Hitting the Wall

“Are you carrying any explosive devices”? A helpful fellow traveller translated the border guard’s question for me. It was 1975, I was 20, and I was at Checkpoint Charlie in Friedrichstadt, Berlin. I’d spent that glorious summer hitchhiking around Europe, and the chance to secure a day visa to the East was irresistible. Formalities completed, I stepped into East Berlin and the world turned monochrome. It was chilling to see up close the guard towers, tank traps and mine fields on the East Berlin side of the Wall. I checked my front pocket yet again that my passport was safe and sound. I wandered around Alexanderplatz, gazed at the Brandenburg Gate, and was surprized by the numerous buildings still in a damaged state from World War 2 hostilities. Several times during the day I was approached by young men, asking if I would sell them the Levis I was wearing. As sunset approached, and I was heading back to the western side, (overnight stays were not permitted), I felt lucky to be from the West. By early evening, and back safely in West Berlin, its flashy gaudy neon and bars now seemed to me to flipping the bird to its Communist neighbour.
Thirty eight years passed until I returned to Checkpoint Charlie. Gone was my youth, my hair, and the freedom to roam unencumbered by responsibilities. Travel is about discovering new places and experiences, but can also be about going back. So much had changed. In 1975, study, career and family lay ahead for me. East Berlin’s future looked bleak. In 1989, while I was in Sydney helping to raise our toddlers, Berlin was throwing the biggest tantrum in modern history, tearing down the Wall and triggering the subsequent collapse of the DDR. Checkpoint Charlie, like so much else, has changed dramatically. Virtually all of the original structures are gone, save for a few replica signs. There is an informative open exhibit and assorted memorabilia. Modern Berlin bustles around the visitor and departing in any direction yields history, museums, and any number of other points of interest.
Both my visits to Checkpoint Charlie were especially memorable, for very different reasons. Which was best? Well, maybe I’ll have to return and lose myself in Berlin for a third time. After all, there is no Wall to stop me.