Susanne Plaar: Berlin and the Wall

The idea to this blog entry occurred to me when Juanjo told me that he had planned to visit Berlin this summer. I thought that I could recommend him some interesting sites and perhaps also to other keen travellers in my class.  Furthermore, since I lived in Berlin for two years and I’ve visited it some more times, you will probably appreciate my personal experience, which can contribute to making you realize what the wall meant (and still means) to Germans.

My first impressions of Berlin go back to 1977 when I was still a child. My father had to go to a conference, and we all went with him. I vividly remember when we were standing on a viewing platform near the wall, where we were explained facts and stories about it. I just couldn’t believe what I saw – how could it be possible that there were Germans living on the other side of the wall without being able to see their families and friends in the Western part of Germany? And that terrible security zone where many “republic fugitives” (the official GDR term) were shot to death?

And I don’t know why - maybe the guide left me a very vivid image of him - I cannot help seeing President John F. Kennedy's speech in front of my eyes, and you might as well know the famous sentence “Ich bin ein Berliner”. 

What impressed me most were the security measures when you wanted to cross the border: On the way back from our day trip to East Berlin – I still remember the fantastic Pergamon Museum, one of the most worthwhile museums in the city even today - we were held up a long time, for me an eternity, as the officials nearly tore our minibus to pieces in order to check if we were hiding a fugitive!

When I was studying in Berlin in the 80s, it was a “hip” city for young people: students, artists, homosexuals, dropouts, punkers and other tribes who went there because it was the only place where neither the military nor the civil service were compulsory. It was a melting pot but there was one thing they all had in common: They felt that they were living in a special city, and in fact it was; a sort of rebellious, creative spirit was noticeable in each district.

Only when friends came to visit me and wanted to see the East, we endured the border control procedure stoically, made the obligatory money exchange (a certain amount had was due) and walked around to take some photos of the typical GDR cars, the “Trabant” also popularly known as “Trabbi”, took the elevator to enjoy the “must-see” view from the television tower in Alexander Place, the showpiece of modern GDR architecture, and tried to waste all that plastic money we had been given, which actually was difficult! When I try to describe East Berlin in a colour, this would be grey: No adverts, dirty grey buildings, people wearing dark colours, cars in only three different subdued shades; even people’s faces seemed joyless to me.

Going to Berlin from West Germany by car was a one-off experience. You were not allowed to leave the motorway except in the official GDR motorway service areas. Reaching the “island” that was Berlin, you had to place your passport onto a conveyor belt, queuing inside your car and waiting up to … two hours? When it was your turn to stand the harsh look of the border control official, you could finally get your passport back and go on. 

Near the border you always felt that strange “big-brother-is-watching-you” feeling. In Kreuzberg district, where I lived, the wall was just around the corner, on the other side of the Landwehr canal. When I went for a run along the canal, it was impossible to ignore the border control towers (I think there are only three left by now) and the official with his binoculars! 

However, it was one the best times of my life! Regrettably, I wasn’t there any more when the wall came down in 1989 to celebrate it with the overjoyed Berliners.  I also would have liked to see Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” concert, which, I think, took place after the official reunification in 1990. Instead I saw both events from my sofa on the TV screen in Salamanca, but never mind, it was a new stage in my life.

My further visits have been as a mere tourist, and my Spanish friends did what most tourists wanted in those times: to see the wall and take a piece of it with them! As the GDR claimed to have the most fortified and secure “defensive wall against capitalism”, you can possibly imagine how difficult it was to break a piece of the wall. Here you can see my husband and a friend during their attempt.  

Berlin’s physiognomy was changing gradually, the wall was torn down bit by bit, and nowadays it’s difficult to find any remaining sections of the original wall. After the reunification, feverish construction works began all around the centre, especially in the heart of Berlin, the “Potsdamer Platz”.  This had been one of the busiest places before the construction of the wall, only to become an empty huge piece of no-man’s land in the middle of the “death-strip” and, now again, a bustling place with modern tower blocks designed by famous architects. One of them I’d really recommend is the Kollhoff building. From its top you have a fantastic view of the whole place, and you can also take a look at the outdoor photo exhibition showing its history. By the way, on the ground floor you will find an excellent Italian Restaurant!

As a result of an initiative by several local artists, there is a long section of the wall left, now painted from the Eastern side, the so-called East Side Gallery. We enjoyed watching all the paintings, passing by on our bikes (which is, in my view, a recommendable way to explore the city), and stopping here and there. Between the backside of the wall and the canal you can find some peculiar cafés,  “beach” included. Some of the wall paintings you may have seen before.

In my opinion, more pieces of the wall should have been preserved, on the one hand because of tourism, and on the other hand because the wall symbolizes the time of the Cold War. I believe it is also worth visiting the Haus am Checkpoint Charlie, a museum that shows the complete history of the wall, featuring both attempted and successful escapes, but I’m ashamed to say that I’ve never visited it. Finally (this is far too long, I’m sorry), I’d recommend you the film “Das Leben der Anderen” (The Life of Others), which most of you may have seen already.

I hope you find my experiences interesting and enjoy your next visit to Berlin!



A great post indeed, dear Susanne, danke schön! As you can see I've inserted a link to a small clip of "The Wall concert" at Potsdamer Platz in Berlin 1990. Actually, I need to tell you that it was Roger Waters (not the full PF line-up) who staged the big event as he'd already split from the rest of the band.

Then, your lovely story of the "Trabants" reminded me of U2's famous song, One, which the Irish quartet recorded, very suitably, in Berlin in 1991. This below is part of a documentary on the band's album "Achtung baby", where Bono and the guys reminisce the legendary recording process at Hansa Studios. Halfway across the clip you can see them driving a Trabant themselves along the streets of the reunified "one" Berlin. Such a marvellous song! (mind you, Bono was not inspired by Berlin and The Wall when he composed One, but rather by the difficult relationship he had with his won father those days)

SUSANNE: Skiing – my secret passion

I love skiing. Since the age of seven I’ve been skiing at least once a year, so I can’t imagine a winter without going to the mountains. Now, when the cold season is beginning, I’m eagerly looking forward to the first snow and the next skiing holiday. You can’t imagine the incredible feeling of carving through the powdery snow while you have the spectacular mountain panorama in front of you, the sun shining in your face and the glittering snow particles spraying into the air in front of you.

It was in the 70s when we, that is, my parents, my brother and I, went to the Alps for the first time to try this upcoming sport. I remember the fashionable equipment: a Norwegian woolen pullover, an anorak, leather ski boots up to the shins, large heavy skis and neither a helmet nor special ski glasses. After a couple of hours we were dripping with sweat or, what's worse, if it was snowing, we were soaked to the skin. Compare with today’s functional self-breathing skiwear! What else has changed? Skiing has become a mass sport: Each year thousands of people travel to the popular ski resorts and try to gain a free track on the crowded ski slope, so they have to find accommodation, eat and shop in the formerly cute mountain villages. If you go skiing in the high season, expect queuing at the ski lift and in the restaurant. Apropos restaurants: In those days, fast food didn’t exist in ski areas, and we had lunch in kind of little Alpine cottages which were run by their owners. I especially remember one where a busy old lady offered her delicious home-made crepes. On the other hand, now you have the comfort of artificial snow-powdered runs that guarantee easy downhill descents to the town below without scratching your skis.

The above mentioned and other collateral effects of mass tourism make me increasingly worried about nature in high mountain areas (and that also fits with our topic, as you must remember the “sacred balance”, don’t you?). But I admit that it would be hard for me to abstain from skiing, although there might be a sustainable way of practising this sport, as the first video below "Ski for Nature" demonstrates.  Do you notice that the people ski in a different way? It’s an old form of skiing, the telemark style, which is enjoying a revival in recent years. 

Then I’d like to show you how beautiful skiing can be: The first video is an advertising clip from Atomic, a well-known ski manufacturer.  

The second, a teaser trailer from the film Claim ("the greatest ski movie ever"), shows some daring extreme skiers in their element. 

I hope you enjoy the clips and, maybe, they will encourage you to try out this wonderful sport. 

Hi,  it's me again! I've found a short video that promotes respect towards mountain areas. 

Thanks for the lovely nature-oriented post, dear Susanne. I can see you're a keen skiing fanatic and rightly so. I mean, I've never practiced the sport myself but my children have, well, on and off, and I know it's great fun. Actually, my daughter is going skiing (snow permitting!) to Andorra only next week with her secondary school mates.

Now that I think of it ... I "kind of" skied twenty-five years ago, when I was a budding young teacher in Leon, the year before I passed my competitive exam ... may I reminisce the anecdote? Mariano, one of my students and an inveterate skier, invited me to join him and his wife for a weekend in the popular ski resort up in the north, San Isidro. He provided me with the whole (branded) gear: the warm clothing, a pair of skis, glasses, gloves ... the lot! I looked like a real Fernandez Ochoa, ha ha!

But to cut a long story short, believe me, it was frustrating. However hard Mariano tried to teach me the rudiments of the sport, I felt my legs weak and kept stumbling on the immaculate white snow, much to the hilarity of the able kids around. And to cap it all, my delicate white complexion got severely burnt under the winter sun as it got reflected on the sun like on a mirror. I was a staggering "tomato" on skis! So that was in a nutshell the one time I kind of experienced the pleasure (!) of feeling the soft white blanket under my feet - again. Long gone had been my childhood days in Germany when there were knee-high snowfalls and I would go downhill on my sleigh ...