Berlin: The Story of Two Gates

Our Berlin trip was epic. I got in and out of the US Consulate in a whopping 45 minutes (compared to two years ago when it took 4 hours). And there I stood like Rocky on top of the stairs with a winning smile and took off in a dead run toward Deb in the rental car parked in a side street. She had barely been able to get situated for her marathon wait (I know, because I barely got to crack open my Cosmo) when I knocked on the car window and yelped "I'm done!"

So off we drove to find the mysterious free parking lot after turning left at the "Goldener Engel" that the consulate worker had told me about - to no avail. We finally turn right somewhere (Deb completely panicked at this point...I do NOT know why, I am SUCH a good navigator when I don't know what the HELL I am looking for...) and this random Berlin lady says, "oh, just park right there. It says private but they haven't towed anyone in years. I bet you could leave it there for 30 days and no one would notice."

Perfect. Quick hand-drawn map to the city center (I am NOT lugging the 6 lbs atlas my dad lent us) and off we go. For 6 hours. We walked around Berlin, the capital of the Motherland, for 6 hours and it was freaking awesome.

I had not walked in Berlin for 20 years - it had been 1990, months after the fall of the Berlin Wall when I was last a "tourist" in this great city. As we walk down Potzdamer Platz and turn left, bam!, there are the last remnants of the former Wall; a quasi memorial with a guy who sells passport stamps. In the pavement, I notice a single line of bricks - I imagine it is to mark the location of the Wall throughout the city.

We walk on, past the new Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. I am emotional as I ask Deb if she knows how many Jews died in World War II. She says, no. I say 6 million. "It's hard to believe." - "It's hard to believe my people were capable of such atrocities." The simple, yet stunning memorial has us both in tears. It has a similar impact on me as the Vietnam War memorial in D.C., though I have a much more personal connection to this.

From the memorial, you can see the Brandenburger Tor. We cross the street together, but I find myself walking ahead, emotions and memories washing over me. I remember the days when I was 11 when my country was going through such change. I remember sitting on the Berlin Wall, chipping away at it with my dad's hammer and chisel, and walking from East to West Berlin.

I walk faster and faster toward the Gate, and when I finally reach it, I am sobbing as I reach out and touch the massive columns. I rest my head against the marble, and think of the men and women who risked their lives to protest for our freedom. I think of the ones who lost their lives trying to escape oppression. And I think about how my life would be different if this Gate was still closed.

I walk on into the Eastern part and look up at the columns and the Quadriga, swept up in the emotion and the memory of it all. I see school children running and playing, and tourists and bicyclists alike going through the Gate as if it were nothing and I clearly remember the day I was here 20 years prior. It is a moving and awe-inspiring moment. And I am resting in it.

Deb catches up with me, and we take pictures, including one of me walking from East to West Berlin. Again, I am moved to tears. I touch the marble columns as I walk through, and it is as if I am floating. It was nice not to be on an organized tour trip, to where I could sit on the pedestals and just take it all in.

The rest of our day was, well...epic. Seeing the Reichstag (we would have gotten in if Deb had been 65..those cute boys out front were willing to round up to get us through the secret door without the 2 hours wait, but alas, Deb is only 59), the Fernsehturm, Berliner Dom and Weltzeituhr at the Alexanderplatz, where we had lunch.

At this point, I feel a nagging in me. Deb wants to head back to the car and leave central Berlin at a reasonable hour (2:30, way before rush hour we think). I had already bought a set of Matrushkas (we walked back the long way so I could), and we had decided we were okay without seeing the DDR museum, even though that would be cool for "next time."

But in the back of my mind, I vaguely remember a museum that held the original Gate of Babylon - The Ishtar Gate. I think it's in one of the museums we walked past. Outside, Deb looks at the list of what's displayed in each museum and shakes her head. I decide to ask the guide-looking people outside the "Altes Museum:" 'Wo ist das Babylonische Tor?' - 'Im Pergamonmuseum' (obviously, like, how could a person not know this?) - 'Und wie kommt man zum Pergamonmuseum?' - 'Na, hier links, da rechts, und dann sehen Sie as schon.' (obviously). I ask if it's open on a Monday. Of course it is. Obviosuly.

And so we go. At this point, Deb has been lost for hours, just enjoying the scenery. She has no recollection of us walking RIGHT by this museum 2 hours earlier. I am brimming with anticipation. I pay her ticket (it could have cost a million dollars and I would have paid it); we stash our backpacks. First hall: some Greek temple. I say, we can look at that later. Turn right, second hall: yet another Greek temple. But I see the blue tile and turn to Deb "there it is!" and walk through the Gate into the third hall. I turn around to face the Gate and burst into tears, taking it all in. The 3,000-year-old glory of glazed blue bricks, lion reliefs and the 47-foot tall Gate. I feel people's glances and could not care less. I am in awe of this structure that I learned about in art class 15 years prior and had always wanted to see. And here it was, the Gate and procession streets built by Nebuchadnezzar...excavated in Babylon and carefully restored in...Berlin. And yes, I did touch the 3,000 year old thing.

After that, we walked the approximately 2 miles back to the car - the map only in my head. Our backs and feet are in so much pain, toward the end I was limping. My right foot hurt for the next two weeks we were in Germany. Despite the race back to the car to get out of town, I enjoyed walking down the Unter den Linden, stopping by the Neue Wache for two pictures.

"Wouldn't it be funny if we walked around Berlin for six hours and when we got back to the parking lot our car had been towed?" Deb did not think that was funny. She has a weird sense of humor. Well, our car was still there and (I thought) I did a hell of a job navigating us in, around and out of Berlin. Deb hated driving there, almost taking down a bicyclist or two. All the while, I thought 'this isn't nearly as bad as DC.'

But yes, we made it home in time for dinner. Travel anxiety aside, this will be a day I will never forget. The gift of a day, because it turns out Deb had decided if it took 4 hours at the Consulate we would skip Berlin and go home right away. The gift of two legs, even though they hurt. :) The gift of a mind, that can navigate a city and connect old and new memories. And the gift of a heart, that can experience life, art and history with emotion, compassion and joy.

Bis zum nächsten Mal, Berlin!