It’s not as big as I thought.
I’m not sure how big I thought it would be, but definitely . . . I don’t know. . . bigger.
The Brandenburg Gate drips with important symbolism. In many ways, it is Berlin.
The gate was built by the Prussians, expropriated by the Nazis, sealed off by the Communists, and restored by the Capitalists.
It has always reminded me of Germany in its victories, defeats, and ultimate triumphs.
It still has the bullet holes from its past. Up until the abdication of the Kaiser, only German royalty could pass through the center portico. It does make you gasp when you emerge from the depths of the U-Bahn on the escalator and see it rise before you.
It’s so so. . . German.
I had seen it in old pictures with Waffen-SS soldiers marching under it. The first time I saw it on TV was when Reagan used it as a backdrop to tell Gorbachev to “tear down this Wall.” The next time was when people were actually tearing down the Wall.
Standing there, it’s hard to explain to my daughter that there was once this Wall meant to keep the people inside from leaving. Not keeping people out, but keeping them in. Even with all the physical evidence around you and the pictures, it seems insane. She just sort of looks at me. I can’t blame her. It is insane.
What’s left of the Berlin Wall is now “protected.” Seriously?
It draws massive crowds, like its an art exhibit rather than a death strip.
I stand there in awe and think. . .
“I thought it would be bigger. . .”
The Pink Panther is busy dancing
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