My decision to spend this semester in Maastricht, Netherlands, was based largely on the feeling of the surrounding community and the quality of the education I’ll receive. The opportunity to spend nearly five months across an ocean doesn’t come often, so the possibility and ease of travel played a large role as well.
Last week I traveled to Berlin by bus on the first of many journeys I’ll take around western Europe.
After 1920’s Greater Berlin Act, the city became the third-largest municipality in the world behind London and New York City. Obviously, quite a bit has occurred since then to lead to the loss of this distinction, but the sprawling city still feels massive to outsiders.
Today, more than 25 years after the reunification of Soviet East Germany with its liberal counterpart in the West, reminders of Berlin’s complicated history are still painfully and clearly evident.
In East Berlin, huge, bland apartment buildings that span entire city blocks make the city feel more like New Moscow than the present-day German capital.
Street vendors peddle Cold War memorabilia to tourists, and sometimes-gaudy attempts to recreate pre-war structures cover the city. Very few buildings have not been restored or rebuilt following the carnage suffered during World War II, but sites including the Reichstag, which houses the German parliament, and the Brandenburg Gate provide plenty of excitement for those interested in history.
As one would expect to be the case in a city of Berlin’s size, English is fairly ubiquitous. In situations where this was not the case, my two years of high school German courses generally failed me.
Over the course of my several days in Berlin, I was most shocked by Germans’ attitudes toward politicians and governmental affairs.
Rather than taking up residence in the Bundeskanzleramt, Germany’s equivalent to the White House, Chancellor Angela Merkel and her husband instead opt to live in their private apartment in Berlin’s Mitte neighborhood with only a small team of police standing guard.
Living in the United States has conditioned me to infer that Merkel must be forced to deal with raucous protestors surrounding her home 24/7, but this is surprisingly not the case. I spoke briefly with one of the policemen standing watch, and he explained that people generally respect the chancellor’s privacy and instead choose to demonstrate at the Reichstag.
“People are calmer,” said the officer, referring to Germans’ political disposition relative to that of Americans.
Granted, our new president is more than a bit more controversial than his German counterpart, but it’s difficult to imagine President Trump living a simple and private life at Trump Tower, which today is almost perpetually surrounded by passionate demonstrators.
Some might say the timing of my departure from the United States was convenient, given the whirlwind of executive orders signed by Trump and the wave of mass demonstrations sweeping the country. In Maastricht and Berlin, it’s been easy to feel worlds away from the chaos back home, but small reminders are ever-present.
On my final day in Berlin, I jaunted through a craft fair in a neighborhood near Berlin’s Museum Island.
One artist had produced several pieces headlined with the phrase, “America First.” Characterized depictions of Trump with the word “no” printed underneath them made me realize that although the language barrier prevented the artist from explaining his true inspiration, his art was not meant to praise the United States.
Given the state of affairs back home, the fact that my first trip took me to Berlin was apt.
I wish not to draw direct comparisons between a certain German despot and our current president, but it should serve as a dire reminder of the things that can occur when those in power are not checked and challenged and of the long-lasting effects such disasters can create.
dkilcull@umail.iu.edu
