by La. f.
The routine began at 7.45 in the morning. We are in Schöneberg my district for 12 days, and breakfast is called Potemkin Cafe, a bit Russian a bit Kraut little bar, located in Viktoria-Luise-Platz, green romantic corner in the German capital. Potemkin…right. Immediately, no way out from movie sirens. The real itinerary is consumed on board the subway, which in Berlin is called U-Bahn, connected in certain salient points of the cartography to the S-Bahn, the highway. Gorgeous. How I would have done without these fide maids, the pride of the Berlin railway transport, to get to my beloved places, and work in those few crazy and swirling days? My range is concentrated between Tiergarten, the charming Mitte and Friedrichstraße, which cuts perpendicularly the city and home to one of the most beautiful examples of Art Nouveau architecture in Berlin, the Friedrichstadt- Palast. Sharp, night, moon, harsh, extreme, extravagant and cozy. Everything and its opposite, is Berlin. And by virtue of these sharp contrasts, which are eliminated in one of the most fascinating cities in Europe and in the world, Berlin is historical and futuristic and its constantly changing moods are reflected in the U-Bahn. In its passengers.
Yellow is the symbolic color of the cars, which as opposed to the colorful Londoners exude the typical rigor of the German spirit. The entrance is a plunge into real socialism. Intersecting lines of black, gray, in the load-bearing structures, supported by initially dirty walls and then cleaned with a lot of elbow grease. Real and symbolic dirt. A pitch color evoking abnormal and unique horrors. Berlin has a negative aura that it does not clean and that it even tried to drive away. It reworks in its positive sides, many and arisen spontaneously, as a reaction, the pre-existing ruins of totalitarianism. The dynamism of this cultural city is unbeatable. Always in open competition with London. Berlin is a land of music, we think of the Philharmonie. New York has the Carnegie, the Radio City Music Hall, Club 55 and all together do not make the prestige of this institution.
From which point you will hear, in the Berlin sky, the sound of an oboe proceeding from the Philharmonie? The subway approaching Marlene Dietrich Platz, the open space closest to the building. A sudden switching movement between tracks, and here we turn the page and enter the more musical district of Europe.
I am even fond of the recorded voice: “Mendelssohn Bartholdy-Park!”
Alienating effect is instead the little orchestra that suddenly plays the Latin American hit-single on the U-Bahn. Knock it off. Much better ponies, Femen, drag queens. We really saw everything on the subway. When you mean the – human – environment that creates an environment, in agreement with the screeching of the carriages on the tracks that host us. A steel symphony, which begins at Alexanderplatz and goes to Zoologischer Garten, with crescendo at Berlin Hauptbahnhof, the main train station. The destination of each suburban journey. One afternoon it had to happen to get lost, thinking I was a great Berliner, in a S-Bahn train bound for suburban.