Storm the Barricades, or...

Friday, May 1, 2009
May Day

How could I have forgotten?? May Day is a state holiday in just about every country in the world (except the USA). All stores are closed, even groceries and pharmacies. But public transport runs and the museums are open.

This morning I boarded the bus and bought a day pass. I'm going to spend several hours on the bus doing a little sight seeing. I took the bus across from the hotel to the Zoo station, which is one of the focal points of the city. There I boarded the #100 bus. This bus passes some of the significant historical sites in the city. On this gorgeous day we saw lots of people out making picnics and strolling in the streets, especially Unter den Linden. When we passed the huge Tiergarten, I noticed lots of people lying out naked, mostly (or maybe all of them) men. I'm wondering if it's a meeting point.

I've spent some time on public transport – trains and buses – and the local transport culture is interesting. Dogs frequently accompany riders on transport. There is a place on all trains where one can place a bike or luggage, and many people roll their baby strollers onto transport. It seems like the stations and trains are always in heavy use. Many important routes run every 5 minutes or more frequently; most routes run at least every 10 minutes. Trains and buses are almost always right on time. Many bus stops and virtually all train stops show how many minutes until the next arrival of each line that passes.

I had taken the #100 to the end of the line at Alexanderplatz, and I walked to the bus stop to take the #200 back to Zoo station; it follows a slightly different route. I waited well past the time when the next bus should come, and it seemed as if no buses were coming except for those of one particular line for which this stop is the end of the line. After three such buses stopped and parked, the driver of the third bus advised us that all bus and streetcar traffic was now shut down. If we wanted to go anywhere, we had to take either the S- or the U-bahn.

My intent was to go stroll some Unter den Linden (that's the name of the main street in the center of Berlin), and there are no train stops on the street except at the Brandenburg Gate, which is too far from the nice shaded area of the avenue. Unter den Linden ends at the Gate, which was the epicenter of the border between the erstwhile East and West Berlin, and probably the most photographed part of The Wall. Its centrality in the life of Berlin has returned since the fall of the wall.

I got on the S-bahn figuring to get off at Friedrichstraße, which is only about 3 blocks from the avenue. When I was finally Unter den Linden, I found the street teeming with police of all description: motorcycle, squad cars, vans, riot gear, traffic cops,.... They had closed all traffic to the street.

I asked one of the policemen if it were safe to walk Unter den Linden and he said that there was about to be a parade and demonstration, but that he didn't think it would be dangerous. So I walked to the eastern end of the avenue at the Staatsoper and the Humboldt University.

There on a large square was a congregation of perhaps 1,000 or so people listening to speakers go on and on about something that was unintelligible due to the drums beating in the background and the echoes created by the sound systems. I decided to get out of the noise and wait it all out.

I sat in an outdoor restaurant in the courtyard of the Opera and ordered a beer – Berliner Pilsner. After sitting for a while in the crowded patio, two middle-aged gentlemen asked if they could join me at my table; of course I invited them to do so. They sat a few minutes chatting with each other. When there was a lull in their conversation, I asked them (tongue in cheek) if they had come for the demonstration. That turned out to be a good conversation starter. I learned that they were on vacation from a small town 2 hours from Innsbruck, Austria. They spoke with a heavy Tyrolian accent that I had mistaken for south German. You see, they were making accommodations in their speech when talking to me. Every year they take a long weekend to visit some city. One year it was Oslo, another Riga. By the way, they commented on how lovely the girls in Riga are, always nicely put together. I soon asked them if they had ever tried a Berliner Weisse (beer), like those on the tables of many of the guests on the patio; they had not. I told them that I am not fond of it, but if one is in Berlin, one should at least try it. It is served normally with a “shot” of syrup in it, either Waldmeister or Himbeer (woodruff – green -- or raspberry -- red). They agreed that they should try it; they didn't like it much.

When the parade finally left the square, and the noise subsided, I wished my table-mates a good trip and I went across the street in front of the University, where there is a statue of Alexander von Humboldt, the brother of Wilhelm who was co-founder of the University of Berlin. The inscription under the statue, in Spanish, states

“Al Segundo Descubridor de Cuba
la Universidad de la Habana 1939”

I don't understand where the 1939 date comes from, unless that is when the statue was dedicated.

At the end of the day, I went to Chabad for Kabbalat Shabbat. I had learned earlier in the week that there is a Shabbat dinner at Chabad, and I later learned that I did not have to preregister.

The Chabad house is at the end of a cul de sac not far off the main West Berlin boulevard. As I walked up to the building, I noticed a stark difference from other Jewish institutions. Although there was a police presence, there was no interview and pat-down at the front door. When I remarked about this, I was told that the Chabad house is always open.

Tonight was to be student night, a once-a-month event. About 25 or more students showed up, about half of them after the services were almost over. I chatted after the service with a fellow who introduced himself to me because we have the same last name. Also, he immigrated from Riga 30 years earlier. Since my grandparents came from a town outside of Riga, I wondered if we might be related. It appears not.

We made our way to kiddush and dinner and sat down. I wondered where the students were, since I was looking forward to a nice lively dinner with singing, like the one Bela and I went to when we were in Germany a few years ago. Turns out that they decided to have two separate dinners, and I ended up in the boring one, with people who speak almost no German or English, but Russian and Hebrew.

At the beginning of dinner the rabbi kept asking me a question in Hebrew that I didn't understand. He speaks almost no German. Afterwards I learned that was asking me if I wanted to say kiddush.

They served a very nice dinner, and we all said good night and good Shabbos.