Berlin - The Touristy Way

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With the Herbys back in Sweden and just one day to see as much as we could of Berlin, Jo and I bit the bullet and booked ourselves on a bus and boat tour of the city. Generally we've found that just walking around sucking in the atmosphere between a few main tourist places is the best way to see a city and have learned to avoid tour busses like the plague - but time was against us. There are three or four different hop-on hop-off style companies plying their trade in Berlin and all seemed to be much the same so we bought tickets off a tout on the footpath and boarded a yellow double decker bus a few minutes later.

We did around half of the loop before disembarking near Checkpoint Charlie. This is probably one of the more touristy parts of Berlin but whilst the street stalls selling Russian hats and fake military helmets were a bit of an eyesore, the vibe of the place was nice and, compared to Paris, Berlin's tourist areas were bordering on discrete. The Trabants parked on the street were available for rental and gave me an idea that I'll have to get around to at some other time on some other trip to Berlin.

The audio tour from the Chekpoint Charlie Museum the previous day had suggested a few sights within walking distance and we were keen to take a look at Topographie Des Terrors, a museum located on the site where the SS and Gestapo buildings once stood. The buildings themselves had been destroyed during the war and demolished after it but the museum was a more than fitting replacement. Outside the museum, an original part of the Berlin Wall ran along the street, crumbling in parts but giving a reasonable idea of the frustrations of those stuck on the wrong side of the imposing structure.

The museum itself showcased in incredible detail, information on the SS and Gestapo and their roles in every day life in Berlin. The displays were all text and photos and we were there for at least a few hours learning about the horrors of the time. I found it particularly interesting that, in several instances, the author(s) paid specific attention to the role of the German public around the time and even suggested that their silence in the situation suggested a level of compliance to the goings-on. Of course, rebellion was dealt with swiftly, but it was the first and only time I read or heard anything in Germany that suggested any level of culpability on the part of the German public.

"More than anything else, this indifference and readiness to accept the persecution of the Jews, and to ignore it as unimportant, characterised the attitude of the 'normal Germans' toward the Jews in those years"

I usually treat tourist boat trips with some trepidation and our Spree River cruise did not start well when the bloke at the bar would not serve me a beer. I was told to wait for the staff to serve us at our tables... no, he said - it is not possible to pour you one here and take your money from you. Things didn't get any better a few minutes later when a bloke with a flash looking camera asked to take our photos in what could only possibly end up with our money being separated from ourselves.

"No thanks", I said (twice)

"Ahh... you speak English... I'm just taking photos to..."

"Ahh" I interrupted "You speak English... do you know what no means?"

We didn't see him again although his fortune was made from the American tourists across from us who happily bought their photos from our man and slotted them away for safe keeping in their camera bags. People are stupid.

The cruise itself was worth the hassle as we passed the back side of the Reichstag and went between the German Houses of Parliament that are symbolically located on both sides of the river. Crosses along the riverbank memorialised those that died trying to cross in the days of the wall. We passed the Berliner Dom (Berlin Cathedral) and the many cafes that lined the river - watching the punters watch us. One cafe had loungers lining the rivers edge and business was booming.

We completed the bus round-trip and walked back towards our hotel in the mid-afternoon sun, stumbling across a market that was in full swing. We bought a beer and a weiner each and listened to the sounds of the competing music boxes being played by "traditionally" dressed elderly folk looking for a few extra Euros.

After a brief rest at the hotel we boarded our bus and headed out to Alexanderplatz. Earlier in the day I'd spotted what looked like an arts and crafts market somewhere in the vicinity but as we were on the fixed stop bus we were unable to get off to explore. Unfortunately we arrived just after 1700 and the vendors were shutting up shop.

We wandered along the streets and ended up at Allegretto, a riverside restaurant that looked a little too expensive for my liking on account of it's great location across the river from the Berliner Dom. Initially we ordered a beer and a wine but either something got lost in translation or our waiter miraculously turned my beer into water. By the time my beer showed up, Jo and I had looked at the menu and were surprised to find the prices to be reasonable for the location so we decided on an early dinner. My ravioli was the winner on the night but Jo's antipasti was a close second. The whole bill came to less than EUR40. Berlin was growing on me - what a city.

Alexanderplatz was only a short walk away and was another spot that looked interesting from on board the bus earlier in the day. The 368 metre Fernsehturm Berlin (TV Tower) dominates the skyline and the square is also home to Neptunbrunnen (Neptune Fountain) and St Mary's Church.

Just beyond Alexanderplatz I found the Motorrad (Motorbike) Museum where I spent half an hour wandering around while Jo had a drink in Graffiti - a nearby bar. I joined her later on and we watched Belgium lose 1-0 to Argentina in the World Cup Quarter finals while puffing on an apple shisha.

We caught the train back to our hotel where I spent some time updating the blog while watching an epic match between The Netherlands and Costa Rica that ended up 0-0 after extra time and was won 4-3 on penalties by the Dutch. Costa Rica - the Cinderella story of the World Cup - were sent home but held their heads high as they left the stadium.

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