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Published: April 24th 2008
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Standing left, if this were the New York Public Library on 5th Avenue, would be Patience. And to his left, Fortitude. I didn’t get to know these two lions as intimately, but I can only imagine what kind of nicknames they have been given over the years, facing the Wannsee, protecting the Villa Marlier. It was here on 20 January 1942 that
“The Final Solution” was consecrated and set into motion.
Yes, I have begun touring Berlin. In my remaining 3 weeks here, I’ve decided to explore what Berlin has to offer in addition to its charms and inspirations for everyday living. I’ve got at least a mental list of some places I’d like “to do” before leaving. Thus far, I have avoided any gruesome destinations - as if reminders of The Wall aren’t hardship enough to overcome…
But this morning, I cycled carefree in Berlin’s new season called Spring that started three days ago, knowing that I was headed for a solemn location. I’m glad I read the guidebook beforehand, as this location is apparently so tender and vulnerable, that you have to be buzzed onto the grounds and into the museum. Whizzing by yachts and sunbathing Berliners,
Here it was...
The two left bottom windows: the "dining room" which hosted 15 henchmen. In 90 minutes, they made unanimous plots for "The Final Solution." I admired the surplus of villas built by so-and-so for so-and-so -- until I came upon my destination: Am Grossen Wannsee 56/58.
I gingerly rang the bell, and pushed open the iron gate and tried to amble casually down the front walk to the villa. Once inside, I checked the museum map and wanted to beeline to the “dining room”, which had been the conference room where the 3rd Reich henchmen signed their names and 11 million lives away.
So determined was I not to glimpse at or be affected by the other parts of the exhibit (one of the best I’ve seen by the way on the Holocaust topic), I arrived at the dining room almost unmoved, forgetting where I was or what had happened here…
15 men deciding a new future for the planet: one without Jews. Sun shining through French pane windows overlooking architectured gardens and the vast Wannsee… it was not until I bent over to look in a display case and saw, for the first time, copies of the actual Final Solution plans. There it was: where, who, what, when, how and how many … details that all seemed to have
That's all she wrote...
A pathetic inscription, the plaque on the street-facing, external villa wall just says roughly, the Wannsee Conference was held here - and this place is now a memorial to the Jews who suffered from it. A bit unwilling to face its past sometimes, I still love this country. clauses of exceptions - so that one could spin the “law” whichever way they wanted. There was no why.
All this on the day that BCC ran a headline story of a postcard of Anne Frank’s being found in a private collection. And while I’m reading two books: a journalist’s account of Sudan and a writer’s and rancher’s experience with clan clashes in Kenya.
It is important not to forget.
Especially not to forget how easy it was. Or is.
As genocide may not be dinner table conversation here in Berlin, references to The Wall are abundant, in jest and then some. More often there’s the positive reference to “the opening”. Other times, not so positive reflections of life prior to 1989.
Despite my long-term obsession with Germany, I had no idea how ever-present The Wall was…and is.
Here are just a few of my favorite everyday “Wall” stories I’ve experienced: 1. While eating rice cakes with a group of 5 and 6 year-olds, one started playing with his food (a serious no-no)… but I let him carry on as he tried to stack his edible rectangles and the wind relentlessly blew them back
down. Finally, I asked him what he was up to. He looked at me with a devilish grin, and nearly knocked himself over laughing,
“I’m building The Wall!” 2. The Wall immediately conjures images of people trying to escape from the East to the West. I hear dogs barking, smell dusty guns and cigarettes and see search lights. I think of the people stuck in the East, their lives. I question my East Berlin friends what it was like.
What I don’t think too much about, is how it was for the average West Berliner until… last Sunday while gardening with a volunteer museum group, I asked a sturdy, delightful octogenarian about how long she had been volunteering and how she got into it. She looked at me through her clear plastic Coke bottle glasses, baggy freckled skin that had the look of a pampered West Berliner, and essentially said to me in German,
“I’ve been coming here for 30 years.” Seeing my gaping expression, she retorted,
“Well, what the heck was I supposed to do with there being The Wall? It was a nuisance to get out - and no where to really go… so one You put your left hand out...
Dietmar, demonstrating "how easy" it would be for me to start wall-climbing... had to look inside The Wall to improve one’s life and entertain oneself.” Hm.
3. My ever hospitable friend, Dietmar, has toured me all over the city, sharing not only interesting historical facts, but giving me an inside view of present day Berlin life, through the eyes of an East Berliner. While The Wall was not specifically mentioned on this stroll, I could not help but find the following information ironic:
Berlin has the largest rock-climbing, or rather: wall-climbing, club in all of Germany…even though there aren’t natural rock edifices of mountainous proportions within hours of the city. Instead, one finds climbing walls set about on the landscape of city and suburban terrain. In parks, inbetween apartment buildings. They even have “beginner” walls for kids.
I can’t help but think of had this been 21 years ago, the sport probably would have been illegal in the East. 4. This is my favorite one: Just yesterday morning, my ever supportive friend Coline and I were discussing our comfort levels of solo hiking and lessons to be learned by brightlighters about darkness, safety from predators (including humans) and navigational skills. Coline, a West Berliner, shared with me a moment
Still can't get lost in the woods...
because everywhere you go, there it still sort of is: The Wall. she had in Sweden several years back, when for the first time, she became lost in the woods.
I couldn’t believe this had never happened to her before or that it hadn’t occurred to her to be better prepared. Well, she told me, she
“never had to worry about getting lost before - because when she walked in the woods here, she knew she would always eventually run into The Wall.” I laughed…but then this morning, while tooling aimlessly around Wannsee on some excellent mountainbike paths…I had just started hoping that I hadn’t lost my bearings when … I came across … The Wall. She wasn’t kidding.
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