Sweet Caroline (Berlin, Germany, part 4)

Today is our last full day in Berlin, dear reader. An early start was required to beat the crowds to Checkpoint Charlie and mop up the bits we started but didn't finish. I'm not talking early like at 5:00am bike ride, but early for Berlin. And Jayne. We closed the apartment door at 8:15am.

It was Sunday morning so it was quiet anyway and we'd attended the usual tourist stops so we walked straight to the Checkpoint. Curiously there were road closures so Berlin's streets were even more deserted than usual.

Intimidating? Wonder how old he is now.

Every path we turned onto seemed to be populated by groups of people in running gear. Many were sporting clear plastic bags containing bananas and running shoes. A curious combination. Do you keep your bananas with your shoes? Ok. Admittedly I'm not allowed to keep to bananas at all, but it's still weird.

In Australian please. Oh. The top. Not used to that.

After the 9,021st person in running strip with a number pinned to their chest walked past, it dawned on us. The Half Marathon is on TODAY. FML. It was crowded enough yesterday. That explains why the barricades we saw yesterday were still in place.

American imperialism or capitalism? Is there a difference?

We arrived at Checkpoint Charlie and the police had closed the road for us to ensure we got the best pictures. Nice. Photos were taken from all relevant angles. No traffic. No crowd. My favourite is the shot of the checkpoint with the McDonalds store in the background. That, if nothing else, explains American foreign policy. A major win for JFK. Or is that KFC? Who can be certain?

The Topography of Terror was not that far away and we arrived before opening time. We thought we might be able to access the outdoor section. Ah, no. Closed is closed. The only response was to go in search of coffee. And maybe a pastry.

The 'preferred' car of the East Germans.

In a scene from the Man from Ironbark, (oh, really? Google it. You'll love it. Oh, alright, here it is). We wandered here, we wandered there, but in search of coffee. And then, there it was, lights shining in the distance. Yeah, OK, it was a café, on a Sunday and it was open. Now that's a Venn diagram. The tablecloth still bore the crumbs from yesterday, the coffee was average, the pastries were good and the people were lovely. Trade was hot. Well, it was Sunday morning and nothing else was open.

It was quiet on the streets.

We calculated the distance back to the Topography of Terror, how long it would take to walk it and then left the café at the appropriate time. Jayne determined a shortcut and we arrived a few minutes early to witness the ceremonial opening of the gates. Nah, just some security guy opened the gate to let us in.

The remaining wall outside the Topography of Terror.

We elected to go through the outdoor part of the exhibit before it became too hot. I know, we're still not used to the sunshine. The indoor section we needed to complete with the audio guide was the final section of the exhibition. Still, it had to be done. Once completed, we repaired to the café for a coffee and water. It was Sunday. There was nothing happening and we could take our time. I was particularly keen to get to the Brandenburg Gate without the crowds and the Reichstag had only been seen from the hop on/off bus. Let's go. 

The wall hasn't completely gone.

We were making good progress until we hit Potsdamer Platz - quick assessment and then a stroke of genius - we could go under the marathon route via the metro underground station - happy days: we had outsmarted the road closures and could continue on our touristy way to the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag beyond it.

But, no. An easy path to the Gate was not possible. We were surrounded by crowds and barricaded roads. I searched for a map of the run and steered us around the course to the Brandenburg, where sadly, in the parklands opposite the gates, the half-marathon was finishing. Crowds were to be expected. So, I dismissed the idea of obtaining a less touristy photo of the gates than those I took yesterday.

Joggers. Whatever.

The Reichstag was still on my list. We followed the map to the gates. No issue. The crowd grew larger as the noise level increased. Again, all English lyrics, not original artists. Most disturbingly, we were constantly assailed by the finish line PA pumping out Sweet Caroline, punctuated by all the half dead runners (and their supporters) wheezing "Oh, oh oh," at every chorus. We had to get away so we crossed the road and crossed back again, following the 'official' map so we did not impede the runners but could still get to the Reichstag.

And yes, reader, that is the reference to today's title. If you really feel the need to hear THAT song the link is above. Shudder.

Somewhere we chose the incorrect path. The map was not to scale and the diagram that had us walk down through the park along the side of the finishing line was, well, deceptive. As morning wasted into afternoon, Jayne suggested that we might not ever get the the crossover point behind the half-marathon. The Reichstag, like the Russian front, was a bridge too far. We turned optimistically for home.

The view waiting for the joggers to pass.

The streets were deftly navigated to avoid the joggers. Apparently there were almost 24,000 feeble minded people who thought running 21km on a beautiful Sunday morning was a good thing thing to do last year. We looked to the sky and the TV tower and made for our area of Berlin, away from the Gate, the crowds, the joggers, the sweat and "Oh, oh oh".

Following the course map, we avoided awkward collisions with those involved in other pursuits. Until the inevitable. We had to cross the path of the half-marathon. Beam me up Mr Scott. 

The Dome.

Sadly, curiously, interestingly, pathetically, (choose the appropriate adverb for you) we had arrived at a crossover point. We could not get home without threading through the runners. This was, dear reader, several hours since the run had commenced and we were a long, long way from both the starting and finishing line. Yet, the stream of humanity on the course proper continued as if the starting line was around the corner. Except for the reddened faces. The puffing and panting. The less than fluid running styles. And the number of bodies being tended to by paramedics on the road side. Fun times. Happy days. It was obviously a great way to spend a Sunday in Berlin.

The road crossing proved too daunting and we had already chalked up 12 km on foot, albeit not at pace. Fortunately, there was a pub at the corner with outside tables. Beer time. We sat, enjoyed our beer, despite the numbers of smokers around us, and watched many, many people torture their bodies and minds. Pretty sure they wished they were where we were. There was no interest on our part to change places.

The pulpit.

As the end of our beer loomed, so did the necessity to cross the road and brave the half-marathon participants. We had witnessed a number of people broach the rubicon, including food delivery drivers (btw they have the same disrespect for road rules and pedestrians as they do in Australia), cyclists and people with prams. Fortified by Berlin's finest, we strode toward the crossing. We stood there, hand in hand waiting for the right moment to make our escape. This was everything I'd read about as a kid. It was the escape from Colditz Castle. Stalag Luft 17. Steve McQueen. It's on.

The view to the Lustgarten.

Seriously? I just walked when I saw a break in the slowing, staggering mob and assumed Jayne was behind me. It was akin to walking across a school playground. Be mindful. Be alert, as John Howard used to say, but not alarmed.

Free of the red-faced, (Barnaby would have been at home) panting mob we made our way back to our area and the Dom. It was time to look inside the cathedral. After parting with €20, we went inside. It was the usual awe inspiring space. A cavity that soared forever into the dome and the expected opulence and extravagance of the other areas. I try to inoculate myself against the excess but I am captivated every time.

The view across to the Rathaus.

After dodging the usual morons who want to stand in the middle of 'the shot' while they check their video of an inanimate object, I bid Jayne a fond farewell and walked resolutely to the 267 stairs that climbed to the Dome viewing platform.

Photos were taken from all points. It wasn't particularly crowded, but it wasn't a particularly brilliant day to be viewing Berlin.

The bear outside our hotel.

The exit was at a different point. I was behind a mother and child who were not, at any stage permitting anyone to pass them. They knew I was there. They probably knew there were people behind me, but even when there were landings they hurried on to occupy the entire stairwell. Amusingly the boy (ok, he was in his 20s) behind me hustled past to be blocked by what had stymied my progress from the top. He went nowhere.

Back in the main part of the church, we did one last circuit to admire the opulence and extravagance and then walked home. Perhaps we stopped to pick up a few necessities for the night and for tomorrow's trip. 

Next stop Prague.

Yes another transit day. I'm trying to stay calm.

Until next time. Should I survive.

Wind of Change (Berlin, Germany, part 2)

We breakfasted at home again.  The domestic bliss of an apartment hotel. It's not quite a hotel, nor is it AirBnB, it is somewhere in between. Our studio apartment gets cleaned every third day. On other days there is no need to be concerned by an untimely knock at the door.

The Old Museum from the bus.

After yesterday's rain and the overnight storm, we ventured out into sunshine. Exciting. A short walk to the Hop-on Hop-off bus stop, number 17. It is actually the end of the route but the sales dude said we could get on there. So, we did. And there we sat. We could have walked to stop 1 and commenced with the first bus of the day.

A statue on museum island bridge.

As the first bus departed from stop 1, we left our resting place and drove to the starting position and there we sat for another 15 minutes. Insider knowledge or more astute questioning would have resolved this issue. Regardless, we were seated and comfortable on the top deck of the bus. We could open the windows but the top remained closed for the duration.

Brandenburg Gate like we'll never see it again.

This journey, the Red Route, occupies around 2 and a half hours. There are a couple of 15 minutes respites so if you are quick enough you can get the perfect photo and resume the tour on the same bus. It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be snapping photos from onboard, so there are fewer photos than expected. However, it was meant to be a sightseeing expedition so we could determine what to visit (and hop off at) again tomorrow.

The Reichstag.

We passed many major sights including: Alexanderplatz, Berliner Dom, Humboldt University, Brandenburg Gate, Reichstag, Central Station, Schloss Bellevue Palace, the Victory Column, Potsdamer Platz, Berliner Mauer, Checkpoint Charlie, and back to the Rathaus. There were obviously other things in between, shopping centres, churches, you get the drift, my dear reader.

Gendarmenmarkt I think. Be fair, I was on a bus.

Happily, this time the bus continued straight back to stop 1 where we would pick up the Blue Route bus that ventured into what was East Berlin and the sections of the wall we wanted to see. In a stroke of timing genius, our next bus was waiting for us. Ok, maybe they match schedules.

That is a real sized replica Sputnik.

There wasn't a lot to see on the second route, at least not from the bus window. We were taken down the grand boulevarde that was initially built so the GDR could hold the obligatory marching displays. It is now called Karl-Marx-Allee.  After sailing through the area renown for the most exclusive nightclubs in Germany, we alighted at stop 3, the East Side Gallery. After a detour to photograph the "most beautiful bridge in Berlin", we returned to the wall. It is a 1.3 km preserved stretch of the wall that has murals almost the entire length. Some are more estoric than others and it probably warrants some enterprising millenial to create a startup that hires out audio guides explaining each mural.

Can't see the fuss really.

There were, of course, the usual vacuous, look-at-me, selfie takers. Or in one instance, a boyfriend who must have been at photo 6 of his girlfriend behind the gate in the wall. I don't know how high the number of aborted photos went because I walked away, tired of waiting to take a photo of the gate without her self-absorbed personage obscuring the real shot. I hope the sex was worth it. She was hard work.

Only here to match the text above.

We continued down the street side of the wall until the end and then went toward the river to stroll down the inside. The side of the wall that was facing West Berlin is covered in graffiti, as opposed to art. There is a pleasant grassed area, a walkway covered by flowering (at the moment) crab apple trees, bordered by the river. As the sun was shining, the area, originally known as the 'Death Strip', was being enjoyed by locals and tourists.

The beginning.

Back at the commencement of this section of the wall, I checked the Big Bus app to for the whereabouts of our transport back to Alexanderplatz. We watched as the bus left the stop while we were stranded on the opposite side of the road. There was only thing left to do. Beer. We sat in the sun near the stadium that will shortly host the Laver Cup (Europe against the world). Almost like being back home seeing Rod's name up in lights.

The famous mural. Who is tonguing whom?

Tracking a bus via an app in real time means no stressing about when to finish a beer. Nice. Beer enjoyed, ok maybe I had two, we strolled back to the bus stop and returned to Alexanderplatz. The clouds were beginning to look threatening but we were safely home before the obligatory storm arrived.

The French have such a way with words.

Over a glass of wine, we planned the next day's outing. A reasonably early start to get back on the bus and again travel the red route to actually hop off and hop back on after we have had time to explore and take photos.

I like the sentiment of this one.

That bridge again.

The title song, Wind of Change was really a no brainer for this post, although Jayne wanted some song by David Hasselhoff, whoever he is. Back to reality. The Scorpions, a long lived German band had their biggest hit in their twilight. Rather fitting, it was also the twilight of the division in Berlin. Physical at least.

A lovely spring day.

Until next time.

Heroes (Berlin, Germany, part 1)

 Hello, dear reader. In one of those warps in time and space, we have left Berlin and are on a train heading for Prague. Thankfully that four and half hours will allow me to catch up on the blog. In a pre-emptive visiting the wall, the title is David Bowie's Heroes from 1977. He wrote it while recording the album of the same name in Berlin. It was about a couple he saw every day on the way to the studio, 'snogging' in the shadow of the wall.

As has become our practice, we decided our first full day in Berlin would be a day to explore the local area. Our shopping expedition last evening yielded all we required for breakfast so we didn’t need to search for a café. We researched the Hop-on Hop-off bus yesterday and decided that would probably be a productive way to see Berlin. The city is large and there is so much to see. Fortunately, where we are at Hackescher Markt, there is a lot very close to us, well within walking distance.

Almost made the frame. Nice scaffolding.

First stop for the day was the Berlin Cathedral or Berliner Dom. As you know, dear reader, we have seen many cathedrals on our travels. I think it fair to say that no-one does a cathedral quite like Europe. Every time I think I’ve seen everything there is to see in a church, something comes along to astound me. And here we are awestruck once again. It’s not the lavish altar, as impressive as it is. Or the magnificent mural on the ceiling, as beautiful as that is. Or the ornate pulpit, as over the top as that is (more on these in the next blog). It is the sheer size of the dome. It is massive. The whole structure is so large that to photograph it in one frame I needed to cross the road and walk half way through the Lustgarten.

The Old Museum in the Lustgarten.

It was €10 per person to go inside and climb the 267 stairs to the dome. While that is on the agenda, it is not for now. We went back out to the Lustgarten to photograph the fountain and the Altes (old) Museum. The latter is not on our list to visit. Its focus is largely the Greco-Roman period of history and we believe we have this covered with previous museum visits in numerous countries.

The fountain.

The Lustgarten was crowded with, what appeared to be, school groups on tour. They were everywhere we looked. The sun was shining and it was quite exciting, not just to see the sun, but to feel its warmth. The more I travel the more convinced I am that I could not live in a country without regular sunshine for extended periods.

Next we went across the main road to the Humboldt Forum. Here was another massive dome peeping up from surrounding walls. Today it is a gallery, in a previous life it was the Berlin Palace. Our mission was to locate the tourist information centre that lay within its walls. Allegedly. Like Platform 9 at Stockholm Central Station, it remains undiscovered.

The interior courtyard of Humboldt Forum.

From the Forum, we walked towards the Marx-Engels Forum. In essence, this is a park that housed a statue of the two best friends. Or should that be economists? Or philosophers? Or fathers of communism; in its purist form of course? 

A pair of communists juxtaposed with a church.

There were other sculptures in the park that focused on humanity’s struggle, the worker against oppression. It took a while to secure the desired shot of their statue because the vapid and vacuous insisted on selfies with the great men. Given the posers were sporting designer gear while holidaying in Berlin, I’d say the capitalist system worked well for them. I’m not sure the dynamic duo would approve. I would be unsurprised if they did not know the identity of the two stately gentlemen.

The worker. Not actually working.

Across another major road and we were at the Rathaus. Constructed in the 1860s and built of red brick, it is the more modest of the buildings in the area. No huge dome, no soaring spire. It is still large, but is more functional.

The Rathaus.

At this point, dear reader, I am questioning my selection of camera lens. I’m using my usual 18-135mm which is a good general-purpose lens. At 18mm I can usually capture the larger objects and the 135mm allows me to take close ups as required. None of the buildings today are able to be shot at 18mm. I will need to return with my 10mm lens and earlier in the morning when the crowds are not as invasive.

As we moved from the Rathaus toward Marienkirche, St Mary’s Church, we were intercepted by a Hop-on Hop-off bus salesperson. We had already decided to purchase tickets for 48 hours access. What I had failed to realise in last night’s Google search was that there is more than one company. In fact, there were four, at least. An easy decision was now a little more complicated because they appeared to travel the same route.

We encouraged Juan to recite his spin and tell us why we should travel with the Big Bus company as opposed to the others. Part way through his spiel we were approached by some tourists who wanted to know what the building behind us was. “Rathaus, town hall,” we replied. “Can you go inside?” was the next question. We looked Juan, he looked us, we all shrugged, “Don’t know.” was the simultaneous reply.

The deal breaker with Juan’s offer came in two parts, an App where you could track the buses and you get a free currywurst. Nah, joking about the currywurst, that voucher went into the bin. There was also an associated walking tour from the Brandenburg Gate to Checkpoint Charlie. Sold. We purchased our 48 hour tickets to commence tomorrow.

A fish out of water.

Onward toward the church with a brief stop at Neptune’s Fountain. It, like many fountains in Hamburg was not functioning. Despite this, it was still a draw card for tourists, including us. We sat for a while watching the passing parade until a family group arrived and started getting up close and personal with one of the statues on the edge of the fountain. They spent some time peering into the nooks and crannies, photographing up under the lip of the fountain and examining the result and then sticking their hand up into the darkness. I was hoping for a random spider bite to make the viewing more interesting. Sadly, this did not occur - they left empty handed and unbitten and we are none the wiser as to what they were looking for.

Progress. According to the East German rulers in the '60s.

The TV tower that was erected as a sign of East German supremacy in the 1960s, stands as a silent sentinel in Alexanderplatz. It dominates the Berlin skyline and will be our beacon to guide us home when required. There is a restaurant or bar on the viewing platform but the queue was too long (2 hour wait time estimate) to create any genuine interest from us. Also, the day had closed in a little.

Marienkirche.

 In the shadow of the tower is Marienkirche, one of the oldest churches in Berlin. Outside, it is rather plain and unremarkable. Inside there are some paintings and fixtures of significance and as it happened, an organ recital. How lucky are we? This is our third organ recital in a church since we left home. Anyway, it is chance to rest our feet.

The organ. It goes OK.

Following the recital, we wandered around the interior which is quite dark, although the organ loft was quite ornate. The church also houses a baptismal font that is dated back to the 1400s.

The font. It's old.

Outside again, we skirted around the tower and checked out some of the food options for later. Our next target was the World Clock in Alexanderplatz. By now the rain had begun but we were undeterred. The clock, as expected, was underwhelming. It is a clock on a pole, below which is a 360° collar that lists various major cities of the world and their time zone. I was so unimpressed I didn’t even break out the camera. At least people were able to shelter from the rain beneath the structure. 

The pulpit. Imagine that as a fascinator at the races.

We turned towards Alexanderplatz and, as we continued to reconnoître the restaurant options, we spied a Decathlon Store. Still pining over the lost opportunity to buy the yellow jacket in Tromsø, we wandered into the shop. After negotiating the length and breadth of the very large retail space, and successfully dodging numerous unparented children who were testing out various pieces of sporting equipment such as scooters, skate boards and inline skates, we glimpsed a dash of yellow in the middle of the rack of discontinued jackets.

There it was, like a pearl in an oyster, one lone yellow waterproof and windproof sailing jacket amongst all the brown, blue and black. Surely it couldn’t be my size, dear reader? Miracle of miracles, it was a perfect fit! Yellow! The same style is available in Australia but not in yellow. Finally, I had my jacket, and for sure the rain would stop today. Feeling smug after saving €20, that will pay for our entry to the Dom, I donned my jacket and headed out into the rain to christen it.

Unlike Hamburg, Italian is not the preferred option of Berliners. That is not to say there are no Italian restaurants; there are, just not on every corner. Still, we decided upon a pseudo-Italian restaurant that was trying to be all things to all people – pizza, pasta, sushi, schnitzels, steaks, racks of lamb as well as traditional Berliner offerings like pork knuckle and sauerkraut. It was close to home and solved our daily dilemma of where to eat. The food and the wine were good and the walk home in the rain was short.

Until next time.