unfoldings

As I have travelled, I have often been asked about how this trip came to be. How long had I been planning it? How had I gotten so much time off of work? What prompted it? I have already written a great deal about the various catalysts for such a trip, my desire to cultivate spontaneity and to live life in an “unplanned” fashion, my intention to live my life fully and in gratefulness for what I do have, rather than always wishing for things I don’t have. A mentor of mine introduced the idea of framing this trip as a quasi-adolescence, given how ridiculously responsible and focused I was during my actual adolescence. I like this.

In terms of how the actual logistics of this trip unfolded, I must say that in the course of their unfolding, it was confirmed for me time and time again that I was meant to be doing this, and doing it now. It was as though my life had just been waiting to be asked, “Can I take 3 months off?” The answer was a resounding “Yes”. From my employer, Lutherwood, it was more than a yes in fact, but rather “a kick in the butt”, in the words of my boss, Kathy, who told me to go and not to dare think about work while I was gone. My boss' boss response, when I made the formal request in writing, was to say, “Of course you can go. My only question is, are you sure you don’t want longer? Why don’t you come back just in time to take your Christmas holidays?” Another example of this kind of effortless unfolding happened in July, when I attended the wedding of my friends Matt and Jodi in London, ON. I arrived on my own, and knew very people present. I ended up sitting beside a lovely woman named Katrin, who had done her masters with Jodi in New Zealand, and who was German. In making conversation with Katrin, I began talking about this trip I would be embarking on in about a month’s time. Without hesitation, and after knowing each other for about 20 minutes, Katrin said, “Come to Berlin and stay with me!” Without hesitation (and without knowing the route I would be taking through Europe), I said, with confidence and gratitude, “Thanks…Absolutely!”

And so here I am, in Katrin’s cozy and immaculate apartment in Berlin (a building on the East side that once housed the SS), thankful for her generosity to a stranger back in July, her openness, and her assistance in finding my way around this huge city. Berlin is the largest, or at least the densest, city I have ever been in I think, with a population of 3.4 million, a figure that doesn't include the sprawl around the city. It is huge. I arrived on Sunday to Europe’s largest train station, taking a few moments to just breathe in the order amidst the chaos of this place. My impression is that many Berliners are exceedingly proud of their city, that its history of being reduced to complete rubble, rebuilt, divided up, and then finally re-unified instils a sense of gratefulness for freedom in one’s homeland, that at least those who are old enough to remember the division in this city, do not take lightly. I’ll be honest that the story of the Berlin Wall for example, had never been more to me than a fact to learn about history – I had never given it that much thought. Now that I am here, I am enthralled by this city’s history. It’s both fascinating and sobering, and the city has done a lot of work to keep this history alive and accessible, so that future generations do not forget. There are also some fun quirks about the fact that this city was divided in two from 1961-1989. For example, there are double the number of many things. There are actually hundreds of museums here, and the complex public transit system is a meshing of what once belonged to two cities. In walking around the streets, the surest way to know whether you are on the former East or West side, is to look at the pedestrian signals at crosswalks. On the West, these signals look like they do in the rest of Europe. On the East, it's Ampelmann, who has become a bit of a symbol for the city of Berlin:


Despite the fact that he's a symbol of communist oppression, I think he's kind of cute...

 There have been many empowering moments on this journey, and I was reminded yesterday to never underestimate how satisfying and confidence-building it is to master a giant city like Berlin’s public transit network on one’s own. If I may say, I am kicking ass in Berlin. Yesterday, my choice of activities for the afternoon was scattered around various parts of the city. No problem! Two S-Bahn lines from the East Side Gallery to the modern art museum. Then two U-Bahn lines from the art museum to the Turkish district for dinner. Then a third U-Bahn line, transfer to a tram, and bam!  I am back to Katrin’s place. European cities put any public transit that we have in Canada to shame exponentially. That’s right. I can totally do this.

I have seen so much in this city, and can’t begin to describe it all…

…Remaining segments of the Berlin Wall, including the East Side Gallery, the longest remaining portion (1.3km), which was recently turned into a gallery, with artists from all over the world painting murals along the entire stretch:

Me at the East Side Gallery

A rose for every person killed while trying to escape East Germany, East Side Gallery

…The Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, which was left in its bombed state after the war, as a reminder to the city of the horrors of war. A modern, and also somewhat eerie worship space was built on the same site in the 60s.

Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche

Inside the modern worship space

…The Bookburning Memorial at Bebelplatz, on the grounds of Humbolt University, where National Socialist forces led a burning ritual of thousands of “un-German” books (including books about psychology, philosophyz, art, religion, etc…)

…Checkpoint Charlie, a famous division between the former American and Soviet sectors of the city, which has been left largely as it was during the Cold War, and is now a haven for tourists, snapping photos of the sign “You are Now Leaving the American Sector” and paying for a photo with the “Soviet guard”...

…The Neue Nationalgalerie, which houses important works of the 20th century, and follows the political scene in Germany through the works of European artists. Many of the works here were displayed in the Nazi Regime`s 1937 exhibition entitled, “Degenerate Art”, and the gallery has since managed to have them returned. In addition, at least 5000 important works of art were burnt at this time, and the gallery has black and white photos of some of these pieces.

...The Deutscher Bundestag, or German Parliament, which was moved back to Berlin from Bohn in 1999.  The building dates from the 1890s, was restored after the war, and then again since 1999, to include a fancy glass "cupola" that offers a 360 degree view of the city, and also a clear view down into parliament itself (proclaiming the value of transparency within political process):

…The Topography of Terror open air museum, which sits on the site of the former Nazi party headquarters…

...The eerie and sobering Memorial to the Murdered European Jews (a 4.7 acre sight covered with 2711 slabs of concrete of different heights - designed to make you feel uneasy, lost, and confused as you walk through them) and the less eerie, but no-less thought provoking Memorial to murdered homosexuals (a hidden television screen inside a rusted metal room, showing a video of two men making out)...

It’s been a full 4 days, but not so full to preclude finding great Thai and Turkish food (Berlin is specifically known for it`s Turkish markets and restaurants, as a large Turkish population immigrated here after the war), sitting in a café with my journal and munching on fabulous chocolate walnut cake, reading, sleeping no less than 8 hours a night, and almost recovering from my head cold (I’m really close). I am enjoying a very lazy morning of blogging and chilling out at Katrin’s place, and am going to head back to the city centre sometime this afternoon to wander a bit. Katrin and I are meeting at 6pm at the “Museums Island”, a UNESCO protected cluster of museums in the centre of the city – they are free on Thursday evenings, so Katrin will pick her favourite one, and I will gladly follow….

Tomorrow I head to Amsterdam – I found a cheap (relatively speaking) train ticket, and decided to drop in for a few days. The price of my accommodation is another story, however; I can frame this as the fabulous result of my newfound spontaneity, no? (i.e. this is a location I probably should have booked ahead)  One thing that is tricky in Germany, if I compare it to Italy, for example, is meeting people. There seem to be fewer solo-travellers around. In hostels, there have been many large groups, and it’s rarely easy (and often not really desirable) to break into a group. Perhaps it's the time of year. Culturally, I am also somewhere much less outgoing, more reserved.  No more waiters telling me that I am delicious, for example. People keep to themselves more here (more similar to North America). I am remaining open to meeting people, stepping out of my own comfort zone at times, while also listening to what increased solitude has to teach me.

After my last update email, I received a response from a wise colleague of mine reminding me that two weeks is still a long vacation. It’s a good reminder, and I had thought of this myself, endeavouring to frame this final portion of the trip as just as long as some people have for "vacation" for their entire year. Indeed, I am grateful for this, and am striving to live each day keeping my mind, body, and spirit present in Europe, rather than in planning Waterloo-life.  Just as this trip unfolded with lots of intentionality, but not so much orchestration, I imagine life back home can be the same. This will be one of the most important lessons for me to transfer back to life in Ontario, I am guessing. On the other hand, I suppose it’s normal that I am starting to think about home. I have experienced this time away in phases, and though two weeks is certainly still a long time, in relation to 3 months, it’s also an ending. Like any good therapist, I’m preparing for closure…

xoxo