I should be writing an essay right now but then I just tuned into the news for a quick second and realized that today is the 21st anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall and as usual, it took me back to the time that I visited that oh-so-historic wall two summers ago. I wrote a blog post about this last year as well and here I am writing about it again. There's something about this moment in history that gets at me every time. Any time I visit a museum, watch TV, or browse a newspaper, if there's something about the Berlin Wall, you can bet that I'll spend time visiting that exhibit, watching that show, or reading that article. There's something infinitely alluring about the history behind it...maybe it's my disbelief in the incredible scope and depth of oppression experienced in East Germany at the time...or the story of the triumph of the human spirit against that very oppression...or perhaps it's that electrifying collective effervescence felt around the world the night and days after the wall fell, and that even I can still feel just by watching videos from that time....
Whatever it is, I'm drawn to this particular moment in history like a magnet...but I won't linger and write more. Last year's post captured my feelings exactly...
As the world celebrates the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, that momentous event in history that spurred the collapse of communism and the demise of the Cold War, I can't help but reminisce on the few days that I spent in Berlin during this summer. I've been staring at my photos all day...
Walking around the Brandenburg Gate, the East Side Gallery, or Checkpoint Charlie, I remember trying to imagine what it must have felt like to live during those times. Picturing this massive wall just running all throughout the city...it was surreal and as hard as I tried, I just couldn't fathom it.
A couple of my friends and I took a trip down to the Checkpoint Charlie Museum and we spent half the day just reading all these clippings and staring at these old artifacts and photos depicting the times and how people tried so hard to escape. I'll never forget this one plan where a West German man attached two or three suitcases together in which his East German girlfriend would hide as he tried to smuggle her across the border. I remember standing there thinking, "are you for real?!"...to think that someone would even have to think of something like that is just beyond me.
Then there was the time we were walking on the East German side of the Brandenburg Gate and there was this little area.. I forget what it's called now, but it was a little kind of memorial for the many people who tried to cross the borders but failed. A bunch of white crosses lined up one after another with the names of so many ill-fated young East Germans.
At the East Side Gallery, Sylwia (who you see below) and I walked the 1.3 km strip of the remaining wall staring at the artwork of the many artists who painted it after it had fallen. So many symbols of peace and hope and change. So much color and life and optimism...I couldn't help but think, "how many people died here?..at this very spot where a rosy painting of the world lies? Who was shot here? What guard stood in the way of his fellow man?". I remember being overtaken by this overwhelming feeling of disbelief that I was standing in front of the Iron Curtain...unable to fully know or even understand what went on during that time but still incredibly moved by it all...
I was born in October 1989, a month before the fall. I grew up in Canada for the majority of my life, the True North strong and free. I've never known communism or division or oppression. I've never had to go through the struggles and sufferings of that day. I've never known fear...never had so great a longing to escape something or somewhere. And so I look at these photos of the people who have lived through it all and I listen to their stories, I'm just filled with so much awe and I'm simply moved by all that they have endured...
