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Saturday morning I woke up feeling like shit, more from the head cold than a hangover. It was difficult to get roused, but I knew I had to get to an Apotheke [this was something like a drug store] before 1 p.m. I didn't have too much trouble getting some medicine so I got it and hung out in the room for awhile, trying to regroup enough to go to East Berlin.
Before hopping on the U-bahn, I decided to walk up to Häagen Daz and have ice cream for breakfast. While I was eating it, I wandered by a record shop. I saw an Einstürzende Neubauten album I wanted, but I didn't want to have to carry it all the way to East Berlin. The problem was that the shop was closing for the day so I had to go ahead and get it then.
I rode the U-bahn to Kochstraße and came out at Checkpoint Charlie. By then I felt really awful with a headache, so I bought a Pepsi and sat in a doorway to get a grip and take a Goody's. There was a bus parked across the street directly in front of me with a woman and a couple of soldiers sitting in it. I noticed they were staring at me as I downed the powder. They probably thought I was a drug addict or something, so listless did I look, sitting there in the alcove dressed in black jeans, black turtleneck, and black leather jacket, my hair an unbrushed blonde mop.
I had only planned to sit there for a couple of minutes, but I felt so horrible, I ended up staying there on the steps for about 30 minutes, just staring at the lyric sheet of the Neubauten album. Finally, at about 3:00, I got up and made my way to the pedestrian walkway at Checkpoint Charlie.
When I entered the little building for pedestrians, I found a rather long queue. It ended up taking almost 30 minutes for me to get through the first stop. The East German soldier looked over my passport carefully, then charged me five marks for a visitor's visa. This allowed one to stay in East Berlin for 24 hours. I only planned to stay for about an hour.
 Next stop, I had to pay 25 marks in exchange for 25 East marks. This is a requirement to get through. Then there was one last stop for inspection. An old East German soldier asked me about the record I was carrying. Was it a gift? No: I explained that the record shop was about to close and I didn't want to go back to my hotel to drop the record off. The old guy pulled the album sleeve out of the jacket and studied it carefully. Now I knew this band was probably a quite radical punk band, but I had no idea what the lyric sheet said. This made me a bit nervous as the old dude stood there for several minutes reading the lyrics. For awhile, I thought he wasn't going to let me in, but he finally let me pass.
One more gate and passport check, and I found myself on the East side of the Berlin Wall.
I don't think there is anything else related to the Neubauten record in this story, but I will continue for a few more paragraphs just for the heck of it:
Going to East Berlin game me the creeps. My first impression was that of desolation, dirtiness, poverty, everything brown and gray and no sign of life. Oh, I saw a girl walking her dog down a dirty street, but there was no feeling of life really existing there on the other side of Checkpoint Charlie.
Erie as shit, man.
I walked down the barren street, past abandoned buildings, empty lots full of trash. Occasionally one of the pitiful little green or yellow East German cars [Trabants] would go by.
It was like being in another time, another world. A world of past and future, as if World War III had come and gone.
I made my way to the big boulevard at what used to be the heart of Berlin, Unter den Linden. That's where the monument - the Brandenburg Gate - that Dariush [a friend of mine in Berlin] had shown me from the other side is. There were barriers to keep people a good distance from the wall and the Gate. The wall is much creepier when you view it from the other side. No graffiti, of course. Just dull white with gray trim. I didn't linger here.
Unter den Linden is a huge street lined with colossal buildings. Some had clothes or book shops, travel agencies. The clothes weren't that interesting, the book shops had little fiction that I could see, and the travel bureaus advertised trips to Moscow and Leningrad.
Many buildings had Russian inscriptions written on them. There was a huge bust of Lenin in the courtyard of one imposing structure. These Goliaths lined the street, and through the center of the street was a median filled with grass and trees. It was beautiful in its own way, but too sterile and lifeless.
Oh by now, people were everywhere. But they were obviously tourists. Everybody happy and chatty, pointing to the sights. Occasional restaurants full of tourists. No pubs anywhere.
The tourists became more abundant as I approached Marx-Engels Platz. There were flowers and fountains and a beautiful cathedral. Every hair in place. This is the East Berlin the Soviets want the tourists to see.
As much as I wanted to continue through to Karl-Liebknecht, I decided to circle back towards Checkpoint Charlie. It was late and I wanted to be back at the hotel in time to meet Dariush. Plus it was raining and I felt like shit.
But I had this money and I wanted to spend some of it. All the shops I had passed were closed. I walked through the plaza, jammed with tourists. Finally I came across a little restaurant and I decided to try to get a coffee. I went inside, where there were already people waiting in line. After a couple of minutes, a group of Irish guys and girls came in behind me. I said something in English and they were nice, but they decided not to hang around so they left. After a couple of minutes I said the hell with it and left also.
The Irish were standing outside when I left. I went to the next corner and saw a place with a beer sign out front, so I went and told them about it. Back at the restaurant, I sat down at a table. After a few minutes, the Irish crew came in and sat down with me.
They were all very cheery and we swapped stories about traveling and radio and rock and roll.
I took my black-rimmed glasses off and put them in my shirt pocket.
For dinner, I had a chicken salad and a couple of beers. I was glad to finally find a way to spend that East German money.
Shortly after 5:00, I decided I should go, so I asked the red-headed Irish guy to my left if he'd take care of my check. I gave him the 20 mark note and told him to buy everybody beers with the rest. They had been really fun, and I hated to leave, but I was anxious to get back to the hotel.
It was raining again so I did not put my glasses back on. But after a couple of blocks, I decided I needed them on so I could read the street signs. I reached in my shirt pocket. No glasses. Not in there or any pockets or anywhere on me. In a panic I went back to the restaurant. No, they weren't there. I couldn't find them on the sidewalk either. It was dark and rainy out.
I retraced my steps again, even looking in puddles on the side of the streets but I could not find my glasses. Again I went back to the restaurant. Not there. Finally in defeat, I headed back to Checkpoint Charlie.
I was unhappy. My glasses were gone. I was getting rained on. My feet were soaked from stepping in puddles. All I wanted was to be with Dariush.
I plodded down Leipzigerstraße feeling quite awful, the unfortunate events of the day enhanced by the creepiness of East Berlin. At last I found Friedrichstraße and the way back to Checkpoint Charlie.
Again it took awhile to get out because of the queue. There were a couple of stops to make before they'd let me out. It felt good to be free again, but my mind was more set on getting back to the hotel.
It took awhile for a train to arrive at the Kochstraße station. I was feeling like shit when I finally boarded. It seemed forever before I go to the Uhlandstaße station. Even then, there was quite a hike to the hotel. When I got there, it was 7:00.
I think that's enough of this for now, don't you?
-- May 7, 2005 (DD)
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