Berlin was a very intense city, almost overwhelming with the hustle and bustle of its many inhabitants as well as the smokey and industrial-like atmosphere. Overall, it’s a very urban place with a lot to take in. Even a German lady we met in the Vienna hostel said that there is too much pressure to be “hip,” and that Hamburg is actually her favorite city in Germany. I appreciated Berlin, but I found that the outskirts were reminiscent of my hometown of Portland, Oregon.
We discovered this part of town because of a sushi craving, and we traveled to this affordable and simple hole-in-the-wall restaurant called “Rice In.” Although we went fairly late at night, I remember walking by some small shops that looked intriguing, including a record shop for me and a crystal shop for my friend. It was settled: we were returning.
The following day, I mapped out the record stores and turns out, about 12 of them were clustered in that same area! The narrow streets were filled with small kitschy shops, giving the smaller part of town a quaint and calmer vibe. After hunkering down on an old comfy couch for a cup of coffee inside a cafe, Erika, Katie, Alex, Caroline and I all headed out to explore. Unfortunately, two of the record stores that were supposedly nearby were no longer there. We still were able to visit 3 of the record stores which were only a few blocks away from one another.
The first stop was “Vinyl A- GoGo,” which specializes in mainly tropicalia, Afro-beat, jazz, and French albums.
The place was decked out with vibrant colors and retro style cut outs and posters. I only allowed myself to look through the boxes of 45s, because at point, I was going to be carrying a lot already! I found a Jane Birkin 45 which featured the very controversial French single “je t’aime moi non plus,” but it also has “Jane B” as the B-side which I love. If you give it a listen, I’m sure you’ll figure out why it must’ve caused so much ruckus amongst the conservative audience *scandalous*. The store didn’t have much merchandise with the logo on it, so I figured the record would be enough. The worker pointed out some groovy bags that had “Vinyl-A GoGo” printed on it, along with a bright yellow toucan.
Up next was a record store called “Wax Art,” and as you could probably tell from the title, the place was pretty artsy with the zany patterns and pictures on the outside and inside. On the inside, one wall has a giant mirror, reflecting the other wall that was covered in an op-art pattern. My love of op-art is no secret. This dizzying, trippy decor gave the little store a lot of character. There were even a few records we found that had similar op-art patterns for the cover art. Record stores aren't just for music, but they are also good for art inspiration as well đŸ™‚. I was not planning on spending much time in the store because there were still more places to go, so when I found the compilation of mod 60’s jams (a record called “Blow Up”), I had a little shriek of joy and checked out immediately. I knew this was going to be my best find in the store.
Last but not least, was the record store called "Schallplanet." Small and more subtle in design, it was still charming. Even though I only walked away with 3 different business cards in primary colors, I had an enjoyable time sifting through what music it had to offer. Schallplanet had a great jazz selection, even containing my all-time favorite jazz artist, Mulatu Astatke (besides Vince Guaraldi...gotta love that Charlie Brown soundtrack)! Mr. Astatke is known as the father of Ethiopian jazz and has some of the most compelling arrangements...it is always a shock to me that most record stores do not carry his albums. I expected Schallplanet to know a thing or two about jazz due to their main sign having Duke Ellington on it! Schallplanet also had an extensive section just for The Beatles albums. I was searching for special German covers of their albums, but the only one I could find was a very early record: The Beatles live in Hamburg. I was tempted to purchase this for 12 euros, but the songs were either covers or extremely early Beatles songs...maybe even some songs when they used to be known as The Quarrymen. I was not too familiar with these, so I decided to pass on it.
After three different record stores and a cool crystal shop, we still had enough time to see the "Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism," which was across the street from the "Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe." The class got to experience the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe a few days earlier on a tour of Berlin, but the other memorial was only briefly mentioned on the tour. Although we were becoming a bit exhausted during this part of the trip, we knew that these memorials were an extremely important sight to see, and that the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism deserved to be witnessed and reflected upon as well.
I am so grateful that we went back to the memorials, specially in the evening when everything was becoming darker. It had a haunting effect for both, but both memorials were quite different. I know there is still controversy about the location of the two, as some say that it gives visitors an impression that the suffering of the groups were the same. We first went to the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism. Seeing it for the first time, I was a bit confused when we approached the large rectangular structure that seemed to be...just a rectangle. Circling the concrete cuboid, we came to the side that contained a small screen projecting out a black and white video clip of LGBTQ people kissing. It was moving and powerful, and the projected video was even clearer at night. To see a memorial that shows members of a community displaying actions of love and affection was heart-warming, but it was still a sobering experience to understand that victims who identified as LGBTQ were not recognized until the 1980's and were considered the "hidden victims." This made sense to me why the video in the memorial itself was somewhat "hidden." The video humanized the large concrete, cold structure.
Alex and I decided to walk through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe again, and to experience the memorial at night made my initial feelings about it more intense. I was looking forward to seeing this memorial after spending a whole day learning about it for my art history class last semester. No matter how much I read about it, no matter what other people described in their own accounts, nothing could have prepared me for experiencing the memorial on my own. The layout of the memorial is very disorienting and isolating, not having enough room for people to walk side-by-side and therefore, "forcing" people to experience it by themselves. The ground undulates, and sinks further in, while the grey blocks grow taller towards the center. As I traveled further towards the middle of the block, I felt like I was shrinking. Someone mentioned that even though you can always see a way out, it becomes overwhelming in the middle and the possibility of becoming lost seems greater. It blocks your senses as sound is cut off and echoed, giving an illusion that any noise produced is coming from somewhere else. I thought it was already anxiety-inducing, but it was so much more at nighttime.
After my friend and I separated in the memorial, I began to panic slightly. Alone and lost in my thoughts, I wondered around thinking of how scared the victims of the Holocaust must have been. I became still, reflecting on the city's history, both good and bad. It was strange to stand where so many others have stood. My friend and I eventually met up again and exited the memorial. I had a conflicting feeling of peace and tension. Maybe the night plays a trick in which the quietness seems serene, but also leaves room for paranoia to seep in.
Seeing the record stores brought me much joy during the day, but seeing the memorials at night gave me a new, important experience that was intensified. ~ It is both a blessing and a curse to everything so very deeply. ~
After three different record stores and a cool crystal shop, we still had enough time to see the "Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism," which was across the street from the "Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe." The class got to experience the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe a few days earlier on a tour of Berlin, but the other memorial was only briefly mentioned on the tour. Although we were becoming a bit exhausted during this part of the trip, we knew that these memorials were an extremely important sight to see, and that the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism deserved to be witnessed and reflected upon as well.
I am so grateful that we went back to the memorials, specially in the evening when everything was becoming darker. It had a haunting effect for both, but both memorials were quite different. I know there is still controversy about the location of the two, as some say that it gives visitors an impression that the suffering of the groups were the same. We first went to the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism. Seeing it for the first time, I was a bit confused when we approached the large rectangular structure that seemed to be...just a rectangle. Circling the concrete cuboid, we came to the side that contained a small screen projecting out a black and white video clip of LGBTQ people kissing. It was moving and powerful, and the projected video was even clearer at night. To see a memorial that shows members of a community displaying actions of love and affection was heart-warming, but it was still a sobering experience to understand that victims who identified as LGBTQ were not recognized until the 1980's and were considered the "hidden victims." This made sense to me why the video in the memorial itself was somewhat "hidden." The video humanized the large concrete, cold structure.
Alex and I decided to walk through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe again, and to experience the memorial at night made my initial feelings about it more intense. I was looking forward to seeing this memorial after spending a whole day learning about it for my art history class last semester. No matter how much I read about it, no matter what other people described in their own accounts, nothing could have prepared me for experiencing the memorial on my own. The layout of the memorial is very disorienting and isolating, not having enough room for people to walk side-by-side and therefore, "forcing" people to experience it by themselves. The ground undulates, and sinks further in, while the grey blocks grow taller towards the center. As I traveled further towards the middle of the block, I felt like I was shrinking. Someone mentioned that even though you can always see a way out, it becomes overwhelming in the middle and the possibility of becoming lost seems greater. It blocks your senses as sound is cut off and echoed, giving an illusion that any noise produced is coming from somewhere else. I thought it was already anxiety-inducing, but it was so much more at nighttime.
After my friend and I separated in the memorial, I began to panic slightly. Alone and lost in my thoughts, I wondered around thinking of how scared the victims of the Holocaust must have been. I became still, reflecting on the city's history, both good and bad. It was strange to stand where so many others have stood. My friend and I eventually met up again and exited the memorial. I had a conflicting feeling of peace and tension. Maybe the night plays a trick in which the quietness seems serene, but also leaves room for paranoia to seep in.
Seeing the record stores brought me much joy during the day, but seeing the memorials at night gave me a new, important experience that was intensified. ~ It is both a blessing and a curse to everything so very deeply. ~
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