For some reason, the bus ride home from school today was different. It definitely wasn’t because I was more aware and perceptive, because for a while I completely zoned out and thought I had missed my stop. On the first day I was in Berlin I took the bus to Rathaus Steglitz, a stop that has a mall right by it and a bunch of other stores (it’s also the stop closest to my school). I was going there to get a phone and attempt to achieve functioning Internet. On the bus ride there, I was admittedly a little disappointed with the scenery. There was nothing devastating or hideous, everything just seemed kind of ordinary, and I guess I was looking for something to pop out dramatically and amaze me. I don’t really know what I was thinking then, maybe my perception was somewhat influenced by the jetlag/shock/homesickness I was experiencing. Today on my way home, I realized that almost every single thing I was looking at was beautiful. The old buildings with detailed architecture, the occasional distinctly bright colored home, and even the rusty fences with designs I know someone put a lot of thought into. It was completely wonderful, which is why I thought I had already missed my stop. I had never really noticed (in the week I’ve been here) how much character even the residential parts of Berlin contain.
In addition to my magnificent bus ride, today after Deutsch class I went with a friend to the East Side Gallery for the first time. I am not one for cliché inspirational quotes, but the fact that some of these quotes were painted so beautifully on such a significant, serious part of history made them much more powerful. It was not a greeting card or a Facebook post that was delivering these quotes to the world, but a piece of history that once represented oppression and obligatory isolation. I get chills even writing about it. Even though I’m not familiar with any of them, I felt like every artist who contributed to painting the wall really felt strongly about their art and what they wanted to represent. The juxtaposition of all the different expressive styles made it all the more powerful. I’m not implying that art that hangs in museums is less expressive or significant, because I definitely get thrills from paintings on canvas as well, but there’s something about the synthesis of ugly historical structures and fine art that really moves me.
Although I don’t love being an obvious tourist, I also couldn’t help but poke my head around excitedly on the U-bahn ride to the East Side Gallery and back. Every neighborhood that we passed had beautifully radiant buildings, graffiti, and life. I was tempted to hop off at every stop and explore. But alas, I have four months. There is time.
"Many small people, who in many small places, do many small things, can alter the face of the world"
"Bruderkiss" by Dmitrji Vrubel
Leonid Breshnev kissing Eric Honecker
"He who wants the world to remain as it is doesn't want it to remain at all" -Afrikanische Weischeit
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