Sgt. Major (Berlin, Germany, part 3)

The overnight rain had cleared to a beautiful morning as we prepared to hit the Big Bus again for day two of our 48 hr tickets, prior to the guided walking tour from Brandenburg Gate, commencing at 2pm (English). In a counter intuitive move, we did not start at the beginning. Instead, my dear reader, we chose the third stop as the place to board the bus.

The canal behind the Dom.

The early morning walk there took us past the overly populated tourist spots that I wanted to re-photograph with the 10mm lens. Life starts late here and we were wandering before 9 am. Photographs taken, sans people, we walked down Unter den Linden to the bus stop. Aside from the joggers, who are in viral proportions, the most amusing sight was someone who had just woken from the night before.

The Dom in the early morning.

Rising from a bench or the gutter, I couldn't be sure, he appeared as if from nowhere. He staggered onto the road, annoying cyclists. Fortunately there were few cars. He had trouble walking a straight line and staying vertical so clearly he couldn't walk home. Then he spied a rideshare step-through scooter. He righted it after he fell over it, trying to straddle the seat. The next attempt was to move it into the traffic. Unsuccessfully. He managed to turn on the lights and found the horn, but sadly that was the extent of it as, keeping to our predetermined timeline, we moved out of sight.

Humboldt Forum.

Despite our dawdling pace and regular stops for photo ops, we arrived at the bus stop quite early. Coffee time. One of the best things about Europe, real Europe, not England, is that they understand coffee. They still haven't mastered the 'long black', and no, an Americano is not the same, but a double espresso is reliably the way to start the day.

Not even the 10mm lens could capture all of this museum.

Caffeine levels restored, we returned to the bus stop. We boarded and went upstairs and found the top had been rolled back to allow people to enjoy the sunshine. And, for those from the shallow end of the gene pool, to stand up while the bus was moving. Disappointingly, he didn't lose his head as we passed under a bridge.

It was quiet everywhere.

Our first hop-off destination was the Victory Column for a photo shoot, given that the day before, with the bus roof on, we had not been able to glimpse the top of the iconic landmark. The pillar stands in the centre of a roundabout. The column stands on a plinth that commemorates the 19th century German victory against Prussia and others. On top of it gleams a golden statue of Winged Victory, aka Elsa to the locals. Not the one from Frozen. There are major roads on five sides with parkland between two of the intersecting roads. I was keen to walk from here through the park to our next planned stop but time did not allow such an indulgence. Once again we were, at times, surrounded by and distracted by gung-ho joggings groups. What is wrong with these people? Do they have no respect for their knees? They'll understand when they're my age.

King Friedrich II surveying his realm.

The bus arrived. Love the app watching where they are on the route. We journeyed to the next stop which was the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. It caught my eye yesterday and didn't look much more than a remnant spire - another casualty when WWII bombers destroyed so much of the major cities of Germany. Slated for demolition, the people rallied against the government and ensured its survival as a dedicated monument to peace. They also built an alternative church on the same block. It is significant because of its construction. It is quite a remarkable space.

The Victory Column.

There was a beggar/busker sitting against the pedestrian wall outside the church, singing her heart out. She wasn't a young woman and she had quite a good voice. I had no idea what she was singing but the acoustics were excellent given it was outdoors.

The park behind the column.

This was one of the 15 minute bus stops so we scuttled back to the bus and resumed our seats, excited to think we had accomplished so much in a short space of time. Yeah, nah. We then sat on the bus for 10 minutes before it moved.

Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church

The ceiling in the church.

Next stop was number 14. The Topography of Terror. It is a museum on the site of the HQ for the Gestapo and Secret Police (SS) to remind people of what they did during the reign of Hitler. There was a QR code audio guide which we downloaded. Not long into our exploration, it became very obvious we were not going to get through it today. We had to be at the Brandenburg Gate at 2 pm for our walking tour.

Inside the new church.

There were five chapters to the audio guide that each had up to six separate commentaries. Basically it was a history of the Gestapo/SS and their involvement in German politics, the subsequent the war and the life and terrorisation of the German people. In an age of 'fake news' and politicians lying to attain power, this is quite a powerful exhibition. Complacency in Australia is the norm, but it is all too easy to see how a nation was blinded and went down the wrong path. One word, Murdoch.

Brandenburg Gate.

We left the indoor Topography of Terror without even looking at the outdoor exhibition that runs along another purposely preserved section of the Berlin Wall (no artwork here) and determined we would need to return tomorrow, under our own steam, to complete what we had started. We then headed towards the Brandenburg Gate where the bus had stopped this morning. For some, as yet unknown reason, the bus route differed from yesterday. There was a Big Bus representative where we had stopped this morning. He directed us through the Gate and around the corner to a restaurant decked out with lights where we would find Freddie, our guide for the walking tour.

Oh, look, free entry. How absolutely unappealing.

Once again the Big Bus people were spot on. We found the restaurant, the Big Bus sign and Freddie, lurking a few metres away, having his last puff before the tour starts. Like Scandinavia, smoking is such a popular thing. It's like stepping back 50 years in history.

As we passed through the gates, the reason for the altered bus route, the crowds and the inordinate number of joggers became clear. The 2024 Berlin Half Marathon. Free entry, if you can afford the plane fare and accommodation. (Come on Vikki what are you waiting for?)

At the appointed hour, Freddie emerged from his resting place and introduced himself to the growing number of people waiting for the English-speaking tour. He is not, unsurprisingly, German. The accent is pure Londoner, although, he hastens to add, he has lived here since well before the wall fell. Also confessed his past livelihood in the British armed forces. Given his subsequent tour performance, I'm backing him in as a Sergeant. Which brings us to today's title Sgt. Major a hidden track from Jet's Get Born album of 2003.

Even the bridges get statues and fancy lights.

The tour took us past the Brandenburg precinct, through the Jewish Holocaust sculpture memorial, past the site of Hitler's bunker (now a carpark), pausing at the site of the GDR June 17 massacre of protesters (Germany's Tiananmen Square), back to the Topography of Terror exhibition with the remnants of Berlin Wall, and then over to finish at Checkpoint Charlie, central to one of the Cold War major stand offs.

The holocaust memorial.

The sites were indeed all iconic historic places, worthy of visitation and reflection (as much as was possible amid the throng of tourists) and the detail about each stop was impressive. However, Freddie's delivery was more akin to a sergeant-major yelling at his troops. Every now and then in his scripted monologue he would yell parts of it. It caused people to jump on occasion but did little to add to the import of the information he was trying to impart. In fact, it detracted from the tour, imho.

The car park above the site of Hitler's former bunker.

The walking tour concluded very close to the time the last Big Bus was coming through Checkpoint Charlie, so we didn't have to wait long before our chariot took us back to the home precinct and stop 17.

It was time for some well earned beers and a late lunch/early dinner. Straight to Mio. On the way across the platz we noticed large groups of people were gathered in a couple of different places. There were spectators and participants engaged in what looked like ballroom dancing. I've wandered many parks across the world but have never witnessed a scene such as this.

There are bears everywhere. It's the symbol of Berlin.

Across the platz, there was a march and demonstration happening. A march for a free Palestine. Given the political powers at play, I can't see that happening, no matter how important or deserved it may be. Then again, the Berlin Wall was supposed to stand forever too.

We were escorted to our table in Mio and were enjoying our beer when a young male Brit walked in wearing a bright yellow dress and a sunflower headpiece. I mean each to their own. I wasn't judging, but not everyone can wear yellow. He was among that number. It turned out to be a buck's party. Later in the day he was only allowed to walk backwards. We witnessed one trip to the bathroom and remarked on how unwell he looked. I hope someone was looking after him because he had passed the point of no return.

What a day in Berlin. Saturday had something for everyone. Even us. We went home to watch the Curling World Championship. Go Sweden.

Until next time.

Last Train Home (Hamburg to Berlin, Germany)

A spoiler alert before you commence reading, my loyal reader, and a disclosure. The photos are all from Hamburg and are purely aesthetic to break up the text. The title today relates to our train dramas in Berlin. Transits are never as easy as they are planned to be.  The Last Train Home by Blink 182, one of their more recent numbers.

Leaving Hamburg went smoothly. As such. We traversed a different route to the station now that we had some local knowledge. It was marginally longer, not noticeably, but easier with the bags on the cobblestones. Hamburg couldn't help itself, however. Despite the dry weather forecast, it just had to drizzle on us one more time, as we trundled towards the station.

There are of course, multiple entrances to a station of this size. After crossing and re-crossing the road, we found the entrance we had used four days earlier. You may recall that initially, the escalator to escape the station was not working and we had to lug our bags up the stairs. Today the down escalator was frozen. I swear it is a conspiracy. We had to drag the bags down the stairs. I am not feeling the love for DB trains.

The old buildings really add character.

Despite this inconvenience, we arrived at platform 8 in plenty of time. I purchased some water, definitely still this time because I asked the shop assistant. Then we used the functioning escalator to get down to the very long platform. The discussion at this point had been about where to stand to board the train (first class, no more screaming children). Eventually this was made clear on the digital noticeboard. We were in the right spot on a very crowded platform.

The train arrived and, despite us being repeatedly pushed in the back by a German lady who obviously felt her reserved seat was going to be stolen if she didn't get to it immediately, I managed to stow the big bag. Not at ground level because that space had been usurped by bags that could have been placed in the overhead rack. I hoisted the suitcase onto the middle shelf, placed our smaller bags overhead and fell into my seat. We then watched our impatient fellow passenger, come all the way back down the carriage, past our seats, to occupy the seats directly behind us. Thankfully today's journey was a mere two and a half hours. It would be over before we knew it.

Even the derelict buildings get a little colour.

As has become the custom, the train was late, but not enough to inconvenience anyone. We disembarked at Berlin central and set about looking for the S Bahn line that would get us to Hackescher Markt, two stops away. At a 40 minute walk, for the first time, it was just a bit too far to attempt through unfamiliar terrain with the bags.

Despite being disgorged in the largest train station we have ever seen - multiple levels with escalators, more stores and restaurants than a typical shopping centre, and scant signage, we managed to locate the platform. Simple. What about tickets? Good question, dear reader. One not easily answered at that point. Jayne suggested they might have the ticket machines on the platforms. Correct. Up we go to the platform that will allow us the longest time period to work out the ticketing machines and still board a train.

Bird boxes are everywhere. 

Excellent theory. Despite Youtube asserting differently, there was no other language offered on the ticket machines. I tried Google translator on my phone with limited success. Jayne decided to ask the young couple that purchased tickets after I had given up. Fortunately they were Irish and while they didn't read German, they knew which buttons to push. Moments later, and €7 poorer, we had our tickets and enough time to get on the next train. Mind you, after all that, we didn't get our tickets validated. No one checked, so at least we didn't fare evade which could potentially have been the case, if not for the Irish couple's assistance.

We alighted at Hackescher Markt and immediately chose the wrong exit. Misdirection rectified, we arrived at our hotel at 1pm, 2 hours before check in. In a stroke of good fortune, our room was unexpectedly ready. Cheers Adina Apartments.

Hamburg Rathaus from the Alster Arcade.

After we settled in, we searched online for the nearest supermarket. The options were weighed and we walked the three minutes to Rewe which was literally in the other side of the same building. Unfamiliar supermarkets are always a challenge. Add to that a foreign language and all you can manage is to keep getting in the way of shoppers who are clearly in a hurry and know their way around.

After our usual deliberation over the procurement of staples such as butter, cheese and ham, we decided to give the limited wine selection a miss in the hope of finding a better range at a specialty liquor store. We did, however, search for a sealed container to store any unused food on our next transit day. We espied a display of, would you believe it, Tupperware just near the only open checkout that was being personned by a rather formidable looking lady. 

Inside the 'no go' zone in the Rathaus.

She was from the 'non-service' regime of which I have spoken previously and appeared to like her job as much as she would a cold water enema. Judging by her face, she could have been having the enema as she attended to us. She waved the Tupperware container at Jayne and sneered something in German. After we made it clear we didn't understand, the words dropped more loudly from her mouth like stones, once again in German. Surely the extra volume would ensure we can understand a foreign language. Thankfully the lady behind us translated the aggressive words of the shop 'assistant'. The Tupperware was a special deal with points accrued at the store, blah blah and would cost way too much without said points.

Jayne bid her an overly cheery danke schön as we made a hasty retreat from the store. We returned home with our goods and consulted Google once more. The short story is, we wandered lonely as a cloud, no, no, that's the daffodil poem. We found the liquor store. Very top end and expensive and continued our search until we stumbled on another, much bigger supermarket, that sold wine and bread. 

Window shopping on the Reeperbahn.

On the way out of the Adina, we had approached reception to inquire about a plug for the kitchen sink so we could wash up and not waste water. We were also missing a wine glass so we asked if housekeeping could supply both.

Back at the hotel,  we opened our door to find the hotel handyman with our dishwasher in pieces all over the floor. Clearly something had been lost in translation and we tried to explain that the dishwasher was fine, as far as we knew. What we were after was a sink plug. He then started to investigate the tap workings so Google came to the rescue once again and we learnt the German word for plug, "stecker." He indicated he would try to obtain one through housekeeping, put our dishwasher back together and cheerily departed the scene. Eventually the plug and three wine glasses arrived.

Davidwache (police) on the Reeperbahn.

The next discussion was dinner. Not that either of us was hungry, but after a long transit day, it's always good to finish with a meal. Finally we settled on the Japanese restaurant next door. An easy choice for two reasons. One, Jayne was indulging my love of sushi. Two, it was raining intermittently and we didn't want to chance the weather.

Another day navigated safely, it was back to the hotel to check out German TV. There wasn't much of interest until we discovered Eurosport and the World Curling Championship. I'll let that sit with you.

Until next time.