9 Nov. has been called one of Germany's "Fateful Days" (Schicksalstag), and to celebrate the end of the city's partition, we'll look across Checkpoint Charlie
Cheap döner at a kebab-restaurant on Oranienstrase. THe punks begging for money at Kottbusser Tor. Gedächniskirchen, the nearby Arcade at night, the fugly Olof Palme-platz, eating a whole meal including a 1 Liter tankard of beer for 4:50 Mark in the city center, Schnell-imbiss, Karl Marx-Allee looking like the world's slowest racing track when the Trabbis were putt-putting along.
And getting the business-end of an AK-47 almost-but-not-quite pointed at me when the Border Guard at Sassnitz took my passport and handed it off to a colleague for a closer look (or to make me nervous).
Thanks for that. November 9th was the only day I can recall my mother ever cursing me. I had just watched the legendary Schabowski presser and yelled to my mom „I think the wall has just fallen!“. Her reply? „Ja ja“. If you know, you know.
I was very young back then (a few months before I turned 8), and what I (think I) recall are happy people demolishing that awful Wall. And Beethoven's 9th, as conducted by Leonard Bernstein a bit later.
Nostalgia.
Cheap döner at a kebab-restaurant on Oranienstrase. THe punks begging for money at Kottbusser Tor. Gedächniskirchen, the nearby Arcade at night, the fugly Olof Palme-platz, eating a whole meal including a 1 Liter tankard of beer for 4:50 Mark in the city center, Schnell-imbiss, Karl Marx-Allee looking like the world's slowest racing track when the Trabbis were putt-putting along.
And getting the business-end of an AK-47 almost-but-not-quite pointed at me when the Border Guard at Sassnitz took my passport and handed it off to a colleague for a closer look (or to make me nervous).
Huhum, sounds like you had a good time.
I take it the 4.50 Mark were prices in East Germany?
I think so, but I can't swear to it. There were plenty of cheap places to eat on the west side too, if one just stepped off the tourist-trap streets.
Plus, squatting with BZ-punks in a semi-abandoned building brought down the "cost of accommodation" too.
Thanks for that. November 9th was the only day I can recall my mother ever cursing me. I had just watched the legendary Schabowski presser and yelled to my mom „I think the wall has just fallen!“. Her reply? „Ja ja“. If you know, you know.
I was very young back then (a few months before I turned 8), and what I (think I) recall are happy people demolishing that awful Wall. And Beethoven's 9th, as conducted by Leonard Bernstein a bit later.