Gray Berlin

I was very excited to go to Berlin, especially after spending time in London and Paris – all three great European capitals, one right after the other. This had be a special way to see them, to be able to compare their feel and style. Well, it was that for sure – London and Paris have much in common, but Berlin…I just didn't connect with Berlin, and I'm not sure why. London and Paris are so overwhelmingly urban, so crowded, so full of movement and people all the time. Berlin seemed more subdued, but also rather joyless and gray around the edges. There is a feeling of...embarrassment perhaps, enforced humility maybe, I really don't know what to call it but there is a slumped shouldered, look at the ground tiredness about Berlin that is so very different from the other cities. Berlin is a little unkempt on the edges – grass isn't trimmed, weeds are omnipresent on the medians – but this is all extraneous. Berlin feels closed down still, as if the one-two combination of the Nazi period followed by 28 years of a divided country and city have simply sucked much of the life out of it and even 20 years of unification haven't been enough to recover from those traumas. Like Frankfurt Berlin feels very safe, even late at night, but it all feels very drab and dispirited.

Even the museums – I spent an afternoon at the Pergamon where they have the reconstructed Ishtar Gate from Babylon – a magnificent piece, but the museum itself felt a little disorganized with some tags in English as well as German, but many only in German, and the flow from room to room felt a little random. I went on to the Neues Museum which houses the Egypt logical collections including the very famous bust of Nefertiti – she is in a room of her own, with a crowd much like that around the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum – and a very interesting display of papyrus fragments. They are in a long table half of which is glass covered and you can push one of four buttons to get a tray to slide out with fragments in it. Push another button and that tray slides back and another slides out – slowly and rather majestically revealing the new papyri. A very slick system and one that saves much display space. The Neues Museum was very well organized on four floors with a collection ranging from Neolithic artifacts through treasures from Troy excavated by Schliemann to a massive Egyptian collection including mummies, statuary and papyrus scrolls of the Book of the Dead. An oddity – this was the firat museum that I have been told that I cannot carry my jacket – I had to either wear it or check it.

We went to a very interesting and large flea market on Sunday in Mauer Park, which is where the remaining section of the Berlin Wall is located and where graffiti is not only legal but encouraged on the Wall. Paul Veit is doing a photographic essay documenting the weekly changes on the Wall and he showed us around the Wall and the park. It got really crowded that afternoon – many Berliners hang out at the park on a sunny afternoon and there were various musicians (a brass band, someone playing a electronically altered jaw's harp, a couple of guys playing plastic kiddie instruments through all kinds of electronic hoo-hah, etc. with much beer and pastries for sale. It was nice but very different from a Sunday afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens. Granted there are differences in size and history, but the basic function is the same – a green place in the city for people to go and relax in. Mauer Park, in the shadow of the Wall and the large light towers, seems somehow listless and solemn, as if that attitude, that Communist ethos that has seeped into the ground and continues to infect the city. Perhaps that is a little dramatic, but those lingering echoes of the literal and psychic damage that was done to this city are there and it will be many more years before Berlin recovers – perhaps the generations that survived the war and the wall need to pass on and the attitudes that keep 'west Berliners' out of 'east Berlin' need to pass on with them. The country and the city may have been reunified but the national psyche has yet to heal.

Surprising Frankfurt

This city was the most pleasantly surprising place we have been so far on this trip. With nicknames like 'Mainhattan' and 'Bankfurt' and with the reputation as the largest banking and financial center after London, I was expecting a sleek, gray, corporate city with not much to get excited about. Add to that the fact that 80% of the city was destroyed in two bombing runs during WW2…boy was I mistaken. After the hyper and uber-urban environments of London and Paris, Frankfurt was a wonderful and much needed break. It is a very relaxed and relaxing city with a superb waterfront on the Main (pronounced 'mine') River, some surprisingly interesting and off-beat museums and very lively squares off the old town center. We did see our first real European skyscrapers, but even they were interestingly lit up at night.

We went to the Museum of Communication which was much more interesting than the name might indicate. And there in the lobby was an art piece that Lynn had just found out about from our friend Curt LeMay –

Yes, those are sheep made from old telephones. The bodies are from many old cords, the feet are receivers, and the heads are the whole unit. Quite ingenious and very effective – they really look like sheep – there's even a black one, off all by itself. The museum had much artwork related to communications – there was a Christo piece, a public telephone wrapped in plastic and canvas, several paintings (including a Jawlensky and a Broodthaers) an extensive collection of stamps, some spectacular old televisions – a truly remarkable museum in a beautiful space right along the river.

We had lunch at a traditional Frankfurt apple wine tavern where they serve an alcoholic apple cider called ebbelwoi. I had a version that has lemonade added to it and some just straight. It is a unique taste, better with the lemonade, but it was delicious with the Weiner schnitzel I ordered.
The river walks were just delightful – flocks of geese bedded down in the sun, tour barges cruising up and down the river, lovely rows of linden trees lining the path – it was marvelously relaxing.

We wandered through the remains of the old town – very few buildings survived the bombs and those that did needed extensive rebuilding – but the square does feel quite old world. This is the old town hall which is now used by the mayor and the town council. The stepped roof line is traditional in Frankfurt although there are few examples remaining.

We had a lovely dessert – apple strudel, what else? – in another square before walking back along the Main to our pension. It had been a very lovely day, all the more so because it was so unexpected. And although it was raining the next morning when we headed out to Berlin, Frankfurt is a city I would love to go back to when the world feels too much with me.

I must say something about Pension Aller where we stayed. I choose it because it was very close to the train station and it had some good reviews. It is run by Frau Kraus (insert Young Frankenstein reference here), a lovely elderly woman who will cruise up the three flights of stairs before you've closed the front door and provide you with all the morning conversation you need. She has traveled widely and will tell you that she won't talk politics or religion, usually just before (or after) a long political narrative. She is very interesting to listen to and a very kind host. It was a comfortable room (twin beds, of course) but clean, convenient and relatively quiet, for being close to a busy intersection.

Mea Culpa

Well I did say that I am a lousy diarist. I keep trying to get things updated but after a day of walking and time spent on the computer getting email and accounting up to date I don't seem to have enough left to write about the day. I will try to get caught up over the next several days – but no promises!

Excursus 2 - Beer

I have had some truly excellent beers so far on this trip. In Paris I had two different Grimberger (sp?) varieties – a blanc and a red, both of which superb. I would highly recommend seeking them out – they are, if I remember rightly, Belgian beers. I also have had several made by Trappist monks, all very good. And the surprise in something called Manger's Irish Apple cider made from 17 varieties of apples – very refreshing and even Lynn liked it! We also sampled the apple wine in Frankfurt, something of a local specialty. It was interesting, good with a little lemonade added.

Here's a surprising fact – I really didn't drink much scotch in Edinburgh (aside from some of Charlie Rader's private stock – thanks Charlie!) and now that we're in Germany I don't really feel like drinking beer – very odd…

Excursus 1 – The twin bed tour…

The Dick and Laura Petrie Memorial Twin Bed Tour continues in Frankfurt….so far out of seven places we have stayed we have had twin beds in four of them. The ones in Paris where we were first were the worst – uncomfortable and the wooden frames were so loud and creaky that you could wake yourself up at night just be turning over. We had very comfortable beds in both Orkney and London and the twins in Frankfurt were not bad either, but it's surprising how many places have twin beds.

Addendum - We just checked into our our Berlin Hotel - very nice, very quiet (another great recommendation from Charlie Rader) - it is a double which means - two twin beds pushed together to make a double!

To Edinburgh

We left Paris for London on the Eurostar, the high speed train that runs through the Chunnel. Getting through customs was a bit of an adventure as the British clerk had many questions for us – he seemed quite suspicious of an American couple traveling in Europe for three months. The trip itself was uneventful – much like a short airline flight (with about as much legroom). Fortunately the station we were catching the train to Edinburgh in, King's Cross, is right next door to St. Pancras so al we had to do was walk across the street and wait.

The trip to Edinburgh was quite nice. Initially we sat next to two older women, sisters, heading back to their farm in Yorkshire after a visit to their sons in London. They were originally from Belgium and came to England during the war. One came for nurses training and married a British officer and the other married a farmer. Because of their experiences their mother refused to let their younger sister come to England! Both of their husbands are dead and they are living together in Yorkshire. Their sons were quite concerned that someone helped them get their luggage at their stop which I did of course. They were a delight to spend time with.

After that we sat with a couple of ex-pat Brits who are living in Kuwait. He works in southern Iraq rebuilding the oilfields and she teaches in an English school in Kuwait. We had a lovely conversation with them ranging over politics, living abroad, education, etc. They were here visiting their children in Berwick upon Tweed. They graciously and generously shared a bottle of Bailey's with us and were delightful to spend time with.

It is always a treat to come out of Waverley Station in Edinburgh and see the castle – it is without question the best view of any station in Europe. It was chilly and windy and we had to walk around to North Bridge to catch the bus but it felt very, very good being in Edinburgh again. If I weren't such a Scottish Swede I would done quite the happy dance. When we got to Dalkeith we had quite the surprise – the grounds are being cleaned up and restored to their 18^th century look, which means that the shrubs along the path to the house are gone and the great bridge can now be seen from the library – the new Duke is having all the undergrowth and a lot of trees taken out. I was so surprised when I walked into the library and looked out the window – I just stared for a few minutes. It was such a surprise. I think when the project is done it will be quite a transformation but right all the heavy equipment is there, fences are blocking off sections around the house and it looks like the construction site that it is. They are also tuck-pointing all the chimneys so there is scaffolding up around the house. It was still lovely to be there again. I went out one day to the oak grove and renewed acquaintances with the old trees – some of them are 700 years old and it was my favorite spot when we lived there in 2003. I even did some tai chi by the tree I used to it under and read – quite a powerful place. The River Esk, which splits into a north and south branch just before Dalkeith, comes together at this grove and for Druids a river that comes together in an oak grove was a very holy, very powerfully spiritual place and you can, if you pay attention, really feel it. It is the most remarkable place of nature I have ever been and it is always hard to leave it.

 

The Paris Review

The week in Paris was not quite what I expected but that was more because of where I was at than because of the city. I arrived off a lousy flight – when was the last time a major airline ran out of toilet paper in one the restrooms? – and since I cannot seem to sleep on the plane by the time I got in at 730 local time I just wasn’t feeling good. I had taken a different flight than the rest of the group and so I needed to find them which in an airport like De Gaulle can be a bit of a challenge especially whne you don’t speak much French. Fortunately English is becoming the new Latin (i.e. the universal language) so I was able to get to the group meeting point and be on the shuttle to the hostel we were staying at. The Foyer is on the Boulevard St Michel right across from the Luxembourg Gardens in the heart of the university area. The Sorbonne, the Pantheon and several elite lycees (high schools) are very close by, as is Notre Dame. While I must admit to being put off ny the Roman Imperial architecture of many of the university buildings – despite the Liberté, égalité, fraternité inscribed on all of them, these are most definitely monumental imperial buildings – there are several small churches in the area which are quite beautiful and very moving to be in and this is the area that Hemingway lived in, that Joyce worked in – the bookstore Shakespeare & Co. is right across the boulevard from Notre Dame – and so I spent a good deal of time just walking through the various neighborhoods trying to get a feel of what it is like to be in Paris. I didn’t go to any museums until Tuesday simply because I understood that I was not in Paris, or indeed on this journey, to look at art or even really to be a tourist. I spent the time walking because I needed to reach some kind of understanding of what I was doing on this trip. I did get to the Rodin museum and Haiya and I spent Wednesday afternoon at the Louvre – after 3.5 hours we were both ready to leave – but for me the week was about getting my feet under me so to speak – getting my bearings in a new place, and really, a new life. I have left behind a very great deal and the week in Paris, I think, was about coming to grips with that, letting it go, grieving those things that needed it and preparing for the primary purpose of this pilgrimage that I have embarked upon.

On Friday, after most of the students had left Paris for their work sites, Lynn and I went to Chartres. This is a place that has had a large place in my consciousness ever since I took a class on medieval Gothic architecture my first year at Macalester – that would be January of 1977. In the class we read Henry Adams’ Mont St. Michel and Chartres which is his guided tour of the history of the medieval cathedrals in France from the Romanesque church at Mont St.. Michel through all the Notre Dames that were constructed throughout France in the 11^th-14^th centuries and ending up with the Thomas’ Summa Theologica. Chartres has the most beautiful stained glass of any of the great cathedrals – the blues are especially renowned – and since it is only 40 kilometers from Paris it was an easy trip to make.

And it was very much worth it, in spite of the fact that the west front was covered by scaffolding because they are slowly cleaning and rehabbing the cathedral, so that the great rose window was not visible. But we walked the labyrinth inside and took a tour of the crypts and took some time to just sit in this place of great faith, endurance and power. You have to remember that most of these great cathedrals were built by itinerant craftsmen and the people of the community they were located in. The masons would come and shape the stones, the architects would direct the building and the community would provide hospitality and labor – the stones had to get to the site somehow. For the most part these people are anonymous to us and yet the buildings they created not only still stand but continue to draw people from all over the world. Adams did not pretend to understand the power of the Virgin – he drew a comparison to standing before the great electrical turbines of the World’s Fair in Chicago in the 1890’s’ – he knew they had great power but had no understanding of how that power was generated – but he understood that there was force in Her cathedrals. And there still is great force there - for the first time all week I felt calmed, relieved of some of the burdens that I had been carrying, some for what felt like a very long time. I do not consider my a Christian and certainly not Catholic but at that place neither were required – grace and understanding were there for all, freely given to anyone with an open heart and the willingness to ask.

A few days earlier at the Rodin Museum I stood in front of his famous Gates of Hell and relied that although it is a magnificent work of art, I found the theology it portrays to be profoundly distasteful to me and also simply and completely wrong. I don’t know if there is only sky above us but I do know there is no hell below us. The Divine – describe however you will, name it however you must – does not punish. What punishment there comes from us. Religion, as Rudolf Otto teaches us, is a responsive posture, a response to that which is completely and totally Other - the mysterium tremendum, a response to our prehension that there is something else active in the universe, something beyond our abilities to fully understand and describe in anything other than metaphor. Whatever hell there is, whatever purgatory there may be, these are things and places that human beings have invented for themselves and then place themselves there. C.S. Lewis once described hell as a rainy bus queue in London where the people kept refusing to get on the bus that would take them away from that place. What Chartres demonstrates, beyond any doubt, is that the Divine presence is infinitely patient, infinitely forgiving and infinitely welcoming. Hell exists only in us and as George Steiner has observed, Hell has been much easier for us to create on earth than its counterpart.

Our last night in Paris was spent at the Tour Eiffel – a very long time in line for tickets and transport to the top, but it was so worth it. The view of Paris and the Seine at night made everything else disappear. It is the most touristy thing to do in Paris but it is such a magnificent sight. It was a splendid way to wrap up the first week before embarking on the marathon of visits that begins next.