Berlin in Seven Parts (Day 1: Kreutzberg)

Greetings, everyone!

I'm glad to see you're still checking in here. There haven't been posts in many months, but I have many things to post about, some of which are backlogged, and I plan on updating several times in the coming weeks and months, so keep checking in!

This week's posts are about Berlin, Germany, where Na'ama and I went for a week's vacation this last Easter/Passover. It's a huge, beautiful, fascinating city with an equally fascinating (and chilling) history, often written directly through the buildings and the streets. As always, click to enlarge the photos and see some of the details. This is a long trip, so I will divide it into seven days, and post one at a time.

Berlin Day One: Kreutzberg and Environs

We booked a hostel in a younger and cheaper neighborhood in the southern part of the city center called Kreutzberg. This is a shot of our hostel building above, which used to be a medium-scale factory. The tall ceilings, long hallways, and block-like large rooms are now filled with IKEA furniture, and the price was right. Also, it is located mere steps (steps!) from a U-Bahn (underground railway) station, so it was very easy to get moving through the city in the mornings.

This is a shot directly outside the hostel on street level. The enormous line is for a street vendor called Mustafa who served famously delicious shawarma and other middle-eastern specialties. This line stretched down the block day and night, every day and every night. The wait, combined with an already too-intimate appreciation of middle-eastern food, prevented us from finding out just how delicious it was.

The wonderful first day is always for making some circles in the neighborhood and seeing what is where. Across the Mehringdamm boulevard from our hostel was this serene and beautiful graveyard, with many graves from the early part of the century. Berlin was full of little park oases like this (though usually without the accompanying gravestones.)

A little further north on Mehringdamm we came across this spectacular mural on the side of a rooming house, the first of many we found in the Kreutzberg area. Notice how it's on both sides of the building, and how the "sky" of the mural blends in with the surrounding skyline. It shows some prominent Berlin buildings being sucked into some kind of vortex, though I don't know any of the symbolism.

Directly east of the muraled building was this courtyard park. Kreutzberg had a slower, Brooklyn-like feel to it, with many small businesses, restaurants, and an unpolished, artsy aesthetic. In retrospect, much of Berlin felt like this by varying degrees.

The Jewish Museum, one of Berlin's new architectural achievements, was also in the Kreutzberg neighborhood. From above, it resembles a deconstructed Star of David, and has many "experiential" architectural components, one of which can be seen closer below:

This sunken garden is a series of columns on a tilted plane that's meant to give a sense of disorientation and uneasiness while walking through, and supposed to mirror the disorientation of Jewish emigrees during WWII. We went through later, and it certainly did the trick.

Meanwhile, up the street, sitting down outside at a Thai restaurant in the neighborhood. The weather in April was just starting to turn warm, and it was a fantastic time to be outside.

Na'ama has the Tom Kha, and I have the Tom Yum and a Berliner Pilsner while looking up how to say "the check, please" in German. My German sounds simultaneously French and Hebraic, and is rarely accurate, but I have fun. The food is spicy and wonderful on this brisk day.

Down the same street there were a few more examples of this awesome muraling. These are public apartments (I think).

This wise man endorses any billboard mounted near his face.

A broad shot of the street from a square. The apartment building on the left is ring-shaped and is elevated off the ground like many of the apartment blocks in Tel Aviv.

A large church. Every church I saw in Berlin was made out of red bricks. This was something that was new to me, and I wondered if they were rebuilt after the war, but apparently Protestant churches in this part of Germany were just mortared from red bricks as a general practice.

When we got inside we saw that the church was actually a performance space. It may have doubled as a church as well (still had the pipe organ) but it looked like it was mainly used for concerts and other secular gatherings, and it had catwalks for curtains and other modular stage appurtenances.

A rendering of the church hanging in the vestibule.

The actual church, outside, from a better angle.

I love this shot. The streets are almost disproportionately wide in many parts of Berlin, and the sunlight filters through the trees lining them. The main boulevard in town, we would later find out, is called "Unter den Linden" which literally means "under the linden trees".

This is a wonderful shot (taken by Na'ama) that has a flower shop's corner with bleeding hearts juxtaposed with the graffiti and brick exterior. Flower, or blumen shops were super-common in Berlin.

Bergmannstrasse. What a cool street. This ran East-to-West on the southern edge of Kreutzberg, and had a dazzling assortment of specialty shops, world restaurants, coffee places, and a generally young and relaxed atmosphere. The sun was shining, so the espresso lounge (and many other coffee shops) opened their accordion-style front windows and let the tables spill onto the street.

Up the hill a bit from Bergmannstrasse was Viktoriapark, an urban park from the early 1800s. No gravestones, but a monument to the Napoleonic wars at the top. Very peaceful near the end of the day.

Another specialty shop in the area, this time with books. Some intriguing silk-screened prints lure us to its windows.

For adventure, we ducked into a courtyard on the street and found a "secret garden" that the surrounding buildings faced. Kreutzberg could be rather bustling in the Bergmannstrasse area, but this was a very quiet retreat with some mighty old apartment buildings around. I loved the inlaid steps with "SALVE." written on the stoop. It might be a religious reference, and I'm not sure, but what a great way to be "hailed" every day.

That evening, we met up with some local friends: Mindi and her husband, originally from the states, both teach at JFK which is the local German international school. Mindi is a string teacher I had met at a few festivals, and it was too convenient not to visit, which they generously made time for. We went to a local German/Mexican(!) restaurant and each had a margarita, each a different color. End Day 1.

Getting around the city (wheels and feet)

Tel Aviv may be somewhat small, but it has some great and unique public transit. The most ubiquitous way to get around is by bus.

As in the States, the bus has a number and a corresponding route. You pay when you get on, and the bus is signaled to make its next scheduled stop by pressing a button onboard. Most people pay with a transit card; I pay with shekels. Busses do not operate on Saturdays.

However, there is a fantastic, quirkier, sometimes quicker way to traverse the city. This way is the Sheirut:

A Sheirut (Hebrew for "service") is a shared taxi that looks like a yellow minivan. There are as least as many of these in service as busses. They also have a number and run the same routes as the busses. They cost the same as the busses. However, they only have 10 seats, and they stop whenever you ask them to. Want to stop at a certain store? Bellow from the back: "Ta'atzor, b'vakasha!" and the driver will stop wherever possible.

The added element of weirdness on a sheirut is how you pay: upon entering, it's expected that the passengers will immediately find a seat so the van can continue moving and won't block traffic. Once seated, the passenger will give his money to the person sitting in front, who will in turn pass it up to the driver through a chain of passengers. The driver will count it with one hand while operating the vehicle (sometimes at the peril of everyone onboard), issue change from an automatic dispenser, and pass it back through the passengers again. There's a strange camaraderie in this expeditiousness that is utterly cool.

Also much more noticeable on a sheirut is the personality of the driver: one driver had an abacus built into his dashboard to keep track of the number of passengers, some are angry and constantly yelling into the CB radio, one was completely chill and was blasting a Vivaldi CD while whistling along, and some older passengers asked him to turn it up.

Coming soon to my neighborhood are bike rentals from an automatic rack. As far as I can tell, they can be rented by credit card from the kiosk above, which remotely unlocks a bike from a post. The bikes aren't here yet, but they should be ready later this month, and I can't wait to try it out.

Finally, feet. The Tel Aviv Marathon was this last Friday morning. This was the scene on the street at 6:30AM:

18,000 people showed up, according to the local paper. All cars parked on the boulevard were towed at night and there were many street closed in the city. Here's a view from the roof, with runners coming down the street in the 5th or so kilometer:

The guy in yellow below yelled to the marathon volunteers: "Why aren't you cheering??" They started cheering.

Coda: I broke at least 3 traffic laws finding a route to work that morning, but it was a fun day.

Tel Aviv and the Conspicuity of Celebrity

One Saturday morning about a week ago, Na'ama and I were taking a quick walk up the boulevard to the neighborhood grocery store. Once we turned the corner, she informed me that we had just passed Yitzhak Rabin's granddaughter sitting at one of the outdoor cafes.

Apparently, Yitzhak Rabin's granddaughter is in her early 30s and is married with kids, and nearly everyone knows what she looks like, ala Chelsea Clinton. That she would be out on Saturday for breakfast at a trendy street-side cafe isn't surprising. However, what is surprising is how often it's possible to run into nationally famous figures in Tel Aviv; this was the latest in a series of sightings. Some others:

(sitting at dinner at an inexpensive cafe): "Oh, my god. Don't look now, but my favorite op-ed columnist is having coffee at the table over your left shoulder."

I look over my shoulder. Gideon Levy, with his weathered face and Clint Eastwood-like squint is having a cigarette and talking with his dinner companion at a two-person table. I recognize him from his byline picture.

"Why don't you go say how you love his work?"

"I can't do that! He'll think I'm an idiot!"

(Walking down the street back from a late-night movie): "See that guy in the white shirt and flip-flops? He's the head judge on the Israeli version of American Idol." Isra-Simon is talking animatedly on a cell phone by himself, standing next to a park bench.

(Driving up a side street en route to the freeway on a Saturday morning, slowing for a crossing pedestrian): "By the way, the guy who's crossing the street in front of us was a really famous Israeli rock star in the '70s. Now he's really slowed down; that's his wife and kid."

Statistically, all of this is probable. Tel Aviv has only 393,000 people, and it's the cultural center of the Israeli world. Furthermore, these blocks lie in the heart of the city. What's most surprising is the casual nature of each of these celebrities; no entourage, no fancy car, no exclusive table, just flip-flops and an occasional companion. I guess if the world is small enough, the rush of celebrity status isn't as reality-bending.

The best one of all: last week, Na'ama walks down King George St. on the way home from work, and comes up from behind on a handful of guys, one of whom is small and elderly but walking at a fast clip, talking with the others. She instantly recognizes him as former prime minister and current president of Israel Shimon Peres.

"And I love Shimon Peres! And he's walking around so quickly for an elderly man! But the problem is that he's surrounded by his guards, so I couldn't approach him to say hello. Even worse, he's walking directly on my route home, so now it looks like I'm following them! And one of the guards looks over his shoulder at me, and keeps walking, and looks again, then talks to the others, and so I finally switch to the other side of the street, and when they finally pass my street I turn up the block, and one of the guards gives me a last look . . . and I mean, you can't really blame them, because it's Shimon Peres, but how cool to see the President...!"

Make City Tokyo

Or: how to spend a Shabbat morning with cutting tools and glue.

Below right: a picture of the final components of Make City Tokyo, once assembled.

The components of Tokyo Tower...

And, the completed tower, with included Godzilla. Next up: sushi, vending machines, main street, and temple.

Budapest Revisted

Hungary by Train

The last morning in Vienna. The train leaves right after breakfast, and the station isn't too far away...

The ride is about four hours. On the way eastward; check out the many rows of tracks in the switchyard:

Ahhh...

Budapest is my favorite world city. It's difficult to explain why, but there are the observable good things: beautiful landscape with a major river running through the center, walkable, inexpensive, fascinating architecture and city layout, etc.

But there are the more subtle things. For example: the combination of joy and utter seriousness of the music scene, for young and old alike. The language that kind of resembles Finnish, but is different than all others. The ubiquitous use of a national spice. The courtyards in nearly every building. The East-meets-West culture mash of this region of Europe.

But, above all else, I get a palpable sense of optimism in Budapest. The underdog city that persevered through terrible times of poverty and communist domination to emerge on the other side with renewed national pride. New ideas and opportunities arriving. The worst is probably over, and the best is yet to come.

A walk by the Danube is always relaxing:

Dramatic war memorial outside of the parliament building:

A few pictures from the Jokai neighborhood, near my hostel and the Opera House:

The second-largest synagogue in the world is in Budapest. (The first is in New York.)

And, relatedly, an interesting traveling story: I found and paid for my hostel online, and was very pleased with it when I arrived; it was a large, fully renovated, opulent apartment near the center of town, run by a kind Romanian woman named Andi. After I arrived and settled in, Andi offered me a cup of coffee and a quick guide through the local sights on the travel map. The exchange went something like this:

Andi: "Well, you'll probably want something to eat this afternoon. Right around the corner is the best falafel in the city. Really exceptional. Let me mark the map for you..."

Me: "Hey, thanks..." *My Brain*: Hmm. Falafel. Do they have a lot of that in Hungary? Does she know where I'm travelling from? Am I getting profiled...?

Andi: "After you get something to eat, there are many amazing things to see in the city. I highly recommend the synagogue. It is the second-largest synagogue in the world..."

Me: "Ah, yes..." *My Brain*: OK, this is definitely profiling. She saw my point of origin on the internet booking, and now I'm getting the Isra-tour of Budapest. Well, I guess that's kind of nice.

Andi marked up the map with many other sights, including the Terror Museum, local market, and famous baths. I went out, and had a wonderful time. When I returned to my room that night, I met my roommate, Zohar, who happened to be born and raised in Israel. We commented on the serendipitous situation of being from the same country. Then I asked, "Did Andi point out the falafel and the synagogue as the first things on the map to you..?" to which Zohar's eyes widened and he emphatically said "YES! YES she CERTAINLY DID! It is PROFILING!!" We talked for a bit about how weird it was ("Do you like . . . Synagogues??"), then decided to call it a night after swapping more stories of living in Canaan.

The next day, before hitting the town, I saw Andi in the kitchen giving an orientation to a couple who were obviously from Australia: "Welcome! You must have had a long flight from Sydney. If you're feeling like a bite to eat, I recommend this restaurant around the corner; it's the best falafel in the city. Amazing food. Let me mark the map for you. Also, here, next to the Danube river is the Budapest Synagogue. It's the second-largest Synagogue in the world..."

The Market on the River

Since I started traveling seriously, one of my greatest fascinations is with the common markets in each city, and Budapest has one of the best. It's the enormous train-station looking building in the center of the street below:

The inside of this market is cavernous and clean, and resembles Pike Place in a blimp hangar. The stores are clustered by type of produce (meats, veggies, prepared foods, souvenirs) and there is a massive selection.

An example of a meat stall:

And Kmetty and Kmetty, fine purveyors of fresh veggies:

The sunlight streams through, and shops try to make their deals. There's a food court on the upper catwalks, selling paprika sausage, salads, beer, and Langos, which are a kind of fried dough with sour cream and cheese.

The market from the outside. I think it must be some kind of dream to live within walking distance.

Sights and Sounds

Inspiring Graffiti:

The Budapest Opera pit. Band geeks, note the side rotary-valve cornets.

The leg room. Slightly better than US Airways.

The opera house: stunning, more opulent (though smaller) than Vienna, and a match for the galvanizing weeknight performance the company put on for a half-full house: Blood Wedding by Hungarian composer Sandor Szokolay, based on a play by Lorca, originally produced in 1964. This is the second time that I've been completely overwhelmed by the sheer vitality and virtuosity of a operatic production in Budapest (the first being Stravinsky's L'historie du Soldat) and the performance still resonates these many months later.

A Night on the Town

Like any good hostel director, our intrepid Andi took us out one night for drinks and dancing. Here we are, striding down the boulevard toward Morrison's, a club on the western edge of Pest:

Morrison's Music Pub is a multi-level dreamscape of a club. It consists of an entire housing block-with-courtyard, three stories, hollowed out and retrofitted for a nightly gatecrash. The top floor, where we started our evening, is full of chandeliers and old-timey bar goodness:

A view from the third story down into the interior courtyard:

Foosball was invented in Hungary. There was a lot of it on the third floor. I hadn't played since Middle School.

The second floor had the largest bar, and the most interesting people, as well as some of the dance floors. The basement, which I couldn't get any pictures of because of the thronging masses, was a labyrinthine bunker of packed dance floors, each with its own theme (retro, top 40, house/trance/IDM, karaoke, etc.) and with enough twists and turns between them to make it seem like a kind of waking slideshow. This isn't ordinarily a place for me, but I had a blast.

Far Beneath the Buda Hills...

On my last day in Budapest, there was a group going spelunking in the hills on the far side of the Danube. Natural cave formations had been explored and historically used as bunkers, but were now preserved for science and amateur spelunkers. We took two buses up into the hills and got outfitted at the caving lodge:

Then followed our guide down to the entrance...

And here I am, ready to rock.

Our guide was an experienced spelunker, and took us about 100 meters under the Buda hills in complete darkness. Our headlamps guided us as the routes became progressively smaller and more challenging.

Our group. (roommate Zohar in foreground.)

Crawling under a difficult rock to the next room.

Roots from plants reached into some of the shallower rooms:

An extremely narrow, slide-on-your-butt section of the cave. The pictures don't do this justice.

An ascent.

Our guide demonstrating the difficult "Winnie the Pooh" hole, and the technique for getting through it without resorting to grease, ropes, or small ordinance.

A hand-drawn map of the cave system back at the lodge. There was a really cool moment on the tour where we all turned out our lights in the belly of an enormous cave called "The Theater". There was no light, and we all giggled nervously, but then I wanted to savor the moment in blackness. I think I said something like: "Hey, let's all be totally silent, under the earth, for 10 seconds. We'll never be back here and it'll be something we'll never forget. Ready? Go."

And it was totally silent, and there was no light, and it was cold, and there were people we couldn't see standing all around. We stood there for what felt like a minute.

Then I relented: "OK, that's enough." More laughter, from myself and everyone else, and we continued on with the tour.

Final Places

A street in the night off of the main drag:

The view leading from St. Stephen's toward the Danube...

...and its inversion.

The main living area of the hostel:

And the view from the train as it departed to Ferihegy airport. Goodbye, Budapest, and I'll be seeing you.