Travels: Berlin, Germany

Hello again. I apologize I've been so negligent with the blog, but I have just recently returned from an extended travel to a few capitals across mainland Europe. I want to start this off with a thank you to my parents for giving me this incredible opportunity. I would not be able to write this had it not been for their continued support.

I have decided to break up this post by city, since the post about all of my travels would be ridiculously long and take forever to write.  Without further ado, let me try to capture a little bit of Berlin for you all.  

Here I was, thinking I knew a thing or two about travelling in foreign countries when, lo and behold, I actually had a proper challenge rather than in Scotland.  You see, in Scotland, they speak English.  Now, for those of you keeping score back home, I have mentioned how almost impossible it is to talk to a Scottish-Person because of their accents, but after a week or two, I figured out enough.  The big advantage for me, though, was road signs and maps - they were all in English.  This was not the case when I stepped off my flight to Berlin.

I don't know exactly what I was expecting, Germans should not and are not expected to speak English, and quite frankly it's an oversight on my part not to think of this . . . but I honestly have no idea how I got to my hostel.  I bought a ticket, and hopped onto the next train and, with a lot of luck and Google Maps, got off on the right stop.  Had I any time to stop and think, I probably would have been terrified, as is I basically just whirlwind-ed into Berlin but here I am.

And what a city it is.

Berlin, unlike Glasgow, is incredibly modern - most of it having been destroyed in the bombings during World War II.  The unfortunate loss of life and history paved way to a city that's open, clean, and new.  Out of the three full days I spent in Berlin, these are my two favorite memories that I would like to share with you all.

The Berlin Wall:

The second day in Berlin, I had the opportunity to see the Berlin Wall. After the fall of the Nazi army, the superpowers met together and made the executive decision that Germany, after being blamed for World War I and being responsible for World War II, could not be left to govern themselves. Germany itself was divided into two parts, East and West Germany. East Germany was to become part of Russia's sphere of influence and became communist. West Germany was given to the Western powers of France, Britain, and the United States to set about reconstructing the bombed out country. Berlin, located deep in East Germany, was split as well as it is the capital of Germany. As communism and capitalism clashed, the Iron Curtain went up almost overnight, creating the physical representation of the political ideological divide that existed between capitalist and communist countries. The Berlin Wall itself, became the symbol of the Iron Curtain – the cold barrier in which families were split, and the world divided itself into what seemed like the sides for a third world war. In practice, however, the wall was put up merely by communist forces to prevent the mass emigration to the West German portion of the city.

The wall didn't stand forever, though. Due to political unrest within the USSR, tensions within the divided Berlin, and the economic strain of the arms race – the Soviet Union fell and with it the Berlin wall (1989). What I saw was merely a small section monumentalized in a small park to remind passerby's and tourist of the scars that divisions cause.

The small section of the wall that still stood was covered in graffiti, some old some by inspired visitors. There was one section that mentioned a visit by a Jen and Sam in 2017. I walked around for some time, the park occupying the place that the militarized dividing zone, the “death zone,” stood. There were a number of informative plaques around that outlined the history of the wall, the Western Air Force missions that dropped food and supplies into the portion of the city that was an island of capitalist ideology in the communist controlled East Germany. There were a few other tourists milling about, mostly just staring in awe at the remnants of the once imposing Iron Curtain.

At one point, I walked up to the wall, and saw it tower above me. It seems hard to imagine feeling fear at the sight of it, now that the majority of the wall had been dismantled, and the sounds of a quiet city hum surrounded me. There was no gunfire, no shouting, no tension. Rather than seeing the whole beast, I was left with just a part of its skeleton, though it's spirit had undoubtedly moved to other parts of the world. Walls are put up in fear, and there is plenty of fear and uncertainty to go around today. As I left the small slice of the once imposing wall, I couldn't help but think that no matter how tall, how impenetrable, the walls never seem to stand forever. Eventually, we see the division as falsely imposed, a farce, and the walls we build come crashing down with sledgehammers and a spirit of unity. Berlin, today, is of course a unified city. The country, as well, has been unified (1990) and given autonomy (1990) and is again a unified world power. The only visible reminders of the division is the small sections of gray wall that scar the city.

Falkensee Concentration Camp:

My last full day in Berlin concluded with an 8am wake up to go see the concentration camp located a little ways outside the city proper in the suburb of Falkensee. Falkensee Concentration Camp was a subcamp of the Sachenhausen Concentration Camp and, at its height, imprisoned roughly 2,500 people. The people imprisoned were mostly political prisoners from the Soviet Union. Falkensee was meant as overflow from the Sachenhausen Camp, though neither camp were intended to be an extermination camp, but rather slave labor camps.

That being said, Sachenhausen was still outfitted with a gas chamber that got plenty of use, the death toll ranged to around 30,000 due to malnutrition, abuse, exhaustion, dehydration, horrific medical experiments, and chemical extermination. 30,000, murdered directly and indirectly – yet a small drop in the sea of victims the holocaust and WWII claimed. A decidedly dark chapter in human history. Of course, this chapter was followed by other dark chapters, some arguably darker. And, of course, with the Syrian refugee crisis today and the environmental degradation of this day and age I feel it's hardly appropriate to point the finger at past generations for being “evil.” All of us cast a shadow on the ground when we walk, and each generation has it's own unique shadow to contend with: poorly, always too late, and one that spans generations.

With all of this in mind, I was chipper, thrilled to go see the remnants of one of the most evil mechanisms humanity has ever devised. I hopped off the train at my stop, and started my brisk walk to the camp. The sky was clear and it was a beautiful spring day, which seemed odd to me given my destination. My path took me through the middle of a relatively well-to-do suburban neighborhood, complete with a few joggers in dog-walkers. Me, in my khaki pants, flannel shirt, and boots immediately made me jut out compared to the Germans all in dark colors and leather jackets. That, and everyone spoke German – I could manage a danke (thank you), but nothing more. I kept to myself, aware of the eyes of those who actually belonged following me until I moved away from the houses and into a dirt path that was overshadowed by young trees and birdsong greeted me for the first time since I began traveling. I know nothing of German songbirds, but they were quite pleasant to listen to.

I walked through the park lost in the sights and sounds and fresh air that I hadn't realized I missed as much as I did. I was so lost in making a spectacle of the small park that I barely recognized when I came to the edge and was greeted by a busy main street. There was an artificial looking lake to my right, and a few coffee shops and grocery stores to my left. I don't quite know what I was expecting, but I had assumed the entrance to the camp would have something large and imposing like black spires that reached to the sky with a banner connecting them saying, “Beware, You Walk Where Evil Stood.”

There was no such thing. Rather, there was just a simple earthen path, about three people wide, that led to a small monument to the victims of the camp, and the holocaust in general. I stop and took a few pictures at the triangular, modernist monument. It was tiny, a small fist raised in defiance.

I began walking around the ruins of the camp. On the ground, there were about fourteen gray rectangles that I figured out, after a little walking around, were the foundations of the prisoner barracks. One barrack was left standing, monumentalizing the victims complete with white-plaster “ghosts” of the prisoners stuck forever in horrific poses. The barracks were fenced off, and graffiti was everywhere.

I walked around the camp, it couldn't have been more than an acre, and it was mostly flat. The trees that did grow in the camp-turned-park were young, and they probably started to grow right after the holocaust ended. Throughout the entire camp, there must have been around twenty people going for their mid-morning jogs, walking their dogs, or simply strolling through the beautiful day. It seemed wrong. I suppose if we made sacred every piece of land that blood was spilled on, there would be no ground left for us to walk, but still – to see a concentration camp being used so. . . I couldn't figure. It seemed wrong, like a cover up. Buried evil is still evil. Yet, what else could they do?

It was about this time too I realized a morbid truth. I hadn't come to pay my respects to the victims of the Holocaust. I came because of the Nazis. Not, of course, to pay respects to them, but when I think of WWII, I don't think of death tolls, but Hitler, I don't think of the fact that I live in the United States because of Hitler's invasion of Poland, but I think of Nazis and the darkest part of human nature. I think of black mirrors and monsters.

I had come to Falkensee not as an honorable pilgrim, but to look at evil. It was the Nazis that drew me, not the victims. And was I disappointed? What had I expected? Black spires, sulfur, demons walking freely, and ghosts floating around yelling “boo!” at every corner? Like all evil, it will be in a pretty package, a sunny day, and come from people just like you and me.

--Stephen Pendergast