This morning it was A’s turn to leave Berlin for home, and unlike Mel yesterday, there was no way of convincing her otherwise. She works in TV and the broadcasting world would be brought to it’s very knees if she failed to show up, or at very least the company she works for would drop into an uncorrectable tail spin.
So we were now to five, and the day was spent trying to do something remotely touristy. We walked down to the Reichstag Building, which houses the German parliament, and is neighboured by the immense, jaw-dropping, beautiful and gargantuan Paul Lobe and Federal Chancellery buildings. These have to be seen to be believed, such is their scale. There’s nothing like them in the UK. They were built between 1997 and 2001 and designed by different architects but seem to become one, impossibly long, work of art. God knows what goes on inside them. And not only does He know, we know too because the walls are mainly glass and you can see space inside for presentation halls, vast offices, atriums and public spaces. Try a Google image search for them – I’m still not sure how to post links on this site.
The Reichstag Building itself was started back in 1884 and looks typically solid, German and dark. It’s had a turbulent history and was gutted by fire thanks to a bit of a set-to with the Soviets at some point. Therefore, they were left with a big empty shell, and that was sorted by our own Sir Norman Foster in 1995 when he refurbished it. There was a queue outside and we debated joining it because if the arctic cold. But we did and after being shepherded into waiting rooms and going through a security check over the course of maybe half and hour we were inside.
Our cold wait was broken by the arrival of some drunk German toffs. It was easy to identify them as toffs because although it was impossible to understand what they were saying as they were selfishly talking in their own language, they were dressed in brogues, cords, preppy shirts, natty ties and blazers. They looked very Harvard. Even very Oxford circa 1950. They were carrying beer glasses which they occasionally refilled as they slurred their way through a few public announcements for the unamusment of the largely German queue. I wish I knew what they were saying. Then one of them climbed up onto a raised part of the Reichstag’s main steps and began delivering a speech. Again, I do wish I knew what he was saying but it was undoubtedly nonsense and probably quite annoying and posh. Maybe they thought they were part of some Monty Python or Oxbridge comedy revue.
You don’t really associate the German character with outbursts like this, do you? I did almost expect him to be cut off half way through his rant with a snipers bullet to the temple. I am a fool and ignorant to still think of Germany as a police state.
So we did get into the Reichstag eventually and soared upwards in a big lift. Once out in the open air of the flat roof you’re confronted by the most incredible structure, again designed by Norman Foster. It’s called the Cupola and is an enourmous glass dome, perhaps 80 foot high, with a mirrored core stemming in from the top down to a thin shard of metal at the bottom, where it breaks through the glass roof into the government chamber. Around the interior wall of the dome, two walkways spiral around, one leading nervous visitors upwards to a central platform at the top of the dome, the other interlacing and leading down. It’s a miracle of design and, again, I wish I could post a picture here. I am an idiot for not knowing how. Perhaps Steve, the Jedi web-master of this site, could find a picture of the Cupola on top of the Reichstag Building and make a link to it HERE and HERE. If he does this he’s amazing.
I don’t suffer from vertigo but the feeling of walking up the inside of this dome, in the cold because it’s open to the elements, was the strangest sensation I’ve ever experienced in all my days. Everyone felt the same way. Norman Foster likes to make people feel strange when using his structures, I think. There was the great case of the Millennium Bridge in London which was closed for ages because it shook. I still don’t know why they didn’t leave it that way, it would be world famous now. The Cupola makes you feel suitably giddy and in awe of the structure. I think we take too much for granted these days and never use our eyes – this way you’re forced to think very hard about what’s around you. I loved it.
The trouble with doing anything in a group however is that you can’t do things at your own pace – you have to unselfishly accommodate others. And if these others happen to be girls, you have the added problem of having to deal with their individual body temperatures, hunger, and perpetual need “for a quick wee�.
Women love to tell you they’re off for a quick wee, or that they “really need a wee�, even though this isn’t a very attractive thing to say. My Mum will sometimes come into the house and state “I’m just going to have a quick wee� by way of saying hello. People think Men are generally the more likely to advertise their bodily functions but it’s not true – women love nothing else than to inform you that their bladders are full to a suitable extent to have the contents expelled.
Women will always let you know when they’re hungry, too. We found a restaurant that has hosted all sorts of political figures and American presidents according to their guest list but was very reasonably priced. Word to the wise – don’t go to Germany if you are an edible animal. They love a bit of meat, the Germans. If you’re a vegetarian you’ll starve. It’s ridiculous. In this one restaurant, for example, we had the waitress kindly translate the whole menu for us, and finally, near the bottom, she said “And this one is vegetarian. But not really vegetarian because it has a beef sauce over it.�
I don’t know if there’s a single vegetarian in Germany. Fortunately for me I’m not, but seem to have unconsciously become more and more so in recent months without really trying. I’ll absent mindedly walk around a super market picking up random objects and then get home to realise, four times out of five, there isn’t a single meat product there. So this weekend of constant meat – meat from every angle – was heavy on the stomach.
I’m sure that in Germany something like a carton of orange juice is 90% orange juice and 10% pork rind.
The girls decided after the meal to spend a quite evening in the apartment but I was hungry for adventure and set off on a bar crawl. I didn’t find any adventure on the quite Sunday night streets, however. Some of the bars I went in to were empty but for me and the bar staff. I was in a bar like this when a young English couple walked in. They couldn’t speak any German, as I can’t really, and wanted a bottle of red wine to take out to their hotel room. This is an easy enough situation to deal with, you’d think, especially when the barman spoke reasonable English, but they were just so British about the whole thing and Hugh Granted their way through a series of ‘Umms’, ‘Yahs’, ‘Sorrys’ and ‘Greats’ that the whole deal took forever.
I didn’t say hello to them but kept quiet. You’d think it might be quite a natural thing to say hello to a compatriot when you happen to bump into them abroad but I don’t see why. I don’t even like HEARING a British accent when I’m overseas, I think it dilutes the experience and ultimately robs me of my German trip in some small way. If I wanted to hear British accents I’d have stayed at home. They’re denying you your proper holiday by turning up with their over familiar voices.
Toured a few more sleepy bars before heading up to the scene of last nights shenanigans, the 103 club, for a cocktail. But it was a different barman, the Hemmingway Sour didn’t taste as good, and so I went home. I stopped off at the same kebab hut to buy the girls some wine which they’d phoned and requested. The man behind the counter recognised me from last night and said “You are one with the girls, yes?� I confirmed that I was and he said “Then you need this� and gave me lots of free chocolate!
I like Germany… People aren’t humourless and severe like the stereotype suggests. They’re kind, helpful, and open to visitors. I took the chocolate and wine home and we played a new game of my own invention where one person names a band or singer and the others have to agree on their most famous and recognisable song. It sounds rubbish but it’s good, everyone enjoyed it. When they weren’t going for a quick wee.
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