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.