Discovering Berlin

There were a few raised eyebrows when we told people that our first trip abroad with our children was to be to Berlin.  We were to visit my cousin Lucy who lives in the city. It was to be an adventure, and we hoped William, (7), and Oliver, (5), would think so too.

 

Berlin seems to be a city struggling with its history; it is raw and present.  Along the street, running through the buses and cyclists and “Trabant Safaris”, is a line of cobbles –the route of the Berlin Wall. It runs like a scar through the centre of the city. The boys enjoy spotting the line as we follow our guidebook between the city’s landmarks.

‘Are we in the East, or the West, now?’ William asks.  

It’s hard to tell, and I try to imagine the ugly concrete barrier towering above us.  Here and there are tall posts showing its height and thickness.  At the Eastside Gallery, a stretch of the wall has been preserved, painted with murals depicting images of reconciliation and peace. Signs forbid its defacement, but graffiti and fly-posts are defiantly evident, as if declaring ‘it’s our wall now’. 

We visit the Holocaust Memorial. Austere grey blocks of different sizes are arranged in a grid. The ground undulates disconcertingly under our feet, so that as we enter, we begin to descend and the blocks tower above us on each side. William and Oliver are excited, running between the blocks as though in a maze. We call anxiously after them as they disappear from sight. We catch fleeting glimpses of other people as they pass between the blocks around us then disappear.

I call the boys to us and try to explain the memorial.

‘It is to remember millions of people who died, in the war,’ I say.

‘Were killed,’ Lucy corrects, and I know she is right. We shouldn’t soften the truth with gentler words. The boys nod solemnly, and then run off again.  Of course they can’t understand. Neither can we.

In the Museum of Technology the boys clamber over full size fishing boats, pointing at planes hanging precariously above us. As they explore the engine sheds, we read the exhibits. A display tells of the transportation of the Jews, and the collaboration of the railways with the Nazis. An interactive screen allows visitors to access records of trains leaving each town, and their passengers.  Even here, there is no escape from history’s shadow.

The restored Reichstag building, proud with its giant German flag, has a glass cupola, open to the sky.  Glass, it seems, is a popular choice for Germany’s restoration. We climb the ramp that spirals around the cupola, enjoying the views over the city, listening to our audio guide, available in many languages. Berlin welcomes the world into its glass, transparent heart.

As we travel home we discuss the best bits of our trip.

Oliver chooses trams. William chooses trains. I choose discovering in our own way, together.