Day Two (Continued)
After our four hour marathon around the significant sites of the Second World War, Andy, Richard and I felt we deserved a break from all the misery. There are few better ways to recover from a cold, dispiriting walk than to pop into an expensive cafe and spoil ourselves with food.
The cafe we chose is called Einsteins, and sits on Unter den Linden, not far from, and on the other side of the road of, the Russian Embassy. We had finished our last walk at the Brandenburg Gate and had to pass the Russian Embassy to get there.
There was a large crowd outside the embassy. At first I suspected that they’d heard about the quality of the food in the cafe that we were headed for, and had formed to stop us from getting to it. But it transpired that they had a much nobler motive. They were protesting about the Russian occupation of Ukraine on what was the first anniversary of the invasion. In a monumental effort of organisation, someone with much more drive and conviction than I’ll ever have had arranged to place a burnt out Russian tank directly in front of the Embassy with its barrel pointing at the windows. It had been transported from Eastern Ukraine. On the front of the tank was the message “Return to Sender.” Needless to say, the Police were out in force but the demonstration seemed very peaceful. We all wondered which of the protesters were actually members of the Russian secret services keeping an eye on the demonstrators by mingling with them.
Anyway, that’s enough conflict for one blog. I was telling you about the cafe.
It was a little expensive because it is placed right in the heart of the tourist area of Berlin. It boasted dark wood panelling, cream coloured walls, mirrors and waiters in bow ties and waistcoats. Think 1930s. Ooh, classy, we thought, as the three of us squeezed into a table for two. It’s a very popular spot.
I’d heard tell in days of my distant past of a legendary cake known as “Sacha Torte.” I vowed to try one whenever I saw it on a menu and with my visit to this very German cafe, finally my long wait was over. It’s a dark chocolate cake with glazed icing and served with clouds of cream. I checked my calorie counter app to see how many calories were in it but guess what? It was calorie free! Either that or there wasn’t enough signal for my app to work. I’ll take the first option. It was well worth the wait anyway, it was deeeeeelicious. And I meant to put all those “E”s in.
We had a second tour booked for the day, so after we had widened our waists by about three inches, we squeezed back past the protesters and waddled up to Pariserplatz where we were due to meet our guide to The Reichstag.
We found him sheltering from the sleet in a shop doorway. My first thought was that he bore than a passing resemblance to Nigel from Eastenders (the one who went on to become a doctor at Holby City).
He welcomed us with a smile which froze when he checked the ticket on my phone. “Oh yes, Congratulations,” he said, “Good joke.” He dismissed us, leaving us in no doubt that he thought we were pulling a fast one. The date he had seen on my ticket was 10th February, and this was 24th. I pointed out to him that the date he had looked at was the date of booking, and all of a sudden he was full of apologies. So we started off on the wrong foot, and he was going to have to go some to earn himself a tip.
He certainly knew his stuff, but was full of nervous energy. He told us several times that his name was Stefan, which confirmed to me that he hadn’t ever been in Eastenders. A large group of us huddled together in the shelter of the Brandenburg Gate while he rattled through its history, including a story of when Napoleon and his troops stole the figure that sits on top of it.
Round the back of the Reichstag is the River Spree, which formed part of the East-West border until 1989. There were monuments there, as there are in other parts of the city, to those who died trying to cross it. Yet another reminder of the darker part of Berlin’s history.
It was still very cold and you could sense that everyone was keen to get into a warmer place, so it wasn’t long before we found ourselves heading for the Main Event, The Reichstag.
There are of course security gates to go through, and that included having to have ID with you so that they know who’s coming and going. That makes sense of course, what with it being the seat of Germany’s Government and all, but your correspondent had missed this point completely even though it had been pointed out on the ticket. I had visions of telling Andy and Rich that I had messed up but they seemed to be ahead of the game and had ID on them. I had my passport, but that wasn’t planned. It just happened to be in my coat pocket because I thought it would be safest there.
Anyway, we got through and Stefan continued to talk to us at fifty miles an hour. He invited questions but to be honest I just couldn’t find a gap in the traffic.
He pointed out that each German Chancellor has a box in the Reichstag, just like Number Ten has portraits of Prime Ministers up the staircase wall. You could actually go up and touch them, although I’m not sure why. The off-kilter fact here was that even Hitler has a box there. As Stefan pointed out, he was Chancellor once, after all.
A rather dark note on the tour was that in recent elections, the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland), a Far Right Populist Party have managed to gain several seats. They are somewhat shunned by the other parties in the parliament, because of their extreme views, even down to the fact they are excluded from joining the Reichstag football team. It seems nobody wants anything to do with them. All a bit scary to be honest.
The Dome of the Reichstag was designed by a British Architect, Sir Norman Foster. It’s made of glass and there is a ramp on the inside of it which would take you all the way to the top if you were so inclined (Inclined! I make Joke!) I didn’t take advantage of it, as I have absolutely no head for heights. My Room 101 would be up there. But Andy and Rich whipped up it like the young bucks they are, and told me all about how wonderful the view was, so I feel that in a way, I’ve done it.
The Dome was the last point on the tour and so we trundled off to Unter den Linden again to get a train back to the flat. Pariserplatz, the area in front of the Brandeburg Gate, was packed. The protests that we had seen earlier had really taken off by now, and the focal point of it all was the colours of the Ukrainian Flag being projected on to the Gate. Most people didn’t seem to notice the cold, but by Brian Blessed’s Beard, we were very aware of it and it was with a huge sense of relief that we got back to the flat and a place where you couldn’t see your breath.
I had a fleeting thought that my two companions were not actually Geordies as they had both worn coats even though it was only -3 degrees. I was wrapped up in about four layers, but then I’m a Southerner by birth. It’s expected.
One of the first things that I learned on Duolingo when trying to learn German was “Döner.” This, I think, is because a Doner Kebab (as we know it) is considered a delicacy in Germany. So we had a takeaway from a shop just over the road, and back in the warmth of the flat, drank some German beer and discussed Wittgenstein, Else Hirsch, and Schinkel, with enthusiasm and wit, which increased in relation to amount of beer we drank.
Or it may have been football, films, getting on a bit, and food. It’s all a bit hazy now.
Tomorrow, your three intrepid travellers go to a museum, and I actually have a very short but successful conversation in German. And it’s not about Doner Kebabs.
Steve's Journal 