sunshine and memories

it is funny how you remember stuff. like today, sitting out in the sun for a brief moment, i was reminded of spring in berlin. berlin's winters can be very dark and gloomy, so when the sun comes out and it is warm, everyone is happy. when i was living in berlin the second time, i wrote about spring in the city...

Spring really makes a city crazy, and when spring is still trying to make up its mind whether or not to begin, the city becomes schizophrenic. Berlin suffers from this disorder, just as any city in the Pacific Northwest does. The moment the temperature gauge sneaks above 60 degrees or a few rays of sun make their way through the overcast sky, everyone gets caught up in a frenzy. Everyone calls in sick in order to enjoy the rare chance at warmth and sunlight. And each area of the city reacts differently.

In my neighborhood, the Arab-dominated Neukölln, all of the used furniture or “antique” shops as some of them are called, move out onto the wide sidewalks. Old men sit on their fine piece of 1970’s retro furniture, and share a water pipe filled with apple-flavored tobacco and sip the traditional tea enjoyed throughout North Africa and the Middle East, which is sweet enough to send a person to the dentist. In my back courtyard, children play under the tree that is trying very hard to get its leaves. Their laughter and cries sound almost like music echoing off of the cement walls, that is, until someone gets punched or pushed in a game of tag around the trash bins, and then the musical aspect is lost. One thing that doesn’t change is how the women in the neighborhood dress. They still keep covered, head to toe, complete with stockings, long skirts, bulky sweaters, and head wraps. In even this little amount of heat, I cannot imagine this is very comfortable.

During the sun breaks, another group appears that one less-frequently encounters during rainy periods, namely anarchist/punks/alternatives, however one wants to define them, though I am sure they would not appreciate your definition. In any case, these are the people you see wearing all black with studded leather jewelry and part of their body pierced that you didn’t know could be pierced. Lately, the loose piece of skin right about the bridge of the nose between the eyes has become a popular place among the kids to place a bar- bell piercing. On sunny days, most of the members (or should I say non-members) of this undefined group hang out on corners with their dozens of dogs and drink cheap beer, though there are a few of them who decide to be creative and try to earn a few cents, probably to finance the beer for later or. Aside from the typical begging scheme with a sign explaining how they need to buy dog food, some resort to washing windows at busy intersections during red lights. This reminds me of Johannesburg or Cape Town, though I don’t think you have to worry about these people car-jacking you and speeding off with your Volkswagen. I am always curious about where the non-defined disappear to during the rain, but since they always manage to reemerge, I am sure they must make do somehow.

In areas of Berlin that are less multicultural, such as the far west, people also move outside, for reasons of enjoyment and especially vanity. Even the stiffest looking old people can be seen enjoying a tall glass of beer in one of Berlin’s hundreds of street cafes. You might even spot an elderly woman in her jacquard-knit Chanel skirt suit and Hermes purse walking out of an air-conditioned bar, looking slightly more relaxed than when she came in, though one cannot tell for sure as she hides behind her gaudy tortoise shell eyeglasses. By far the most affected area of the city is Mitte district, literally the middle. The sun provides the urban Berliners and Berliner-wannabes the chance to take off as many clothes as they can and sport the new spring lines and sunglasses that cost more than I make in a month. This crowd also frequents the street cafes, but wear looks that express not so much enjoyment, but the pain of being oh-so-trendy.

The Pariser Platz in front of the Brandenburg Gate is also very lively on sunny days. Once a person manages to make it through the maze of blockades and tanks in front of the American and British embassies, one becomes part of an almost cosmopolitan scene in the capital city. At the Starbucks on one of the corners on the square, ironically next door to the French embassy, the outdoor tables are packed. About half of those assembled are Americans or other foreign tourists who have discovered that German coffee is terrible and that they are willing to pay triple the price for a latte that doesn’t make your face pucker from bitterness. The remaining half of those at the American coffee shop are Germans not from Berlin who have only heard of this entity know as Starbucks, most of them from small cities and villages. They pay for the experience of saying that they went to Starbucks in Berlin. For Berliners, it would be an absolute shame to give in and drink coffee at the multi-national chain, though you know that many of them have been converted after discovering that coffee can actually taste good. The outsiders sit at the tables and gawk at the activity on and around the square. Here, one often finds camera crews finding out what the man on the street has to say about this or that at the parliament around the corner. There are street performers from southern Europe playing accordions and tambourines, German marines on a special visit to the capital, and plenty of Asian tourists who sadly do nothing to work against our American stereotypes—they too wear camcorders, digital cameras, and old-fashioned film cameras all around one neck. For the Germans not from Berlin, all of this activity is exciting, while for most Berliners, it is more of an annoyance than anything. At times, the outsiders are surprised by what they see. There might be some group of protestors wearing exuberant costumes, a motorcade might accompany a Mercedes-Benz S Class with tinted windows and pull up in front of the noble Hotel Adlon, or two men might walk by holding hands. Of this, Berliners are proud. They are glad that their city has enough shock value to keep the tourists coming, but then, just enough to make sure they remain tourists.

On the other sides of the Brandenburg Gate, in the Tiergarten, the spring fun continues. The Tiergarten is a huge park with plenty of grassy meadows for laying in the sun and thickets for jogging or basking in the shade and listening the mix of birds chirping and traffic. Nude sunbathing is also popular in the Tiergarten and there are special lawns reserved for those who wish to engage in this activity. For those who don’t wish to visit the open-air peep show, there is plenty of space in the park for enjoying strolls, having a picnic, or playing soccer. Of course, this is still Germany, so one has to make sure they don’t kick the ball around on one of the meadows reserved for picnicking, or perhaps worse, one reserved for nude sun-bathing, which could have painful consequences should the ball land in any un-protected areas. Old men here take naps with their dogs snuggled up to them, yuppies go jogging, and mothers push their baby buggies that look like they were made to carry the child through the Alps with their super-thick rubber tires, brakes and shock systems.

Often, clouds begin to move in again around five o’clock, and the city moves inside just as quickly as it moved out. The evening will have to be spent indoors, though the euphoria of a day outside in the sun will remain and hopefully ensure sweet dreams.