Germany June 2025. Part 2: Berlin
18 June. Wednesday.
I sorted out payment with Das Kleine Hotel and left early to walk to the station in Weimar to catch the 10:09 to Erfurt which is a very confusing station on two levels with a tram line passing dangerously through the middle. The 10:32 intercity train to Hamburg Altona via Berlin to was delayed by 5 minutes, which was good for Germany. We rushed along at up to 200 kilometres an hour and Sieglinde met me at the main station in Berlin at 12:30 after some confusion over exactly where she would be waiting. Mr Bean-like I was waiting for her on the wrong level. I checked in at nearby Motel One - room 417 on the 4th floor, a comfortable room but no decent views, and then we took the S-Bahn and U-Bahn to her flat, a wonderful set of rooms on the first floor of a four storey building constructed at the start of the 20th century in a quiet leafy quarter of south Berlin. It is neatly filled with a lifetime’s accumulation of furniture, books, ceramics, pictures, with lofty stuccoed ceilings and a balcony lined with flower pots.
Sieglinde's flat with Hubert's book centre stage, Berlin
Stucco ceiling in Sieglinde's flat, Berlin
There was another Mr Bean moment when the door handle to the main entrance came off in my hand – we managed to bodge a repair. We had an evening meal in the Italian restaurant Aperitivo (Speechtexter.com suggests: a parrot evil) which is almost opposite her flat. Sieglinde was greeted with a warm embrace by the chef and I discovered the delights of Aperolspritz. I saw Sieglinde back to her apartment, taking care over the handle, and made my way back to the hotel by U-Bahn and S-Bahn.
19 June. Thursday.
I returned to Sieglinde's flat where she had prepared a good Berlin-style breakfast, elegantly served for me. Fortunately I had learned the German way of dealing with the soft-boiled egg at Das Kleine Hotel in Weimar, so think I acquitted myself well.
Breakfast is served, Berlin
We took the bus to Unter den Linden where, in the Einstein Café, we treated ourselves to quite a decent cream tea with what appeared to be proper clotted cream rather than quark. It gave me an idea for the celebration Kate suggested I held in my garden on 12 July, the day before my 80th.
Cream tea with real clotted cream in Einstein Café, Berlin
We took a bus To the Philharmonie Concert Hall where we attended a performance by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, with the visiting Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel, of Beethoven’s overture and incidental music to Goethe’s drama Egmont and Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony. The massive concert hall was packed and there was a well-deserved standing ovation at the end. Because they require an orchestra, a singer and a speaker as well as a theatre, the nine Beethoven pieces are rarely performed as a complete set, although the overture and the two songs are often performed separately. Before the concert there was a free talk in one of the foyers, illustrated by brief excerpts from the scores, a typical German deep philosophical study on Schicksal (fate) and the role it played in the development of both works. I got rather lost in the sesquipedalian hermenuticologicoconcatenation of German vocabulary, not helped by the fact that the architects had decided to make one wall of the foyer entirely of glass, sloping as if it were a greenhouse, and facing west straight into the fierce setting sun. Fortunately the main auditorium was cooler. As the Philharmonie is somewhat remotely situated, we took a taxi back afterwards.
Philharmonie during the interval, Berlin
20 June. Friday.
As it was another hot day and Sieglinde wanted to show me something of Berlin, we took an open top tour of Berlin lasting about two hours with a very humorous commentary by the Berliner guide, pointing out things good and bad, for example the many empty properties in the city centre. The Russian Embassy, in a modern classical revival style builing had protective barriers in front, forcing pedestrians into the street. I had seen the holocaust memorial near the Brandenburg Gate on a previous visit, but a notable newcomer to the scene is the Berliner Schloss, a recreation of the Hohenzollern palace which was expanded according to plans by Andreas Schlüter between 1689 and 1713, considered a major work of Baroque architecture Badly damaged during the war it was razed to the ground by the East German authorities in 1950. In the early 1970s, a severely modernist parliamentary and cultural centre known as the Palace of the Republic was erected on the site, incongruously incorporating a single balcony from the Baroque building. There in 1973 we had taken part in demonstrations following the coup by Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet which toppled Allende's democratically elected left-wing Unidad Popular government. After German reunification in 1990 the Palace of the Republic was demolished in 2009 during which 5,000 tons of asbestos were discovered. From 2013 reconstruction of the original place was begun to house the Humboldt Forum Museum and work continued combining both both historicist and modernist elements and the last decorations were only installed earlier this year.
Demonstration in front of the Palace of the Republic, 1973, Berlin
The open top, hop on, hop off bus had a well designed route which took in most of the major sites in the centre of what was once both West and East Berlin, separated by The Wall. The guide adjusted the language of his commentary to the people who were getting on and off the bus and it certainly saved us plenty of walking around on a very hot day.
21 June. Saturday.
The Feddersens, a family we had known since 1929 when my mother was an au pair in Schleswig-Holstein, collected us from Sieglinde’s apartment at 12:30 and drove us to Potsdam, which is to Berlin what Versailles is to Paris. It was crowded on a summer weekend but we managed to find a place to park. We strolled the shaded avenues to Sanssouci, Broder and Petra taking great care in pointing out potential trip hazards. We arrived in front of the Frederick the Great’s summer palace, built between 1745 and 1747 to meet his need for a private residence where he could escape the pomp and ceremony of the royal court and play his flute. It is perched on top of terraces of vines, which can be closed off in winter for their protection against frosts. We took photos by the fountain and began to stroll round the extensive parks.
My first visit to Sanssouci with Hubert, 1965, Potsdam
Return visit to Sanssouci with Hubert, Sigrid and Jill, 1965, Potsdam
Broder tried to persuade us that a fountain in the grounds was Frederick the Great's bathtub and the park had to be closed when he wanted to take a bath. We watched with amusement the dramatic presentation of an Italian tour guide with his extravagant gestures.
Petra, Ian, Sieglinde and Broder in front of Sanssouci, Potsdam
It was very hot day and both Broder and Petra were extremely kind and thoughtful. We had a long search to find an ice cream parlour in the town and then went on to visit the Neues Palais, begun after the Seven Years War in 1763, where the statues were being conserved and had been removed rom the roof.
I posed in the sentry box, 1965, Neues Palais, Potsdam
We then drove back to Broder and Petra’s flat and were shown round, including the basement, converted into a studio where there were paintings by Broder’s great grandfather Hans Peter Feddersen (1848-1941) and also by Petra’s father.
Kuhweide in der Nordfriesischen Marsch, 1918, Museum Kunst der Westküste. Wikimedia Commons
We went to an excellent local restaurant where their son Finn joined us. He is studying international management at King’s College London and is about to start a year in the United States. We took desserts and coffees at a smaller restaurant over the road where the staff recognised and hugged Sieglinde and treated us to an assortment of cakes. Broder ordered a taxi back home and when we went to pay, we discovered that Broder had already paid for us. It had been a wonderful day.
22 June. Sunday.
In the morning we caught a taxi to a stone laying ceremony At the Jewish cemetery. On the way, the taxi driver said as he passed under a bridge leading to the Trade Fair Centre that, last time he had passed under it, it was thronged with people queuing for the latest Mary Jane cannabis fair. Something for my ne3xt visit, perhaps.
We arrived the Jewish cemetery in good time and gathered in the entrance. A member of the Jewish choir in which Sieglinde sings had died in 2023 and the gravestone was to be dedicated. The cantor led us to the grave where the tombstone was covered with a drape and started to sing the prayers. Gabriel is the choirmaster and also an opera singer. He is an Israeli but had settled in Berlin because he hated the policies of Netanyahu. His voice as he sang was very haunting and moved me greatly. After the prayers the tombstone was unveiled and a few words were said by his widow, when I learned that the father of the deceased had died in Auschwitz. Then each person approached the tomb and laid a small stone on the flat surface. With so many funerals over the past year, it all became too much for me, and Sieglinde had to calm me down in a quiet corner of the cemetery before we made our way to a light meal in the Tyrolean restaurant near the gate of the cemetery, to which we were both invited. I hesitated at first as I was so moved by the ceremony and the shared grief, but I went and was made most welcome.
Stone laying ceremony in the Jewish Cemetery, Berlin
Afterwards we looked for a boat trip on the lakes. We had been misdirected to a landing stage near to the cemetery, so we took the S-Bahn to Wannsee. The trains were very crowded and it was very hot. Nevertheless, it was interesting to see Berliners on a Sunday outing, many with bikes on the trains. We looked for an ice and coffee but found nowhere suitable. Everything was rather scruffy, so we returned to the Schillerplatz and the Aperitivo restaurant for a final meal of Sicilian spaghetti with mushrooms and truffles.
23 June. Monday.
We arrived At the Hauptbahnhof in good time for the 12:03 train to Paris which was was delayed and the departure platform had changed. The train stopped in Stendal and another station a little further on for “technical checks”. It was thirty minutes late and I was in eed of sustenance. After a long wait, I was first in the queue for coffee and a snack in the restaurant car when an announcement told us to return to our seats immediately and collect our luggage as the train would go no further than Kassel. There we were unceremoniously dumped in the heat on the platform where we waited and were told that they were looking for another train to take us on to Paris.
Unscheduled change of trains, Kassel
As our train was not going anywhere, the replacement train had to arrive on another platform, so all the passengers had to lug their cases up what seemed an endless flight of stairs, over a footbridge and then down to the platform. I was impressed that all the seat reservations were carried over onto the replacement train, and I was almost first in the queue for the long awaited coffee.
Trying to make up time at 200 mph, Germany
By now the train was two hours late but I managed to get the message to the Hotel Margot that I would be booking in at 22:00 rather than 20:00 and, once over the border into France, all passengers were provided with a consolation snack box by SNCF. I assume they charged it back to Deutsche Bundesbahn.
SNCF consolation snack, France
The room in Hotel Margot was small and extremely hot. I escaped it for chicken and chips with salad in the Café de la Gare du Nord and managed to sleep well despite the heat.
24 June Tuesday.
I was up and out early for a breakfast back in the Café de la Gare du Nord to give me strength for the interminable queues in the Gare du Nord for the 11:02 Eurostar. I managed to put my passport into the reader the wrong way and it refused to recognise me, but eventually I made through the various checks and was rewarded with a good seat in the Eurostar, a window seat facing the direction of travel with nobody next to me, and also near the café. The reserved seat numbers had been changed as a longer train was put into service. The French controls had been slower than usual so we arrived in St Pancras twenty minutes late, but still leaving ample time for an hour in a pub near Paddington where I noticed aperolspritz was available. My journey from Paddington to Exeter was uneventful and compared well with Deutsche Bundesbahn. I allowed myself the luxury of a taxi home as it was still hot and arrived at my house at about 19:30.
My two weeks in Weimar and Berlin have resolved many things. The libraries, museums and archives in Weimar now know of some more of Hubert's writings. I have met up with Susie, Hubert’s adopted daughter, and Hubert’s partner Sieglinde, and we helped each other through our different grieving processes. I have met up with friends that the family has known for almost a century. Aspects of my life in Exeter and the wider world have fallen into perspective and I am serene and lighter in spirit. Between us, Sieglinde and I are reconciled to almost two centuries of memories and experiences, joys and sorrows. All that is more than a minor achievement for two weeks away, isn't it?
25 June Wednesday.
Today was the first anniversary of our friend Hubert's death
