The Blind Leading the Deaf in Berlin

Carpe Daemon has been temporarily hijacked and converted to a travel blog.

I awoke from my drug-induced coma as the tires screeched on the tarmac at the Frankfurt airport. After a night of travelling and a stop in Ottawa, Andy and I were finally in Germany. We weren't quite to our final destination in Berlin and we had missed our flight, so we accidentally stumbled in a half stupor to the Lufthansa first class ticket counter and received the best service one could hope for. The kind customer service agent found it in her heart to solve our problems rather than banishing us to the normal people's ticket counter (wherever that was) where we belonged.

First leg

Another landing in Berlin. Another slow ascent from unconsciousness. Somehow our bags made it all the way, so we strapped them on and got ready to do Berlin.

I've never found myself in a more disorienting public transportation nightmare. We found a ticket machine which helpfully only displayed German, so we tried our luck at the ticket counter. After waiting in line for a while, I had a nice conversation with the gentleman behind the counter which consisted of me pointing to our destination subway stop and him explaining to me--in German--that he only spoke German. Perfect. We just travelled for 16 hours and 5,000 miles and we couldn't make it out of the airport.

We finally found a map, an english speaker, and some tickets, and we were on our way.

Upon arriving at the hostel, we checked in with no problems. The room has four beds and a private bathroom. Nothing fancy but will definitely get the job done. We splashed some water on our faces, called it a shower, and headed out the door. We found the place on the map where the most roads came together and aimed for it figuring that it must be interesting if so many people want to get there.

This brought us to the Victory Column... to which Andy responded "which victory?" Good question. I'm sure Wikipedia knows, but I don't. We paid a small fee for the privilege of climbing 250 stairs to the top and an awesome view of Berlin.

Victory Column

View from the top (the television tower is visible in the distance)

We walked through the Tiergarten (their version of Central Park, as far as I can tell) to the Reichstag which houses the German Parliament.

The Reichstag

A short walk from the Reichstag and we arrived at the Brandenburg Gate. Unfortunately, Euro 2012 is going on right now, and a huge party is set up in and around the gate. The tournament is in Poland, but apparently that doesn't dampen the revelry.

Brandenburg Gate

Near the Brandenburg Gate, the US Embassy gave us solace in our throes of homesickness.

Little slice of home

Adjacent to the gate, we found the Holocaust Memorial. Andy politely informed me that we were not to jump from stone to stone. Why would they separate the stones a perfect jumping distance and then forbid people to jump between them? Regardless, the memorial was quite imposing.

Holocaust Memorial (Brandenburg Gate and Reichstag in background)

Our culinary exploration began at a restaurant near the Memorial. Despite an imposing language barrier between myself and the owner, we came to an understanding. What was clear to everyone involved was that I had money and he had beer and schnitzel and we were both willing to make a trade. In the end, this sentiment prevailed, and we sat down for our first meal.

The First Supper

Adrift and out of our element, we miraculously stumbled on another piece of home. Across the restaurant we spotted Ari Brown (a fellow Princetonian) and his high school classmate. Unfortunately, a blinding flame leapt in front of his face just as the waitress snapped the photo. Thankfully he was ok.

Princeton reunion

We concluded our day by taking the cleanest subway in the world through the coolest train station in the world.

Berlin-Hauptbahnhof

As we boarded the final subway back to the hospital, a man approached and asked us a question about his subway route. He didn't really use words, but I had become desensitized to this fact from an entire day of bombardment by stray French, Italian, German, and Spanish conversations. Miraculously, I knew the answer to his question, and he walked away to report back to his group... in sign language. I can't think of a better way for the day to come full circle than an oblivious foreigner explaining the Berlin subway to a man who doesn't hear or speak.