[The above is a joke referencing
JFK visiting Berlin, where a 'Berliner' is also the locally infamous creme-filled doughnut... though I imagine saying this quote in the likeness of
JFK from Clone High.]
It was a whirlwind 4 day trip to Berlin at the end of January, and I spent most of the time reeling from the harsh cold. When I wasn't bracing against the 40 degree weather (I know, spoiled Californian), I toured the city and saw the standard tourist stuff: the remains of the Berlin Wall, the Reichstag, and the eerie
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.
There was also an outing to a luxurious yet affordable day spa called
Vabali; it reminded me of the
onsen bath houses in Japan, except this place was not sex segregated. As an American, it was slightly awkward to just be walking around/ sitting in the hot tubs and steam rooms naked, alongside other naked guys and naked gals. And of course, I sampled all the tasty German foods: curry wurst, kebob, and German pastries like cakes, doughnuts, and butter-filled pretzels. NOM!
There was time for hanging with friends,
coworking at Betahaus and a private evening house party networking with diverse and interesting entrepreneurs. This included discussing what we do with our lives to make money and whatnot, but went beyond that as well. We discussed topics varying from one guy's business that uses wifi to collect heatmap data of where you walk/stand in a given area, to discussing
urban design and how the government can use a Lean Startup approach, to the difference between the westerners and the Japanese with respect to
Tanizaki's work "In Praise of Shadows", to the
three developmental levels of masculine/feminine maturity, to
applying principles of masculine and feminine polarity in romantic life, and even the differences in experience for those who experiment with
ayahuasca vs. iboga.
On our last day in Berlin, we had a sobering tour of
a very large concentration camp called Sachsenhausen. It was a bitter cold day to tour this place, yet I could imagine how the prisoners must have shivered in this same cold, clothed only in tattered cotton uniforms. A 30 minute video depicted the black-and-white recordings of what went on at this camp back then juxtaposed to the timeline of WWII. As we walked the grounds and viewed the insides of the few remaining living quarters reconstructed as exhibits, placards described the various was that prisoners were abused by the S.S. guards. I saw the paint peeling off the walls and ceiling of the once-overcrowded living quarters, due to excess body heat. We ended our visit where many prisoners also did; at the crematorium. Only the foundation remained, yet a placard outlined room-for-room the fate that awaited prisoners who were sent here.
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