The City That WWII Made Famous
Frankfurt to Berlin Via Erfurt
I was watching the walls close in on me after having been at my home since November. Typically, I stop travelling in November and start up again in March but the anxiety I suffer from during those winter months had begun to get the best of me. It wasn’t until I thought I heard my cat talking to me that I thought I needed a vacation. I settled on Berlin mid-February, yes Berlin. Why not? I can name a million reasons why not but I the best reason that I decided to go was because this would be my last time going for a while if not forever at least on my own dime. It would be kind of my farewell to the city. In June or July, I’m moving to Italy and would have no real reason to visit Berlin since it wouldn’t be as close. I checked the weather app about a week in advance and saw that it would be much warmer and drier than Frankfurt would be during this time. That would later turn out to be a lie.
ABOVE: Berlin’s own Alexanderplatz, also known simply as “Alex”.
BELOW: An unknown man sits alone on the banks of a river near Hackescher Markt
I packed a three-day bag with the essentials, clean underwear, toiletries etc. I didn’t have any real plans except to visit a few flea markets and visit the neighborhood of Kreuzberg which was a place I had only ever heard of but never been there. Everybody I know who knows Berlin marvels at the fact that I never walked about Kreuzberg. That’s why I put it on the “to-do” list while I was there. Also, in my bag I brought a few rolls of 35mm film, a Contax T2 point and shoot camera which is pretty beat up but still in great working condition, my journal and a few fountain pens, and a book called “Jailbird” by Kurt Vonnegut (An awesome read by the way. I highly recommend it and anything by Mr. Vonnegut).
ABOVE: In my opinion one of the best authors in the last twenty years. Kurt Vonnegut’s book “Jailbird” is an excellent read and had me thinking a lot.
I arrived at Frankfurt’s main train station about fifteen minutes early only to find that my direct train to Berlin from Frankfurt was leaving this day from Frankfurt Ostbahnhof, not Hauptbahnhof. I would need a helicopter to get me from the Hauptbahnhof to the Ostbahnhof in time so I inquired about the next train which thankfully was leaving at the same time but would arrive thirty minutes later to Berlin as it had to make a stop in Erfurt. I basically had the entire train to myself. The four-hour trip was quiet with literally two people in an entire train car. I was one of them pulled up to a table. I don’t remember the trip there as I slept most of the way. It was too early for me.
About 30 minutes out I thought about how the time in between walking around Kreuzberg and going to flea markets would be spent and I decided that I was primarily going to focus on me. I wanted to turn the camera on me for a bit. I did just that. And shot a few selfies at my Hostel and out and about after having breakfast each day.
ABOVE: Me taking a break for a self portrait while on my way to Mitte in Berlin to my hotel.
BELOW: Self Portrait
“Greyish-Green”
Depressing wasn’t enough to describe Kreuzberg. Greyish green is how I would describe it. The overcast was grey and the wet cobblestone roads gave off a dark green hue. Buildings were dilapidated and people looked were dressed like they came straight out of a Mad Max movie. I wasn’t impressed. I found myself in and out of different coffee shops, most of which looked like they were barely existing. I got the feeling that some of them might even be vehicles by which to clean dirty money. No real coffee machines, barely any furniture, shoddy constructed tables and chairs. It wasn’t low budget in a hipster kind of way, more like in a depressive way, greyish green.
ABOVE: A couple wait to cross the street on a damp day in Kreuzberg.
BELOW: A gentlemen somewhere in Kreuzberg arranges books in his small store.
I saw a few murals on the sides of some large residential buildings. They were cool but if you have been to Brooklyn in New York, Ostiense in Rome, or the 13th Arrodissement in Paris, then you have seen everything in Kreuzberg and much more. I felt like it was time to leave the place after only two or three hours. I didn’t see too much life moving around and I felt like something inside of me was being pulled back to when I was growing up. I grew up in a relatively poor and downtrodden neighborhood full of dangerous individuals and stray dogs. I can sense when a place isn’t giving off anything positive. I got on a bus not knowing where it was taking me and didn’t pay the fare either. After thirty minutes or so I had arrived back at the Berlin Hauptbahnhof where I found my way back to the place where I was staying. It was time to wind down for the day and start again in Mitte and Prenzlauer the next day after seeing whatever flea markets I could find.
ABOVE: Mural found somewhere in Kreuzberg
BELOW: A pair of shoes hang from above. Not unlike you would see in my own neighborhood growing up
That Sunday meant two flea markets for me, the legendary Mauerpark and a flea market called RAW. I stopped just south of Schönhauser Alle to have breakfast and snapped up a few pictures of the place. I enjoyed the pancakes and coffee that they had as well. Again, they prided themselves with having the best “American Breakfast” in Berlin. Afterwards I walked a few hundred meters to the Mauerpark flea market which, in my opinion is terribly overrated. I didn’t find anything I wanted. Most of the stuff there was simply left-over junk that nobody wanted from a few vendors. I didn’t stay long in the area for that reason, plus it had started to drizzle a bit this day which was already cold. The temperature had somehow dropped from earlier that morning after I had finished eating breakfast.
ABOVE: A typical day at Mauerpark. Plenty of stuff to venture through.
BELOW: I couldn’t fight the urge for another self portrait.
RAW wasn’t very much better than Mauerpark. It was cold outside but that was my fault for not dressing appropriately. As per the usual, I was looking for interesting items that you can’t find in Frankfurt or the United States for that matter which I found none of that. The clothes were all very tattered and beat up and those that were halfway decent smelled very bad. I was willing to forego all of that if the prices were right, and they weren’t. The very few things that I did find that I liked seemed overpriced. Even the food stands weren’t all that good. I was under impressed.
ABOVE: A strange message and directional arrow above a smokey smelling faux mink jacket found at RAW flea market
BELOW: A group enters the RAW flea market from the street entrance between two very graffiti saturated buildings
ABOVE: Sex sells when all else fails… #oldreliable
Things Come Full Circle
This will be my last Berlin trip for a long while. Its been a nice trip this time despite me not being impressed with Kreuzberg or any of the flea markets I came to see. I realize everything is not for everybody and that I can’t always be so demanding of what I think a city should be or consist of. There are plenty of things I do like about Berlin. The size and amount of different non-hetero population for one make it easy to enjoy different things all the time. The public transportation system makes it easy to navigate around the city. Nothing is more than 20 or 30 minutes away with a train, tram, or bus. People there have an eclectic style, a lot of blacks mostly, but here and there pops of colors. I should also say that when they do colors, they do them well.
ABOVE: Mural found somewhere in Prenzlauer Berg
What I missed though was that thing that makes the city quintessentially Berlin or quintessentially German. I speak German well and everywhere I went it seemed that people were speaking English, in the clubs, in the cafes, certainly in the stores and the hotel. With English as my mother language, I can pick up on accents very well and I know, generally, based on an accent, what region or country in the world the speaker is from. It was no doubt that most people I heard were in fact German. Even two or three Germans speaking English to each other. I walked for miles and miles trying to find a German restaurant to no avail. I passed plenty of Turkish restaurants, Italian restaurants, Chinese restaurants, Japanese restaurants, hell even American fast food but nothing actually German. Whenever I’m in Paris or Rome, it’s a struggle to find a restaurant that’s not Italian or Parisian. Isn’t that why we travel? To experience the culture of that place?
ABOVE: What seems to be the primary mood of transportation in Berlin.
BELOW: Two single chairs sit unoccupied on a cold rainy day in Berlin.
“So how has your trip been in Berlin so far?” asked a man sitting next to me in a café I had stopped at. He spoke in perfect English. I responded back in German “Its been ok so far. Its cold and rainy but its ok. How did you know I was here on vacation?”. Ignoring the invitation to speak in the language of the country he responded back in English. “Its obvious you are visiting or not from here because no one is really from here that doesn’t look like me” he said. “Most people that are here come because it’s the last big city in Europe to live cheap and go to school or they are in politics.” He continued. “Oh” I said drinking a bit of my espresso now. Still not wanting to pay attention. “Its Berlin.” He said finally. “The city that everybody knows because of WWII.” He concluded. “The city that WWII made famous.”