Creative, Chaotic and “Crazy” in Berlin
By Carly Kay
The familiar rumble of plastic suitcase wheels against cobblestoned streets was suddenly drowned out by the pulse of techno music and a cacophony of languages as I finally dragged my luggage over the threshold of Generator Hostel in Berlin Mitte.
The words “You are crazy my child. You must go to Berlin” and “Make love not war” were boldly printed upon cabinet doors that displayed a photo of the now-iconic kiss between former East German president Erich Honecker and former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev, painted on a piece of the Berlin Wall known as the East Side Gallery.
Within an instant, this dimly lit corner of the hostel lobby seemed to reinforce Berlin’s international reputation for chaos and creativity. After spending months researching the famously reunified city, I was prepared to enter in real life the picturesque vision of history-laced eccentricity that had vividly taken shape in my mind.
Yet, instead of being met by hordes of passionate young people, as I had imagined from the comforts of Santa Barbara, I encountered silent unblinking stares and direct, unapologetic words. Known for embracing freedom, the city exists at the same time in a culture that rigidly abides by unspoken rules.
Soon after I boarded a bus from Tegel airport, it became apparent that the local passengers had very little tolerance for visitors who unknowingly violated these mutually-recognized social agreements.
Taking in my new surroundings, I was suddenly ripped from my tranquil, contemplative state when the sound of loud banging against glass filled the air.
“My wife! My wife! Please, someone stop the bus. My wife is out there,” shouted a flustered man with two daughters in tow.
Despite the panic in the man’s voice, the bus driver continued to pull out of the station. I watched in disbelief as the nearly full bus watched the situation unfold without the slightest inclination to help the man left on the sidewalk.
After a few seconds of the traveler’s incessant pleading, a man inside the bus rolled his eyes and reluctantly yelled something in German to the bus driver, apparently driven more by annoyance than altruism.
Berliners and travelers alike glued their eyes to the confused family as they attempted to reconvene and reevaluate the transit system in the doorway of the bus. As I gaped at the family, people around me began to shift uncomfortably in their seats and a palpable frustration settled over the crowd.
Growing impatient with the family’s indecision, the same German man who spoke to the bus driver began aggressively making shoo-ing gestures towards the door.
“Out, Out,” he shouted bluntly to the family. “A different bus for you. Out.”
The confused family finally stepped off the bus to discuss travel logistics elsewhere.
As the engine revved, the bus driver’s voice came over the intercom. Unfamiliar syllables and guttural noises drifted over my head and provoked an outbreak of laughter from the locals around me.
I did not understand what the bus driver said, but could only imagine it had something to do with the visitor’s inability to understand the social expectations for proper bus etiquette. My suspicion was confirmed during our orientation when I heard stories of bus drivers denying rides to passengers if they were waiting just off to the side of designated stops.
These small codes and standards seemed to contradict the glorified free-spirited energy that I strongly associated with Berlin. The city fosters a sense of radical self-expression. But at the same time, its occupants are afforded a certain level of responsibility, to respect mutually-understood social values.
A bit unsure of our new temporary home, I considered how to navigate such a complex system of both rigidity and independence. The system both welcomes daring innovations with open arms, while it exiles particular deviations from the norm with sharp rebukes.
So, despite my apprehension, I confidently dragged my suitcase through the hostel lobby, ready to engage with a convoluted labyrinth of social norms that co-exist in the city that has an explosive sense of self-identity. I guess you could call me a ‘crazy child.’ I had truly arrived in Berlin.
UCSB journalism students are now reporting daily in Berlin for feature articles which will be published here in July. Meanwhile, they are blogging from the city about their travel and journalism experiences.
