Berlin

Schadenfreude is taking pleasure in other's misfortunes. I'm not sure how I'd define the antithesis, but I'm fairly sure Berlin is it. I absolutely love Berlin. It isn't mean, or pretentious like the States often are. Even with the obnoxious tourists, the cocky l33t h4x0rz, the minimalist-techno-loving rave-goers and the ordinary citizenry; there were no train wrecks to glory in or to forcibly tear your gaze from. No one seemed self-righteous enough to support schadenfreude; they were all just doing their own thing in their own way. From the punk with the "no nazi" patch (watch me break the law to protest fascism), and the guy who threw a cherry bomb under the green GDR-era Polizie van, the drunks giggling and running around the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, to the ravers... the entire scene (strangely) felt as thus:



The glass bottles in Berlin (usually full of delicious beer, eerie lemon-lime Becks, or not-so-delicious Club-Matte) were all rather fragile and care-worn. There's a 0,50 cent deposit for each one (I think that's about $11,000 USD), and they just boil the labels off and re-use the bottles until they break, rather than constantly minting new ones. The clubs don't need fog machines because everyone smokes (the cartons aren't labeled SMOKING WILL KILL YOU like they are in London). East Berlin is depressing with all the GDR-era apartment buildings and vacant space (1/5 the population of Paris in 3x the space). The compromises in comfort for efficiency (resource and energy-wise) are impressive, but they have lovingly constructed new sidewalks, bike lanes, and bike-traffic lights. West Berlin is a mishmash of classical architecture with new construction. Alexanderplatz is still flat and desolate (having had the shit bombed out of it), but Potsdamerplatz is filled with slick modern construction and memorials to the Berlin Wall. The public transportation is surprisingly both complex and comprehensible, and we were lucky that the S-Bahn workers weren't striking when we wanted to go see the East Side Gallery.

The city is still noticeably haunted by WWII and the Stasi. But then, so is the entirety of German culture.



There was a winterfair carnival in every major plaza. I have never had so many different varieties of tube-meat or beer in such a short amount of time. And I never liked sauerkraut before.

New Years Eve was like a war. The shelling had started three days in advance, and people were carrying around bouquets of fireworks which would be illegal even by New Hampshire's standards. By 2am, the streets were paved with broken glass and the remains of bottle rockets, and the radio tower at Alexanderplatz was encased in a haze of cordite and gunpowder smoke. There was no evidence of fights, or gross misbehavior (shenanigans aside); it was just a celebration. A huge, absurd celebration with absolutely no pretenses or spin.



Traveling is good.