Now that I have spent nearly three months living here, I have a much better idea of what the city has to offer. My experiences only begin to touch on all there is to do.
General things I have noticed and love about the city:
Berlin is incredibly colorful. I don't mean to reference its multiethnic population, but that also plays a big part of it. The streets, the water, the trees, and, of course, the architecture are so sensual in their colors and textures. Paris is always gray -- when it's sunny, it's a tranquil, passive gray. When it rains, it's a somber, depressing gray. When it rains in Berlin, it looks like pebbles under shallow water -- the colors and patterns come out even stronger. Of course, there's nothing better than the sunset in Kreuzberg, the golden yellows, petal pinks and cobalt blues doubling themselves in their reflections in the canal.
That said, it is very green. There are many trees and one doesn't have to go far to find a quiet park with benches, ponds, or bocce courts. People are free here to picnic, to barbecue, and to sunbathe nude -- to really enjoy the nature surrounding them.
In many of these parks, there are huge playgrounds with zip lines, climbing walls, and -- best of all -- water fountains in which the kids are allowed to play.
I think other cities could take a cue from Berlin and invest in some man-made beaches.
And bike paths.
The architecture is all over the place. There are Constructivist apartment buildings built of gray, red, and yellow blocks, which are seemingly balanced precariously on top of one another, situated across the street from towering Gothic (Revivalist) churches. Allow me to re-iterate. Especially the Altbaus (the old-style apartment buildings, built before 1949), are painted in every color. There is no shame in living in a lavender or buttercup apartment building. And if there is a free wall, it will be decorated with a mural or in graffiti.
It is just so international. This is globalization, folks -- and I would say, globalization at its best. The languages on signs, food options, lifestyles and cultural quirks from all over the world mesh and work together. From my personal experience, Berlin is less divided than any other city I have lived in. In my neighborhood, for example, I hear more Turkish and French than German, but it only takes a couple of blocks northwest until this changes completely. If I go even a half mile farther, or to the northeast toward Friedrichshain, I hear almost exclusively English. I haven't paid witness to many accounts of overt racism -- unlike in Paris, in Madrid, in Ypsilanti (of course).
There are many, many good-looking people. There are many young people. Still, Berlin has not yet chosen any specific style. It isn't Mediterranean, it isn't Scandinavian. You can get away with wearing whatever you want. Tonight, for instance, I went running (tank top, shorts I never would have dared wearing in Paris) and went I returned to my apartment, party-goers were gathering outside of my door (there is a club hidden in the alley behind my building, naturally). I stood outside for awhile, watching limos arrive, stretching and sweating -- and not feeling too far out of place. Sure, there are parts of the city where men walk the sidewalk in expensive, well-tailored suits and drive BMWs, but there are also corners (not too hidden) that house artist co-ops, squatter villages, and camps for alternative living (sort of like a gypsy camp, only with organic gardens and solar panels on top of the wagons). There is nothing that I would feel uncomfortable wearing in Berlin -- or not wearing. As I said, it's not unusual to find people sunbathing topless or entirely nude.
When I wake up early (or even not so early) in the morning, there are still people coming home from the previous night's parties. They know how to have fun here. And with the exception of smashed glass littering the sidewalks, the families and bio-fiends get on just fine with the party kids. There is a special race of modern hippies inhabiting Berlin. Many people carry monk bags, wear hemp, ride bikes, exclusively shop organic. There is a 5-story department store that carries only organic products. But there are also French gutter punks, Danish shopgirls, Swedish (and Spanish and Italian) architects, African cooks in the Turkish market, British booksellers, American gallerists... you get the idea.
It's just such a real city. Again, I compare it to Chicago, which is also both rough and modern, drawing (and holding on to) many different types of people. Paris is too fantastical; I couldn't find the romance of Paris because I was always too self-conscious of my surroundings. It felt like I was acting in a movie -- except that I was an extra in my own biography. Only the city mattered, the film flaunting the beautiful curves of Haussmann's lavish apartment buildings, historic architecture and monuments, baked goods, and high heels. I can understand what led to Godard's films and the French New Wave movement in general. The subjects simply are not the characters. Living in Paris made me feel so unimportant, useless, and weak. That's French existentialism -- leading me to reject the ego I previously built, which relied so heavily on my existence as a human being who lives in a particular city, and replacing it with the understanding that the city, the world, will go on just fine with me. The lesson to be learned is to enjoy yourself, to delight in the pleasures of the world: strong coffee, long debates, buttery pastries, and beautiful women.
In Berlin, it is much more of a mutual exchange. I feel like I own a physical presence in the city. I feel safe -- but I feel that if I fell down, I would skin my knee on the hard concrete rather than land in a cloud of cotton candy at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. It develops in me a certain existence that I cannot help but find inspirational. Of course, this existence is not entirely self-important. Berlin plays a big part -- politically, socially -- in the contemporary world and I am forced to be aware of it.
Cities like Paris and Rome are described as being like museums. In this analogy, Berlin is both a museum and a gallery. Riding around on my bicycle I see so much history, but also so much potential for a future. This is mostly derived from the incredible amount of public art -- and I do not mean only graffiti.
Berlin has no shortage of housing, so the city's planners can focus on other parts. Cultural development, or, for example, cleaning up the Spree and canal system. Currently, people can boat or kayak in the water, but it is not safe to swim in. They hope to change this and have invested in a project that will have it cleaned by 2011.
In spite of the high unemployment and poor economy of Berlin, the crime rate is surprisingly low. At least in the summer, many take advantage of their free time by lounging in parks and by the canal. I attribute this not entirely to the general passivity of post-war, guilt-ridden Germany. There are too many non-Germans here, and too many young people, for this to be the sole explanation.
In spite of the city's general lack of wealth, there is still a very strong local economy. When the American economy is under pressure, we hide inside our homes, basking in the glow of the television and eating unimaginable amounts of pasta. For less than 5 euros, I was able to purchase today fresh arugula, several tomatoes, peaches, a bunch of bananas, a generous hunk of fresh goat cheese, and a loaf of Arabic bread. Here there are just so many independent cafes, bookstores, galleries... And the rents are just cheap enough for them to survive on minimal business. For now, at least.
Take a look at this article, which I agree with on many points. (It even references Granholm's efforts to revitalize the Michigan economy by nominating and pouring the state's financial resources into chosen "cool cities.")
As a citizen (new, but a citizen nonetheless) of Berlin, I feel that I have a right to say that it is not hollow. It is exactly the opposite of that; I find it incredibly well-rounded. The problem is that internationals move to Berlin to play. They all fall in love with the city, but rarely stay for more than a few years. They have to return home, rekindle relationships with family and old friends, actually earn some money and develop a career. If this group was willing to make the commitment to stay in Berlin and to give back to the city as much as they have taken from it, it has the potential to become an even more incredible place. Presently Berlin is too dependent on these cultural leeches (I should be more sensitive, I am equally at fault on this point).
As I previously described, I think Berlin is the perfect place to raise a family (assuming that jobs are to be found, which may sound like a big assumption, but I know it is possible for those dedicated few). There are elevators in many of the subway stations. It is possible to own a car in the city, but also totally unnecessary. It is not difficult -- or expensive -- to find fresh, organic food and products. There is a new scene for international, bi- or tri-lingual schools. And of course, the water parks. Today I even found a mini-golf course.
I have already fantasized about investing in the city, in purchasing apartments or setting up gallery spaces. I hate to say it, but I suspect I am a few years too late. At this point, the city can really wane either way. I am almost afraid that the popularity of Berlin as a Western European and American art scene, an alternative New York, will make it too trendy and after a span of five years, it will fade away.
It has not been very long since the fall of the wall and the city is still adjusting. Of course, there are the naysayers, those who want the wall to be rebuilt. It is currently run in a very utopian way, which I love, but I cannot always go on being so naive. I do not think it possible for a city this large to continue exactly what it is doing and to win out in the end. Do not get me wrong, I would love to see it happen. First, it must stop being so dependent on its tourism, surviving solely as a cultural hotspot, in order to fill its economic holes. Berlin has depth. It should not be so modest; there is just so much more it has to offer.
