Monday, December 4, 2017

Berlin: First Sunday in Advent

Berlin, Germany
Latitude 52˚52 N
December 4, 2017

For years I’ve been hearing Berlin stories: Alexanderplatz, Brandenburg Gate, Potstam, Checkpoint Charlie…  It was finally time for me to take the plunge and see the place for myself.  And what better time, in my limited world view, than Christmas.

Christmas.  “Be careful, Dan.”  I heard that a lot.  And I know people are well-meaning.  A year ago some lunatic drove a vehicle into a Christmas market and killed who knows how many people.  But I refuse, absolutely refuse, to give in to fears.  Maybe it will happen again.  Maybe it will happen in Nuremburg.  Maybe in Mexico City.  I could get killed on the way home from the airport when I return home.  No.  I won’t give in.

From all I’d read about Berlin in the 1930’s, I expected some wild town, with crazy things happening all around me.  What I found, instead, was a sedate city, brand new since the 1960’s and rather, well…boring.  I should not be harsh.  The city was essentially a pile of rubble at the end of WW 2.  What it was, however, was a very walkable city.  Once I oriented myself I realized that just about everything was on a straight-line axis.  Fortunately, the weather was fine and not as cold as Riga or Vilnius, so my feet brought me just about everywhere.  One day I clocked 27,000 steps on my pedometer and the next day I just could not replicate the march from the day before.  I’d walked from Alexanderplatz to Charlottenburg—a distance of maybe 6 or 7 miles.  My quest for hitting every Christmas market in the city knew no bounds.  But my exhaustion did, and on day three I just collapsed and was back in my room by 5:00 pm.   There are limits to what the tourist body can do.

On my last day there I headed to Potstam.  It was time to the leave the city and this seemed a good destination.  It was also personal, as my sister lives in Potstam, NY, not that the two have anything in common.  Oh, such perfection.  I found my way to the first Christmas market, a much tamer affair than those in Berlin, and just as I began walking it started to snow—Light, mysterious, and delicate.  A cool, dry fragrance was released into the air.  It snowed just enough to say it was snowing.  Snowing!  At a German Christmas market.  I was ecstatic.  My secondary goal in Potstam was San Soucci gardens, a massive park very close to the center.  That strange chemistry of snow and nostalgia took possession.  For a time, I was on Rand Hill, more than forty years ago, on the first full day of winter—a days of cold and dark and snow—cross country skiing into the darkening woods.  It was twilight and it snowed the entire time I was walking in this park, which felt more like a forest than anything else. 


When I returned to the Christmas market I’d been at a few hours earlier I walked through the cold, snow-filled street.  An hour later I was back on the train to Berlin.  It was an absolutely perfect day.

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