I'm a tourist at homeWhat a waste to take your home town for granted! I've known that for ages, but I remember it everytime I go away and return. Berlin is a great place and I love being here. I love how there's history in every single pore, how you can lie down in the park in the city centre, how Berlin is chic and often cheap; trash and sometimes posh; dirty and beautiful. But Berlin is gruffy and sometimes almost inapproachable. Especially in winter, she is. Or when you're lazy and lead back and you expect her to do all the work. It's not that easy. She's sitting there, her legs crossed and her eyes half-closed, playing hard-to-get and waiting for you to do the first step. And the second. I'm starting all over again, everytime I come back here.
From time to time I try to see my own city with the curious, appreciative eyes of a tourist. I wander then, slowly and patiently, ready to look into dark corners and talk to strangers. I went on a tour last week, through Kreuzberg, the old migrant's and worker's district. The walking tour was supposed to guide us the 'multicultural Kreuzberg'. Indeed, almost 50% of the Kreuzberger people don't carry a German passport. A lot of them are of Turkish descent, but they mix with people from Arabian countries, with people from the Balkans and from Russia and from Italy and from Eastern European Countries...and with all those Germans who like to call themselves 'alternative', who vote for the green and the deep-red parties, those who used to throw tomatos and stones or still do so and those who are not alternative but like to appear so. Those who can't afford new jeans and those who buy used-look branded ones.
A diverse district as it is, there's often trouble in Kreuzberg. Everyone in Berlin I know has at least one story to tell about Kreuzberg, here's mine:
Last friday, I learned to appreciate the hospitality of those who we used to call "Gastarbeiter" in the 60s & 70s - guestworker: you may come, earn some money and boost our economy, but please leave again after a while. The Turkish, Spanish and Italian workers delayed and finally forgot their return home and raised their children here, who now often are torn between two homes, none of which is 100%.
Our little group of ten people passed a big apartment block and we noticed an unconspicious little board with the drawing of a mosque in one of the windows in the first floor. We looked at the board for a while and our tourguide said there's a little mosque inside. "Inside this flat, right in an apartment block?" "Yes, it's quite small, but there's a mosque." A man sitting on a bench near the apartment block's entry noticed us and waved at us. "Would you like to come inside? Come on, I'll show you!" We hesitated, but finally decided to follow. We soon reached the prayer room, as big and in the shape of an ordinary living room: a wide dark red carpet was glowing under big golden Arabic letters on the wall, "In the name of God, most Gracious, most Compassionate." A group of Kurdish Muslims and US-American Christians was just having a meeting inside and we were invited to join and listen. We didn't have enough time, our hosts were disappointed as they had already sent someone to get tea for us. Their hospitability made us speechless; how friendly they were! They pretended not to mind our uncovered shoulders and cleavages, they pretended not to mind that we were sweaty and uncleaned. They did so because they believe God told them to be friendly to their guests. I prayed that they were welcomed when they first arrived in my country, as I have never offered tea to a stranger.
Those Kurdish Muslims have shown me a mosque in a street that I've passed a hundred times without knowing.
My forefathers' guests have become my hosts.
And the best thing about it is: These two little hours have not only changed my perception of my own city, but are also helping me to cope with the fact that I'm not travelling at the moment. I feel a bit trapped in Berlin. But it's a very good place for that, if you're ready to go out and explore.
¶ Samstag, Juli 15, 2006