Amsterdam Retrospective

It took me 12 years to reach Holland.

I made a sincere and heartfelt promise to my dear friend Willemijn in the June of 1997 that I would one day come to the Netherlands to visit her homeland. I didn't ever expect that it would take me quite as long as it did to get there...but life seems to have that 'getting in the way' part about it.

Willemijn nowadays is based in the city of Utrecht, and although my plans for the Autumn half term break was to get there to see her, and then on to Brussels to see another old pal of mine, Celine, there was someone else I wanted to see.

My old pal, Dean Moriarty, David Breeze.

Last I'd heard, Breezy was living in Amsterdam, after his brief, yet wild, stint in London. I'd missed him here in the capital by only a matter of months, and I was desperate to see and reconnect with my soul brother once again.

I sent Breezy e-mails in the weeks leading up to the term break, passing on my number and itinerary outline, to which I'd had no response. A girl he worked with had actually contacted me with her details, explaining Breezy didn't have a working phone, so I could try her number...

And so in my first Hollandaze destination, The 'Dam, it was my mission to find him... or hopefully by chance or miracle, he would find me.

Thankfully, the school's inset day was done and dusted by 1pm on the afternoon of Friday the 23rd of October, and I made it back to Battersea to collect my bags, and then on to Clapham Junction Station to meet Josh with plenty of time up my sleeve. From CJ, we hit up the Gatwick Express train, and had checked in with enough time for Mexican grub and pre-flight brews.

We hit the ground running once we landed at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport, as it was after 9pm local time by this stage, and we needed to make it into town and hook up our accommodation. From the airport, we caught the train into Amsterdam Central station, conveniently located at the top end of the city's Red Light District.

The place was swarming with folks, bikes a plenty and the sweet smell of pot in the air...and I could feel Breezy. All around it was him.

After a few false starts, we decided to go back and execute my original plan, which was to catch the 1,3,5 or 15 tram, and get off at the designated spot...and proved to be a far better choice than wandering aimlessly. Soon after 10pm, we had located the Cosmos Hostel and had checked into our mixed dorm. The proprietor imparted some rather sound advice about making sure that we'd had something to eat before embarking on a session of drinking or smoking, and the proceeded to very kindly hand over his business card in the case we got too drunk or whatever, and couldn't find our way back. At first, I found the gesture to be kind, but unnecessary...however, as I was to learn throughout my first Amsterdam experience, it is the street and city's circle structure, rather than (or perhaps combined with...) the drug and alcohol consumption that can make bearings and directions difficult to 'get your head around' (I use this term looooosely).

Once Josh had showered and combed his 'tash, we began to make our way out into the action- via the 'Homegrown' Cafe close by our hostel, for the purchase of some local goods- and then out and into the city centre. We stopped by a brightly lit fair, right next to the War Memorial in Dam Square, and it was here we hit up the first of many bars over the course of the weekend, bought a beer and asked the ridiculously good looking bar staff which way to walk...which led us to Rembrandt Square.

We sat down in the front of a bar that overlooked the square, and Josh ventured in side to order up shots and brews to kick us along, while I watched the cool Euro hispter kids lining up for a dance party gig at the club next door- one of many happening throughout the city over the weekend (was slightly annoyed to have only discovered this once I read one of the poxy EasyJet back-of-the chair booklets).

Feeling a bit yawny, and really needing the jagermeister , I reached for my phone from in the back pocket of my jeans to check the time, and found I had a missed call and a message, which had been left only minutes earlier.

The number didn't register on my phone, but the voice most certainly did when I retrieved the message.

Breezy!

I was ecstatic to know he had my number, and to hear his nasally voice shouting my name joyfully down the line, welcoming me to the maddest place on earth. He said he wanted to find me, and that he'd call back within in the hour. I left my phone on the table so as not to miss his call, dropped the jagermeister down and kicked back for a bit. More drinks, fries with green pepper sauce, and still no call back. It was getting close to 2am by this stage, and we decided to head back to a cafe I'd spotted quite near Cosmos to sample the local produce, and laugh our asses off. After a while, I thought I'd collected my self enough to go back to Cosmos, and retire for the evening, knowing there was much I wanted to do in The 'Dam the following morning...but of course, once we made it inside the hostel, I realised I was in no state whatsoever to retire, and the stairs in the crazy hostel made me feel like I was in my very own version of Fear and Loathing...

Josh and I tried, Lord, how we tried to get out of the hallway and into our separate dorms to go to bed, but we were hysterical. When I finally stopped laughing, started breathing and talking like a civilised human being, I told Josh there was no way I could go into my room in such a state, and suggested we sit down stairs on the couches at the check in desk for a bit. I sent Josh down first, and told him to buy some munchies whilst I dried my tears and composed myself enough to get back down those stairs.

Oh my goodness...That poor guy behind he desk. I shudder to think how many wasteoids he has to deal with on a hourly, daily basis...however... So, there we sat with some stroopwafels, watching the soccer, hangin' with the guy behind the desk and the hostel cat, until I reeled it back in enough to go to bed!

The following morning, Josh woke me up around nine o'clock, just as I'd requested. I threw my Chucks on, and we walked out under the rainy Amsterdam skies, on a quest for pancakes. Once found and consumed, we wandered throughout the streets, over bridges and canals, and made our way to Anne Frank Huis.

I read The Diary of Anne Frank when the summer came after I completed my Year 12 exams, and I was free to read whatever I chose. I was deeply moved my this profound and unforgettable text, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would one day have the opportunity to visit her hiding place, and the only way to describe being there was (and please pardon the cliche), surreal.

To walk up the stairs into the Secret Annex, to touch the stair rails, to brush my arm across the basins in the bathroom and touch the coat hooks in the hallway, was an experience beyond words- this was once Anne's silent little space, the place from where she recorded the timeless literary legacy she has left for this world- I was deeply saddened by the dark curtains on the back windows, Peter's designated space and the board game he was given for his birthday...and I must admit that tears did well in my eyes when I looked up and saw the chestnut tree through the attic's glass window.

Throughout the house, there is still physical evidence that Anne, her family and the others that took refuge in that building that are simply captivating- pictures of movie stars from the 30s and 40s, and other images of the natural world that Anne cut from magazines and glued to her bedroom wall, many photos of Anne as a young girl, and then the original diary itself.

Yet, it was just before I walked down the stairs to exit the museum, that I came to perhaps the most moving display of all- on a small screen TV a short clip of an interview with Anne's father, Otto. Mr. Frank expresses, in this excerpt, his disbelief and lack of awareness of Anne's deep and innermost feelings at the time the family was in hiding- and he concludes with the observation of how little most parents actually know their children. Heart breaking.

Somewhat sullen, somewhat uplifted, we walked for a while without saying much. It was raining by this stage, and so I bought a red umbrella from a street vendor, and found an internet cafe- hoping that I might have heard from Mr. Moriarty. I was very pleased to find that there was an e-mail- although not from Breezy, but rather one of his work mates-containing a phone number and address of his work place!

Josh and I decided to eat on our way to finding the Art & Smart Shop, and found a traditional Dutch pub , which was warm and cozy bar, and sold delicious pea and ham soup, and choice beers which we eagerly consumed. It didn't take me too long to find the Art & Smart Shop (no Art in sight by the way- unless of course you consider art work in the form of trips and smoking apparatus'), where I introduced myself to Amelie, but there was no sign of Breezy...

Amelie, was incredibly friendly, and informed me that there had been no sign of Breezy that day- and it was best to try and get a hold of his best mate, also going by the name of Dave- which I did immediately, only to be diverted to a message bank. I thought it best to leave my accomodation details with Amelie, in case he breazed by, and I kept my phone on, anxiously awaiting a call back.

From the Art & Smart Shop, we headed back to the Red Light District, and check out the ologatory when-in-the -Dam Sex Museum....which was quite an eye opener-some tasteful items, and some rather shocking...following close to an hour there, Josh and I walked back to the centre of town for some 'Cafe Culture'. I guess we were there til around 5 o'clock-watching some bogus soccer game and drinking vodka and lemonade. I had my phone sitting on the table the whole time...waiting and waiting for Breezy. Eternity...I couldn't miss him.

By the time I had my head right to make it out of the Cafe, I changed my phone to the vibrate function, and placed it into my back pocket. We proceeded to take a stroll along the canals, and down through the Red Light District. It was quite a surreal experience to see such a range of women, danicng and trying to entice men to come and open the glass doors they stood behind. I was told that if you got close enough to the windows, you could see the pimps sitting in the rooms up above them...

Around a quarter past 5, I took my phone from my back pocket, only to find that Breezy had called 5 times in the last 2 minutes- frantically, I tried to call back, only to be diverted to the answering machine once again...I don't have the words for the distress I felt!

So...we raced to the hostel to pull it together, me- hoping and praying Breezy would call back. I continuously shouted "CALL BACK!" at the phone. Feeling optimistic, I changed the phone setting to 'Outdoor', and squatted in the hall way of the hostel, holding the phone out before me, using all of my telepathy skills to contact Breezy...and then the phone started ringing!!!!!

BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Turns out he'd been out the front of my hostel, and had tried to come in and enquire whether I was there. He told me he was a block away, and he would turn around and come back. I rushed into Josh's dorm to tell him Breezy was on the way, and I flew down the stairs, and out the front of Cosmos.., and I could hear "ANNNNGGGGGIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

At the end of the street, there he was, riding upon a rickety bicycle...a vision I won't be forgetting any time soon.

DEAN M, indeedy!

And finally, I was Sal Paradise.

Gigs and Digs

The days are drawing to a close here, and I feel 'the darkness' is closing in upon my dear Old Blighty... I find myself reflecting ever-so-fondly on the days that were long and warm, and the parties, gigs and digs I found myself at throughout the warmer months.

From SW4 with David Guetta, Get Loaded with Felix da House Cat, Mstrkrft, Roiyksopp, Orbital, Peaches and Pendulum, and then Plump DJ's at the Old Queen's Head in Islington-just to name a few- the music in my life has been alive and well...

New friends, 500 days of Summer at the Odeon, plays such as The Present and parties in Peckham have coloured my summer in the most magical way...

Hey boy, that's Brixton Calling

I was really pleased when a new friend I made at the Fact Magazine Party dropped me a line early in the week, and asked if I cared to join her on a Brixton Market Mission.

Brixton has a retched rep, but it also has a cranking scene- lots of colour and action- peeps a plenty, reggae booming loudly out of every second street vendor, and so much Afro-Caribbean food stalls out on the streets selling mangoes, green bananas, pineapples, dried fish cutlets, herbs and spices, as well as lamb pasties with bright yellow pastry. Along side the food stands, there are stores selling brightly coloured fabrics and dresses that reminded me of the clothing worn by women in the movie 'Coming to America', big gold earrings, wigs, Afro-beat CDs, smoking paraphernalia and eateries tucked away in little, sheltered pockets- the food, though unlabelled, looks so yummy!

The indoor 'supermarkets' adjoining the outdoor stalls reminded me of those I'd seen in South East Asia- unorthodox, unordered, and full of wonderful surprises! I found Fanta (as shown in photos above) in bottles that I hadn't seen since the '80s, a forgotten cup of tea stashed in between containers of what looked like wasabi peas, and the most delicious nectarine I've had in months...

Get there, y'all.

Off with their Heads!

Back into the Swing of Things

London is a city where you have to hit the ground running- which is one of the things I love most about this place!

We hadn't been back in Battersea long before we found ourselves getting ready to head out for Rachael's Bon Voyage celebrations. We didn't have to venture far- just down to Sugar Cane, via the Slug- to the Junction. Thankfully, by the time we made it to the Peacock, it was line up for Dallas chicken or bust. We turned down an offer to Acton, and wisely returned to Cabul Road.

The following day, I slept late before getting myself together enough to head over to Camden. My hope had been to find Caitlin down by the Lock somewhere. I had planned to meet her and Anna in Camden around 4pm and attend the Fact Magazine party at the Lock Tavern, but her phone had died the previous day, and I had no way of contacting her. Still, I took my chances, and went and sat down by the Lock, and waited... Fortunately, it all came together, and I sat and waited in the English sunshine til I spotted the girls walking along the bank not long after. The Fact party was fab- great DJ's, Al fresco rooftop set-up, and a fine summer evening. We crashed in Kentish Town for the evening, and it was a tough job getting back South the following day.

Whilst all this had been happening for me, Hayley had done a walking tour 'round the London traps, and wanted to return to The Tower of London, and St. Paul's Cathedral, which I was all for- I'd not been to The Tower yet, however I'd been to St. Paul's, but it was on a Sunday, and given the galleries are closed on Sundays, I was keen to get back and check it out.

We were fortunate to have such a beautiful day to make our way around the Tower of London, and an outstanding Beef Eater tour guide to tell us all about the history and going-ons there over hundreds of years. The brutality that had taken place there, and up at Tower Hill, is quite shocking- lots of "Off with their heads, your majesty!" I particularly enjoyed the Medieval Palace, and peering out the same windows that Kings and Queens did a thousand years ago. I also loved visiting the rooms where the Crown Jewels are kept, and watching the video footage of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation; June 2nd, 1953.

I was also quite moved when visiting the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula (St.Peter in Chains- see picture above), which adjoins the Tower Green. What a wonderfully gruesome history this place has (especially for a place of worship). The Chapel was the site of the “private executions” of the British royal family, and was restored under the reign of Queen Victoria. During the restoration, the stone flooring had to be taken up and the bodies of hundreds of people (as many as 1500) were discovered. The Chapel is the sight of Anne Boleyn's final resting place- her body was one that was identified in renovations of the chapel in 1876, and is now marked in the marble floor. The other five who were beheaded upon the Tower Green, and are laid to rest beside Anne include; Catherine Howard, and Lady Jane Grey (the so-called nine-days’ queen) as well as Lady Jane’s husband Thomas Dudley, Jane, Viscountess of Rochford who was Catherine Howard’s lady in waiting, and Queen Elizabeth I’s pet Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex.

After visiting the Chapel, we visited some of the dungeons and rooms where 'high class' prisoners were kept- and there you can find ancient 'graffiti' (done between the 1530s and 1670s)- markings carved into the stone- which I thought were really cool- click on the link for much better snaps than I could've possibly taken!

We stopped for scones and jam (of course!) mid afternoon, before checking out the current exhibition, Dressed to Kill which focuses on the life, pursuits and hobby's of King Henry VIII. There were plenty of impressive coats of armour, belonging to Henry, as well as all the kings horses and all the kings men, weaponry (jousting sticks!), sports equipment, paintings of Henry and interactive, multi-media displays.

We concluded the activities of the day rather royally, with a light snooze and a chuckle with a man wielding a metal detector in Green Park.

The following day, we made our way back into the city- this time to St. Paul's Cathedral. We started by checking out the ground floor, which was amazing, and I managed to spot the John Donne memorial, which I was excitied about! Then we headed up into the Whispering Gallery, which was cool (picture above), but made me feel a little bit uneasy, and so I sat, glued to the edge of the wall; I didn't try out the whispering wall trick- there were too many people trying to do the same thing. From the Whispering Gallery, I managed to make it up one more level to the Stone Gallery (a further 119 stairs up) which from outside, presented fantastic views over the city of London. However, this was as far as I was prepared to go. For some reason, I was more at ease there than in the Whispering Gallery...wonders will never cease.

After we finished up at St. Paul's, we decided to head over to The Tate Modern to see what was happening over there. Hayley thought she wanted to check out a Futurism exhibit, but changed her mind upon reading the exhibition's synopsis, no matter- we checked out the rest of the gallery. Since last I was at the gallery, a new installation has appeared, entitled No Ghost Just a Shell, featuring a gorgeous manga character 'Annlee'.

You can't help but fall in ♥ with Annlee...her sad little eyes and face. But she has a voice, a life, a dance routine, and stories to tell. The Tate comes through with the goods, yet again. Check her out!

Caught an early plane into London... 50 acorns tied in a sack!

After three weeks of helter skelter across the European continent, it was nice to touch back down in London. I must admit that, when we were in the final stages of our Prague stint, and Berlin was in our sights, I thought to myself, In no time I'll be back home...and part of me wasn't sure if I was going back to London or back to Melbourne...

All in all, it was a truly amazing and unforgettable experience, for which I will be forever grateful to those who helped make it possible and to those who shared it with me :)

Thankyou, Thankyou, Thankyou x

Ich bin ein Berliner

The final, and perhaps most moving destination of the trip, was the city of Berlin. I didn't expect to be as effected by this city as I was...

It would seem that the universe saved the best walking tour til last, for which I was eternally glad. We gathered under the Brandenberg Gate to commence our tour. The famous Gate overlooks Pariser Platz, a space that was extremely busy due to the fact that the IAAF World Championships Opening Ceremony was taking place there on the coming Friday.

From the very beginning, our tour guide (Barry, a very clever Irishman) was full of enthusiasm and information, and proceeded to give us a 20 minute crash course on Prussian/German history, Frederick the Great, and how all that came together prior to the First World War, and then the connections and developments that lead Germany into the darkest of dark days, the Second World War, and the Holocaust. After a deep breath, he proceeded to talk about what happened to Germany following WWII, the dividing of the country and of Berlin into East and West. Barry explained that at the end of WWII, the Allies invaded Germany; then the Soviets moved from the East, and invaded up to the Oder-Neisse Line. The Americans, French, and British came as far as the Oder-Neisse Line from the West, and following the end of the War, this Western part of Germany came into the hands of the allies. They divided up their share of Germany into their own sections; however, when West Germany was formed, these regions united.

The Soviets controlled East Germany, and imposed strict Communist rule over it, including forced collectivization and one-party rule. According to the Soviet Union, this was the "Free" Germany, but it was merely a puppet state of the Soviet Union as it now controlled most of Eastern Europe as Satellite States. As tensions between the U.S. and the Soviets grew, Berlin was also split, as both sides wanted it as the capital for its share of Germany (even though Berlin lay deep in the heart of East Germany). Eventually, West and East Berlin came into existence; it is important here to note that the construction of the Berlin Wall began during the Cold War. Overnight on 13 August 1961, the East and Western halves of Berlin were separated by barbed wire fences up to 1.83 metres high. Over the next few days, troops began to replace the barbed wire with permanent concrete blocks, reaching up to 3.6m high. The government authorities saw it necessary to stop the influx of people moving from the eastern sector of Berlin into the free West.

As it happened, East Berlin fell into the hands of the Soviets, however West Berlin, was controlled by the Allies, and it became a sort of "safe haven", deep in the heart of Communist East Germany. Eventually, the Americans, French, and British felt that their portion of Germany was ready to become a country again, and they united their regions to form a democratic West Germany in 1949. Angry at this sudden move, the Soviets bitterly retaliated the same year and made their portion of Germany a communist East Germany. As a result, the two 'Germanies' were formed, and would not be united again until 1990, after the demolition of the Berlin Wall, which Barry promised to tell us in more detail about this as the tour progressed, which indeed, he did.

Very impressive job from Barry; and there's no way I would even try to reiterate the story in any greater detail, sorry... But, what I can certainly reiterate was Barry's summary of the city of Berlin; it's a place that is still searching for it's identity.

Unlike other cities that I visited during my European vacation, this city is under constant construction- things are being built up, things are being torn down. The landscape is constantly changing, and Barry assured us that no matter when we returned, the city would look different. But what I was most taken by, was what Barry described as a 'condition' that many Berliner's have faced since the demolition of the Wall- it's what he, and the German people refer to as, "diemauer im kopf " - the wall in the head. Although 20 years ago this year, that Wall came down, the people themselves are still divided, within themselves. There are still colloquial jokes about the East and the West side...and it will take generations for people to move on, and move forward. But the good news is, they've started.

You still with me?

Please stick in there... :)

Okay- so after all that my head was swimming, and I guess yours probably is too- but off we moved, past The Reichstag, the first parliament of the German Empire (which we had to wait almost two hours to get into, and ended up being totally overrated- although it's free to enter, if you're going to Berlin, don't bother) which was flying many German Flags (apparently a most unusual sight these days). The Reichstag, coincidentally, is very close to Hilter's bunker, or at least the sight where it once existed. Although the bunker has now been destroyed, there is still a large patch of lawn and a sign as a reminder of where this place lay buried. It was here Barry gave us a bit of an overview into how Hitler died, what became of his body, or ashes, as it may be. NB: Don't drink Berlin's tap water.

I don't think it was any coincidence that from this point, our tour guide led us to the Holocaust Memorial- moreover, I don't think it's any coincidence that the Memorial itself is located so close to both the Bunker and The Reichstag. Our tour guide explained to us that the large space on which the memorial is built was a very valuable and sort after piece of land- which had laid empty since what was originally there was bombed to smithereens during air raids in the second World War (along with 90% of the city of Berlin)- as it is located a block south of the Brandenburg Gate and the Pariser Platz; essentially, the centre of Berlin. It was decided by the 'City of Berlin' that the space should be used in someway to remember the millions of European Jews who were murdered during the Holocaust. A number of suggestions were made; one I remember was that the space should be turned into a bus depot, where free buses would run, taking people out to the nearby concentration camps from days gone by- but the reason that concept was rejected was that the City believed that those who got on the bus were already aware of the tragedy, and were making active steps to further remember what happened... so as to never forget.

After much deliberation, it was decided that a Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe would be built, as designed by New York architect Peter Eisenman.

The memorial consists of a 19,000 square meter (4.7 acre) site covered with 2,711 slabs of concrete arranged in a grid pattern on a sloping field. The slabs of concrete are 2.38m long, 0.95m (3' 1.5") wide and vary in height from 0.2 m to 4.8m. According to Eisenman's project text, the slabs are designed to produce an uneasy, confusing atmosphere, and the whole sculpture aims to represent a supposedly ordered system that has lost touch with human reason (see picture at the top of this post).

Walking through those concrete slabs was a very distressing, overwhelming and saddening experience for me.

Barry continued to remind us that [most] of the German people today are so very sorry for what took place during the Holocaust. This memorial is placed strategically in the centre of town, so that every Berliner, and visitor from anywhere in the world for that matter, will never be able to avoid or escape the knowledge of what happened during the Holocaust.

Attached underground to the Memorial is a "Place of Information", which holds the names of all known Jewish Holocaust victims; it shows a timeline of the murders which took place across Europe, has experts from diaries, copies of letters and photographs from families (most which were retrieved from concentration camps, years after their death)- some of which there is no longer any trace or records. We came back and visited the "Place of Information" the day after the tour, and it extremely disturbing- the atrocities and the crimes that were committed are beyond comprehension.

A quote by Primo Levi, an Italian Auschwitz survivor who wrote extensively about his experience, is displayed in the lobby. It sums up the mission of the memorial and serves as a stark reminder in the country of the aggressors:

"It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say."

From here, we walked in silence for awhile, taking in what we had just seen, until we reached some remnants of the Berlin Wall. We followed the wall until we reached a converging section were the Gestapo, SS and Reich Department of security once stood. It creeped me out just standing there before it. Not far from here is Potsdamer Platz, where in on June 17th 1953, when living and working conditions in East Germany were rapidly worsening under Communist rule, tensions finally reached breaking point and a Workers’ Uprising took place, only to be quickly and brutally crushed when Soviet tanks rolled in; 401 people were killed including numerous tourists and media reporters who got too close, 105 executed under martial law and close to 2,000 more were injured, and 5,100 arrested (1,200 of them later being sentenced to a total of 6,000 years in penal camps).

Shortly after this we made our way past Checkpoint Charlie, and past the Topography of Terror; two places which I found to be very emotive spaces- Checkpoint Charlie for the history and significance of what took place there, and the Topography of Terror, an outside museum printed on make shift walls detailing the events that took place in Berlin since the construction of the Wall.

We stopped close by for coffee and reflection, before making our way past theatres and churches, until we reached Bebelplatz, the square which holds the book burning memorial. Here you will find a monument to the book burning- a glass window in the cobblestones, which looks down into an empty book case, large enough to hold the equivalent amount of books that were burned in this all the craziness prior to the start of the second World War (see picture above).

What I found most moving though about the whole space was a line, written by Heinrich Heine, which is engraved on a nearby plaque, and states "Dort, wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man am Ende auch Menschen", which translates to "Where they burn books, they will also burn humans in the end"(see picture below). Very prophetic words indeed; in fact, Barry made a suggestion, which I would certainly support, that the Bebelplatz instead be called Heineplatz.



Barry then drew our attention to a book stall across the Platz which I had noticed and had a quick look at earlier that morning- turns out that there are always books being sold by students from Humboldt University there, so as to make up for the book burning of the past. This good action, like many others I noticed (especially from the 'new generation', as they put it)- despite the dark, dark days the city, the country and it's people have seen- again demonstrates to me that this is a people who are actively trying to face up to what has happened in their past, claim responsibility, and take action to regroup, rebuild, reestablish themselves and move forward. And they can only be commended for this. It really is a most amazing thing.

Our tour concluded on the lawns right by the Berliner Dom, where the Alexander Platz tower was in sight and Museum Island. It was here that Barry decided to save the best story til last- the story of how, at the end of an international press conference on the 9th of November 1989, a fellow named Schabowski, read out aloud a note he shouldn't have, and when he was questioned as to when the regulations about the boarder control and the abolishment of the wall would come into action, he assumed it would be the same day based on the wording of the note. And to the entire world's astonishement he replied "As far as I know effective immediately, without delay".

There goes God again- speaking through donkeys!

There's a revolution in the air in the streets of Berlin, and it seems to me that in allowing time, employing good actions, freedom of expression teamed with the fostering of diversity and inclusion-through music, visual and performing art (which is uprising everywhere, unavoidable and amazing!)- is leading the way towards a more united Berlin, and dare I say it, a more united Germany.

Maybe we could all take something from the idea of the "wall in the head"; what it takes to break it down, what it takes to rebuild, and the unmistakable value in doing so.

And so I am left wondering...Is it possible, that a place, where so much pain, cruelty, destruction and terror transpired for so long, could wind up being an example to the world...even a model for all humanity?

The East Side Gallery

From the minute the receptionist at our hostel circled the East Side Gallery on my map of Berlin, I just knew I had to get myself there.

The East Side Gallery consists of around 100 paintings by artists from all over the world.

The Gallery is an international memorial for freedom, and spans approximately 1.3 kms along the east side of the wall, located near the centre of Berlin on Mühlenstraße in Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg.

Two thirds of the paintings are currently undergoing restoration (erosion, graffiti and vandalism have damaged the works overtime) in preparation for the 20 year celebration of the wall coming down later this year, on the 9th of November.

These paintings at the East Side Gallery document the time of change, and express the euphoria and great hopes for a better and free future for all people of the world.

Enjoy :)