Visions of Wien and Bratislava (Day 138)

Wien and Bratislava (Pressburg) are only an hour and a half apart by train. In fact they are the closest two capital cities in the world!* Recently several inquisitive Americans decided to take advantage of this fact, parts of their story are below.

*(the Vatican doesn't count)

Hard at Work
Bratislava

Someone Turned the Fountains On
Neue Markt 1st Bezirk
Wien

Communist Modernism!
The Bridge (that looks like a UFO) over the Danude
Bratislava

Some Americans are amused by trains
The Tourist Trolly
Bratislava

No Tourists
The old City
Bratislava

The Triumphant Soviet Liberator
WW2 Memorial
Bratislava

Seizing the Moment
Somewhere (I hope)
Wien

A Particularly Inviting Set of Stairs
By The University
Wien

The "Riesenrad" (Giant Wheel)
2nd Bezirk
Wien

The Heart of Vienna
Stephansdom
Wien

Being Vanquished by George
Dragons
Bratislava

After the Long Pause (Day 123)

Proud Ambassador of the United States
Made with my Guestmother

I'm beginning to suspect that I'm not numbering these things correctly any more. Eh.

I wanted to talk to you today about one of the most curious of things. That is to say, what it means to be an American in Europe. I suppose you could say that is what I've been talking about this whole time, and I would have to agree that you were right. But I would agree in one of those way that was more along the lines of, "ok," "maybe," "you're probably right," and both of us would be unsatisfied with the direction the conversation had taken. So let us avoid that and both roll up our sleeves and get down to the serious business of telling stories.

Story Number One: The Church by Westbahnhof

Said Church
By Westbahnhof

Somewhere along the Gurtle, the road that runs around the inner districts of Vienna in a way that Robert Moses would certainly disapprove of, there is a rather large church next to (as is surprisingly seldom the case) a very large train station. It is also of course next to a very large proprietor of adult matierials, a fact that at least one observer has found amusing in a most depressing way. All in all it is a suprising place to have one's first experience with true Anti-americanism.

Now walking into European churches has its own kind of ritual associated with it, one that I would guess is frought with a great deal more angst than that faced by the actual religious observer . The laity has a purpose, they know why they are there, while the tourist has no such security. He walks around, classifying everything in sight ("my isn't that a wonderful set of ribbed Gothic vaulting?" he may say to his friend, who knowing that his companion is probably showing off and most likely has no idea what he is talking about, mumbles something along the lines of "I was just about to say that myself!" because he of course does not want to look stupid himself), and making a general slow walk around the ambulatory, attempting, however futily to take enough pictures that he can thereby put the whole somber establishment into his coat pocket and bring it home with him. Of course, somehow, when he shakes out the contents of his camera into his computer it never comes out quite right. Despite this he is still careful to point out the ribbed vaulting to his friends, who for reasons he can never quite understand, always seem about to mention it themselves.

[The trick that I have found is to look at churches as performative spaces, to go when the organ is playing, or the choir is singing, and observe the hall of worship as a living space, but that is neither here nor there].

Darkness Falls

Fence by the National Library

Having made my rounds, seen all of the various chapels, gazed at the Neo-something-or-other ceiling and feeling rather full of culture, thank you very much, I made my exit from the building, only to be accosted by a foreign looking man attempting to offer me literature about the church. After a remarkably linguistically ambiguous conversation, in which he began by adressing me in English and continued to do so despite my use of only German, he eventually came down very serious business of where I was from. Upon hearing that I was American, and after some thought deciding that indicated that I could speak English, he looked at me very seriously and told me that he would tell me something that I would never forget.

Which, considering he proceeded to describe to me that because America spends too much of its time mucking around in the world's business trying to make everyone do its bidding, one day all of the nations of the world would gather together and crush it, I doubt I shall. It was an odd message to receive in the entrance way to a church, an odder one still to receive from someone who was trying to sell me historical information about said church moments before.

This needless to say put me in an odd sort of spot.

My first reaction, the obvious American one of, "well if it weren't for us you'd all be speaking German now" I figured wouldn't pack so much of a punch for obvious reasons. Nor did I feel that the time was ripe for explaining that, perhaps almost two hundred and fifty years of American foreign policy amounted to something slightly more subtle than "pushing people around," or the fact that every other Great Power in history had acted in a similar manner, or even admitting that even if he was right in some cases that our foreign policy hadn't been the best that still wouldn't seem to justify the annihilation of a nation of 300 million people. But still he demanded a response.

The answer that I realized that I should have given later was this. Stop thinking of America as some faceless machine bent on bringing the world to its ends and start thinking of it as people. When a parents gets up in the morning, he doesn't wonder how best he can best bring death upon the various peoples of the world over a bowl of genetically modified cereal made from tears of third world children. He gets up and wonders how he's going to make enough money to send his kid to school when the economy is tightening. He wonders how much longer he's going to be able to keep his job in this sort of world, how well is daughter's sports team is doing, whether that new boy she is spending time with is trouble. He wonders, he works, he eats, he walks the dog, and he tries to provide for those around him. You might be able to confuse him for anyone else in the world, it just happens that his passport says that he is American.

But I did not have time to give this response, I was too busy listening to him talk about Europe was an ideal peaceful place. So I looked him in the eyes, doffed my cap at what I deemed to be an appropriately rakish angle, and remarked, "you're right, there's never been a war in Europe before."

And I walked out.

Lingering Memories
An Antiaircraft Tower Converted into an Aquarium
The 7th Bezirk

Fish Sauce and Freud (Day 106)

Scenes from around the city:

These are the Things that Freudian Dreams are Made of
(I went with the Squid)
Asian Supermarket by Kettenbrückegasse

Anger in the 7th Bezirk

The Silent Part of Town
Minoriten Kirche 1st Bezirk

Tram Stop
Beyond Westbahnhof

Facelift
Presumably the 1st

Germans? Yes! Germany? Maybe….. : The Bayerisch (Day 103)

Contrary to Earlier Experience, Spring Does Come to Germany
Botanical Gardens (München)

As I sat in a darkened theater in Josephstadt to watch the story of the (lengthy) downfall of a merchant family in Lübeck, I was surprised to see a good-natured lampooning of those friendly Germans from the south, the Bayerisch. As I watched the pointed references to lederhosen, alpenhorns, and beer, I though back to how I spent part of my Spring break there and wondered, how accurate can this be? The answer I’m proud to say, is quite.

Now there are doubtlessly those among you that would wonder, do four days spent in München [Munich] qualify me to adequately describe the true nature of Bavarian culture? Probably no, but does it qualify me to make stereotypical over-generalizations about it? Yes indeed! That said, let the poorly qualified analysis begin.

I've Seen This Building ergo I Know München
The Frauenkirche

The best way to think about Bayern (Bavaria to the English speaking world) is to take into account the fact that it was an independent kingdom for the better part of a thousand years. Folks, Texas was independent for about ten and look what happened to it. Now magnify that by a lot (namely 100), give it a royal family, a separate religion (Catholicism) from most of the rest of Germany, a different dialect, and remove any sort of ethnic diversity from the picture. You’ve now got a pretty good idea of Germany’s largest province.

An American Enjoys a Traditional Beverage Responsibly
Beergarden

The best part is, you probably never even had to do that, chances are that your idea of Germany (if you are American) is probably actually Munich. Blond folks, large pretzels, oom-pa-pa music, lederhosen, yodeling, beer, Wurst, the Alps, BMWs, you name it, it is probably either a Bayerisch specialty, or in the case of particular reactionary political movements from the middle of the twentieth century, just originated there. Remember, this was “our sector” which means we, of course, tend to confuse it with all of Germany. All of these things are in fact there. There is of course also an incredible economic machine as well as a vibrant cultural scene (groups like The Blue Rider emerged here) but tourists tend to forget this as they order another liter (because anything less is just an embarrassment, unless, of course, you are a woman) of beer.

It's good to be Max
The Maximilianeum

But this just leads the rest of the country to look at the province as being debatably part of Germany. This is apparent in part because over time it took most of artistic cues from Italy (as can be seen by its Southern Gothic and Baroque architecture), remained staunchly Catholic during such traumatic moments as the Thirty Years War, and even got promoted to a kingship by Napoleon. More relevant to the present, the stereotype of the overweight (and incredibly wealthy) pretzel-wielding Bayerisch man along with his 2+ blond children and physically perfect wife, still seems to persist both domestically and abroad (If you want a good characterization of this go see “Go Trabi Go”) despite the fact that fitness appears to be the religion of choice in the region. This is of course in contrast to the stereotypical portrait of the perfectly punctual, normally black clad, eternally solemn, protestant northerner.

Surfing
The English Garden

Although neither picture is actually true, the latter unfortuntately taking cues from British wartime views of “the Prussian menace,” northerners do look vaguely crestfallen when tourists seem to think that Hamburg will be filled with Tuba players in Tyrolean hats. All of this means, it has an independent streak that would make any Texan jealous, and most of the rest of the country is ok with that. It even has its own branch of the conservative party!

The Chinese Tower

If You've Been To München You Know What This Is

Munich itself is what you’d expect for a city that took the brunt of World War Two (Note: being called the “Birthplace of the Movement” by previously alluded to reactionary parties did not help long term historical preservation). But like most of the country it rebuilt itself in surprising speed, retooled its image, hosted the Olympics, made the leap to high technology, and hosts one heck of a soccer team. All the while it remained small in feel (natives refer to it as “a town with a million people” or the millionendorf) and a tourist hot-spot for its ability to stay close to its traditional culture [note: most Americans pronounce this as: Beer]. That said, whether they speak real German or not however, remains debatable.

Spacey Architecture
The Olympic Stadium

Heimweh? (Day 97)

Coming Home

Subway in the 13th

Things I miss about America:

24-hour stores
Things being open on Sunday
English
J-walking
People knowing where New Jersey is
The Ocean
The fact that diversity means more than Eastern Europeans
Cheap and greasy Burrito Joints
“Sup”
ATMs that give out twenty-dollar bills rather than hundred euro notes
Decent Pizza
SVO word order
An unshakable belief in the transformative power of creative destruction, that somehow despite all of the hardships before us progress, even when we succeed.
Tall buildings
Driving around in cars at odd hours of the night
The way people say good-morning even if they don’t know you
The way no one does that in New York
The ability to refer to a girl as a friend without making it seem like she is your girlfriend (can’t do it in German)
Level floors
Sensible opening hours
Delis
Drying Machines (but only sometimes).
Green Money
A healthy appreciation for sarcasm
Art-Deco buildings
Small Colleges
NPR
Having more than one big city in your country
Having more than three TV stations
The fact that there never were dukes, kings, or knights.
The man who stood in front of the UPenn stadium last summer and preached to the commuters every day last Summer.
Making fun of Canadians

You

Riding Trains
Munich to Vienna

Images and April (Day 89)

Images from Vienna:


Girders
Bridge over the Donau Kanal (Crossing to the 20th)

Towards Elysium
The Staatsoper

Looking North
Heldenplatz

Getting Old
The Votive Church

The King's Subway Station
13th Bezirk

Love
1st Bezirk

Higher Education in Foreign Countries (Day 86)

Not Usually This Blue
The Danube (Donau)

“German is the most extravagantly ugly language - it sounds like someone using a sick bag on a 747.” ---- Willy Rushton quotes (English Comedian, 1937-1996)

Things that they don't have in foreign countries: Liberal Arts Colleges

So I am currently attending the University of Vienna (the UniWien) a behemoth of an organization made up of some 72,000 students. This would make it some two times the size of Penn State, dwarf UT, or to put it more clearly, makes it 48 times as large as a liberal arts college a la Swarthmore. Yet it somehow manages to run most of its classes out of two (appropriately sized) buildings. One of which (the Hauptgebäude : the "Main building") features rows of marble statue of old professors in its interior courtyards. Positioned next to the state hall in the north-east corner of the inner city, the Hauptgebäude is a fairly impressive thing to behold.

Notably, the university lacks dormitories. Students live in apartment complexes (known as a "Wohngemeinschaft") which are independent from the University. Lacking a well defined campus, an athletic sports culture like a Big 10 school, and dorms, most of the students remain independent from the institution except for their classes (which they dubiously attend).

Viennese Bureaucracy Applied to Trees
Park in the 2th Bezirk

The classes themselves are organized into an almost indecipherable network of letters which one must acquire in order to progress in their studies. Tack onto this the fact that state funding never seems to be enough (the state pays tuition for students for the amount of time its deems necessary for one to get a bachelors or beyond) and one can begin to see how the riots of '68 began.

The Student Spirit (Note: Octopus Bad!)
Sign found in the U-bahn

So, my adventure with European higher education begins here, in the oldest German Speaking university in the world.

Registration was its own nightmare, after a process of giving information to an Austrian contact so that we could receive an identification number, which we could use to get another number, which we could use to set up an account for the university, we began choosing classes.

One notable experience here was when I mistakenly attempted to talk my way into a course on European integration. Unfortunately what I didn't know was that it was designed to guide PhD level candidates in carrying out their dissertation topics, a department in which I was notably lacking. Somewhat depressingly, the entire first day of the "Seminar" (50 students in the room?) was spent figuring out ways to lobby for more funding in the department (sad, because one would think that the PhD candidates would be getting the money) and discussing various ways of annotation literature reviews, a subject I haven't covered since the ripe old age of 17.

Nonetheless, figuring I'd play to the strengths of the institution, I made sure to make one of my courses a whopping dose of vaguely-socialist-theoretical musings on contemporary capitalism and aesthetics, all taught in an appropriately large lecture hall. The resulting course, which consists of visiting German speaking intellectuals waxing intellectual on such topics as "the coming crisis of time in capitalism", "the economy of attention," and "art" has been a rousing success, both in terms of the material is covers, and its role as a lens into European thought. For those interested the homepage is here.

The Capitalist Aesthetic at Work
Construction by the Danube (Donau)

Oddly, my courses haven't proved too much of a challenge in terms of the language barrier. The professors have speak clearly enough and in an academic enough language that I can understand it. My linguistic skills remain lamentably bookish. Discussions on "third wave capitalism" I can take, but when hooligans took over the local grocery store when I was trying to buy some oranges, I had no idea what anyone was saying.

As such, Vienna remains an adventure....

All You Ever Need To Learn
Graffiti in an Anti-Aircraft Tower (Flakturm)

Everything You Want and Nothing You Need: The Naschmarkt (Day 79)

The Entertainer
Naschmarkt

Everything has a price, and on Saturdays in Vienna you can negotiate for it in the language of your choice. The problem is that at the Naschmarkt, as Vienna’s largest flea market is called; everything is priced accordingly. It is best therefore to leave your English at home. This wasn’t shocking at first, this is after all Austria, what is odd is that upon arriving at the scene (and it is “the scene” on Saturday morning), is that for the better part of a kilometer in central Vienna, German was not the lingua franca.

He'll Make a Special Deal -- Just For You
Dealer - Naschmarkt

They’ll sell you anything here. Having encountered two American tourists on the U-bahn (talking in English no less) who were excited to make it to the market I expected to find the usual collection of bootlegged CDs and mass-produced t-shirts. So when I ascended the stairs from Kettenbrückengasse to find myself confronted with a display that can best be described as a disassembled sink (all parts for sale) I was pleasantly surprised. But beyond the trays of faucets, the full wealth of those ridiculously excessive byproducts of capitalism that Marx complained about was on display. Without looking too hard one could find American license plates, shoes, coins of dubious authenticity, books that included such titles as “Paris ist eine Hure” (no translation necessary), old soviet bills (Hungarian?), typewriters, LPs, violins, an odd portrait covered in some vaguely red paint, an minstrel show statue that looked like it was a plucked out of a display deriding “Entartete Kunst,” clothes of all sorts, cell phone chargers, and of course, a board game based around the imminent attack of vampiric cows, all of which were stored in ubiquitous blue and yellow “premium banana” containers.

The Typical Display
Naschmarkt

For the faint of heart and the other six days of the week, the upper half of the Naschmarkt (the Naschmarkt proper) is a vast expanse of fresh vegetables, olive-proffering hawkers, and gastronomic variety. Most of it remains a open air market filled with heavily accented cried of “Grüss Gott bitte schön” [Basically: Hello, buy something] but a few more permanent shops have been set up (most of which have names that can be formed with the formula culinary category + unit of land, bio-world, cheese-land, Asia house, etc.) between which there is enough variety to satisfy everyone. I’m pretty confident that despite the durian (Debacle? Success? Depends on whether you like fruit that tastes like a four course Indian meal) the Society of Exotic Fruits may be making a comeback soon.

Bigger and Better
Naschmarkt

The general rule however is, if you see something, don’t buy it, it is bound to be cheaper two stalls later. The only question then is: when will I get up the courage to cook an octopus?

Get to know your Austrian Royalty! (Day 75)

Hapsburgs you might know:

Franz Ferdinand (a.k.a. that guy who got shot)
Famous for: Getting shot.

The Hapsburgs are a rather big deal here. And by kind of big deal I mean, those buildings in Vienna not somehow tangentially associated with them (or shamelessly hawking Motzart related goods) tend not to exist.

Unfortunately, one shooting in Sarajevo isn’t quite enough to give one an adequate understanding of some seven hundred years of imperial Austrian history. So I figured it would be time to fill you in on a bunch of the names and accomplishments that are essential to know in Austria and guaranteed to make everyone look at you funny if you casually reference them in public anywhere else.

So to begin!

Maximilian 1 K. 1508 -1519:

Famous for marrying his children in such a manner that by the end of it all the Hapburgs gained control of about half of Europe. Through an odd arrangement of marriages and natural deaths his son would eventually rule over Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, Burgandy (including the Netherlands), Spain, the vast majority of the New World, Portugal, the Holy Roman Empire, Southern Italy, and nominally the France. This, needless to say, did not go over well with the French.

Karl V K. 1519 – 1558: The Man!

Unfortunately inherited the wrong half of Europe at the wrong time. Spent his time conquering things, fighting off the Turks, subjugating the New World, trying to put down the Reformation, and generally bidding for hegemony. Managed to become Charles V, Carlos I, and Karl V. Famous for saying:

“I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men and German to my horse.”
Charles V

That was the high point, now for the 350 years of (artistically productive) decline.

Ludwig I: K. 1658 – 1705: One Ugly Dude

Lesson here: it’s a bad idea when cousins marry. Generally credited with starting Vienna’s musical tradition, ruled through a nasty bout of plague, and generally warred against the French. There is a bit of a rivalry there you see.

Karl VI: K 1711-1740: Bet poorly on the “Pagmatic Sanction”

Unable to produce a male heir he reworked Austrian laws so that Maria Theresa could take the throne. Worried that other nations would attack Austria is it was led by woman he gave away parcels of territories to his neighbors in return for their promise not to attack Maria (the so called “pragmatism” alluded to in the Pragmatic Sanction). Unfortunately many subsequently attacked Austria after his death and Prussia never signed. Early lesson in appeasement: don’t do it. Austria proper reaches its largest size under him.

Maria Theresia: K 1740-1780: Bet poorly on the French

Enlightened, ditched Britain as an ally in exchange for France before the 7-Years War, this ended up contributing to her loss of lost Silesia to the Prussians, notably a woman. Her rule is generally looked on as a cultural and political highpoint for Vienna (and all things Baroque). Mother of Maria Antoinette which resulted on second poor bet on the French.

Joseph II: K. 1780-1790: The Reformer

Described by Fredrick the Second (of Prussia as all Fredricks are) as capable of setting the world on fire with his ambition to change the world, Joseph set about reforming everything in accordance to Reason. Predicts the downfall of the French Monarchy on a visit to his sister, partitions Poland, frees the serfs, modernizes land control, eases taxes on the poor, breaks down guild power, extends freedom of religion (even to the Jews!), bans gingerbread. Unfortunately dies relatively unloved and most of his reforms are quickly reversed after his death. His chosen epitaph: "Here lies Joseph II, who failed in all he undertook.”

Franz II: K 1792-1806: Defeated by Napoleon, recovers through a crafty use of Titles. King of Austria from 1804-1835.

Last King of the Holy Roman Empire. Tries repeatedly to avenge the killing of the King of France, Napoleon thinks otherwise. Eventually forced to dissolve the Holy Roman Empire (although not before proclaiming himself King of the Austrian Hereditary Lands) and marry his daughter to Napoleon. This also turns out to not work out well for him once the Russian winter sets in. Fortunately (for him) after all the chaos his Prime Minister Clemens von Metternich shows up and does his thing, namely bringing about the greatest period of political reaction of the age.

Franz Joseph I: K. 1848-1916 The King

Rules forever. Builds the Ringstrasse, builds the subway system, builds a constitution for the country. His rule is marked by tragedy, there is an attempted assassination early on in his reign, his only son commits suicide, his wife is killed by an Italian anarchist, relations with Russia suffer in the Crimean war, he is defeated by the Prussians and the Italians, and his brother the temporary Emperor of Mexico is killed shortly after Cinco de Mayo. Nonetheless rules through a cultural golden age for Vienna and the Kingdom.

Franz Ferdinand K. Never, that would be the problem:

Got Shot

Karl I: K 1916-1918 But didn’t we already have six Karls?

Yes. Loses World War I and subsequently his job.


And that should be more than enough.

Saturdays, Haircuts, and other Various Acts of God (Day 70)

Dad, this ones for you, you'll know why.

So yesterday I had my first haircut in a foreign country.

So, I've always been one to treat haircuts as an act of faith. You sit in your chair, you wait, you sit in another (higher) chair, you mumble something about "a little off the top" or "nothing too outlandish" in a way that always implies you have addressed "The Barber" as "sir", even though you didn't mean to. Then if you are like me you take off you glasses and you wait to see what happens.

There is no way to know whats going to come out at the end of the process, for the glasses wearing population most shapes have long since turned into indiscernible blobs by now, and even if I could see what was going on, I wouldn't mention to the man with a razor uneasily close to my neck that I didn't approve of what he was doing. Instead you wait.

One of the wiser Barbers I've ever had (and in my imagination Barbers are always sagely) told me what you ought to do is not to fret but instead just leave everything to the professional. Simply hop up on the Big Chair, look the shear wielding man directly in the eye, and say I want you to do the best job you can, I'm trusting you completely. That he said, should leave the Barber sweating enough to make sure he does the job right. Ever since that, I've to do just that. To take a leap of faith everytime I step into the chair.

The real trick here is to say something totally ambigious to describe what you want. Something along the lines of, "I want it short but not too short" and then knowingly nod at the man as though of course both of you know what too short is and that for a professionsal there is no need for further questions. If you pull this off correctly you should be rewarded with the confusing sensation of both being totally in command of the situation and having no idea what is going on. Drink that it, its the tonic that feuled eight years of the Bush administration.

The problem of course is that when you go in for your tri-annual shearing in Austria you don't have any of the familiar tools at your disposal. Instead you have several badly rehearsed phrases of German that you looked up in a phrasebook a couple of moments before that you can mumble awkwardly as you prostrate yourself before "Der Friseur." In my defense I think I managed to say something about "nothing fancy." Ones trust must therefore become more complete.

In the end I don't think it turned out half bad (although my scalp does look like its of the sort that would like to reelect Ike for a second term). Sadly, my guestmother seemed to think it was a shame to have gone at all.

Regardless, theres a lot to be learned from the Barbershop.

Berlin im Rückblick: Looking Back on Berlin (Day 66)

Viewing Berlin From Afar
Looking West from the Fernsehturm

It is possible that I have enough space and time between myself and Berlin that I can attempt to reflect on the city. It is of course also possible that I have not waited long, but I feel that I had best write down my thoughts before they become lost in the cups of nepenthe they call tea here in the coffee houses of Vienna.

To begin with, I might humbly suggest you visit.

It is a place where things happen, and were people look to the future. Call me an American in an older sense of the world (i.e. before the word started being followed up by various expletives and references to the "World Police"), but I have a tendency to look at what is yet to come for places. Monuments are nice, an appreciation for the past and the lessons it can tell us is important, but what really matters isn't what a city is or once was, but what it has the potential to become. A city appeals to me when it contains some sort of ever-present pulse. When it draws you out in the morning to to rush from place to place, to like that rushing, and to feel a part of some sort of energy pushing at the future.

On The Move in Berlin
The "Ampelman" Somewhere in Tempelhof

There ought also be places in these cities where one can escape this, parks and churches, old cafes and half forgotten places, but one should only have to step outside one's door to feel the pulse again. Without that, there is no sense of city, and the metropolis becomes no more than a collection of people living in the same place. Berlin, I am happy to say has that sense of vibrancy.

Everyone is going somewhere, time is always in a state of being filled, trains are leaving, iron and stone are being put together into buildings, and perhaps most importantly, people are coming. There is a sense of newness and discovery, albeit brought forth from forty years of division, in which people are looking at old institutions and asking, are we doing this right? How can we make this run faster? What about the future?

Pointing The Way?
Church in South Berlin

Part of this comes as it always does from a sense of lack and a constant quest to figure out ones identity. Berlin it has been said is “eine Stadt, verdammt dazu, ewig zu werden, niemals zu sein” ("a city condemned to change eternally, never to be") and I think no sentence can do the city more justice. It has never been allowed to become what what Paris, London, or Vienna have enjoyed, a truly unrivaled European center for power and culture. In its two periods of relative cultural predominance, in beginning of the twentieth century when artists flocked towards it and away from Paris, and later in the 1920s its rise was choked off by the outbreak of war. But yet somehow it has always managed to stay relevant, even as a divided city during the Cold War.

So now, finally given another chance to become something, it is taking on the challenge with enthusiasm. Its trains are superb and ever punctual, the old symbols of its past are being rebuilt, the east is slowly being redeveloped by a generation of young people from its dingy communist past to the hip section of town, and it is trying to compete with the best on every level. It has taken upon itself to attempt to become a continental airtraffic hub, has created a reputation as a fashion center in a matter of five years, hosted the world cup final, and has reorganized its museums in an attempt to take on the Louerve in terms of grandeur. In every sense it is aiming to do what it has briefly done twice before, overtake Paris in terms of importance on "the continent," but this time, it is looking beyond at London, Tokyo and New York, and asking where it can end up.

Alex in "the blue hour"
Alexanderplatz : Looking towards the Fernsehturm

Put more simply, Berlin, at its core, is a young city, a vibrant city, a city which immigrants and artists have flocked to, and a city in the center of the newly expanded European Union. It is in other words, as it has always been, a city in on the verge of becoming.

Looking Forward
A Statues View over the Gendarmenmarkt

But go soon, because in a number of years the Berlin I know will be buried under its own progress.