woman or any of the others realized what they were doing. And as she walked away, she and her suitcase went right back to the line she had originally been walking.
For my relations with men, especially, dressing this way seemed to have odd consequences. While I don't ever really garner much attention (especially less so with so many other young women around) there is usually at least some acknowledgement of my presence; they will make eye contact if only to assure themselves that I am there. With my hair covered, however, their eyes slide right over me, refusing to settle anywhere on or about my person. I feel like a ghost while simply walking down the street.The police stationed in front of each of the five Jewish sites that we passed on the way back from dinner tonight did not fit this description. I don't think I've ever been more thoroughly scanned, at least until I smiled at them. And Turkish men, as well. While before I wasn't an object of interest, it almost seems that by excluding myself from the rest of the community I somehow made myself more available, less off-limits. They were suddenly much more familiar, if only with their eyes.
There's certainly a distinct feeling of being 'other' here, especially when you don't look like everyone else. Being obviously, visually different in Berlin is much more complicated than I thought it would be, especially for a major metropolitan area. You'd think that after accumulating such an infamous history of discrimination it wouldn't be a problem here. I've never had anything like this happen in the States. Then again, I don't think I've ever observed such an acceptance of the casual racism that I seem to see and hear everywhere here, too.
Maybe at home I just don't want to see it.

We visited a lot of holocaust-related sights in the past week. Sachsenhausen, in particular, seemed to be a big emotional hit for the other students. Despite what I was expecting, the place seemed peaceful, almost park-like. And why shouldn't it? After everything that's happened here I think that the place deserves a little peace.

Maybe it's just because I've been inside a concentration camp before, but I didn't find it very disturbing. The things which happened there were terrible, surely beyond any attempt at comprehension, and yet the place didn't feel... grim to me. The artifacts were grim, the other people were grim, but the place itself seemed at peace. I'm not a superstitious person, but if I did believe in souls being trapped on earth I don't think many were lingering here. There wasn't that eerie feeling that I get sometimes in similarly grim locations; I didn't feel any animosity or fear leaking out of the stones, leaching into me. This was a place of death and terror. If trapped here in life I wouldn't bother to stay long after.

The monument to the murdered Jews of Europe didn't really move me, either. Part of it was the strange architecture. Part of it was that I just didn't feel that the people were really being represented. The whole reason that death is important, is meaningful to us is because it is the end of a life. The reason that we care that these people (or any people, for that matter) were murdered is because they should not have died in that way. Aside from all thought of good and evil, what we are really upset about is the absence of a person. One giant memorial, even a large, centrally located one, does not and can not represent millions of individuals in all of their squandered potential and variety. And even centrally located, it's easy enough to walk right past the memorial on another street or even to fail to understand what the place is meant to be. A memorial which is shoved into one place with the possibility of being avoided or gravely misunderstood is no real memorial. 

For myself, of course, I prefer the stumbling blocks. Just today on the way to dinner we came upon a house with seven of them planted just outside the door. It's like meeting the people themselves out on the street. Nothing can replace their lives, of course, but because these small memorials are not easily avoided, not forced together into one faceless mass, it's almost like the people are given a chance, however small, to affect the world as individuals again. 

Standing Where They Stood

This week was lot to take in, it's overwhelming for me to put it all into perspective. I've been taught plenty about the Holocaust before, but physically going to these memorials made me feel entirely stronger emotions.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Visiting this memorial was a visually appealing experience. The architecture is unlike anything I've ever seen. From an artists perspective I appreciate how Peter Eisenman designed this memorial. Something I usually like my photos to do is make the viewer ask questions and have the opportunity to make their own interpretations. You as the viewer are not being told what to see, you have to imagine it on your own and make sense of it. I find this to be a very beautiful concept. Looking out into a sea of grey blocks, I began to wonder how can something so dull be so interesting. All the different sizes create harsh shadows in the day light that give it an abstract texture. 

Observing the grid pattern of concrete slabs on a field of slops, I felt uneasy and confused. This being such an ordered grid with clear paths still gives the viewer a lost touch of human reason. Like the architecture, the event it represents was uneasy, confusing, and lacked human reason. Walking through the memorial you start to feel disoriented and a little claustrophobic from the slabs that become much taller than you. It forces you to feel an emotion somewhat specific, which is most likely what Eisenman hoped to achieve.  

Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp

Unlike the memorial above, this memorials location is very relevant. Standing where these people stood alone is overwhelming. Knowing the amount of terrible things that happened right where I stood gave me a sad overbearing feeling. Standing by the Neutral Zone where prisoners entered just to end their own suffering sent chills down my spine. When walking into the kitchen building there were large photos of the prisoners in the camp on the walls with descriptions. I am a very visual person so actually seeing the people in a area that I had recently walked through is when it all really hit me. It made the past seem present. 

The extermination building remains made me experience disgust. Seeing the outline of the rooms in the building and hearing what happened in each room made it a very visual and overwhelming experience. The huge ovens that burned over 600 people a day was hard to even look at. These innocent people had no idea what was coming for them, while the guards made jokes. It hurts my heart to know such cruelty could exist. 

Explicit drawings of treatment.

Where prisoners were hung to get beaten for hours at a time.

Scattered Thoughts and Haunted Memories of a Place I Barely Know

       Today is a difficult day for me. I awoke this morning to a triple shot espresso in order to get myself through the day. Why am I so tired? Oh, yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night. I found myself contacting my friends and family at two in the morning, not to talk about anything -- I just didn't want to feel so alone as Caroline (my roommate) slept. I walked through our decently sized hotel room, and I felt as if someone where with me. I felt haunted from the long day.

       Yesterday we visited Sachsenhausen. We were there around 3 hours... not nearly enough time to explore the entire camp. However, it was just enough time for me to think about it all day to the point where I was almost afraid to sleep. I took some remedy in posting pictures on social media, in hopes to release my thoughts and clear my mind.

The picture above is of the broom closet in Barrack 38.

It only made things worse. Music couldn't muffle my thoughts, and reading our assigned book made it worse. I absolutely could not stop thinking about the day, or the people who were once imprisoned there.

The picture above is of the crematorium.

The camp has been empty of prisoners for over 60 years.

Yet the despair echoes off the walls enclosing the camp.Walking into Sachsenhausen was astonishing. You can feel the energy of these people... so many people... so many horrifying things happening to these people.

       I was only there for 3 hours. I only saw what remains of this camp. What astonishes me is how so many people, all different types of people, people who didn't deserve to be there, were dehumanized and killed relentlessly for so long. There were so many camps. There were so many Nazis. So many people killing other people, in an effort of unification in the fatherland, as Hitler so quaintly encourages. What?! These camps were in the back yards of people just as susceptible to Hitler's wrath as the prisoners themselves! I feel the urge to pray for these prisoners... and they're already gone.

       It astonishes and disgusts me how this began -- and how long it went on. It baffles me that it was accomplished. That so many people thought that this was "for the best of the fatherland". How so many people could have this going on in their backyards. I guess when you're as helpless and as threatened as the Germans were at this point, there's not much you can do but endure the hell. 

       It's so ironic that those people who were trying to dehumanize and treat the prisoners as animals or inhuman, ended up dehumanizing themselves. They created themselves into madmen -- killing machines.

       It's in the past, yes, but history repeats itself... that's why we educate ourselves so thoroughly on this matter. Moreover, I think there is an obligation that we as humans with hearts have to memorialize these people who were killed so awfully.

       That being said, at what point does the memory of these people become a bad memory and a life event? Would those who suffered want us to truly understand what they went through to the extent that which some of us have? Or would it be enough to tell and retell their stories?

       Although I'm left with a haunted part of me, I'm happy I went. I'm happy to be haunted by their memory and suffering. It's the least I can do for those who were so easily forgotten in the past. It is not an obligation, but a privilege to understand what they endured.

Good quotes of the week:

"It happened once, it can happen again. This is what we must keep telling ourselves."

"The only thing worse than Auschwitz itself is to forget that a place like Auschwitz existed."

"You didn't have to be a revolutionary to put yourself in deadly peril. It was enough simply to be oneself. It was sufficient to take one single step and one ran into the traps maliciously set for Jews."

More pictures and thoughts on Instagram: @SunshineMaia