The Wonders of Berlin (pt. I)

It's my fifth day in Berlin. It's amazing how my traveling experience changed once I was alone. Everything requires more courage to initiate. There's no one to turn to when I feel confused, and no one to laugh at my foreign blunders as I stumble clumsily around the city. I feel conspicuous with a backpack and camera, acutely aware of potential faux pas (faux passé?) and preemptively embarrassed of the ones I know I've already committed unknowingly.

However, the values of moving at my own pace make it worthwhile. There is time for introspection, opportunities to stop and gape with vacant abandon, slack-jawed with no nagging thoughts of group cohesion to interrupt my stupor. (This is not meant to cast a poor light on my travelling companions, who are a marvelous group.)

Today, on a whim, I decided to shell out 6 euros for a trip to one of Berlin's museums, the Pergamon. (I am aware that this sounds like a Pokemon.) After bumbling about the city's (excellent and timely) subway system, turning up at the entrance was a relief. I was surprised by its size--German architecture frequently opts for overbearing intimidation, and Pergamon was no exception.

I had reflected, as I was departing my domicile, that lunchtime would be an ideal time to arrive. Tourists and the culturally minded would be otherwise occupied by Berlin's excellent culinary attractions, leaving the museum relatively uncrowded. Sadly, I was mistaken: The entrance line stretched across half of the plaza, and the half hour that followed was spent jealously watching various school groups enter the museum uninhibited, often composed of teenaged students already looking bored.

I've been to a fair few museums, including Berlin's own museum of natural history the day before, and often find the content to be underwhelming, or something I had already known. The Pergamon was different.

After a surprise 50% student discount and a free audio tour (I was already thrilled with these developments), I entered the entrance hall (hurrhurr). I don't generally consider myself the sort of person who gasps, yet there I was, staring at the Pergamon acropolis temple with my jaw on the floor--the the first gasp of many.

Germany has had a highly active archeological scene, particularly considering its roles in both World Wars and the Cold one. Its archeologists have painstakingly recreated much of the Greek frieze from the Pergamon's previously shattered remains to a stunning extent. This recreation in Berlin was just as impressive as the acropolis in Athens.

In just the next room was the Market Gate of Miletus. Cue another gasp. Despite having been heavily damaged in WWII, plaster casts and patient work restored the facade to its prior 17m tall glory.

When first perusing the tourist pamphlet I had received from Wombat's (the hostel I've been staying at), the summary of the Pergamon claimed the entire Ishtar Gate was on display--all 120m of it. While this is incorrect, I still (surprise!) gasped when, in the next room, a healthy percentage of it had been reconstructed. Don't get me wrong, I love the austere (and historically false) white marble of Greek architecture. However, the brilliant cobalt of the Ishtar gate is simply stunning on another level entirely.

Fair warning: I intend to spend the rest of this post extolling the museum's many virtues. If you don't want to hear about it, skip to the bottom now.

I foolishly neglected to take a picture of the model. Here's
a neat illustration instead.

You are, astoundingly, still reading. In that case, we'll go to the next room, which had many more millennia old artifacts from Babylon. The exhibit included a model of the Tower of Babel, which looks like something Sauron would be proud to live in. I was under the impression scholars had no idea what it actually looked like, but the audio tour corrected me: they're simply not solid on the details. Ancient Mesopotamian architecture looks like it was lifted directly out of the shadow of Mount Doom. (can you tell I've been into Lord of the Rings lately?)

Babylonian relics sufficiently examined and goggled at, I moved on to the display of Islamic art. Despite the sheer majestic weight of the gates, it was this section of the museum that impressed me the most.

I am now obsessed with Islamic textiles. In climate-controlled glass cases, within stiflingly dry rooms, lay centuries-old pages of the Koran. Exquisite illustrations and incredible calligraphy. Intricately detailed leather and gold that was literally woven into the pages. Until now, and despite my intellectual acknowledgement of the contrary, I've had a habit of viewing history in black and white. In my mind, this mental image paired well with my perception of the past's simplicity. The riot of colors in Islamic art have finally succeeded in changing my perceptions. The complexity and vibrancy of the artwork are striking. 

One of the most truly astonishing displays was the improbably well-preserved interior of an Assyrian house, called the Aleppo room. My pictures are laughably inadequate; here's one from Google instead. Just imagine standing in it.

Predicting my dumbstruck immobility, the audio tour--
after detailing the room's fascinating history--
told me to "leave the Aleppo room so others may view it."

And there's more. Oh, so much more. Weapons. Carved crystal. Astounding woodwork and exceptional masonry. Yet, despite my attempts at finding the right words, the only way to appreciate it is to go yourself. It seems a light and inconsequential recommendation, but if you enjoy really old and really pretty craftsmanship, you owe it to yourself to visit the Pergamon

If you skipped the last couple of paragraphs (and I don't blame you; I get irritatingly verbose), now's probably a good time to resume reading. I'm currently in a Korean restaurant a few blocks from the heart of Berlin (yes, you read that correctly--Korean), and my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8:00. I'm in the midst of writing a post that covers the entire trip, and includes my (admittedly poor) excuses for the lack of updates. Barring unforeseen complications, it should be up in the next few days. I'll see you then.

Cheers,

Daniel