Penultimate Post

Austin and I just got back from a delicious Turkish feast and I can feel the food coma hitting my fingers. Must. Type. Fast.

Actually, before I start into the day's events, a note on the Turkish presence in Berlin. In the 1950's unemployment skyrocketed in Turkey while Europe saw a major labor shortage. The construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 further exacerbated the shortage in West Germany, prompting the West Germans to formally recruit Turks. Initially the Turks were to serve as temporary guest workers, staying in Germany for no more than two years, but desperate German employers quickly had the limit thrown out. Ever since, the Turks have comprised Germany's largest ethnic minority, currently numbering over 4,000,000. Needless to say it is not hard to find Pide in Berlin.

We began today with a stroll to Checkpoint Charlie, one of the few crossing points of the Berlin Wall during the Cold War. The area's history was interesting to think about in the abstract, and read about on the informational billboards across the street, but the checkpoint itself was disappointing. The scene: McDonalds to the right. Starbucks to the left. Tourists shucking out Euros left and right to get their pictures taken with actors dressed in military uniforms standing in front of a replica guard house. I'm glad that the wall was destructed and all, but since 1989 Checkpoint Charlie has sadly morphed into Checkpoint Cheesy.

Checkpoint Sign

Checkpoint Charlie

Our second destination, the Reichstag, was just as clogged with tourists but much more interesting to look at. Originally constructed in 1894 to house the parliament of the German Empire, the Reichstag has been set fire to, bombed, reconstructed, and shrouded like a carcas, before Norman Foster finally renovated the building in 1999, affixing the roof with a glass dome.

Dear Norman Foster, excuse me, Dear SIR Norman Foster: I love you. Lets marry.

The result is truly delicious - a perfect blend of imposing neo-classical heft and weightless, translucency. In perhaps the saddest turn of events of the trip, impossibly long lines prevented us from traveling up into the dome, but this is what it would have been like.

Building Across from the Reichstag. The area is a veritable feast of modern architecture.

Now I would like to dedicate this last bit about our trip to the Gemäldegalerie (say that 5 times fast) to the one and only Alexander Nemerov, Art History Professor Extroirdinaire. A self-proclaimed "delicate flower", Nemerov's cannot stomach people breezing through museums. In his world, patrons would entire museums youthful and clean-shaven and exit grayed with bushy beards. He rues the folks who show up to see the Mona Lisa, snap a picture, and split. Accordingly, I dedicate this shot to him.

Jan Vermeer in the Haus!

Though Nemerov-baiting is one of my favorite sports, I promise I didn't just run through the Gemäldegalerie's hallowed halls checking paintings of interest of a list. In fact, we spent the better part of our day winding through the museums 40 some-odd galleries. I found it especially interesting to see the more detailed paintings we'd learned about in class like Bruegel's Dutch Proverbs. The moralistic canvas, which portrays a world gone topsy turvy, is dense with symbolic elements too detailed to glean from an internet rendering. My favorite new finds: a footed egg in the oven, a man airing his buttocks out the window, and a man trying to catch an eel with his bare hands.

I also enjoyed trying to guess the artists of paintings before looking at the placards. Sadly the rubrics I created to study for our 200 slide final - "Ah, its headless, must be Caravaggio!" and "Ah its got a rich color palate, must be Titian!" - didn't hold water in the real art world.

We have to catch an early flight (can't believe it's over!) and I'm absolutely zonked. My thoughts are becoming like the Jewish Museum (zig-zaggy and filled with voids). I'm going to end here and update tomorrow with final thoughts and extraneous pictures.

Gemäldegalerie's Ceiling

Like a magpie my feet are drawn to shiny things - a proclivity that resulted in an alarm to blare. Shouldn't they warn you of these things?

Ich Ben Ein Berliner!

Internet crisis solved. The problem? The internet jack was not connected to the wall. The bigger problem? That we didn’t realize sooner.

Lots to catch up on as its been a busy two days. Yesterday morning we hopped a bus to Hellbrunn palace. About 20 minutes outside of the city by car, the palace was built as a summer day residence for Archbishop. Yes day residence. Read: No one has ever slept there. Kind of made me want to pull a Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basel E. Frankweiler just to be the first, but not enough to forgo Berlin.

Even if he was a spoiled brat, I found it hard to dislike the Archbishop for long, as he was also responsible for outfitting Hellbrunn with the oldest, most elaborate system of trick fountains known to man. The Archbishop’s favorite trick was to invite guests to what they expected to be a lovely alfresco lunch, seat them around his 8 person stone dining table (seven of whose seats concealed fountains) and soak them while remaining totally dry him self.

SUCKAS!

He also rigged the sculpture niches and decorative animal heads so that water gushed from them on his command.

Even by today’s standards the engineering of the fountains would be impressive. Placed in the context of their time, 400 years ago, it is truly awe-inspiring. The entire system operates on gravity. No pumps, no electricity, and it’s still running 4 centuries later. I can’t help doubt that we’re capable of manufacturing such durable products any more.

Dripping wet and happy, we wandered the extensive palace gardens and found a playground that looked out at the Bavarian mountains we’d driven through the day before. Though he deemed himself too old for the swings and see-saws, Austin couldn’t get enough of the zip line, zipping at least 10 times before we headed back into town for lunch.

Cowabunga!

Also in Hellbrunn Park: The locale of "I am 16, going on 17"

Although I wasn’t sure he’d like the art OR food, I dragged Austin to Salzburg’s Museum of Modern Art for lunch. I had mistakenly jogged there that morning and discovered that the museum’s cliff-side café had the best views of Salzburg I’d seen yet. The museum was also hosting a Max Ernst exhibit which I was eager to see after loving his “Master’s Bedroom” painting we studied in Nemerov’s Art History survey. The Ernst exhibit was almost too extensive. Instead of being enjoyable it was overwhelming, but I really enjoyed another exhibit meant to symbolize the randomness and influence of branding and the printed word.

Printed Word Exhibit. Title: Unity

Printed Word Exhibit

And then there were the pickles. Yes, an entire gallery of cast acrylic pickles created as self-portraits by the artist. Ah, modern art.

I Got a Pickle Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey!

I’m no Freud, but something tells me it’s not a good sign when you equate yourself with a pickle. Briny, awkwardly-shaped (Freud would have LOTS to say on this element), and served on the side – this artist could not have had very high self esteem.

After getting our fill of ceramic pickles we climbed to the café for some real food. It turned out to be delicious - the perfect end to the Salzburgian leg of our journey.

We arrived in Berlin last night around 8pm, and were too wiped to do anything but eat in the hotel.

Atop the Modern Art Museum

We more than made up for last night’s laziness today. Now faithful imaginary readers, I have a confession to make. Today, I, Haley Cohen, did a shameful thing. I purchased tickets for and rode on one of those horrific beasts known as hop-on-hop-off busses. Yes it was yellow. Yes it was double decker. And yes! Yes, it had headphones with 10 different available languages.

But please love me anyway! I don’t own any I <3> _______ (insert city here) shirts! I only wear fanny packs cross country skiing! I swear I’m not a bad person. We were going to do a walking tour but it was supposed to rain.

Although I couldn’t fully shake my feelings of self loathing, the bus was actually a very efficient and effective means for seeing a lot of the city in a limited amount of time. We opted to stay on for the entire two-hour loop, hopping off only once. This method gave us a good overall sense of the city’s layout and basic background knowledge about its most popular sights. Then in the afternoon, we went back to the sights we wanted to explore more fully, and used to bus to shuttle easily between them.

Our first stop was the East Side Gallery – paintings by 100 different artists on the longest preserved piece of the Berlin wall. I’ve always had a deep love for graffiti art. Not FUCK this, or FREE that in bubble letters, but well-thought out, skillful graffiti art. Needless to say I could’ve spent all day wandering up and down the 1.3 km stretch.

Third Wheeling with Brehznev and Honecker

But a bright beacon beckoned from across the street: the international sandskulpturenfestival! I can’t say I ever dreamed of attending an international sand sculpture contest, or even knew that such events existed, but I’m damn glad it was there. I’m always elated to learn of new professions. Chances are I wont end up a glorified sand castle builder (though I was quite talented at Gaudi-eque drip castles back in the day…) but things like the sand sculpture fest give me hope a niche exists for me, even if it’s unconventional.

Head in the Sand

After dumping the sand from our sneakers, we headed to Kaufhaus De Westens (KaDeWe), the 2^nd largest department store in Europe after Harrods. In addition to being a sartorial and gourmet feast for the eyes, the KaDeWe has an interesting historical narrative. It was opened in 1907, and subsequently bought by a Jewish-owned company in 1927. The company hoped to expand the store, adding two new floors, but the Nazi Race laws of the 30’s foiled their plans and forced them to hand over their ownership. In WWII the store was completely annihilated when a downed bomber crashed through the roof. By 1956 it was fully restored, soon becoming a symbol of the prosperity of West Berlin in relation to the communist East.

Though the history was a plus, in all honesty, Austin and I were at the KaDeWe for the chow. The stores top two floors are entirely devoted to any kind of edible you could ever want. I don’t say that lightly - it is an empirical fact based on my interactions with the guest services woman on the delicatessen floor. Do you have frog legs? Certainly, in the meats section. Oreos? Sure, section 4 on the bottom shelf with the Swiss Miss and microwave popcorn. Egg salad? Check.Spaghetti Squash? Yes mam. What about…coconut water? Of course, with or without pineapple?

The 6^th is more of a specialty food store with small restaurant counters interspersed, while our ultimate destination the renowned 7^th floor, is a gourmet buffet. We were too overwhelmed to choose one theme for our meal, and piled our plates to the sky with discordant pastas, cheeses, vegetables and meats. I had samplings from at least 15 different dishes on my plate and Austin wasn’t too far behind.

Heaven.

After lunch we waddled to the bus, and rode to the Jewish museum. Liebeskind's design, which connects to the old Jewish Museum underground, is marvelously thoughtful. The museums zigs and zags resemble a distorted jewish star and are meant to represent the dislocation and pain suffered by Jews in Europe. The large void at the front of the building is meant to represent their loss. Behind the museum sit 49 concrete columns topped with olive trees, meant to reference 1948, the year Israel was created plus one column for Berlin. The columns and floor are tilted at such an angle that walking through them makes one immediately dizzy and disoriented - an homage to the emotions of the Jews exiled in the Holocaust. One of the most moving parts of the museum, is the Holocaust tower - a barren concrete void where the only light and air comes from a small slit near the ceiling.

Jewish Museum: Interior Structure

Jewish Museum

Jewish Museum: Garden of Exile

Jewish Museum: Aerial View

The exhibits inside trace Jewish history from medieval times to the present. Many of them were delightfully interactive. One exhibit asked visitors to write down a wish on a paper pomegranate and hang it on a tree, another invited younger patrons to doodle with colored pencils (meant to symbolize the growing emphasis on Jewish creativity in the 20th century), and yet another computer-based game asked visitors to help medieval jewel trader Glinka pack her suitcase for a business trip. Though much of the historical information was familiar, there was enough fresh information to keep me riveted for the two hours we spent zigging-and zagging through the museum's long halls. For instance, did you know that denim was created by a Jewish immigrant from Bavaria to supply California Gold Diggers with a more durable work pant? His name, Levi Strauss.

Overall Austin and I have both loved Berlin so far. The city has an electric energy that's hard to resist, and the juxtaposition of old and new buildings, representing old and new ideologies, make it totally unique. It's fantastically sprawling (360 square miles to New York's measly 22) which makes exploring it on a time crunch daunting, but no doubt, worth it. But we have tomorrow, and guess we'll just have to come back...