Tag Archives: europe

Berlin

Berlin, the city of poets and dreams.  

  Our first stop in Europe was Berlin where friends guided us through the city with the ardor and knowledge only Berliners possess.

Oh, blessed be thy traveler welcomed to the city of dreams by friends.

  From the Mitte District with its famous Alexanderplaz — central starting point — and Nicolai Quarter — oldest part of the city,

to the Reichstag (victim of the 1933 arson blamed on communists and Jews), where today Dem deutschen Volke (the German people) can watch their elected representatives while in session through a glass structure,

to the Brandenburg Gate, location of John Kennedy’s 1963 Ich bin ein Berliner speech, were in 1987 Ronald Reagan said: Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall,

to what’s left of the wall on the East Side Gallery,

to a boat ride on the Spree River,

to magnificent views from the Television tower,

we made our way through cobblestone streets, past art nouveau and sky scrapers, in a city where tradition and modernity meet at every corner.

  I loved my time in Berlin — the historical feel, the sense of community as people are constantly out and about, the artsy vibe, famous squares.

  If one such square impressed upon me the most, Bebelplatz with its famous Humboldt University, striking architecture, and historical background sure left its mark.

 Here, in May of 1933, Nazi students burned the works of hundreds of authors, journalists, philosophers, and academics. A book-burning memorial marks the Night of Shame event, showing an empty, underground library.

With the words: Against decadence and moral decay, they committed to flames writings of Heinrich Mann, Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, Karl Marx, Rosa Luxemburg, August Bebel, and many others.

  Today, a line from Heinrich Heine’s play, Almansor (1821), is engraved on a plaque in the square:

That was only a prelude; where they burn books, they will in the end also burn people. 

  Our last day in Berlin covered a tour of Olympiastadion, where in 1936 Adolf Hitler declared the Olympic games open from a balcony later demolished as to not become a neo-Nazi shrine.

  Looking to showcase the superiority of the Aryan race, Hitler was forced to watch African American athlete Jessie Owens, son of sharecroppers and grandson of slaves, win four gold medals.  

Yes, Berlin is here to remind us of the past. To expose it for what it was, a lunacy.  At the same time, Berlin is a proud city, breaming with life, focused on the future.

  A city of arts. Enlightened. Diverse. Welcoming: its outdoors filled with locals and tourists alike, joining in a togetherness of music, poetry, and the verve for life.

  Does Berlin fully represent Germany? I often hear this question.

  No major city represents a nation. Nor should it. Cities are hubs of culture and arts and finance and trade, operating at large cultural and financial distance.  Cities lead the way.Whether we like it or not, cities are the future.

  We owe much of our progress and prosperity to major international world centers such as Berlin.

To Travel is To Live

Monaco

To travel is to live – Hans Andersen

It’s been a long time since I stepped foot on a different continent, although different reads strange in this context, since Europe was once home. But that’s exactly what my family and I did recently. We traded familiar landscapes for the invigorating air of change.

Four countries in two weeks — more than we planned — but that’s what traveling does. It reawakens our sense of adventure. Demands we move, move, move. See more. Touch more. Breathe new air.  Memories, so many memories, will sort out in time, but for now, this is how I look at the past two weeks:

I look at every country/city/region as an individual human being with character. For example: (1)   Berlin is an energetic young lady with an eye toward the future while mindful of family’s tragic past. (2) Bucharest is a middle-aged mother cautiously rebuilding her life after a disastrous relationship. (3) France (the coast) is a lady of undetermined age, who successfully spends most of her money on her looks.  (4) Northwest Italy, the natural beauty, lives life to the fullest, dismissing regrets with a smile.  When places are categorized as such in my brain, they’re friends I sorely miss.

As jetlag lifts and culture shock recedes, I shall revisit each place and share my experiences. In the interim, just as traveling refreshes one’s spirit, returning home is a gift to the weary soul.

Part of my gift came courtesy Carol Child, Editor of The Scheherazade Chronicles, who published my short story,  A Memory, upon return. Such sweet, welcoming present.

A short description and link to article follow.

A thirteen-year-old girl is sitting cross-legged in a tent no larger than a closet, reading. The tent is on a beach along the Black Sea Coast.

A MEMORY, by Silvia Villalobos