The Bicycle Man of Berlin

Black-and-WhitePostcards

’dbeeninBerlinforthreedaysandhadn’tseenasinglecloudinthe sky.Eachdaywassunnyandwarmandperfectlysummerlike,un- usualforlateSeptemberinGermany.Onlytheleavesonthetrees hintedofacoolerautumntocome,withjusttheslightestofcolor changes,fromgreentogoldandyellowandspecksofbronze.TheBer- linMarathonhadjusttakenplaceover theweekend, andtherewasstill afestivefeeltothecity,thestreetsbusywithpeopleintownforthe race.Theyweren’tallGermans. Iheardmanylanguagesbeingspoken:

Italian, Spanish,andEnglish.

Itwas Monday, andBerlinwasgettingbacktonormal.Workers weretakingdownmetalbarriers alongtheracerouteanddismantling foodstallsthathadsoldbratwurstrightoffthegrill,withsteaming krautandcool cucumbersalad,anddrinkstandsthathadoffereddark German beerandwineacrossfromtheBrandenburgGate,atthemara- thonfinishline.Thatday,Iaroselateanddidn’tgetastrong,dark

coffeeandcroissantfromthecaféacrossthestreetfrommyhotel,a new MarriottinthePotsdamerPlatz section,untilalmostnoon.

ThePotsdamerPlatzoftodayhasamodernundergroundtrain stationand comprisesthe centralpart ofBerlin’s newesttowers.

Nearby,theall-glassSonyCenterandtheDeutscheBankbuilding riseprominentlyabovenewhotelsandsleek,distinctivelymodern

officebuildingsoftintedglassandglimmeringmetal.Butbefore the fallofCommunismin1989,PotsdamerPlatzhadthemisfortuneof

beingsituateddirectlyinthepathofthefour-hundred-yard-wide no man’slandoneithersideofEbertStrasse,wherethenewtrainsta-

tionisnow,andnorthtowardtheBrandenburgGateabouttwomiles away.InthemiddleofthisdesertedareastoodthemenacingBerlin

Wall,an areathatsomecalledthekillingzone.Itwaspatrolledby soldiers, someofwhomhad dogsso ferociousthat onlywomen

couldhandlethem,astheyweretrainedtoattackmenonsightand killthosetryingtoescapeover,under,orthroughthewalltofree-

dominWestBerlin.

Souvenirstands alongthesidewalkswhere the walloncestoodsold

black-and-whitepostcardswithscenesfromWorldWar IIandtheCold War.From thesesmallpictures,Icouldseehow differentitwasthen, withbarbedwireandrusted,steel-beamcrosses sunkdeepinto theflat, barren,grasslessground,justincaseany daringEastBerlinertriedto break through thewallbycarortruck.Atthesestands,IsawoldRus- sianuniformsandGermanDemocraticRepublic(GDR—East German) soldiers’hatsbeingsold,alongwithotherremnants of theCommunist army that patrolled the wall around Potsdamer Platz years ago. I wantedtowalkandfindmoreevidence of thewall,buttheentirearea lookednothinglikeithadwhenthepostcard pictures weretaken. YetI couldfeelthe ghostlypresenceofthe BerlinWall.

FromPotsdamerPlatz,Icouldjustbarelyseepart ofthe Quadrigaof

Victory, the copper statue that majestically crowns the top of the

BrandenburgGate,thespiritualheartofBerlin,wherethewallfellin

1989.Thestatue,originally createdin1793byJohann Gottfried Schadow,originallydepictedthewinged goddessofpeace,Eirene,driv- ing achariotpulledbyfour horses.Napoleontookthe statuein1806, but in1814,itwasreturnedaftertheGermanvictory overFrance.Eirene thenbecameVictoria,the goddessofvictory,withtheadditionofaPrus- sianeagleonan ironcross.Later,the gatebecamea symboloftheThird Reichwhenthe NazistookcontrolofGermany.Finally,afterGermany’s reunification,VictoriaonceagainbecameEirene.

JustbeyondthegatewasthecleardomeoftheReichstag building, theseatof governmentinBerlinandwhereAdolfHitlerandtheNazis seizedpowerin1932.Kaisersandkings, conquerorssuchasNapoleon, andthosedefeated,suchastheThirdReich,allpassedthrough the BrandenburgGate,enteringinvictoriousgloryorleavingindefeat, the proudcity inruins.

BlocksandFloors

Thehundred-mile-longBerlinWall wasbuilttostopEastGermans fromgoingwesttofreedom andnewlivesinothercountries.Afterit wasknocked downin1989,mostofitliterally disappearedintothe pocketsoftheGermanpeople,EastandWestBerliners,whowantedto keepapieceofthewallforthemselvesortosell.Withtheexceptionof a fewsmallsectionsnowpreservedasmuseumpieceswherethey originallystood,mostof thewallisgone,andtheareaisnowisbeing developedintocommercial sections,roads,parks,memorials,andresi- dentialhousesand apartments.

BecausetracesoftheBerlinWalldisappearedatan alarming rate,a law waspassed mandatingthat whereverthe walloncestood,the ground wouldbemarked minimallybyadoublerowofBelgiumblocks laidintheasphaltofastreetorconcrete sidewalk,throughparkinglots andgrasslandandparks.Ifabuildingwereconstructed overground wherethewalloncestood, thanthe ownerofthebuildinghadtomark the wall’s routebychangingthe color oftheflooring.If,forexample,a restaurantfloorwasdarkoak,awoodnoticeablylighterincolorhadto beinlayedintheflooringtomarkthecontinuationoftheBelgium- blockpath thatterminatedoutsidethebuilding.Thetrailofblocks on theoppositesideoftheproperty wouldthenpickupthepathonthe othersideof thebuilding. Ifcarpeting,ceramictile,orvinylflooring wereused,the color must alsochangealongthe path.

Iinvestigatedhowwellthelawwasenforcedbytrackingthewall

onfootuntil Iactuallybumpedintothesideofabuilding on Ebert Strasse.Ithenenteredasmallrestaurantandfollowed thewall’spath undertablesthatwerebeingsetup forthe evening’sdinnercrowd.

Aspeoplecasuallydinedintherestaurantthatnight,Iwondered

howmany,ifany,wereawareof theghostsof theBerlinWalldirectly beneaththeir feet. ThepostcardimagesI had seenearlier—barbed

wire,guard towers,andGDRsoldierspatrollingwithrifles—moved throughmymind,superimposedon therestaurant,whereeveryonewas welcomeandsafe,wherethelegsofpatrons’chairsandtablessaton theblondwoodstripethatwastheonlyreminderofthelong-gonewall.

Thataway?

NowthatIhadgottenmybearingsastothephantom BerlinWall andwhich sideofithadbeenWestBerlinandwhichhadbeenEast Berlin,Idecideditwas timetoseethefineoldpalaces,monuments, universities, andcathedralsalongUnterdenLinden StrasseandKarl- LiebknechtStrasseinold EastBerlin.

AfterI’dbeenwalkingforlessthanfiveminutes,abicycletaxi

pulledpastmeandmovedovertothecurb toletapassengerexit.It looked like asmallchariotpulledbyabicycle.

The white-haired bicyclerider, who lookedtoo old for such a strenuousjob,appearedtobeinhismid-sixties.Hisround-rimmed

eyeglassesand thinness didn’tmakehimlookanymoreathletic.His passengerwasawomanwhoslowlyclimbedout.Shealreadyhadher

walletoutandunfolded, anditheldadecentamountof euros.They spokeGerman,andthenshe paidhim.Thecyclistwasthinand wearing

along-sleeved,V-neckedwoolpulloverthatseemedtobefartoowarm fortheunseasonablyhottemperature.ThenIrealizedthatthesweater

didn’tconcealthatthoughhewasthin,hewasfitandwiry.Theshorts heworeshowedtight,hard,tannedthighsandcalfmusclesthatwere

strongandsinewy,rightdowntohisankles.

IhadalreadydecidedtowalkthemileorsototheBrandenburg

Gate, but something about the bicycle and its not-so-young rider

changedmymind.Asthewoman walkedawayafterpaying,Ientered the cabfromthe oppositesideandsaid,“Doyou speakEnglish?”

Hewasperchedonthebicycleseat,onelegsupportinghisweight on thegroundandtheotherfootrestingon theraisedpedal.Heturned

andsaidoverhisshoulder,withaGermanaccent,“Ja,ja,alittlebit. Justenough,Ithink.”Hemadeacommongesturefor“alittlebit,”

holdinghisthumbandindex fingerbarelyapart, asifdisplayingasmall gemoracoin.A littlebitwasenough forme,andaslongasIwaspay-

ing himtopedal,alittlebitwouldbeenoughforhim. “Sowheredoyouwantto go?”heasked.

“I’mnot sure.Just that way,towardtheBrandenburgGate,or maybepast the gatetothe Reichstagbuilding,”Isaid.

“Youdon’tknowwhereyouwanttogo?”Heseemedpuzzled.

I’dbeguntorealizeduringmystaythatBerlinerswantprecisein-

formationandinstructions.

“Well,I’vebeenwalking around Berlinallmorning,andnowIjust

wantaride—tosithereandgothatway,”Isaid,tryingmybestto speak clearlyandslowly, tobeunderstood. YetIstillsensedthathe wantedamoredefineditinerary.BecauseIhadnoclear-cutaimin mind, other than “thataway,”he cleverlyswitchedthe negotiations fromafocusondestinationtoafocusonthe amountoftravelingtime.

“Itellyou,”hesaid,speakingslowly,loudly,andclearly.“Forfifteen

euros,Idriveyouforthirtyminutes.Thanifyouwanttogetout,youget out.Ifyouwantmetorideyoumore,Irideyoumore.Youdecide,ja?”

“Ja,ja.Okay—goodidea.Let’sgo.”Imotionedhimforward.

Where HasItGone?

Thebicycleman stoodup andpressedhardontheraisedpedalwith hisleftfoot.Thiswasthe only timeIsawhimstrain,asheneededen- ergytobreaktheinertiaandgethistaxigoing.

Wewereon EbertStrasse,astreetthatconnectsPotsdamer Platzto

theBranbenburg Gatetothenorth.Everythingonitlooksnew,being builtaftertheBerlinWallcamedown.Itmightonlyhavebeen afew hundredmeterswide,buttoGermansinthe1960s,’70s,and’80s,it wasaswideanddeepandperiloustocross asthe AtlanticOceaninthe deadofwinter.

Asthe bicyclebegantopickup speed,Ilookedto myleftandsawa

heavilyforestedarea,thebeginningoftheTiergarten, theCentralPark of Berlin.Tomyrightwasthetwo-acremazeof twothousandlarge, smooth,graystoneblocksoftherecently completedHolocaustMemo- rial.Ihadlearnedearlier,on aguidedwalkingtour,thatapproximately twohundredyardsawayfromthehauntingmemorialisasmallpatch ofgrassanddirtthatliesbetweenaparkinglotforagroup ofSoviet- styleapartmentbuildingsandasidestreet.Fortyfeetbelowthegrade on thisunmarked,ordinaryspot oflandlay theremainsofHitler’sfor- tifiedbunker,wherehespenthisfinaldayswhileBerlinburned around him,andwhereheultimatelycommittedsuicide.Thebunker’sloca-

tion,thought tobelostforever,wasdiscoveredaccidentally by some roadworkersdiggingtrenchestolay undergroundpipeinthe1990s.A fewyearsback,German engineersattemptedtodemolish thebunker withmassiveexplosivecharges,butitwasprotectedbyspecially for- mulated,reinforced concretewallstwentyfeetthick.Thewallswould notcrumble,sothey dugahugeholearoundthebunkerandfilledthe entireareawithfreshconcrete,effectivelysealingthebunkerina tomb thatGermany haspledgednottounearthforanotherforty years.The hiddenbunkersitesymbolizesBerlin’sstruggle tocometoterms with itswartimeactions:Shouldittocontinuetoburyandforget,orshould itrevealandunderstand?

TheearlyafternoonsunwarmedmeaswebegantoglideupEbert

Strasse.Amoreinteresting placetobeintheworldatthatmoment,I couldnotimagine.TheBrandenburg Gatelay directlyinfrontofus. Throughthegate,totheeast,alongUnterdenLindenStrasse,we wouldseethegrandpalacesof theKaisersandHumboldtUniversity, whereEinsteinstudiedandtaught.Furtheron,acrosstheriverSpree,is Alexanderplatz,withitsornatearchedbridgeand six whitemarble stat- ues,eachonesignifyingadifferentstageof thelifeofAlexanderthe Great. There arecathedralsandtheBerlinOpera House,whichmiracu- louslysurvivedthedevastatingbombings ofBerlinwithbarelyabrick knockedoutofplace. Tomyleftwasthe Tiergarten,withitswidelawn leadinguptomagnificentstatuesandwindingpathways,andthento myright,justpasttheHolocaustMemorial,werethestately embassies ofGreatBritainandthe United Statesandmanyfineshops,hotels, and restaurants.

Despitethe grandsurroundings,Icouldn’tshakethe realizationthat on thiscalm,beautiful Septemberday,Iwasbeingtaxiedacrossland wheretheinhumaneBerlinWalloncestood.Howcouldcars,buses, andtaxicabslookso ordinaryastheyzippedpastthisplace?Howcould somanypeoplenonchalantlywalkandshopandscurryhomefrom workthroughthiszoneofpasthorrors?

“Excuseme!”Icalledtomycourier. “Ja?”

“Whereexactlywasthe wall?” “TheBerlinWall,ja?”

“Yes, theBerlinWall.”

“Lookthereinthemiddleofthestrasse,”saidmydriver,whonow

seemedtobespeakingEnglishbetter thanjustalittlebit.“Youseethe bricks inthestreet,ja?Thisplaceiswherethe wall was.”

“Yes, Isee.”

“Iwillwaitforno cars,andthenI’llrideyouto the wall.”

“Gute,”Isaid,usingmyoneGermanword.

Whentrafficcleared,thecyclistquicklypedaledfromtheright

shoulder,wherewehadbeenslowly cruisingalong,directlyintothe middleofEbertStrasse.Hesteeredthefronttireofthebicyclebetween thetworowsofgraybricks where theBerlinWall oncestood.Hefol- lowedthemortaredgroovebetweentheblockslikeatrainontracks, the bicyclebumpingalong.

“SonowweareridingontheBerlinWall,ja?”Hedroveusfora

shortdistancealongthewall’spath.Then,lookingpartially overhis shouldertomakesureIcouldhearhim,hecalledout:“Totheleft, WestBerlin.Totheright,EastBerlin.”

“Wheredidyoulive?”Icalledback over the whooshoftheairand

the backgroundsoundsofBerlin.

“IlivedinEastBerlinsince1952, beforethe wall,andthenthe wall

wentupin1961.Thenin1989,thewall camedowninoneday.Itwas November 9,1989,justlikethat,ja.Thewallisgone,ja,today.ButI ridethewalllike thistotellmymind,ja,that thewall isgone,so the wall insidemecangoaway,too.”

“Amazing,”Ireplied, bemused.

Hewassoright—eventhoughthephysicalwallhasbeenreduced

toarowof harmless-looking Belgiumblocks,itstill existsinthecon- sciousness ofthosewholivedwithit.Whatastrangelifeitmusthave beentohaveseenitdailyand coexistwithitforallthoselongyears.So IhadcomelookingfortheBerlinWall andfounditinaplaceInever expected,inthemindsandsoulsandmemoriesof Berlinerslikethe bicyclemanandmillionsof otherswhohadwatchedthewallgoup, livedthrough thehorrible divisionsinfamiliesthatitcaused,andwere theretoseeitcomecrumblingdownsuddenlyand withoutwarningone afternoon.Aftertwenty-eightlong,hardyears,allthecheckpointswere opened,andthewallfell,beginningatBrandenburgGateandcontinu- ingonforahundredmiles,thecrumblingspreading asfastasawild brushfireinawindstorm.

“Here,letmeshowyou,”saidthebicycleman. Hebecameplayful, seemingyoungerthanhisyears.Heactedmorelikeakidonajoy ride aroundhisneighborhoodthananentrepreneurprovidingataxi fortour- ists.Hestoodhighashepedalednowandgotup afullheadofspeed. Suddenly,thebicycleveeredoff thenarrowcourseofthewall,sharply swervingtotheleftacrossthebricklineandontotheasphaltpavement.

Mybodytilted withtheabruptturn,andIheldontothesidesofthecab toabsorbthesway.

“See?NowwearefreeinWestBerlin,ja?”

Andthenjustassuddenly,heswervedthebicyclehardtotheright,

thistimecrossingovertheBerlinWallmarkers wherethewallonce stoodandontoclearpavement, andonceagain,Ireachedfor theside wallofthe cab.

“Andnow—nowweareprisonersinEastBerlin.”

Heswervedthecyclesharplybacktotheleftagain.“Andnowwe arebackinWestBerlin.”

Andthenbacktothe right.“AndnowEast again.”

Hecontinuedmakingserpentineturnsbackandforthfromeastto

westuntilfinallytheoncomingtrafficbeganapproaching.Hesteered usbacktosafety alongtheroad’sshoulder,wherewehadbeenbefore onthewestsideofthewall.

Thecyclistwasbreathingheavily,recoveringfromtheexertion of

crisscrossingthephantomBerlinWallsomanytimes. Irelaxed mygrip on thesidewallsofthecab andsaidnothing,astheBrandenburgGate nowcameintofullview.Icouldseethecleardome of theReichstag buildingbeyond thetreeline.Thecyclistlookedbacktoward thefor- merEastGermansideof thewall,butupwardandatthetreetops,asif he werelookingover somethingand acrossthe wide-openstreet.