You immediately notice the difference crossing from Poland over to Germany by train. You don’t need a map to tell you that you’ve left one country, and entered a new, more prosperous, one. The rail stations in Germany are so sterile, clean and modern. It seems as if you cross that imaginary line, all of the conductors magically transformed to neat, proper and efficient authoritarians. Not to say that Poland isn’t run well, at least I won’t be the one to say it, but things are just a bit looser.

I didn’t appreciate the significance of Berlin when I was traveling in 1995. I don’t regret my decision to go to Prague at all, but Berlin really is a dynamic city that, in 1995, was experiencing unprecedented growth. I saw pictures from friends who went, and you could pan 360 degrees and just see cranes everywhere. That building spree has resulted in a rich urban fabric that brings together old and new, communist and entrepreneurial, and everything in between.

I planned on heading to the Wombat hostel for a night, before a bed became available with some couchsurfing hosts. But plans sometimes change. On the train into Berlin, I was speaking to a girl in my cabin. We didn’t say too much. I think I offered to turn the lights off because she was trying to sleep. Then she gave me a heads up that we were pulling into the Ostbanhoff (the East Station and the final stop). As we pulled in she told me she and her boyfriend just moved to Berlin together from Warsaw. I told her briefly about my travels and that I was heading over to the Wombat. We wished each other luck, disembarked and went on our way... so I thought... a few seconds later she ran up, and after consulting with her boyfriend, asked if i wouldn’t mind spending the night at their flat. They had an extra room... Well of course I wouldn’t!

Zofie and Peteor were friendly, kind and unbelievably gracious. They moved to Berlin a few weeks earlier, Peter working for a very good young architecture firm, and Zofie learning German and trying to secure a job in anthropology and archaeology. Aong with their little dog Uzeph (Joseph), they welcomed me into their home. Their are in a cutting edge neighborhood southwest of Kreuzberg (THE cutting edge nighborhood in Berlin), right next to the Templehofer, a former airport turned public park, and home of one of Albert Speer’s largest buildings, the airport terminal. The area is located in the former U.S. occupied district of West Berlin and the airport was critical to bringing goods and services into West Berlin throughout the communist years.

I am not sure if I was a little drained, I am not sure if it was Berlin itself, but for these few days I was more content strolling the city and seeing things than really investing myself in architectural exploration. While I made it to some of the notable places, the Jewish Museum by Daniel Liebskind and the Holocaust Memorial by Peter Eisennman, I really enjoyed strolling through the rich cultural neighborhoods of the city.

On Sunday morning Zofie, Peteor and I went for a long walk clear across Berlin. It was a great way to orient myself with the city. I love discovering a place this way. We set out through the Templehofer, it is just a massive park. Then we cut north through Kreuzburg. This is the gritty neighborhood, formerly (and still to some extend) immigrant neighborhoods. Like lots of places, cheap rent and artistic freedom opened the doors to young hipsters coming in and making the place desirable. Perhaps I should rephrase this, not the young hipsters, but the young artists and believers, finding a place where they can afford to do want they want to pursue... the hipsters come after the place is already cool, driving up rent and driving out the believers... and they were coming to Kreuzburg in droves. We passed through a really nice area, I am not sure of the name, along the canal south of the river. If I had to guess, I’d say it was a hip young neighborhood about ten years ago, which means there are a lot of baby strollers and young families... I’m looking at you Noe Valley. The canal really activated the place though, and there were great bars and restaurants and markets along the waterway. We followed the river to Museum Island, through the hordes of tourists. It was the first time I had heard another American (or Canadian... you guys sound exactly the same despite that stupid flag you put on all your shit to try to distinguish yourselves) in weeks. Right on through Alexanderplatz, the transportation center of the city (but a kind of soulless place) and on up along Kasanienallee. Kasanienallee was a fun street in the Prenszlauer area, also referred to the Casting Street, as Berlin’s most hip and glamorous come here to sip coffee in the sun and be seen... not too sure how much they can see through their ironic glasses. We ended the day walking through the weekly flea market at Mauerpark. A great place and event where you can find just about anything, including karaoke! It seemed like half the city gathered in the cold for this event. Lots of fun.... after Zofie and Peter checked out an apartment, we headed back and I had to get going to my next bed for the evening... an apartment way up high in a communist housing block in Alexanderplatz.

I was very excited to stay in the communist housing tower. The design ideas that guided the layout were based on efficiency. The ideas presented in these building were developed almost in a vacuum, independent of the latest western thinking. The experience of getting to the apartment was unlike anything I have experienced in the western world. There is no central entrance. Nothing that celebrates the building, all access points are utilitarian and consistent... I guess this shouldn’t be surprising, these are the tenets of communism... all things equal. To get to the flat, I had to take the elevator up to the ninth floor, walk over to stair tower ‘D’, and up to the tenth floor, where the flat was directly accessed off of the stair tower. The elevator only went to the 3rd, 6th, 9th and 12th floors, and the only communicating hallways existing at these floors. It was a really intriguing concept for human movement up and down and through the building.

Jenny welcomed me into her home Sunday night. The flat had large windows looking right out on the Berliner Fersehturm, the tallest structure in Berlin, a disco ball like tower symbolizing communist power! Jenny’d had a rough weekend, so we split the bottle of wine I had brought and just caught up. It was a low key evening, which was just fine by me. I was happy to rest and get a good night’s sleep. The rest of my visit was spent wandering around, seeing some of the sights and walking the neighborhoods I had read about. My stay in Berlin was more intuitive than a lot of the other places I’ve been visiting, as I didn’t have any guidebooks. I remember reading an article in the NY Times about ‘The Frugal Traveler’ (who doesn’t seem to travel as frugally as I find myself needing to travel), who would visit places without the use of any references whatsoever. While I appreciate the truth and potential in traveling like this, I am not sure I would be able to pull it off. I would regret all of the things I would miss. But maybe that was the point... he would see where happenstance took him, and find a rich experience in that...

So I walked the posh neighborhood of Prenzlauer near the Kasanienallee, poking into the design shops and galleries, down towards the center and along the Augustrasse. I went over to the indie area of Friedrichstrasse, but I have to admit, it was a lot more commercial than I had imagined. The I went back to Kreuzberg, discovering some of the areas I had not yet seen, including the Haight Ashbury-like Bergmanstrasse. In addition to the Jewish Museum and the Holocaust Memorial, I went and saw some the other tourist sights: The Reichstag, the glass dome design by Norman Foster in Berlin’s Parliament building; The Brandenburg Gate and Checkpoint Charlie... I was turning into Checklist Charlie.

I spent three days in Berlin. Probably not enough, but more than I had originally intended. On the way to Brno we followed the Elba River (I think) over the border into the Czech Republic. It was beautiful.... through the Bohemian Switzerland National Park. As I scanned the tops of the valley I saw limestone cliffs, mountaintop fortresses and overlooks. I wish I had stopped along the border towns of Bad Schandau (Germany) and Hrensko (Czech Republic) as I could have easily spent a day or two hiking around there. But that chance will present itself soon enough in the Tatras.