A Final Note

“Berlin was an unexpected pleasure, most of it anyway. The food was pretty damn good, from the currywurst, to the pig’s knuckles and all points between. But more than that the city itself and the people that make their homes here are a pretty intriguing mix of brash and outspoken on the one hand, guarded and someone enigmatic on the other. Some cities put on a good face and seem to go out of their way to try please you. Berliners are willing to size you up and give you what they think you can handle.”
-Anthony Bourdain

My Berlin
What I expected to find in Berlin was nonexistent but what I did find was more interesting in the end. I assumed that the line between previously East and West Berlin would be thick and distinct but instead it was rather gray and vague. I wanted nothing more than to get to know Berlin by the people but I found that when I was there I needed to be introduced to its outer shell of expression through art first. It was simple though because it was written on the walls I walked past in spray paint, it was standing tall and strong in the canal, it was blasting through speakers of drive by cars. This need to express and display oneself in every which way was everywhere, I wasn’t sure if it was individual thinking anymore. Generally, people to me where not quiet or stand-offish, just simply minding their own business and only talked to those that mattered to them. I don’t think this was a Western Berlin persona or Eastern. This was Berlin North, South, East, and West. After I finally met the people of Berlin I feel like I discovered something that I didn’t know was there at first. Comfortable, unique Berlin actually has more insecurities than at first glance. I get it too, I wasn’t sure if I would be capable of understanding but I think I get why Berlin lacks self confidence. A lot of people in Berlin touched me in special ways but most didn’t open up to me. Those that did had stories that surprised me in both positive and negative ways.

Andreas Passlvok is a former East German resident who shared his story with me of his youth, military experience and his present beliefs on political ideologies. This now middle aged man was the kind who would walk into a room and you would notice. He held his head high and had no shame being his entirely outspoken self. I was first surprised by not only his loud personality but also his Western outfit, fixed with cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Laughing, Andreas explained that he had to wear this outfit since he was talking with Americans. I was immediately comfortable around him. It was easy to forget that we needed a translator because I was so engaged with what he was saying and he was so interested in what I was asking. Andreas told me a story of when he was in the military as a young man an officer came in the same room as him as he was listening to the radio. Knowing that the radio was on a West German station, he quickly tries to change the dial but the officer did not let him because he was curious with what the song was that he had never heard. Finishing the song, a commercial of a West German product came on and the officer simply turns to Andreas and says “one day in jail”. I had a hard time believing that the man in front of me was the same man that not only followed orders, but followed senseless orders of the former GDR. He later explained me that in East Germany he knew what he wanted to do with his life so he would do whatever it took to achieve those goals. It was a simple idea that I understood. I was initially taken back by his gratitude he had for his experience in the GDR however, I did appreciate his beliefs that it is a poor political system when people succeed off of other’s failures.

Manuela from West Germany later spoke with me so I was able to compare the differences in young people. Her story began more distressing than that of Andreas. Her family had the tragedy of being forced to leave their home in Poland and move to Germany after WWII while her grandfather was being held as a prisoner of war. This time of confusion led to another poignant event because some relatives were in West Germany and others in the East when the wall was erected further separating the family. Manuela, however, is an educated woman who loves to laugh. She is completely genuine and is ready to help anyone at anytime. If the tragedies of her family’s history affected her in anyway it was positive. She recalled being raised with a modest mentality and she used the example of her parents telling her to finish the food on her plate. Although her family had to deal of the tragedies of separation, Manuela did not find significance of the Wall in her life as a child, even when her Eastern relatives would come visit them. It wasn’t until she decided to move to Berlin after she graduated from school where the Wall became a literal figure in her life. She recalls her memories of the Wall when she was living in Berlin as very surreal and strange. Shortly after living in West Berlin, the Wall fell paving the way for reunification in Germany.

Andreas and Manuela are good friends and I understand why they get along so well. However it is interesting when considering how difficult the reunification process has been for Germany after the fall of the Wall. People have shown that no matter what their background may be or how they were raised they can still create strong bonds and relationships with others completely different from them through common interests. In the case of Andreas and Manuela, they met in Art School. Although Andreas and Manuela were able to create a friendship during the confusing period after the fall of the Wall, both struggled with this transition as did the rest of Germany. Andreas expressed that he and other East Germans felt that their life was a failure after the GDR collapsed. He felt it was a time of self-invention which can be looked at positively but also this transition is a difficult one for most. Manuela explained to me that once the Wall fell there was a period of consumption where the former East Germans were getting the new TVs, the new cars, the food they were never allowed, among other things which was an exciting time for them. However once the consumption period was over, there were still issues of reunification. Manuela describes her experience of Art School in Dresden, which was the former East, she felt like she did not fit in because she was so clearly from the West and was bothered that anyone could point her out. This was peculiar because this was in 1994, five years after the fall of the Wall.


Project


Abstract
I focused on the youth during the time of the Berlin Wall, comparing and contrasting East and West Germany. I believe that the way people are raised and where they come from creates their present identity. With such contrasting political systems in the same country, furthermore the same city, I imagined the oppressed East Germans would long for the freedoms in the West. However, I did expect much naivety in East since much propaganda was controlled. I was mainly concerned with how these differences in the East and West created the identity of young people and how that identity may have changed, stayed the same, or became confused once the Wall fell in 1989.

Background
In order for me to find out the core issues of youth during the time of the Wall I needed to seek out people who were in their 20s’ or younger during the time the Wall fell. A concern I had was being able to interview an East German who I could communicate with since most only speak German and Russian. Although I had specific predictions of what I would find in my research, I was not concerned with being disappointed with the differences and similarities between East and West Germany. I was however able to speak with an East German with a translator and he was very open with his experiences in the former GDR and the way he was raised. I was also able to interview a West German who was also very informative of her experiences with the Wall. It was refreshing to learn that there were little differences between these two people although a different background. I think what I discovered furthers the point that stereotypes are more often wrong. I expected the East German to be reserved and have bitter memories of the former GDR when it was rather the opposite of that because he had a big personality and was grateful for his experience in the East. I thought the West German would have a similar life to that before the Wall fell but she also struggled with identity before and after the Wall.

Manuela did live in Berlin before the Wall fell but only for a short period. I was unable to find out if there is a difference from West and East Germans to West and East Berliners. Unfortunately that was a problem I encountered during my research was finding people to talk to that lived in East or West Berlin before and after the Wall. Perhaps there would not be much of a difference since it was the same political system throughout the Western or Eastern state.

I believe that young minds are fragile and mold very easily to their surrounding. With such distinct differences in culture to me as an outsider, I imagined the young people of the East and West to be clearly different. Although that may be the case with some, it was not in my research. The reunification process was obviously difficult for all people with trying to find their role in society however enough time has passed where the clear differences between East and West that may have been their a few years after the fall of the Wall are no longer there.


Analysis
Since my project was just specific enough with the focus on youth, interviews with former East and West Germans provided the majority of my research. Creative writing, excursions of the city, and workshops that I participated in the duration of my time Berlin contributed more to my personal development and learning rather than my research topic. However, through all my experiences in Berlin, whether it was talking with Berliners or performances, I was able to understand the struggle for identity as a country Germany has had for decades. Germany has had major failures and embarrassments in its history; it has been hard for the people of Germany to establish something to be proud of. In my research I expected West Germans to be confident and comfortable in their lives but the reality is the Wall brought negativity to them as well as the East Germans struggling economically and with identity. Furthermore, Germany is constantly trying to apologize and make up for the mistakes of Nazi Germany. Although I feel like Berlin and Germany as a state has progressed so much from this traumatic era, it has hindered the people of Germany having any kind of patriotism.

The borders that have kept Germany from progressing have been knocked down, whether it’s the fall of Berlin Wall or the end of Adolf Hitler’s power during WWII. Yet border’s still stand with the search for identity in Germany, as they do with any conflicted country. The people of Berlin are confident in referring to themselves as what they do: an artist, a professor, a performer. However, they may not always include in this identification as being a German.

Fear and Loathing in Istanbul: Assignment 3

Initial response a pone arrival: did my luggage make it? Thank god it did. Delirious and ecstatic I turned to my safely arrived suitcase into a bumper car. Sorry Cassie, I’ll beat your suitcase every time. The temperature feels the same but the air feels heavy. It adds another layer to my already dirty skin and sits on top of my eye lids. I wait as patiently as possible for our already-known-un-air conditioned room. I put the stiff, under 100 count linen sheet on top of my clammy body and end my day as soon as my eyes shut. Istanbul, I cannot wait to experience you.

The sky is clearer here. The air is more refreshing, as long as you don’t have a smoker by you. The grass is as green as Seattle and the cats are as common as an animal shelter. The city puts me at ease. I hold onto the yellow bars in the subway and I’m immediately comforted with the similarity to Berlin, this time I have a cool breeze on the top of my head and a tall, dark and handsome man with blue eyes right in front of me. Istanbul, I think I’m going to like you. My stomach leads me to a bright, yellow, familiar figure and my growling stomach is forcing me to buy one.

2 lira? No problem.

Corn on the cob, a little peace of home. My first bite tells me differently. Crunchy at first but a little soggy. Drenched in butter, just the way I like it. I eat what I can with the greasy butter drippy down my wrist on top of the paper they wrapped around the bottom. I feel obligated to give it up. Here Joe, you give it a try. I move on, quickly, because lucky me, I just found a cat. White and fluffy like the ones at home, but this one is missing half an ear. Something tells me to pet this cat as much as I want to. John just pet the cat. Note to self: don’t touch John for the rest of the trip.

I sit to listen to Orhan’s words of wisdom but who am I kidding? All day I’ve been hearing “blah blah Ottoman Empire blah blah palace”. Is it because it’s uninteresting? No. It’s because I cannot stop looking at the stray cats and people watching? Yes, sorry Orhan. We sit by a tree, looking at something that was part of the Roman Empire and naturally I choose to sit by the passed out man on the bench. Lauren, you’re in Istanbul, being taught fascinating things of history right where you’re sitting and you’re trying to get as close to this man’s hand as possible? Yes. What’s wrong with me?

This city has confused me. Geographically, economically, socially, any which way has not made sense in my mind. I approach a dog that is the color of cement and bruises that appears to be dead. Is no one going to clean up this dead dog? The dog is not dead. I wish I didn’t like animals. We walk down a hill. No, a hill is a thing we see in Seattle often. This isn’t a hill. This is a slope, a valley, a mountain I’m descending from. Joe gets the cab and I’m one of three in the back to jump in. Overwhelmed by the hill I ran down, not on purpose but because I couldn’t control my speed, all I see is yellow. Luckily I can understand “Taksi”. Heart racing, sweat running down my cheek, all I can do is laugh. Does our driver know he just cut three people off? Is this the speed limit? He almost hit that person. I try to ignore my anxiety with riding in cars because right now I’m in hell.

Getting out of the Taksi backseat I couldn’t help but sigh and shake my head to myself. We made it, I knew we were going to make it, everyone knew we would make it all in one piece. A lanky man stood outside an entrance as if he was waiting there for us. Recognizing that we were American, he begins speaking English to us pointing out that this is an entrance to the Grand Bizarre. My nerves finally calmed by the kind stranger, we continue to make small talk and explain that we’re waiting for others. He let us know that there are many entrances so it is unlikely that they’ll come through the same one. Trying to decide if we should just go in without them, I feel the presence of the stranger right behind me, hovering over us like he’s now part of our group also. We say thanks and walk in but he quickly walks with us and asks if we need any more help and he offered to take us around. We kindly decline his offer and the thoughtful stranger returns to his spot and waits for the next group of tourists to unload.

It was a strange feeling walking on the dimmed, mossy sidewalk thinking about all the encounters I have had thus far. It was a feeling of claustrophobia from being approach by strangers over and over again while being surrounded by more strangers. They came across like they had something for me and they knew it would help but unfortunately few were genuine. Anyone that could speak any English were capable of approaching me as if they recognize me, like I come by their spot every week. I was uneasy because I didn’t know who I could trust around me. Who were the people that actually cared about my well-being? Who were the people that actually enjoyed talking with me? I wish I was able to be less judgmental of those around me but the reality is, is I was never able to trust the people in Istanbul for a fear of being taken advantage of.

Here, There, and Everything in Between: Assignment 2 and 4

The blisters that developed in my new Sperry’s created a larger problem than I first imagined. I went to Kaiser’s grocery expecting to find band aids. I walked up every aisle, bumping into someone occasionally but I always say “excuse me” and the Berliners never do. I asked a woman in a red apron “do you have band aids?” She doesn’t even look up when she tells me “nein English”. Now irritated I did one more lap around the grocery store and finally found a small selection of band aids. Where they the kind I wanted? No, but they did the trick.

Walking down the busy streets by the Friedrichstadt neighborhood I remember admiring the tall skyscraper buildings, watching street performers, and soaking in the sounds of a busy city. I was worried the all of Berlin would resemble Kreuzberg but this part of town was entirely different. Walking around what seemed to be the center of the city we were looking for a place to eat but were all so indecisive. Proceeding farther and farther from the group, my white, strappy sandal on my right foot decided to completely snap off. I kept my foot flexed onto my sandal long enough until we found a restaurant to eat at. I considered buying a pair of shoes on the run but I figured I could tough it out and find a safety pin in the mean time. Outside the Reichstag building Catherine supplied me with a safety pin and I was ready to begin the tour.

August 5th
The uneven slabs of concrete create a disorienting feeling. The sky is blue and the sun is hot and tourists use the blocks as benches. Should this memorial be treated as a place to take a break from a long day of walking? Shouldn’t it be more respected because of what it represents? The smell of cigarettes (which I have become awfully familiar with) surrounds me. I can’t help but try counting how many blocks are before me. Do the small squares of cement under the blocks represent anything?

I remember sitting at some picnic tables outside the Stasi Museum drinking an orange Fanta was created by the Nazis. I’m not sure how accurate this is but I remember thinking how bizarre it is that products and scientific information that we know and use today was from the Nazi regime. Of course today people associate Fanta with colorful commercials with catchy tunes for this fizzy drink made by Coca-Cola, but during WWII, Fanta stood for something very different. I couldn’t help but ponder this thought for the majority of the Stasi Museum tour, especially since our tour guide was monotone and all the posters were in German.

August 6th
The ground is shaking below me from the subway. I first thought the stairs were leading us to the U-bahn or S-bahn but it turned out to be an entire world where people would go to hide and protect themselves and their family. I immediately get the chills from the temperature dropping and being surrounded by cold, concrete walls. The smell reminds me of a storage unit where everything kept their collects dust and is forgotten. Finding out that this bunker was once used for storage did not surprise me.


The whole architectural structure of the Jewish Museum was very unique and confusing to me. The artwork was old fashioned and beautiful but I didn’t necessarily know the significance of a lot of the art and pictures in the museum since we had to speed through the tour. I felt like the slopping walk ways and the arcing walls caught my attention more than what was on the walls. However, I remember walking out to the Garden of Exile noticing the names of the cities on the wall shooting down all the way to the door. Snapping pictures of “Amsterdam” and “Paris” I realized these are the cities that Jews sought refuge during WWII.

August 7th
Staring at a plain, average building has never given me such a feeling before. Stepping on the gravel pathway before entering Sachsenhausen Camp gave me more than an uncomfortable feeling. My face was moist from the walk to the camp in the hot sun, the same walk the prisoners made. I stare at every nook and cranny of this building trying to grasp what kind of people worked inside that building. The man on the top office had a human flesh lampshade. I will never understand the monster inside those people. “Arbeit Macht Frei” was shown when entering the gates. “Work Brings Freedom”. What a lie.


Looking back on my postcards and trying to remember what happened in between the Sachsenhausen Camp and the Pergamon Museum, I know that was our first night out at a club because I remember exactly how I was feeling, physically that is, at the Pergamon Museum the next day; subpar at best. That night Natalia and myself hosted the get together before the club with everyone and we were proud of how successfully we co-hosted this festivity. I shouldn’t have worn gray that night because it was completely sweated through but on the other hand, Joe and I did match wonderfully. Drinks were consumed, friendships were established, and memories were made with our first night at a club. I may have gotten into a quarrel at one point in the night for believing I was defending Michael and I may have broken part of the nice, wooden fence, but I will never forget my first club experience in Berlin, courtesy of “wodka”.

August 8th
The sun shines through the Pergamon Museum reflecting off of every wall and statue. I observe the tourists around me in their headphones explaining each part of the museum that covers hundreds of years of history and different cultures. I stared at the Ishtar Gate longer than most. This whole time I’ve been snapping pictures of everything, following the lead of my fellow tourists, not knowing most the time what I was taking a picture of and it’s significance. This, however, blew my mind. This gate that was constructed in about 575 BC has 3D images protruding from the wall. This is a brick wall and the animals stick out within the different bricks. How did they do this in 575 BC?



Aisle after aisle of sterling silver jewelry with unique designs, I remember my first experience of the Turkish flea market in Berlin and I am so regretting not buying that chunky, silver bangle and that oversized, turquoise ring or the painted version of a photograph taken of a pink bench with graffiti reading “liebe” right above, instead I bought the small, metal version of the photograph which it turned out to be a cutting board. I thought I could always return back to the market before we leave and get these things if I still want them and if I have enough Euros. In those situtations, next time I need to just get it because I couldn’t find the chunky, silver bangle or the oversized, turquoise ring the next time I came. Now not being in Berlin anymore, I wish I had more keep sakes from the city I loved.

August 10th
Waiting outside this building, wind is blowing in my left ear, the sprinklers on the lawn ahead seam to be dumping water instead of sprinkling, causing even more noise and sadly I can only hear whimpers of Toby. I thought he said this was the Bundenstag. It is not the Bundenstag. I glare at the garbage scattered over the lawn, getting dumped on by the sprinklers and wonder to myself why a government building has a completely trashed front yard. I can almost see my reflection in the perfectly clean, black government cars and I dig through my bag to find my passport so I can enter this mysterious building and find out what it is. I forgot my passport. I try to scoot closer to Toby to find out what is going on but all I can hear are the sprinklers.


During our break for the lecture by Oliver about political extremism, there was a few of us gathered outside of the restroom looking over the balcony down to the perfectly clean floors with the engraved quote striking through the shiny floor the whole way. The group of girls I was with were talking about what we should wear in Istanbul and I remember being slightly concerned because I didn’t bring any dresses that go below my knees or longer shorts for that matter but Sally, worldly Sally who became our translator and informant for the trip, let us know that we could really wear whatever we wanted. It’s funny thinking about this conversation and how relieved I was because I later found out while in Istanbul if you dress like an American, you will stick out like a soar thumb. A very soar thumb.

August 11th
Its overcast but humid today but I already know it’s going to be a good day. Why? Because it’s Shawn’s birthday! I can’t think of a time where it is ever socially acceptable to drink an alcoholic beverage inside of a university, but today, it is. Mimosas in celebration of Shawn’s 60th birthday and I feel giddy listening to Markus. I look behind me and I see Joe’s bright red face. One, small mimosa and he gets the Asian glow. I can’t stop laughing even though his face is hidden behind a folder.

The problem with my memory is I don’t recall dates or times very well. I do know however that it was around this point in our trip where Natalia and myself discovered heaven on earth called “King Burger”. This was probably the only place in Berlin with good customer service and employed Turkish men who were gentlemen. I was a little piece of home to us because they had great pizza, delicious cheeseburgers and delightful chicken wings. I would get the wings and Natalia would get the burger and we would both get the French fries that had mayonnaise and strange ketchup splattered all over it. The brothers that worked there were adorable, one was 15 and the other was 21, but as hard as I tried, I could never remember their names because I could hardly pronounce them.

August 12th
The tombstones hiding behind this sign don’t give me the same feeling as a cemetery. They surrounded by a bright garden and are all of different shapes and designs. I can overhear foreign languages by men sitting outside of the mart right outside the mosque. I know a mosque isn’t intended to be holy but rather a place for community and people to hang out and interact. Immediately I feel comfortable here and I think that’s the way religion is supposed to be.



I had several gasps of relief once landing into Istanbul. First, my chair that was falling apart around me had me concerned that the place might fall apart as well but luckily it was a safe landing. Secondly, my checked suitcase made it to the same place I did. Third, there was one currency exchange place open in the airport and man was shouting for us to come over. He spoke English very well but was talking a little too close to my face. He told us that we were getting the best rates by coming to this currency exchange but I have no idea if he was telling the truth but we went along with it. The portly man behind the counter quickly exchanged our Euros for Lira while the sleazy man, still talking too close to my face, was offering us a ride to wherever we’re staying. I tried to be as polite as possible but I’m sure he saw on my face that I thought he was a creep and I was going to get out of there as soon as possible.

August 14th

Exploring Istanbul for the first time, I can’t help but be entirely and completely excited. As sad as it makes me to see diseased, stray cats, I feel comforted by them being around at the same time. The blend in here. They walk around the city just like everyone else does and they don’t seem to be too much of a bother. The air is fresh with a hint of hookah charcoal and corn on the cob. The breeze from the Bosphorus keeps me content and the sight of a sleeping local on a bench makes me laugh.



I have a small obsession with the Food Network and wish I could be a part of the ridiculous cook-off competitions they show, especially in the judges’ position. Going to the Culinary Institute in Istanbul, I felt like I was on the Food Network. Everything that was put in front of me was perfectly made, plated beautifully, and so incredibly delicious. I have never experience a five course meal like that and the fact that it was traditional Turkish food made it all that much better. I had the best raspberry smoothie I have ever had while consuming the most delicious backliva.

August 15th

Is it bad that the security in this mall didn’t catch my attention? Why didn’t I initially find this strange with an old man right outside trying to sell bracelets. The architecture of this mall is phenomenal and the shops are far from my price range but I just children walking around bare foot. Around the corner there was a homeless man completely filthy, holding is young child who was just as dirty as him. Who here is going to shop at Marc Jacobs? I feel like I’m in LA or New York when I’m standing in this mall, from the shops to the people shopping here. I am far, far away from any American city but I also feel far away from the supposed shoppers here in Istanbul who are able to shop here not only because of their wealth, but also their appearance where they can get by security.




I can only describe the nightlife in Istanbul as disorienting, rowdy, and deafening from either loud music or the background noises of cars and people talking. All of us went out for Daniel’s birthday and it was nice having Amy’s friend who was a local to tell us about the spots to go to celebrate an American’s 21st birthday. The first place we went didn’t make sense because it was a restaurant after we had already eaten and way overpriced. Luckily, Mert the local, had no problem giving away 30 Lira to the man playing the tambourine because there was no way were paying. A few Raki drinks later we powered through the crowded streets to get to a club called Vanilla. Dancing around everyone and screaming every time an American song came on was honestly a blissful experience. We were all in our own world and completely ignored those watching us from behind.

August 16th
When people speak of the beauty of Istanbul, are they referring the colorful and unique governmental housing? Yes the slums of Istanbul make for a beautiful picture, but also do the Turkish kids begging for me to buy a bracelet, the fisherman on the Bosphorus trying to catch food for their family, the old women still able to smile even though they’re missing most of their teeth, the stray cats from afar that reminds me of my pets at home until they get closer and you see their ear or tail missing. All of these characters of Istanbul make for a bright and exquisite photograph but at the end of the day, they’re not modeling because this is their life and we observe them like it’s a movie.



It’s hard for me to explain how thrilled I was to be back in Berlin. Even though we were in a group, every one had their own, individual experience in Istanbul. Not that I had hated Istanbul, I think I just really saw it for what it was, the good and the bad. Before we had left for our weekend getaway, I knew I was enjoying myself in Berlin but it’s when we were returning to Berlin that I realized how much I love that city. I remember walking into our apartment and plopping down on the ugly, yet comfortable, purple pleather chairs in our living room, turning on German MTV and being so content. Berlin had become my home.

I was so ready to get to know Berlin a little more intimately by performances of artists. Perhaps the performance “Is You Me” was a little bit out there and didn’t make a whole lot of sense, regardless, I enjoyed it so much. The performers on stage didn’t necessarily need to be talented for them to wear a sweatshirt and walk around stage with convulsions but the graphic designs that were being created during the performance made the majority of the set. Someone we couldn’t see was adding more drama and feeling than the actual performers.

Funny encounters with people tend to stick out most in my memory. Waiting outside the ticket office before the Soap Show there were a few of us finishing our Beck’s Gold beer. Manuela came over and asked one of us for a sip because she “had an awful taste” in her mouth. Natalia told he she could have another sip if she liked and she shyly declined at first since she’s on antibiotics but once those words left her mouth she quickly refuted her comment and said, “oh, what’s one sip?” as she grabbed a beer. At that point we were all offering her “sips” so she wouldn’t feel so guilty drinking beer since it was just a sip… out of everyone’s beer.

August 20th

The graffiti walk turned out to be a mysterious art walk to me. There is a group of artists who go around the city and put their touch on everything and anything they feel like. I appreciated it because the art was for themselves and for people to discover but they are not given name recognition and no everyone notices them. Here is black paint over what once were swastikas on the light pole. The black paint covers this up perfectly yet stands out enough so people will recognize it’s there and then wonder why it is there. These people are genius to me. I feel like I would fit in this group magnificently.

To Find a Journal- Assignment 1

The air has finally cooled down by the time I decide to make my first solo trip around Kreuzberg. I keep my head down, observing the uneven brick, surprised every time I notice a Stolpersteine. They glisten even after layers of dirt have swept over their surface and I can still read the name 5 feet and 8 inches above the ground off of a 3 by 3 inch square. I know where Ida Rosen used to live. My day dreaming mind is snapped back into focus when a speeding, red bike sends a deceivingly loud bell my way. The automatic doors of the market send a breeze of air conditioning in my direction. The aroma of freshly baked bread brings me to a comfort and a feeling like I might be getting the hang of Germany and I might just be blending in. Aisle after aisle I chuckle in my head when I see a product I’m familiar with I can only tell by the packaging and no way what it says on the label. Mund wäscht equals mouth wash. Milch equals milk. Plätzchen equals cookies. Everything here but a journal. I ask a woman who appears to work there, “do you have any notebooks” as I pretend for my hands to be a notebook opening and closing. I get a blank stare and a Deutsch response. I make my way to the next market. I walk in, “Hallo!” and walk right out, “Tschüss!” Now irritated, lost and confused I decide to be brave and take the U-bahn to Alexanderplatz. I wait not so patiently in the underground station. People are dispersed evenly with minimal conversation. I hope on, tune into my iPod and wait two stops. I get off and follow the crowds down the stairs since I don’t know where to go. Something makes me stop. I’m overcome with a familiar smell, a smell that is too close to home. There it is, the golden arches. I do a walk by and see that McDonald’s does not have a dollar menu. I’m irritated all over again. I go into the first store I see that might sell journals. It happens to be an overpriced souvenir shop. My eyes quickly find a shelf of journals. I stare at them for about 30 seconds trying to decide what journal would be the best for me. My mind set changes and I realize, who am I kidding? What’s the cheapest? I prefer college ruled paper but I guess I can settle for wide ruled. The cover is a thick purple paper, covered in flowery velour. I like the purple. Finally satisfied I bring it to the counter and pull out my wallet. Do you take credit? Of course you don’t, no one does. 3.50 Euros later I’m in a better mood.

Berlin or Istanbul?

August 17th

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I’ve never heard truer words. Analyzing every thought, feeling, emotion, reaction I have had since I have been in Berlin has me constantly questioning, do I love this city? I came to Berlin naïve and looking forward to have a memorable adventure but Berlin has taught me more than I anticipated. I subconsciously try to find similarities between Berlin and Seattle since I struggle to be out of my comfort zone. German is a language that I wish I became fluent in over night. I prefer tap water over carbonated water. I have a poor sense of direction. The Euro kicks the dollar’s ass and I have been on a 100 Euro a week routine. Yet all these things that make my experience possibly more difficult or annoying are also the things I have come to love. Berlin and Istanbul have been like two completely different men in my life, but I can only be in a relationship with one. Turkey showed me that I prefer Berlin’s stand offish ways over aggressive, ass-grabbing Istanbul. I can handle Berlin’s church bells on Sunday as long as he doesn’t start singing prayers at 5 AM everyday. I don’t mind that Berlin always has a Beck’s in hand all day with all activities because Istanbul’s Raki makes me want to gag with just the thought of it. Maybe Berlin tends to make me spend more money than I like, but Istanbul pushes me to buy things to a point where it’s just obnoxious.

Tesekkurler, Istanbul. You were fun but I’m in love with someone else.

Call to Prayer

August 13

My first thought was that Turkish police were yelling over an intercom. What is happening outside? Then I realized that this person wasn’t yelling in Turkish, they were singing, I think at least. What time is it? Okay, I think they finished singing. Okay, never mind, they’re still singing. Okay, they finished. Nope, still going. I looked around the room to see if everyone was hearing was I was hearing because I was worried I was hallucinating. It was still dark out, but just as warm as sunny afternoon in Berlin. I got up and closed the windows. Those windows literally hold no purpose because the singing is just as loud and some how bugs still manage to come in. Five minutes of off and on singing in Turkish and I’m officially awake. It was 5 AM, I am not happy. Did I really sweat that much? What just happened?

I'm in Love With Döners

August 11th

I fell in love with döners the second day I was in Berlin. I constantly crave them to a point where I don’t want a döner anymore, I need a döner. Not only do I love everything and anything that has to do with a döner but I also appreciate how every döner is slightly different than the next döner. I feel comfort when I can see the giant slab of lamb meat, rotating on a silver spit. There is just something about the toasted flatbread combined with perfectly cooked meat, topped with fresh lettuce, cabbage, onions, cucumber and tomatoes that warm my heart. Is it the perfect bread combined with perfect meat and perfect vegetables that make me feel like I cannot live without these delicious treats? No, no, no. It is actually the balance of hot sauce, herb sauce, curry sauce, garlic sauce, and yoghurt that create a heavenly bliss in my stomach where it yearns for more. It is usually not the case that all of these sauces are in one döner, and that’s what makes it surprising and different with every new döner experience. I can recall my first döner memory like it happened this morning. There I was, just walking along an average street, thinking I may go for some pizza or perhaps some Chinese but for some reason (and to this day I cannot explain why I had this gut instinct) I decided to walk up to this little Turkish restaurant and ordered the first thing on the menu. It was quickly made and I was memorized how the flatbread seemed to never fill up entirely, no matter how many things the man stuffed in there. I took my first bite and almost got weak in the knees. I could not eat it fast enough but I forced myself to slow down because I wanted savor every bite. I can’t help but smile when I think about döners. I think I’m going to get one right now.

Turkish Flea Market

August 9th

It was relieving when I saw a crowd of people outside what appeared to be the Turkish flea market. S-Bahn to U-Bahn, down Bernauer Strasse or is it Brenanuer Strasse? Obviously I nor Natalia knew since we went in every direction but the right one for a while. Berlin, will I ever know you? Silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes, painted pictures, I wanted it all but I hear the lira is better than the euro so I choose to wait. Here for ten minutes and there is already a wet patch on the stomach of my shirt; I knew I shouldn’t have worn gray. Where is that cheering coming from? I wish I could take my time down these overcrowded outdoor aisles but my stomach is warning me that there isn’t enough time. I pick up my pace while walking in between strangers pass the silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes and painted pictures. “Excuse me”, “sorry”, “oh, pardon me”. I forget that no one here is bothered by my aggressive passing and it is entirely unnecessary to be polite in this situation, apparently. I follow my nose and it leads me to a Wiener schnitzel stand. I can still hear the cheering, is someone singing the Beatles? I hold on to my little bun, waiting for the wiener, and realize this is definitely not enough food. My stomach is still mad at me. I finally decide to follow the cheers and the music. Karaoke in front of thousands, not a bad idea.

A Night On the Town

August 8th

It’s interesting that the experience from today’s that stood out the most for me was not anywhere on our class agenda. As beautiful as the Pergammon Museum was, the gay club SchwuZ was more important to me. Michael was the person to inform the group of this place and we thought it was a great idea to check it out. A few U-Bahn stops later, there we were in front of this massive club with music booming out on the streets. All of us worked our way down to one of several dance rooms, grabbed a Becks, and hit the floor. I remember at one point, dancing with a bunch of people in the program and thinking, this is one of the greatest experiences ever. Right after I thought this, I noticed a lovely gay man with sparkling braces signally me over to dance with him. It, for some reason, turned out to be an unplanned choreographed danced and I have no idea how that happened. I finally came to a point where the sweat dripping down my face and my speeding heart became too much and I needed a water break desperately. A few of us ended up sitting outside to get some cool air and decided we had enough dancing for the night so we concluded everything with a doner, a “Jesus Loves You” Frisbee (kindly given to me from a nice Turkish man at a burger place), and sweaty, crunchy hair.

Sachsenhausen

August 7th

Growing up I always had an interest in the Holocaust. I can’t explain why or how this interest developed. All I wanted to do was read and watch movies about the holocaust to learn more and more. Visiting Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp was probably one of the heaviest and most raw experiences of my life. I can try but I feel I would fail to put an experience like that into words. Walking from the same train station and same streets as the prisoners did down to the camp was a surreal experience in itself. Arriving to the camp I was trying to imagine my life in the prisoner’s shoes. I was looking down at my feet thinking this is the same ground they walked on, I would look at the sky and think this is the same sky they saw. Entering the barracks, I immediately noticed the burn damage caused from a neo-Nazi attack in 1992. It was frustrating that people today still have the capability to show so much hate. What really humanized everything to me were the quotes I read in the washroom. It’s easy to state facts of what happened in the camp and in the washrooms, but quoted experiences from witnesses opened my eyes a lot more. The tour became more and more emotional to a point where I had to take a time out from everything. Our guide brought up how important and upsetting it is for people to visit the camp yet issues similar to the holocaust are still occurring in our world today in places like Sudan and Rwanda. I cannot help but be cynical when thinking about the world knowing that this astonishing amount of genocide and torture still occurs today. Besides the Jews, other groups such as homosexuals and Jehovah Witness were victimized by this dark era and I think most people tend to forget that or not know in the first place. Human rights were completely taken away from everyone that was involved and we look at the holocaust as one of the worst parts of history, ever. Yet, we still do not provide equal rights for these groups that were targeted during the holocaust. I feel like I can write much more but I'm still at a loss for words

Bunkers and Tunnels

August 6th

I was first confused walking into the bunkers. I thought we were in the U-Bahn station still. Our guide approached us and took us down some stairs; it seemed like a hidden passage way but I guess it’s not hidden anymore. Once we were at the entrance, the white painted signs on the gray cement seemed to stand out but I first could not understand the German language. We entered the bunker by going through the women’s restroom. This is the area that struck me the most. Our guide told us this was a common area for women to be raped. These women who were hiding out from air raids, forced to stay in a bunker meant only for about 1,500 where there could often be over 4,000 people crammed in, could easy be raped by 30 or more men, one right after the other. This shocked me because during this time I knew that Jews and other minority groups were being persecuted, but these were “German citizens”. Looking at the toilet seats, I noticed the hooks for pipes a few feet above. Learning that it wasn’t unusual for women to hang themselves from these pipes in the bathroom stalls was obviously upsetting to hear and hard to comprehend. It was impossible to put myself in a position knowing that I had to get inside the bunker in order to live, although my home could easily be gone by the time I leave the bunker, furthermore, I am expecting to get raped while trying to be safe. I cannot imagine the fear.

Topography of Terror

August 5
It was surreal being in the same spot where the Holocaust was thought of and planned out at the Topographie des Terrors sight. Walking down the line of images and information I kept thinking of what a tragedy the Holocaust was and it seemed that at the beginning, no one thought it would get that far, but it did. The thing that stood out the most to me was this one specific picture where a group of Nazis have a group of Jews leaning down in front of them right before the Nazis were going to shoot them, with big smiles on their faces. I couldn’t help but think about the person taking this picture. What was their relationship with the Nazis? Where they taking the picture for documentation or entertainment reasons? Did they take pictures like this often? Was this situation of humiliating and killing these innocent Jews satisfying to them? After this thought got in my head, I considered the person behind the camera while looking at the rest of the photos. These photos were extremely difficult to look at which makes me have a hard time understanding why someone would capture these disturbing images for enjoyment.

Discovering the Art

August 4
Walking along the sidewalk I could not wait to begin our first real day in Berlin. Headed off to the Wall I was taking pictures of everything and anything I saw in front of me. I simply wanted to capture every moment. I was excited to see the Wall but I knew it was not the same thing as the original Wall so I was unsure how interesting that experience would be. I was wrong. The wall was completely and entirely beautiful. Artists from around the world have come to the Wall to contribute their art. As much as I enjoyed the Wall, it was not the thing or place that stood out to me the most. On walk down, we strolled past a gap in the wall in what seemed to be a gray neighborhood. It was like entering a dream. This place that was somewhat hidden and was covered top to bottom in color and different pieces of art. I soon discovered this heavenly place was called Yaam and it served as a bar and a general hang out spot. I was first drawn to the basketball court that had about 20 different colors on it and the hoops. Clicking pictures left and right, I soon led up the beach. This soon to be destroyed place was breath taking. Sitting by the calm river, I listened to little kids playing with soft music and an occasional bird chirp. I didn’t mind that I had since in my shoes or that I’m pouring out sweat; at that moment, I felt perfect.

I Have Arrived

August 3
Day one is the beginning of my uncertainty and confusion about Europe. Walking down the street, finding similarities between Berlin and Seattle accidently, I pretend to feel like I’m at home. Bicyclists, sounds of a city, and of course, the rain. I am instantly reminded that I am far, far from home when speaking to the cashier of the corner café becomes a major challenge. Annoyed with realizing I now have sparkling water instead of normal water, I get ready for public transportation which has always been a struggle for me, whether the signs are in a foreign language or not. Blisters, good, exactly what I wanted for my first day of excursion in Berlin. Successfully arriving to Humboldt University, I think that the school smells like a college, looks like a college, yet a slightly older demographic than what I would expect in a college. The art seems unusual for a university. Tall white statues that are cracked and broken belong in a museum, not in a university.

Project Proposal

Abstract
Identity: i-den-ti-ty [ahy-den-ti-tee] –noun, plural ties. 1. the state or fact of remaining the same one or ones, as under varying aspects or conditions 2. the condition of being oneself or itself, and not another

When examining the word identity, the word “one” is used frequently. Identity meaning identifying with one thing, being considered one thing, looked at as only one thing, and not any other. Identity can be whatever someone wants it to be. It is who they are, and what they recognize themselves being. However, coming to the point of being content and comfortable with one’s own identity is a long, confusing process. The second someone is born, they begin establishing who they are. Youth culture is one of the more fascinating groups when it comes to discovering identity. It seems like the only time in life where you can be this person one day, and something entirely different the next. Although this process is usually more frustrating than not, analyzing what creates a person’s identity tells a story that is original and unique. The path of finding one’s identity beginning at a young age is joined with self expression. Expression is often what creates identity or tests out different identities.

Background
Youth culture can be expressed through distinct styles, behaviors, and interests. According to subculture theorists members of a subculture often signal their membership by making distinctive and symbolic tangible choices in, for example, clothing styles, hairstyles and footwear. However, intangible elements, such as common interests, dialects and slang, music genres and gathering places can also be an important factor. Youth subcultures offer participants an identity outside of that ascribed by social institutions such as family, work, home and school. Social class, gender and ethnicity can be important in relation to youth subcultures. Youth subcultures can be defined as meaning systems, modes of expression or lifestyles developed by groups in subordinate structural positions in response to dominant systems — and which reflect their attempt to solve structural contradictions rising from the wider societal context. The study of subcultures often consists of the study of the symbolism attached to clothing, music, other visible affections by members of the subculture and also the ways in which these same symbols are interpreted by members of the dominant culture. Berlin has long been known for its artistic expression and its youth have played a huge role in shaping this connotation. From visual to performing art, opera to Turkish hip-hop, from stencil and sticker art to graffiti art can be found virtually anywhere in Berlin.

Question 1: How did the youth of Berlin express their identity through graffiti?
As our questions tie directly together after we understand how the Wall of Berlin has influenced the youth as it was built and as it was torn down, the question arises on how their identity was then influenced. When the wall was constructed laws in place excluded eastern Berliners from expression their feelings through artistic expression on the wall. On the other hand on the Westside of the wall western Berliners filled the west side of the wall with graffiti. Graffiti art is one of the biggest things that the Wall of Berlin is known for. Graffiti artists express themselves and their identity through their work. Also through my preliminary research I found that a proportional amount of graffiti artists were of youth, around the ages of 17-20. As the wall itself has definitely influenced their identity, I feel as if through artistic expression they were allowed to express this influenced identity. The question then is why graffiti are and what did it mean. I will be studying a specific type of graffiti art which depicts their image on the other side of the wall. The first place I will go once arriving in Berlin is a youth hostel to find out all the cool hip hangout spots are. After finding out where I can go to meet youth I will then ask them where I can find the type of graffiti I am looking for. I will then travel there with them via foot, bus, or bike and ask them what that image means to them. I will be keeping a journal of my findings of their understanding of the art and also taking numerous photos for my photo essay final project. I also want to find adults who were youth at the time of when the wall went up and ask them their understanding of the graffiti.

Question 2: How did the identity of youth change pre-wall and post-wall?
What life turned into after the Berlin Wall was created changed the lives of everyone overnight. The separation between East and West Berlin was vast beyond the wall due to difference in political ideologies. The difference between a democratic and communist society makes it understandable why societies were divided beyond the border, however, this division can be very confusing among the youth of these societies. Trying to find your own identity when your world is being turned upside down can be very difficult. Studies have shown that “youth in general show among East German young people have a greater emphasis on authority, respect and high income, but also a greater emphasis on some collective values (‘concern for others”) and greater familism” (Watts 481). It has also been shown great differences among East and West German youth in domains of values, each of which is argued to be typical of a particular type of modernization (industrial versus postindustrial. Each represents an aspect of “modernization”—the former in the domain of individualist/personalized values and life goals, the latter organized around the central values of work and productivity. A rapid, anticipatory change of values and goals occurred in the 1980s in the East, producing apparent similarities with West in “personal values and orientations toward ‘democracy’” (Watts 481). Although similarities between East and West were present while still having many differences, I also bring to question the search for identity among the youth who only new life with the Wall before unification. Living in oppression in a Socialist society and then being allowed to enter the mysterious West and live in a democratic system can complicate the search for identity.
Bibliography
Watts, Meredith W. "Was There Anything Left of the "Socialist Personality"? Values of Eastern and Western German Youth." Political Psychology 15 (1994): 481-508.

Question 3: Identity of homosexual community
Individuals identifying as homosexual often endure social stigma through childhood into adulthood. Even with the progress of the gay rights movement, changing the social mindset will take time. Identity formation remains complex even without social stigma. In light of these realities, does the social stigma associated with sexual liberation and exploration stifle individuals’ abilities to form genuine identities free from external manipulation and repression? Is the situation exemplified in the gay community, where social stigma already exists? Do these factors significantly detract from the formation of individual identity in those identifying as homosexual? How have the older generation coped with such adversity and how have they created their sense of self with a myriad of influences?


Cultural Sensitivity: My cultural sensitivity about Berlin is simple; The whole quarter all we have learned was about the Old Divided Berlin which was the home of the Berlin Wall. For some odd reason when I think about Berlin I think of a city divided even though the wall came down 20 years ago. Even though I know that there is only 1 Berlin now but, I feel as if I will turn my head one way and know I am looking at West Berlin and turn my head the other direction and distinctly see East Berlin. I guess we will just have to wait and see?

Daily Schedule: The first thing we will do is go to a youth hostel and get a list of places we can frequent in order to track down youth. The other places we know we will be going are as follows:
· Libraries and Schools
· Bars
· Youth Centers?
· Parks
· Places we know youth hangout (as identified by the youth hostel)
The people we know we will want to talk to are as follows:
· Adults who were youth when the wall was built
· Adults who were youth when the wall was torn down
· Hostel Staff
· Bartenders
· Librarians and Teachers
· YOUTH!
The equipment we will use are as follows:
· Voice Recorder
· Camera
· Laptop
· Video Camera
· Translating book
· Translator?
Information we will gather is as follows:
· TONS OF PHOTOS
· TONS OF STORIES/NARATIVES

Project Questions

I have not yet decided on a grounded topic to research in Berlin, since I have not found a group. I thought it would be best if I came up with some more broad questions that could possibly tie into other students topics.

What were the relationships like pre-Wall and post-Wall among youth in East and West Berlin?

Did the clash of political ideologies create insecurities among some youth?

Did East Berlin and West Berlin fashion trends differ while the Wall was up? Was fashion similiar once the Wall collapsed?

What are the long term effects of the Wall on people who were to young to understand its significance when it was built?

After the fall of the Wall, did East Berlin embrace the art and music scene that was popular in West Berlin?

Love Parade 2009

After I was looking through some idea topics from Shawn, I saw that he mentioned the "Love Parade". All of a sudden I remembered a scene from some crappy movie... I think possible EuroTrip, where they end up in Berlin in the middle of this massive parade that took up the whole city and I realized that it was the Love Parade. Immediately, I went home and started looking up information hoping that it would be going on during the month of August. To my utter disappointment, the Love Parade this year has been cancelled that was scheduled to be in Bochum.

I found out the love parade has been going on in Germany, usually Berlin, since 1989. Interestingly enough, the parade started after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 as a political demonstration for peace and international understanding through music. Over the years the Love Parade has progressed by becoming more popular around the world bringing tourists and progressing by adding the Turkish electric scene.

The organization is worried that too many people will visit the parade and the city of Bochum can't handle that. In 2008, the Loveparade set a new record with around 1.6 million vistors. Furthermore, the Loveparade is generally a peaceful demonstration, however the becomes increasingly more drug-related and theft problems. The organization hopes that the Loveparade will return next year, and hopefully in 2010, return back to Berlin, in celebration of love, freedom and techno.

Response from the youth

I have always been interested in how people think for some reason. I find it so fascinating how different people respond to different situations. When people respond in particular way about something, like how they handle a break up with a boyfriend/girlfriend or how some people cannot stand it when you sit on their bed, I always wonder what has happened in their life to make them think or feel that way. Those are obviously small examples, but I also ponder the minds of addicts, hot heads, perfectionists, etc.

I can’t help but believe people react to things the way they do not solely on their personality traits, but also by events that occurred as children. Children have minds like sponges and just absorb the environment around them. This can effect them in a positive or negative way. It is simple yet so complicated to understand the child who was abused to grow up with anger management issues, but what are the effects on youth who grow up in a world with a happy, for the most part normal family to all of a sudden be confronted with a wall that wasn’t there a few days ago? What would it be like to be missing classmates because they were on the other side of the wall? It is one thing to be raised in the East Berlin community, just knowing not to approach the wall, but what would it be like as young person who was just old enough to understand what the rise of the wall meant, or lack of understanding what the wall meant?

I would be interested in talking with the people who were the youth of the era during the time the wall was created in 1961. I can only imagine the confusion this created on both the East and West sides of Berlin. I would also be very interested in how this occurrence might have effected them later in the lives.

The Devil's Highway Part I

Luis Alberto Urrea got me hooked into “The Devil’s Highway” the first few sentences. His detailed and meticulous descriptions of migrants and border patrol is so real and poetic. He writes in a way I believe a true story should be written. He leaves nothing to the imagination of the reader with his clear descriptions. It wasn’t until after our class discussion did I realize “The Devil’s Highway” is this years common book. I suppose since I’m a junior, I’m out of the loop with things like that.

I was eager to begin this book ever since I purchased it and read the back. I have recently become very interested in immigration, specifically immigration across the U.S.-Mexican border, ever since a class I took this year focused on that topic. Before I took this class, I really didn’t have an opinion either way as far as illegal immigration goes since I wasn’t educated on the subject. However, since I spent a whole quarter looking at policies the U.S. has had dealing with immigration, detention centers, seeking asylum, and the journey migrants take to leave their country for whatever reason, I feel like I have been able to establish my own opinion on the matter and I want to continue to learn more.

I found it fascinating how Urrea was able to get so much information from border patrol. The way they are depicted in “The Devil’s Highway” makes them seem like red-neck vigilantes who enjoy hunting humans. It’s very sad but real to read about the journey that Mexican migrants make to try to enter the U.S. yet it is also very difficult to try to create a solution to the problem. I don’t believe in an open border policy, but curbing immigration so Mexicans try to enter the U.S. by more dangerous paths is not the solution either. It’s obvious that a fence is not going to do the trick. People have been immigrating for as long as mankind can remember. Immigration seems inevitable and I do not see it stopping in any time in the future.

A Social Border Seen in Seattle

As I was walking down the Ave, tuning out the world while listening to my iPod, making a to-do list in my head, I noticed a homeless man yelling out jibberish while holding on to his dog that looked just as homeless as the man wearing a raggedy bandana. Usually I’m immune to the homeless community around the U-district since I have been living here for three years now, but then our assignment about finding a border around the city popped in my head. Then I realized the large border between college students/working community in Seattle and the homeless community that is typically populated by the mentally disabled and addicts ranging in all ages.

Thinking about this in the sense of a “border”, I came to the conclusion that although there are often physical borders such as Nickelsville and other homeless shelters around Seattle, the main border lies within our societal behaviors. College students for example typically do not associate with the homeless community, and the homeless community does not associate with everyone else. The cultural border expands throughout most of the greater Seattle area and it seems difficult to cross into the other side of the border.

Although Seattle appears to be diverse with working adults, college students, and the homeless community walking on the same sidewalks together, we do not seem have anything more in common than sharing the same city. In reality, anyone can be homeless if they chose to be, yet, not everyone who is homeless can chose to have a home, a job, or an education. I think Nickelsville is a good example of where our borders meet because it is set up to help the homeless community get back on their feet. Although it is just temporary living and that living situation is a tent in a parking lot, it is also a starting point. They have a place where they can put their things and sleep and a chance to perhaps look for a job and move into the other side of the border.

The Ghosts of Berlin

I was glad to have to opportunity to read The Ghosts of Berlin by Brian Ladd to help further explain the history of Berlin and the significance of the Berlin Wall. I found his writing to be so detailed and descriptive which made it easy for me to understand the feelings of the Wall from Berliners, both east and west. The Wall stood for something more than just the division of political beliefs, therefore, once the Wall was taken down, the mixed feelings of the walls representation is understandable.

"The Wall became an unintentional monument to the remarkable era in which two rival states simultaneously claimed Berlin. The division marked by the Wall, in turn, grew out of the shattering era of German history that culminated in World War II. Thus the wall was built-- literally and figuratively-- atop the ruins of war, terror, and division. And it, too, is now among the ruins and memories of Berlin. The Wall-- from concrete, to monument, to rubble-- gives form to the story of Berlin and of Germany in our time"

I find it fascinating that a literal wall was created to separate to conflicting political ideologies. Furthermore, it was built in the middle of a city, separating the country. I try to imagine what it would be like to be either living or working in the center of Berlin before the Wall was put up and my devastation because of it. Not only did shops go out of business, but neighbors were separated. Not only would this event be confusing, but trying to corporate East Berlin after the Wall fell into a capitalist society in West Berlin would be difficult. The separation of the Berliners for such a period of time I can imagine deepen societal differences.

My Wall

When we discussed "walls" in our life, the first thing I could think of was my relationship with my high school friends. I first noticed this "wall" my freshman year of college when we would come home for break from our different schools and it was becoming more difficult to relate to each other in our developing lives.

Now being a junior, I think the differences between sizes of our schools, location and academic interests have only expanded the wall. I find myself fortunate enough to have such wonderful friends from my hometown where we are able to stay in touch with one another, yet it's becoming more and more difficult for me to reminisce on high school memories rather than update each other on our lives. Especially friends of mine who are still in community college who lack the social aspect of college that you can get at a big university such as UW.

I also think that is just a part of getting older. People find new interests and it seems inevitable that people are going to grow apart through college.