Round and Round It Goes

The Fußball Fan's Dream Come True, or My Trip to the World Cup in Germany

(Note: I have tons of pics, and am still processing the B&W, so they're not even all here. The pages may take a while to load, but I tried to help you out by splitting the trip into sections based on the cities we were in. It's a mess, but here goes.)

First of all, I filled up 1 ½ journals on this trip. Second, no I will not force you to read every little bit of minutiae I wrote down. Nobody (well, nobody except me) really cares that every restaurant we went to had World Cup napkins or that such-and-such a church was bombed and rebuilt umpteen times (I’ll give you a hint: every church was bombed and rebuilt umpteen times).

If you're supremely lazy, feel free to just look at the pics and maybe read the captions. I won't be hurt. Much.

So here’s our trip, abridged, and slightly edited to be less historically-based (and thus, boring).

Albuquerque, NM – June 27, 2006

I’m sitting in the ABQ “Sunport” on my way to Germany, only slightly dampened by the fact the U.S. has already been trounced out of the tournament. So while I have a moment, I want to note for the record my opinion of this World Cup U.S. Men’s National Team (USMNT):

• I’ve said it about a billion times, and I’ll say it again. Landon Donovan is not the Great White Hope for U.S. soccer. To see him get the captain’s armband when Reyna stepped off the field in the Ghana game was to see me throw whatever I had at hand at the TV.
  
• They should have given DaMarcus Beasley some potato chips and a La-Z-Boy.
  
• Reyna, Convey, Dempsey, Bocanegra, and most notably Conrad showed up to play. I will not lower myself here to waggling my fingers in my ears and singing “I told you so” with regard to Conrad. Okay, maybe I will.
  
• Arena should face charges for leaving Taylor Twellman at home. We could have used a sparkplug, an injury-free forward who is fast, works hard for 90+ minutes, and most importantly, scores goals.
  
• Atrocious loss to the Czech Republic, ill-reffed tragedy against Italy (9 on 10?!?), and just no drive against Ghana. I’m waiting for the refund from our U.S. match conditional tickets to show up in my account.

A very sad Claudio Reyna

But P’s Socceroos played tough, at least giving me someone to cheer for, only bowing out yesterday to the crying bitches that form the Italian team.

Brazil looks dull…or have they just not played anyone worthwhile yet?

Argentina, Spain, and Italy are the teams to beat. Maybe Portugal. England and France just aren’t clicking.

Anyway, we’re literally peeing every few minutes in excitement. Mentally crossing fingers for a not-horrible flight…

Various Airports – June 28, 2006

We just passed through the Paris Charles DeGaulle airport, and came to one conclusion: contrary to popular belief, the French just like to good-naturedly fuck with people.

As France beat Spain yesterday 2-1 to advance to the quarters, the airport is covered in celebratory media (and maybe this is the reason for everyone’s good humor). The coffee shop had newpaper photos of Zidane leaping over Spaniards in a single bound, and their specials board simply proclaimed “France 2 : l'Espagne 1.”

Zidane flying over the Spaniards

So ready to be in Berlin. According to the German sports page we found at the gate, we’ll be there for the Germany-Argentina quarterfinal.

Oh. Hell. Yes.

Berlin - Later…

Made it to our hotel with only fair to middling bewilderment. We are 43.8% certain we purchased the right bus and train tickets and took the correct route.

We had our first beers this afternoon in a nearby coffee/food/beer shop, then took a walk around the Zoologischer Garten along the Landwehr Canal. Caught our first glimpse of German genitals as well, as we finally come to understand why all the trees are dying around all the stadiums: the world is most definitely their toilet.


My first beer in Germany (J’s pic)


Walking along the Landwehr Canal, Berlin (J’s pic)

After a while we turned back toward our hotel along city streets, finally encountering a little World Cup fair set up underneath the Kaiser-Wilhelm Gedachtniskirche (Memorial Church). The damage the 1895 cathedral suffered in WW2 has not been repaired, and stands in stark contrast to the flanking Memorial Church and Tower (a.k.a. the Lipstick and Powder Box) and the colorful fan tents below.


Germany’s hopes for the Cup (© hermitthecrab 2006)


The Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church, bearing all its bomb damage, and the merchandise fest below (© hermitthecrab 2006)

B&W pics of the Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Much-needed nap at the hotel, then dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant, where our waiter was like a jolly uncle, informing us we were wonderful Americans, obviously not from Pennsylvania. ;)

Italian restaurant (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Oh, and of course, more public urination, this time on the exterior wall of a public restroom. Maybe it was too far to walk…?

Berlin – June 29, 2006

Breakfast, our first showers, and off we went with our trusty guidebook. We followed its advice and hopped on the 100 bus for a self-guided tour around the city:


Grosser Stern & the Victory Column, Berlin (© hermitthecrab 2006)

The Grosser Stern, a huge traffic circle where the Berlin Fan Mile begins. The Victory Column in the circle’s center attests to three victories in the Prussian War against the French which united the German states, the Goddess of Victory topping the tower. The green panels depict the battles, and were stolen by the French during recovery from WW2. I guess they figured no one would notice, and they really didn’t want yet more proof out there that they’re the easiest European country to defeat. They returned them later, though…mostly.


The Victory Column plates telling the world how Germany kicked France’s butts, Berlin (J’s pic)


The enormous Berlin Fan Fest, from the Victory Column (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Back on the bus, we caught a view of the updated Olympic Stadium (built for Berlin’s Olympics in 1936) where tomorrow’s game and the final will be played. We wandered over to the Brandenburger Tor http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brandenburg_Gate, though we had no idea what it was until much later.

The Brandenburg Gate with some wild-ass Cup festivities going on, Berlin (© hermitthecrab 2006)


The Brandenburg Gate, Berlin (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Some college kids dressed in silly costumes with their faces painted came up to us with a can, making a request in German. Once we asked for English, they said, “We are students who just got out of school, and we are collecting money for our party.”

No way could we say no to that. :)

Brief glance at the Reichstag, the national parliament building, whose glass dome was installed after the reunification so that the world could always look into the heart of German government, sort of a makepeace for the atrocities served up in the world wars.


The Reichstag (© hermitthecrab 2006)

We returned to our bus stop, and J followed two guys onto a bus before I could utter, “Uh, I don’t think that’s our bus.”

Sure enough, we’d joined a tour bus en route. Instead of immediately kicking us off, however, the driver closed the doors and drove off. Two very jocular South African guys insisted we stay for the tour, so that’s what we did. Hey, who’s going to turn down a free air-conditioned ride around the city?

The South Africans were highly entertaining, cheering for Brazil and insisting they simply “hadn’t turned on yet,” and responding to everything we said with “Phenomenal!” They were in extremely high spirits, giggling (yes, giggling) and joking about how much one liked to shop – “He’s got altogether too much estrogen.” We would have thought they were flamboyantly gay if not for their wedding rings and talk of the “missuses” who were of course, notably absent.

Our free tour wound around the city, crossing the Spree River several times, passing the President’s Palace (a lovely, uncluttered white palace with a flat green lawn perfect for soccer). We saw the Swiss Embassy with its giant pair of soccer cleats outside, a token of good luck to the Swiss side (I guess it didn’t work – maybe they needed bigger boots).

Stolen tour finished, we trod on our own free fee to Potsdamer Platz, formerly the financial district of Berlin, but bombed to hell. Big companies like Sony have tried to bring it back, but it hasn’t caught on. If anyone needs cheap office space…I know a spot in Berlin.

Potsdamer Platz is the place to find museums, galleries, and the Philharmonic hall, all boasting avant garde color and lines with a lot of brilliant flair. But there are pockets of the old in the cobblestone streets, the cathedrals, and even some buildings converted to offices or apartments.


The Monstrous Sony Center (© hermitthecrab 2006)

In search of the site of the Berlin Wall, we wandered through the jarringly modern glass and chrome Sony Center, a monument to consumerism. Amidst promotional soccer games and cheesy blow-up exhibits, we stumbled upon a remaining monolith chunk of the wall rising from the subtle cobblestone line that demarcates the wall’s former boundary.

Well, I stumbled on it. J didn’t see it at all, and was determinedly marching on in the quest, as I followed her in complete confusion, stuttering, “But I thought we wanted to see the wall…? And here it is…? Can I have my stapler…?”

Anyway, the light eventually dawned, and we eschewed taking snapshots with the wall as the rest of the Americans were lining up to do (you can pick out the Americans pretty easily: they’ll be the one’s wearing NFL jerseys).

We followed the little line of cobblestones down the street, amazed at how many shops, hotels, and office buildings have risen atop since its destruction in 1989. In fact, in a development that was both disgusting and the ultimate illustrations of capitalism’s virulent capabilities, we discovered a Starbucks sitting plumb on top of the wall’s carcass.


Starbucks is the devil...or is it? (© hermitthecrab 2006)


Sitting atop the Berlin Wall (J's pic)

Walking on, we encountered a monument of granite blocks stretching over a full city block. In one sentence, J created a standard that would direct many of our future tourist destinations: “Hey, I saw that on a postcard! It must be important, let’s go see what it is.”

Took me a while to stop laughing at the thought of ranking city sites by postcard status, especially given that most of the postcards I bought had apes, guys in lederhosen, or chunks of the wall embedded in them.

The “postcard” site turned out to be a rather somber one, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The blocks, of varying height over undulating ground, form a grid-like maze. Underneath the southeast corner is an exhibit on the history of the Holocaust, complete with timelines, pictures, descriptions of the “Death Sites,” and short features on several families who were mostly or completely wiped out.




Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (© hermitthecrab 2006)

The most emotionally effective room for me, however, was the second. The room was maybe 30’ x 30’, with textured rubber floors, completely dark except for 15 or so rectangular displays set flush with the floor, each about the size of a ceiling tile. A muted blue light shone through each transparent tile, illuminating the words of Jews writing their own accounts through reports, diaries, or letters. Most showed a copy of the original letter, and all had a poignant quote enlarged in German and English, and a brief bio of the writer (if indeed, anything was known). All but one died in the Holocaust.

A great deal of controversy surrounded this monument. First, the Jews were not the only group affected by WW2; no memorial stands for the murdered gypsies, the disabled, the homosexuals, the Slavs. Second, the memorial cost millions of dollars for a city deeply in debt. Third, and most disturbing, the city commissioned a chemical company to create a coating for the granite that would enable them to easily wash off graffiti…only later to discover this same company manufactured Zyklon-B during the war, and purchased gold teeth scavenged from the bodies of Holocaust victims. Here’s hoping this is that company’s form of restitution is some small way. Somehow, I don’t think it quite covers the bill.

On top of all that political controversy (or maybe underneath it) was the fact that during site excavation, they found the Goebbel bunker. The Goebbels, most particularly Magda, the wife of Hitler’s Propaganda Minister, were staunch, almost obsessive supporters of Hitler. When it all hit the fan, they took their 6 children into the bunker, drugged them with morphine, then poisoned them all with cyanide before shooting themselves. Nice. I’d like to read more on this history, actually, once I retrieve my stomach contents.

We emerged from the subterranean museum, both physically and emotionally drained. We decided to visit the Brandenburger Tor since we were so close (according to our Fodor’s map), but on approach realized we’d been there earlier in the day, just from a different side. So we hoofed to back to the train station and our hotel to take a nap…or, for J to take a nap and for me to write a bazillion pages in my journal, as it turns out.

Some other fun tidbits from the day:

Smartcars are hella cool.


Who needs to parallel park? (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Sometimes the little “Walk/Don’t Walk” guy on the traffic lights is just a little walking or standing stick figure. Sometimes he has a hat. Don’t know why. It’s a mystery.

Another mystery: What are those flippin’ “Buddy Bears”? These near-life size bears, all painted differently, are on every corner, in front of every hotel, shop, and station, and we have no idea what they are. Bears are the symbol of Berlin, sure, but this is a bit ridiculous.


J is not afraid of the mysterious Buddy Bear (© hermitthecrab 2006)

Berlin – Later…

We found heaven in Berlin. The House of 100 Beers, south of the Wilhelmsdorf U-bah station. Highly delicious sausage, sauerkraut, potatoes, and beers. And for dessert, apple strudel in vanilla sauce with ice cream. Drool.


Heaven on a plate (J's pic)

Long walk back…probably a good thing for my growing gut.

Discovered a pretty major flaw in my travel plan: the Third Place Game in Stuttgart starts at 9 p.m. The last train out of Stuttgart leaves at 10 p.m. We’re going to have some finagling to do to get to Berlin for the final…

Berlin/Train to Frankfurt – July 1, 2006

Awake (mostly) and on the train to Frankfurt now. Plenty of time to fill out yesterday’s details (if anyone cares).

After figuring out the postcard thing (a whole Euro to send a post card! Ouch), the internet café thing (I still have 4 Euros worth of time in that place…stupid machine that doesn’t give change), and getting more cash, we embarked on the second half of our sight-seeing tour, this time traveling to East Berlin.

We stopped at Checkpoint Charlie, a crossover point the Allies held after WW2, when Germany and Berlin got split up into territories overseen by each Allied country. Checkpoint Charlie was the third checkpoint held by the Americans, also the site of the famous tank standoff in 1961 between the Americans and the Soviets.

(Briefly: some American diplomats going to theatres in East Berlin got ticked that the Soviet soldiers insisted on checking their passports – despite their diplomatic license plates – so the next time they brought tanks. The Soviets responded with more tanks. The tanks stared at each other, fully armed, for a full day until Kennedy and Khrushchev agreed to chill. Ah, the Cold War.)


The sign (not the original – nothing is) (© hermitthecrab 2006)


Tourists love Checkpoint Charlie (© hermitthecrab 2006)

While the west has clearly seeped into the east in the past 17 years, East Berlin is still much more the darker of the two. The buildings are older, grungier, drabbier. The sidewalk vendors sell more “war” souvenirs, postcards leaning toward depictions of WW2, battles, political figures, people crossing the wall. Tiled into the sidewalk at the Checkpoint are the words “Unity in Liberty” in German, English, and Russian.

We did note that the American “soldiers” at the Checkpoint plainly had never been in the military. There were far too smiley and casual, flirting with tourists and slinging their fake rifles around. Who knew if they were even American. Capitalist, for sure, and they nabbed a Euro for every picture taken.

A few blocks away is the Topography of Terror. This temporary outdoor exhibition (they’ve been trying for decades to get a permanent museum built, to no avail) focuses on the Nuremberg Trials, the political prisoners, and the general fallout of WW2. You can actually press a button and listen to the testimonies of the accused at the Trials. One notable quote from American judge Robert Jackson:

These men saw no evil, spoke none, and none was uttered in their presence. This claim might sound very plausible if made by one defendant. But when we put all their stories together, the impression which emerges of the Third Reich, which was to last a thousand years, is ludicrous. If we combine only the stories of the front bench, this is the ridiculous composite picture of Hitler's Government that emerges. It was composed of:

A Number 2 man who knew nothing of the excesses of the Gestapo which he created, and never suspected the Jewish extermination program although he was the signer of over a score of decrees which instituted the persecutions of that race;

A Number 3 man who was merely an innocent middleman transmitting Hitler's orders without even reading them, like a postman or delivery boy;

A foreign minister who knew little of foreign affairs and nothing of foreign policy;

A field marshal who issued orders to the Armed Forces but had no idea of the results they would have in practice;

A security chief who was of the impression that the policing functions of his Gestapo and SD were somewhat on the order of directing traffic;

A Party philosopher who was interested in historical research and had no idea of the violence which his philosophy was inciting in the twentieth century;

A governor general of Poland who reigned but did not rule;

A Gauleiter of Franconia whose occupation was to pour forth filthy writings about the Jews, but who had no idea that anybody would read them;

A minister of interior who knew not even what went on in the interior of his own office, much less the interior of his own department, and nothing at all about the interior of Germany;

A Reichsbank president who was totally ignorant of what went in and out of the vaults of his bank;

And a plenipotentiary for the war economy who secretly marshaled the entire economy for armament, but had no idea it had anything to do with war.

This may seem like a fantastic exaggeration, but this is what you would actually be obliged to conclude if you were to acquit these defendants.

They do protest too much. They deny knowing what was common knowledge. They deny knowing plans and programs that were as public as Mein Kampf and the Party program. They deny even knowing the contents of documents they received and acted upon.

posted by Lyle Skains @ 1:51 PM