Germans go to the Polls, Expats stay Home

I would have voted in Germany’s most recent election Sunday if I could have. If they would have let me. Instead Germany experienced one of its lowest voter turnouts in decades – though a 70% turnout is nothing to be ashamed of compared to some other countries (56% of Americans voted in their last presidential election).

It would be an honor for me to vote in Germany, the country I have chosen as my home. I am a permanent resident of Germany and have been for several years though I am not a citizen, which is the incidental detail that prevents me from voting. My only option at this point is to give up my American citizenship and become a full-fledged German complete with a nifty red passport and voter rights. Many Germans ask quite earnestly why I don’t do just that.

The answer to that question is complicated for both logistical and sentimental reasons. First of all, it is getting more and more difficult to travel to the United States as a tourist. Germans have been fingerprinted and photographed at US immigration for years already. Soon they may even have to start paying a $ 10 entry fee to visit the country.

I don’t know if I will spent the rest of my life in Germany. I don’t know when or if I may return to the USA but I want to keep all of my options open. In the meantime, I could not bring myself to bear the weight of having to be fingerprinted in order to visit my own mother in the land of my birth. The price for my sentimentality is sacrificing the right to vote in the country where I live and pay taxes.

Of course, I would gladly take on dual-citizenship if Germany would only let me. And it looks like with the new conservative government German voters have elected, that fact is not going to change any time soon either.

I know a place…

I know a place in Berlin where the biggest concern is which way the wind is blowing.  Where the first thing you notice stepping off the bus is the stench of cow manure. And the ones who bug you the most are the swans- they are fresh!

I have heard it said that Munich is a village of 2 million people. Now, Berlin may not be a village, but instead contains many villages within it. Gatow is just one of them. It is isolated from the rest of the city on the far side of the Havel River. It was once even more isolated when the Berlin Wall separated Gatow from East Germany’s countryside while the Havel River isolated it from the rest of West Berlin.

Take Bus x34 from Zoo Station and in only 30 minutes you’ll be in Gatow for the nice price of 2.10 €. A dirt road leads to the water where the only traffic you’ll see are the sailboats. Lots and lots of sailboats.

Our boat will be leaving Gatow soon. We’re leaving our dock for a wharf for repair work. I am going to miss that ride down to the dirt trail to the ‘Heimat Hafen’. I am going to miss collecting berries for fresh pancakes in the mornings. I’ll even miss the swans who stretch their long necks and peek over the side hoping for a taste.

Short but Sweet

It is the shortest subway line in the city. Only 3 stops. 1800 meters long. A ride from the first to last station on the U55 takes about 2 minutes. It is also one week old.

We waited for the commotion of the grand opening to subside before taking our own inaugural ride – an effort to avoid the 70,000 passengers who showed up for the first day of service. But even three days later it was crowded with a combination of tourists and Berliners alike, all armed with cameras and wide-eyes.

The tourists were reading the maps and trying to figure out where they were going and how they were going to get there. The Berliners were inspecting the station, the train cars, every last detail.

It took us only two-and-a-half minutes to pass under the Brandenburg Gate, Berlin’s government quarter, the Spree River, and arrive at the final stop on the line, Hauptbahnhof.

We rode the elevator in the new subway station buried beneath the main train station just to see where it would take us. The elevator passed by the lower level of the train station where some American tourists decided not to board since we were going further up. In the end we landed on the street level next to the main entrance. We took a quick look around and then waited for the elevator to take us back down.

When the doors opened, the same American tourists were there in the elevator. They felt the need to explain their mistake. They wanted to go down one level and ended up going up. We didn’t think anything of it since the subway station itself is only 3 days old and no one really knows which way is which. Our American guests were shocked to discover that not only the station but the entire U55 subway line had only opened three days before.

They didn’t realize that most of the passengers around them including those taking pictures most prolifically were not the tourists but rather the locals.  They didn’t realize that we did not have a destination; we were just riding the U55 for the fun of it. They had arrived in Berlin that day and assumed that there had always been a subway to take people from the main station to the heart of the matter at the Brandenburg Gate. Of course they did, why wouldn’t they?

East or West ?

How can you tell the difference between former East and former West Berlin? That’s what most visitors to Berlin want to know. A few years ago it would have been much more obvious than it is today. Not too long ago the traffic lights gave it away along with the trams. Now the tram lines extend into former West Berlin and so do the old East German Ampelmännchen traffic lights. Revealing details can still be seen in the architecture but you have to look closely and even then it can be tricky.

While crossing the street at Checkpoint Charlie today, I overheard a man talking to his family. He was a British tourist and sounded very proud to tell his wife and young son about the history of the place they were standing. Standing in the former American sector of Berlin, he pointed down Friedrichstrasse in the direction of Kreuzberg. Quite matter-of-factly he said: “so see there, that is former East Berlin. Look at the buildings. Just look. You can tell it is former East just by how run-down everything is.”

His voice sounded more and more excited as he seemed to be able to convince even himself of what he was saying as he turned to look in the other direction up Friedrichstrasse to where the stores and the flock of tourists were. He commented on the detail work of the buildings and how new everything looked on that side. In his assessment it was all proof that he was looking at former West Berlin.

He thought it was obvious; he thought he could tell one side from the other just by taking a close look at the architecture. Unfortunately he got it wrong. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the dilapidated buildings south of Checkpoint Charlie are actually in the former West and the new stores and glass facades in the other direction are the former East. I have the feeling he may not have believed me anyway. His logic -that the former East is run-down and former West is shiny and new- may have held true 20 years ago but a lot can change in 20 years.

Erdbeer

The building on the corner of Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz  is newly renovated with a trendy Vietnamese kitchen on the ground floor. On the balcony above, one of Mitte’s new yuppies is chatting on the phone looking down her nose at those of us below.

The adjacent building hasn’t been renovated and does not yet have scaffolding on its facade, but probably will soon. It is still full of punks living like it’s 1991. There he is perched in the window looking down triumphantly at all he sees.

He can probably see me and my pink Erdbeer drink. It is 6pm and the sun is still in my eyes and the temperature is still sticky enough that I crave just one thing- a strawberry daiquiri from the Erdbeer Bar in Berlin’s Mitte. I don’t know what the building behind me looks like but I know they have piranhas inside and serve the best strawberry daiquiris far and wide.

A much older women wearing an old, plastic house-dress is weaving her way through us all. It looks like she hasn’t left this street corner in several decades. She holds a bucket in one hand and a grabber in the other. Walking the street, she grunts and mumbles as she picks up cigarette butts with her grabber- and in the bucket they go. She is meticulous.  She obviously thinks that she is surrounded by ungrateful, littering hooligans and has taken it upon herself to keep her corner of the city tidy.

A glance up reveals the new resident of Berlin’s Mitte now pacing on her private balcony while lighting a cigarette. She probably has parquet floors and a built-in kitchen. The rent is surely astronomical by Berlin standards though I’m sure she thinks she has gotten away with a steal. Just three windows away the punk is smoking too. The dirt brown walls on his side are covered in graffiti. The stucco is falling down in patches. He looks satisfied though and wears a superior grin. The lady below will be ready with her grabber as soon as they let their butts fall.

Progress

Things change fairly quickly around here. Returning to the city after a long stint away means that construction projects have already come and gone. The city is in a constant state of flux and I certainly notice that even more open space in the city center has disappeared. Much of the open space in Berlin is used for parking and it is something you don’t notice until its gone.

Some of the parking lots I can remember vividly that once dotted the city center have already been transformed into hotels, hostels, office buildings, high-rises. And the list goes on.

Coming around a corner recently, a corner I come around almost everyday, I was shocked at what I saw. The street parking had been removed. It was not replaced with an office building that would stand half empty or a new shopping mall, nor was it removed to build a hotel for the tourists. Instead, 6 parking spaces were removed from a very popular neighborhood in Berlin to make room for bicycle racks. Now that is what I call progress!

Greifenhagenerstrasse, Prenzlauer Berg

Greifenhagenerstrasse, Prenzlauer Berg

‘At the age of 66′

The party was on Saturday. The Federal Republic of Germany’s 60th. And there is still much more to come. The 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall will be in November this year. And October 2010 will be the 20th anniversary of reunification. So that means we are in store for at least another 1.5 years of celebrating.

It can be confusing though; many out-of-town visitors in Berlin this past weekend did not know exactly what the celebration was all about. Though May 23 may not be a bank holiday in Germany, it is still a big day. The Federal Republic of Germany, more commonly referred to as West Germany during the Cold War, was created on May 23, 1949. In 1990 when East and West Germany reunified, the Federal Republic got larger but otherwise the Basic Constitutional Law (Grundgesetz) governing the country has not changed since 1949. Hence the celebration to honor Germany’s second and longest-running democracy 60 years later.

And what would a birthday be without a party? There was song and dance and comedy and food and drink and beer, of course. The stage set-up in front of the Brandenburg was quite ingenious with two stages one to the left the other to the right of the Gate and a bridge in the middle connecting the two. Udo Jürgens, Germany’s favorite from Austria, was there singing his top hits including the song “Mit 66 Jahren” (at the age of 66). The whole crowd chimed in when he sang, ‘at the age of 66 life really begins. At the age of 66 the fun starts. At the age of 66, life comes into full swing.’

No party in Berlin would be complete without an appearance from the leftist revelers. They protested against the state, against capitalism and as the Spiegel reported, against just about everything. They marched and stamped their way through the streets with police escorts and torches in hand. Their party went on long after the stages at the Brandenburg were dark. They had the last word.

If Udo Jürgens knows what he’s singing about then there is much more to come in Germany. In fact, we haven’t even begun yet. Don’t tell the Federal Republic of Germany that. Horst Köhler should be singing along happily though. On Saturday, parallel to the celebrations at the Brandenburg Gate, he was re-elected by Parliament to a second term as Federal President of Germany – at  that age of 66.

Automobile meets Autobahn

There is perhaps only one way to experience superior German engineering first-hand: that is driving a German automobile on the Autobahn. It is not something I do often, but sometimes the best way to transport a refrigerator and 2 people from one side of the country to the other is on the Autobahn in a Mercedes, even if it is a rental.

I remember learning German in high school and learning one of my (still) favorite words: ‘Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung’- speed limit. I remember thinking, how can they fit that on a street sign? It doesn’t prove to be problem though. And it is not because there are no speed limits.

The Autobahn may be famous the world over for its lack of speed limits. And much of it is speed limit free. That is until the road passes through a city or a construction site or a narrow stretch. Those little round signs with the red border are easy to miss. That big black number in the middle though is a speed limit and they expect you to observe it.

Racing past a 120-speed-limit-sign at speeds of 190 kilometers an hour, don’t expect to be pulled over and given a ticket. Instead you’ll see a bright flash. It is blinding but only lasts half a second – just long enough to capture your smiling face on film. When you get home the ticket will be waiting for you in your mailbox. A ticket along with a picture of you speeding on your merry way. The evidence is documented. Fighting it is futile.

The oddest part about the speed limits that come up on the Autobahn are the fact that almost every one does observe them. Traffic will be moving steadily and then all of a sudden it will downshift. Luckily those limited stretches don’t last long. Just long enough to snap a few pictures and then its back on your merry way.

No, we do not have skim milk

When I moved to Berlin 7.5 years ago it was not possible to get a coffee to go. After explaining exactly what I wanted, most places would look at me strangely and then apologize that they simply did not have any paper cups to serve coffee to go. The best you could do was a tiny plastic cup of steaming coffee-flavored water for 30 cents at the vending machines in the library. That was coffee to go. But that was then and this is now

Once upon a time there was coffee and there was Milchkaffee. The milk was fatty and foamy. It tasted delicious and cost 1.80 € for a soup bowl full of milk with a bit of coffee added. Taking a coffee to go was pointless since the preferred method was to sit with your Milchkaffee for 5 hours and slurp it slowly.

But things change and if you want to do business selling coffee in Berlin these days you better offer not only a coffee to go but also a ’skim latte’ or a coffee with soy milk or a ‘half-caf, low-fat, no foam latte’. Of course, Berlin would simply not be Berlin if everyone conceded.

I get my coffee to go (and sometimes coffee to stay) at Coffeemamas found under the S-bahn tracks on Hackescher Markt. The coffee is fresh, delicious and very reasonably priced. The place is tiny with trains rumbling by over-head every few minutes; the scent of freshly roasted coffee wafts from the shop all day long. The people there are friendly locals; they tell me stories about the people who walk in take a look around and then ask where Starbucks is.

Recently Coffeemamas put up a sign that makes me laugh. It also makes me love them even more and keeps me coming back again and again.

It says ‘A woman without a belly is like a sky without stars. No, we do not have skim milk.’

I love Coffeemamas!!

Keep on going

I rode my bike through the city yesterday. Literary. From the northeastern corner where I live (Weissensee) to the southwestern corner where my boat is docked (Gatow). The ride takes about 1.5 hours and it is something I do often; this time I decided to take a new route. I took roads that I haven’t been on in years and some roads I had never even been on before.

I took the bridge that I spent an entire evening sitting on with my future husband on the night we met. I took the back route through industrial areas, over canals, past nude sun bathers. I passed through several neighborhoods where I once lived.

In Moabit, one of my old neighborhoods, I was surprised to see a slew of new supermarkets and stores along the S-bahn tracks. That’s where I saw a sign, at the entrance to the Lidl supermarket. It was a sign detailing the deportations that took place from the Moabit freight depot on that location. The same location where Berliners now pick up their discount groceries. The sign startled me. Though I am very familiar with the history of Berlin and I know the old Jewish quarter like the back of my hand. I know the locations of several former deportation centers, but I never knew about this one, in my old backyard.

The sign looks fairly new. I wonder how many people have noticed it or taken the time to read it. I admit that I did not stop. I did not take the time to read it. Instead I just kept on going.