Thinking of Berlin Today

I’m thinking of Berlin today—grateful that I was able to visit this dynamic, work-in-progress city. I spent four days getting lost, navigating hordes of tourists and all the while appreciating how much history sits in this place–especially as a consequence of Hitler's insane rule. Today it’s about celebrating thirty years since the Berlin Wall fell.

The apartment where I stayed was a five-minute walk to a memorial of the Berlin Wall. I appreciated learning about how it divided families, destroyed lives and insisted on using violent power to control. Thirty years isn’t all that long ago and walls still threaten to divide families, destroy lives and violently control people. Why?

I'm reading Alfred Döblin’s Berlin Alexanderplatz in honour of Berlin’s reunification and to understand a bit more about the city's history. The novel's been compared to Joyce’s Ulysses and I’m sure struggling with it. But I’m more than halfway through and it’s getting a tad easier. The Babylon Berlin series on Netflix was a much more entertaining way for me to appreciate Berlin during the Weimar Republic years in the 1920s. 

Congratulations to a city that manages to keep history, art and people flourishing. 

I might post another time about the Nazi era historical spots I visited because . . . yes! I managed to retrieve my trip photos thanks to some patient computer geeks.  

Finding Slavskoye

While sorting through travel photos the other day, I lost at least half of them. Don't ask me how I did that. I'm visiting my local computer place this coming week and hope they'll be able to help this luddite.

Rather than risk losing more, I thought I should post my favourite photos right now. 

My cycling trip through parts of the former East Prussia (now Kaliningrad Oblast, Lithuania and Poland) retraced some of my mom’s life while living in Kreuzburg (now Slavskoye) between 1932 and 1945.

Cobblestone main road in former Kreuzburg

The village of Slavskoye is an almost thirty-kilometer road trip south of the city of Kaliningrad (called Königsberg until 1946 and renamed in honour of a Soviet politician who died that year). The traffic, exiting Kaliningrad (pop. about 450,000) on a Friday afternoon was horrendous. What should have taken half an hour, took more like two hours. Our minivan driver, Igor, seemed nonchalant about it all, but I felt bad for this detour he was taking on my behalf. 

Once we arrived is Slavskoye, however, it was all worth it. The village, in a state of ruin ever since it was caught between the advancing Soviets and the retreating Nazis back in the cold winter months of early 1945, has no main store or business, but some of the houses have been restored by their proud Russian owners. Yes, this is Russia and all the Germans are gone. Still, I hoped to find some traces of my family. 

It was a beautiful day in early September and flowers bloomed in colourful profusion over rickety fences and along the sides of bullet-scarred houses. Almost seventy years after the war, this part of Europe still sits derelict and mostly forgotten. 

Former Kreuzburg school 

The school my mom would have attended—albeit for a very short while because her coldhearted aunt thought the twelve-year-old girl should work, rather than become book-smart—stands pockmarked with bullet holes. I read somewhere that Wehrmacht soldiers had retreated to the school as a last defence. It looks like someone now lives in on the right end where new windows have been installed.

Former family home

And then I found the house her family built—still standing—at the end of a road with a well in front. Just like I’d been told.  It was one of the better maintained houses in the village. An older man, a Volga-German who’d once been exiled to Kazakhstan, was the proud owner. He invited us in for tea, but unfortunately, because of the traffic jam issues, we were short on time. I could only thank him for the outside tour. 

Then his elderly neighbour called out from over the fence, where she was mostly hidden by an apple tree thick with fruit, why weren’t we coming to visit her. Very friendly people who rely on their gardens to supplement their meager pensions. I left Slavskoye feeling that my family’s former home was in good hands. It’s too bad politicians can’t fight their wars on chess boards. My family, like these Russian settlers, were mere pawns in those horrible battles. 

Change

A reminder of how quickly things can change and how little control we have.
Living in Winnipeg . . . never a dull moment!

The Tuesday Garden

and the Friday Garden.

Travel Reflection #3—Going Solo

One thing I noticed while traveling . . . it’s a couples’ world out there, with many older folks (like me) fulfilling their bucket lists. Viewing all those hand-holding couples has only strengthened my enjoyment of the solo experience.

I engage more with my surroundings, rather than with a partner, when I travel alone and I make new friends. Traveling solo leaves me more vulnerable and thus more open to adventure. I’m forced beyond my comfort zone and it’s this discomfort that can bring insight and personal growth. 

That said, I know some wonderful couples, and my Berlin adventure involved me hanging out with a such a pair. 

As to the aging part, there are definitely times when I’m aware of my age but, aside from some aching bones, it’s not so bad—just a question of pacing. One thing aging has taught me—it’s all about the journey not the destination. 

Travel Reflection #2 A Tale of Two Places.

While in Germany, I focused on two places. Berlin (pop. 3.5 million) was crazy busy, brimming with people, bikes, public transit, cars, and, of course, history—a city under construction and thriving. How it all works, baffles me, but it does. 

Büsum, (pop. 5 thousand), on the other hand, invigorated in a windy, North Sea, sheep-ish sort of way. So peaceful, some might consider it boring. It's the kind of place a harried Berliner might go on vacation.

Germans have shouldered a large portion of the cost of refugee migration through high personal taxes and I heard their resentment about this over and over. Also, while I met some rude people . . . certain stressed out bus drivers and train employees come to mind . . . I met some extremely nice people—of all colours, creeds and nationalities. 

When you’re traveling and in a lot of public spaces—feeling a tad vulnerable— a little niceness goes a long way. 

Traveller's Dilemma

Random thoughts after returning from a month in Europe. 

 

I like porridge every morning in my favourite bowl. 

I like knowing where I’m going—and getting there in an efficient manner. 

I like speaking English and being understood.

I like figuring out what time it is—only here—and not somewhere else.

I like to sit back, put my feet up, and relax.

I like eating herring for breakfast.

I like finally arriving at my destination—and the misadventures along the way. 

I like trying out foreign words, messing up, and still being understood—sort of.

I like not knowing what time it is—unless there’s a train/plane to catch.

I like to get up, tie up my laces, and explore some more. 

Going Off-leash

It’s countdown to my big trip. I’ve saved, I’ve planned, I’ve trained, but mostly, I’ve imagined, this 2019 Baltic Bike Tour and North Sea Meander for a long time. 

Last time I went overseas for family research was in 2004.  That’s when I found my grandfather . . . well, he was dead, but I found out where he was shot, the ditch where his body was dumped, and when. No one in my family knew that story. 

original SVG file created by
Matthead (based on East_Prussia_1939.kpg
from English Wikipedia)

This time around, I’m not looking for windmills or perusing former KGB files. This time, I’m looking for amber and traces of love amongst the Nazi ruins of old East Prussia. Who knows what I’ll find? That’s part of the thrill of the hunt—and yes, I truly do feel like an explorer out to discover ghosts of the past. 

Of course, there will be some voyeuristic tourism along the way. Riga, Klaipeda, Kaliningrad, Gdansk—these are cities that will be complete unknowns to me. But I’m more interested in the little places in between. And, I’m a fool for trees, stones and wrinkled old faces. That’s why a bike trip is the perfect way for me to explore this part of Europe. 

The second half of my five week trip will take me to Schleswig-Holstein, with a three-day stopover in Berlin. Another unknown city that I feel will shock me because I’ve mostly seen only the war images of it.  

Ahttp://www.maps-for-free.com

Then it’s on to Hamburg and the North Sea where I’ll be staying in a beach town, population 5k. That’ll be my headquarters for checking out my dad’s side of the family. I have a bit of trepidation. What family skeletons are still hiding here? 

After some back and forth, I’ve decided to go without my laptop. I’ll travel with pen, paper and my smartphone camera. When I come back in October, I just might be bursting with photos and thoughts about my adventure.