On our last Sunday in Berlin, we made an offering to a playground troll at the southwest corner of the Tiergarten, in the shadow of the golden angel we remembered from that Wim Wenders movie. The offering was of a beat-up Nerf football we found left behind on the lawn, tethering that spot to our homeland in some kind of supply chain sympathetic magic, and a yellow flower I pinched from a nearby bush. We wished for safe travels home from our summer vacation, and in the end it mostly worked.
LOVED this post, Chris. As a lover of so many things Deutschland (as a Cold War teenager), I was happy to read about Berlin (my third favourite city in the world?🤷🏻), particularly the cultural changes
You took me back. From 70-72 I went to school in Munich. My first two years of college. On weekends my friends and I would take our hippie selves out to Perlacher Forst or the Englischer Garten, or down to the Isar, where we’d eat frisches Brot, Aufschnitt, Käse, and drink Wein or Bier. Those are still some of the best maels I’ve eaten. The Isar may not have been as clean as it now, but it was our river.
LOVED this post, Chris. As a lover of so many things Deutschland (as a Cold War teenager), I was happy to read about Berlin (my third favourite city in the world?🤷🏻), particularly the cultural changes
You took me back. From 70-72 I went to school in Munich. My first two years of college. On weekends my friends and I would take our hippie selves out to Perlacher Forst or the Englischer Garten, or down to the Isar, where we’d eat frisches Brot, Aufschnitt, Käse, and drink Wein or Bier. Those are still some of the best maels I’ve eaten. The Isar may not have been as clean as it now, but it was our river.
Love this story!
A lovely read. Once again, you made my day, Chris.