What lies beneath

For years I’ve had an unwarranted aversion to Germany as a tourist destination. There are three things that come to mind when I think of the Deutschland; gallons of beer (not exactly my drink of choice), a heaping plate of sausages (the white ones make me queasy), and the incorrigible tone of the acerbic German tongue (I’ll take Swiss French any day, lazy numerology included). Without a doubt, these stereotypes have gone a long way in keeping Germany a considerable distance from our travel radar. 

Luckily for Carlos and I, most of our vacations are family-oriented, so the decision of where to travel is not always ultimately up to us. This is how it came to be that despite my self-imposed disinclinations, the city of Berlin became our first post-Geneva European getaway.

Much like Obama’s birth certificate, Berlin is a city that generally flies under the radar; until someone sparks the conversation, that is. Then, out of nowhere, a whole universe of zealous Berlin-lovers start making spontaneous appearances, complete with an extensive array of fond memories and travel tips. “You have to go to the Pergamon!” The perma-what? “Berlin has such amazing architecture!” Big whoop. “I just know you’re going to love it!!!” Alllll-righty then.

Despite the mounting expectations, it wasn’t until my first glimpse of the city that I finally started letting go of my stubborn inhibitions. Impeccably blue skies, an endless expanse of minty green lilly trees, pristine waters flowing beneath quaint bridges, an array of palaces, embassies, and mansions, each more unique than the other. There’s no denying it, the place has charm. 

According to Ramon, our impetuous Argentinian tour guide, Berlin’s beauty transcends the physical. “This is a city of tolerance,” he declared emphatically on our first day, “everybody gets along. Just look at the Tiergarten.” By this he referred to the large park in the center of the city, where on an average day one is equally likely to spot mothers taking their babies for a stroll as throngs of lesbians tanning in the nude. Liberal attitudes aside, I couldn’t help but wonder; can a city that spent nearly half of the previous century violently divided by competing ideologies really live in absolute harmony?

It’s quite obvious that today, efforts are centered on representing the two sides of the city as one, particularly through the city’s architecture. Tourist attractions are riddled with phrases like “Berlin’s fluidity”, “building a band between the east and west” and “the old becoming new again”. And yet, upon further inspection, it becomes clear that tensions remain. Contrasts between old, new, past, and present spill throughout the city; the monstrous Sony Center media complex in the West; boxy Ikea-type buildings on the East; a WWII bunker turned billion-dollar art deposit; larger-than-life ads used as temporary façades for yet-to-be-financed construction sites; fake balconies on Russian-style buildings. The fabric of society has its own way of unraveling, and in Berlin, the undercurrents of change fit anything but seamlessly into the politically-sponsored narrative of unity. 

Although in four days we barely scratched the surface, it was certainly enough time to read between the lines. I also gathered plenty of material to develop my own fresh perspective on Germany, one that goes well beyond sausages and wiener schnitzels.