(continuation of June 14 journal entry)

Later: Began our day at Brandenburg Tor & ate enormous soft pretzels from a street vendor. What a sight to behold, coming up from the S-Bahn station, immediately greeted by Hotel Adlon (cue: Greta Garbo, “I want to be alone.”), a social gathering of international embassies (including the newly relocated US Embassy) & the Gate, all surrounding the busy Pariser Platz. Berlin! And I thought I was in love with London & Vienna (naturally, Paris watched over my travels on its gilded throne)! Or, out of sight, out of mind, am I repeatedly seduced in every city? Reichstag wait (to ascend the dome & explore the view) was an estimated 1.5 hours, so pictures sufficed; while we’d like to return, there’s no time. Moved on to memorials: Politicians Who Opposed Hitler, Murdered Jews of Europe & later, in the center of Bebelplatz (directly across from Humboldt University), a room of empty bookshelves below the cobblestones (covered in glass), remembering 1933’s burning of twenty thousand books. By the educated. What ran through their minds, these deranged professors & students? Were they aware of the bonfire’s full effect? Or didn’t they care? “Das war ein vorspiel nur, dort wo man bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man am ende auch menschen” (“When you start burning books, you’ll end up burning people.” Heinrich Heine, 1820). His writings were thrown into the flames.

(excerpt from June 15 journal entry)

Memorials, then a day’s worth of Unter den Linden, which rivals (& may surpass) Champs-Elysées. Not surprising, entire books have been written on the city’s illustrious street, once lined with 250-year-old linden trees, but cut down by Hitler & replaced with Nazi flags; local outrage & he replanted linden trees, naturally far younger & smaller than their predecessors. Grand hotels (pun intended), cafés, antique shops, and, of course, souvenirs; a few blocks south on Friedrichstrasse for fine clothes & jewelry (i.e. Chanel, Escada, Cartier) & Fassbender & Rausch chocolatiers, where I got a can of drinking chocolate, small bars & molded candies. Checkpoint Charlie & again to Unter den Linden for churches, opera houses, university & national library. Glad we’re staying in East Berlin, but oh, more days are needed here! A magnificent city, Berlin; an exciting beautiful street, Unter den Linden, adorned with architecture flaunting intricate facades. It’s amazing, what survived destruction by war, the majority’s fate brought by fires, bombs & pillaging. I complain about the US’s youth, but with Europe’s glory comes devastation. Can Sartre’s philosophy be successfully criticized after life during WWII? Should his reason not be lauded? With the war, our world would never again exist in the same way. But Berlin’s grand promenade is returning to its pre-Nazi era; time eases (& heals, sometimes scars) all things.

Don’t take seriously my European flings (Paris aside)—London, Munich, Vienna, Berlin! As time passes both slowly & rapidly, I anticipate my return home & regret my departure. Dinner last night at Zum Schusterjungen Speisegastsätte: for me, bratwurst, sauerkraut & boiled potatoes, dumplings, ice cream & fruit parfait & Berliner Bürgerbräu Pils, all for 11€30!

Later: Flea market in Tiergarten this morning & as desperately as I tried to find gifts for Dad & William among antiques & junk, nothing. What will I do? I must (and want) to find something special, meant for each individual. If was such fun shoving through crowds & looking at antiques, jewelry, dishes & silver & odds & ends, but nothing jumped out at me. Atmosphere was splendid, of course. On to Schloss Bellvue (flags flying: Germany’s president in), Siegessäule & Otto von Bismark monument, all in Tiergarten.

(June 16 journal entry)

My thoughts were flowing, so close to being caught up on entries (one day left in Europe). Enter: a group of drunk guests who crowded themselves around the table. “Siegessäule & Otto von Bismark monument, all in Tiergarten…” Forget concentration.

Now, waiting to see a dermatologist at Universitatsklinikum Charité.

(June 17 journal entry)

I’ll backtrack to Sunday night, as I was interrupted by noisy, drink, cliché student backpackers (whom spend a single night in Paris, so as it can be checked off as done & boasted about to others).

Spent a good deal of time getting to Potsdamer Platz (our route, U2, wasn’t operating), and how disappointed we were. Berlin’s Times Square? Ha! No billboards, no neon lights, no annoying tourists. Not even boutiques I’d wish I could afford as I gazed at window displays. So, onto Altes Museum to see the Bust of Nefretiti & whatever else we could in two hours, conveniently missing a brief, heavy downpour. Spent most of my time with gods, mythological heroes & the Praying Boy of Ancient Greece, but what beauty, untouched by 3,000 years, radiated from Nefretiti, restoration unnecessary. She was just as I’d imagined her, painted limestone skin glowing, jewels & headdress colorful, as if freshly painted. Don’t worry, I made my way through swarms of people & multiple photos were taken, so as one shot it suitable to frame for Dad.

(Our train from Berlin to Paris is passing through Belgium; unfortunately, an additional €20, as our rail passes only cover France, Germany & Austria.)

East Side Gallery (far longer than expected; gives one the smallest inkling of how the divided city might’ve appeared), where I initialed a painting & copied Socrates: “Time eases all things.” Grocery shopping for seeded rolls & loaf (€2,28), salami & cheese (€3,78), vanilla yoghurt (€1,80) & Berliner Bürgerbräu Pils (€1,98, which I’m bringing home for Dad, Denny & William, also) & another delicious spaghetti dinner.

Which brings me to yesterday morning…

Later, Paris: (How tormenting to have one hour at Gare du Nord, glimpses of the city through large windows scattered around the station. And unable to do anything but sit.)

Later, London: (Four countries, one long day.) Initially, I was quite hesitant about our hostel—a small, privately run spot, lax rules & organization, rather ghetto & dirty. It grew on me, the small flat, and I’d wake shortly after the sun (others, naturally, still sound asleep) to shower & sit alone in the kitchen, drinking strong coffee, spending dawn with my thoughts, meditations & daydreams. Listening to others stir, starting their days. What does Berlin hold? What can I do for myself? I was, for those few moments, a character from a Joyce Carol Oates novel: struggling university student living in small-town (okay, so Berlin’s enormous) boarding house. I was—am—myself: a homesick, thoughtful man, excited to be in Europe only weeks before grad school & teaching commence.

This is why, on my last day in Berlin, my last non-travel day, I was awake at 7, showering, and—wait—what is that? No glasses, I guessed a large splinter (the backside of my knee was tender), but no, an insect. In my leg! An insect in my leg! Repulsive! I shook Allison out of bed, I read information online, convincing myself it was a rare, disease-carrying klesh that would cause irreversible dementia; I called home (2:45 EST). I ended up in a nearby (not-so-urgent) emergency room to have the tick (yes, only a tick) removed. €100 hospital bill, €5,85 prescribed cream. Not how I planned (or wished) my final morning & semi-embarrassing (completely disgusting), face down on an examining table, jeans around my ankles & staring at distorted trees through cut-glass windows, doctor picking & prying a bug (apparently not considered enormous in Germany) from my leg. Attractive, no?

An afternoon in Wittenburg Lutherstadt & a second, well-deserved dinner at Zum Schusterjungen.

(June 18 journal entry)

“Home Again.

Aunt Em had just come out of the house to water the cabbages when she looked up and saw Dorothy running toward her.

‘My darling child!’ she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses; ‘where in the world did you come from?’

‘From the Land of Oz,’ said Dorothy gravely. ‘And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I’m so glad to be at home again!’”