Over the weekend of May 13-15, the Karnival Der Kultur took place in the center of Berlin in the Kreuzberg neighborhood. In the days leading up to it, we had received plenty of prior notice about just how big and crazy this can get. The biggest party of the year was not to be taken lightly, if you didn’t want a large crowd, then you were to avoid this at all costs. I didn’t know what to expect when I caught the train to Halleches Tor on the first night. The train was noticeably packed, but nothing unusual for a Friday night. However, once I got off that rain and followed the crowd, things quickly unfolded. Heading up the stairs, I could hear the Karnival before I could see it. The reggae/rap music was echoing throughout the station walls as the crowds quickly became congested. I reached the top of a stairway, and another crowd of people from another direction converged on us. It took a good five minutes just to get out of the station, shoulder to shoulder, inching forward, everyone in town had come out apparently. I didn’t know the half of it.

Once I managed to get out of the station I was able to find wiggle room and was able to walk at a more leisurely pace, every where you went, though, there were people around you. The first thing I saw was a stage with music playing, the bazaar stage it was called, I had read about it earlier and it appeared to be the main stage of the whole thing. But this didn’t mean a whole lot, here were music stages everywhere, each one playing its own genre of music with its own cultural influence. There was a stage with Latino/Hispanic music, there was German music, various nationalities of African music, Jamaican music, Country music, Rock music, Electro, you name it. All of the various cultures of Berlin had come together at this one place, for this one weekend for everyone to experience. It didn’t end with the music, however. Everywhere there were kiosk with foods influenced by different nationalities and cultures, as well as clothing and other homemade antiques such as wood carvings and jewelry. If anyone is familiar with Folklife in Seattle, this was like that, only on crack.

I cannot imagine how many tens of thousands of people were there. Possibly even hundreds of thousands. Everywhere I went, the Karnival just expanded further and further, once you entered, it just never ended. The crowds of people kept the moving slow, so you had to take shortcuts behind tents if you wanted to get anywhere fast. I wanted to get a pictures for just how big this Karnival was, and I found myself walking for hours just figuring out where the borders were. On a map, it looked so small, but Berlin is a big city, and these were some open streets, and they were all just packed.

I had heard the the Karnival almost did not happen this year, due to the levels of garbage and waste and glass that accumulates. After spending only one night there, this is very obvious to see. There was broken glass everywhere. Trash lined the street curbs, and the garbage cans were overflowing. Is there no way to keep this from happening when bringing large groups of people like this together all the time? One place I went to certainly tried. I went to an Ethiopian food kiosk and ordered a bread rice and sauce dish. I had no idea what it was called, but it looked good, and I wanted to try something new. In the process of purchasing the food, I noticed that I was charged an extra 2 euro. I looked at the change and hesitated to walk away. The man said something to me, yet I couldn’t understand at all. He repeated again, pointing at the food, and again when I looked at it. Then I heard the word teller, plate in German, then I understood. The was a 2 euro deposit for the plate that the food was on, it wasn’t a paper plate, it was ceramic, and we would get the deposit back when we brought the plate back. Good for them. Rather than a wasteful paper plate, they were trying to renew and conserve as much as possible. I had experienced this earlier when I went to the Hertha/Munich game, a 2 euro deposit was required for the plastic mugs for beer. Smart.

One of the more notable experiences of that first night was a large drum circle that had been formed. People were all crowding around this group of people, who were dispersed amongst the crowd, continually playing a fast paced beat that you couldn’t help but shake your body to. It was less of a dance and more of a rhythm. I pushed my way through to get as close to the drummers as possible. There were a couple guys who weren’t playing instruments but were holding up there hands and blowing whistles to direct the drummers. It was interesting to see that such basic and almost primitive sounds, when joined together in harmony like so, could be so pleasant and exciting and draw such a crowd.

That was the first night.

The next day, I played some pickup ball with a group of guys, all of whom were from South America. So I had to trade not understanding any German to not understanding any Spanish. Oh my god it was so much fun, but this is another story for another time. Anyway I hung out with them after we played and it turns out that one of them was in a band that was going to be playing at the bazaar stage at 8pm at the Karnival that night. I would be sure to go to that. I tried to arrive a little early, but everything was so busy that I ended up being a little late, so they were already playing when I got there. The guy I played with, Rodrigo, was actually the lead singer of the band. He, like many of the guys I played with, was Columbian, and he sang in Spanish and addressed the crowd in German. He was an entertainer too, he got everyone to clap there hands and sings lyrics, and even start bending over and getting low to the ground before bringing them back up, impressive. I looked around for some of the other players, but couldn’t find any, with the crowd that bug it was hopeless anyway. Afterwards, when the band had finished and the crowd dispersed momentarily to make way for the next band coming on, I realized that all the guys I knew were literally in the front row the whole time. No wonder I couldn’t find them. The rest of the night was spent similar to the first, mostly just exploring the different kiosks and listening to different music. Two things of note though. Many of the African, I don’t know which nationalities, kiosks served fruit flavored beers. Banana beers and orange and pinapple beers, these were new to me, I never knew they existed. Secondly, there was a large church inside the boundaries of the Karnival. This struck me as odd, I wouldn’t expect a place of worship to be home to such a hectic atmosphere. And it wasn’t. When I went inside, there were seats everywhere, people could go up the stairs and watch from up above, near a giant organ, and everyone listened quietly as soothing, melodic violin and stringed instruments were played. Quite different from just outside the door.

The third day was the day of the parade. Ross, his mom, Ian and I all went to an FC Union game before hand, again different story, before coming back and catching the parade in full swing. Gneisenaustrasse, which our school had been on, was completely filled. Floats were slowly driving by. We decided to follow the flow of the crowd and tag along behind various floats, each with their different themes. At some point I found a coconut on the ground, one which had served as someone’s beverage. I began kicking it around, back and forth with Ian and Ross, and other people soon joined in. Soon we were darting through crowds kicking this coconut around, getting all kinds of people to join in. That’s what I’m talking about! Football is universal, everyone loves it, it’s a great times, it’s fun, it is part of culture, it is its own culture. Only the police wouldn’t join in. I, foolishly attempted to meg an officer, and he yelled at me and I almost got arrested. No more of that. The coconut didn’t last long, someone eventually smashed it and the fun was over. As the night went on, different stages were still performing music and large groups were huddled around them. I eventually got tired and made my way to my hostel, which I had cleverly booked only a couple blocks away.

The DDR Museum, to my disappointment, but not to my surprise, did not consist of arcade games and dance moves, but instead focused on the lifestyles and cultures of people living in East Germany after World War 2. I have heard much about the harsh conditions that sparked open riots, which were violently surpressed., but never had I seen so in depth a look at how people lived I this part of the world, completely walled off from everyone else. Everything was detailed here, from the traditional trabak cars, built for two, to the nude beaches which miraculously thrived while under the Soviet supervision. Yes you heard that last part right. Nude beaches were common in East Germany. Which is especially surprising given the Soviet’s strong stance against the influence of radical west cultural ideals. Nude beaches were definitely not considered traditional.

The anti western movement was on full display here in the museum. I fact, come to mention it, so far, while I’ve been in Germany, anything at all having to do with either the wall or East Germany division, has always been spun to have the westerners be portrayed as the good guys or the heroes with the right ideals, while the east, communists, Russians and so on, are depicted as evil. I am aware that building a wall was definitely extreme, but it is incorrect to assume that this whole side of the wall was hidden in a shadow. Here, though, most likely to accommodate the constant influx of American tourists, the west is victorious and claims the right to portray the east as less than ideal. The room with the interrogator was a great example of this. Yes there were prisoners taken, yes they were mistreated, but when is this not the case in any radical social movement? The American Government has claimed responsibility for torturing prisoners at Guantanamo, yet we will probably never hear from their perspectives. This may be an extreme point, but it is one of the best examples that I can really think of.

Other examples of culture on display were the musical movements, the prevalence of rock and roll surely did its part to disrupt the soviets vice grip on Berlin. While people were taught and raised to do the specific waltz, which was clean and fluid, westerners when wild, let their hair grow out and headbanger their brains out. Maybe that wasn’t this time period quite yet, but you get the point.

How can one summarize Prague after spending only one weekend there? First of all let me start by saying that I have been missing Prague ever since I left. It has taken me more than a week to fully gather myself, mentally and physically after being barraged by its beauty to finally be able to put the details of mythoughtd into words to attempt to discuss the city that I will never forget.

Having to survive in Berlin without knowing very much German is already quite difficult, but to survive in Prague without knowing, literally, any Czech is impossible. And thus I would not say that my time in Prague was spent surviving but rather living. Caution was thrown to the wind as we, as a class collectively, were released from the confines of a classroom and given instead as human sacrifices to the city. During our first night, after we all finished eating, we made our way back through the heart of the city on a busy Saturday night. After seeing the popular destinations in the day, I was not prepared for the lush nightlife that was thriving right when we stepped outside the door. The crowds were thick and the aroma of mischief and scandal gripped me as I struggled to keep up with the the rest of my American brethren. The city was truly alive at night. During the day it hides itself in disguise as a polite and classy city with beautiful red tiled roofs as far as the eye can see. It’s bridges seem to be from antiquity until you see a tram pass over it by the other tourists. At night, though, the lights come out. The churches are on top of their game as people thrive in their presence guided by the streetlights with old hues vibrating from them.

What sets Prague apart from the rest of the continent? Why would Prague be the place to go over the more familiar destinations of Paris and London? I have never been to either of these, but I will offer my opinion. Prague has managed to maintain its old age charms while still being swept up in the tide of cultural and societal evolution. I won’t deny it, the city smells of American capitalism around every corner, the constant presence of sex shops and naked women on public news fliers attest to this. It would normally be a shame  to see a beautiful old city fall victim to this new era of civilization. However, in his case, Prague seems to own these details and make a so much a part of its culture that you feel as if they belong there and should come as no surprise. I hesitate apply a nick name that I know nothing about seeing as how I have never been there either, but I would venture to claim that Prague is the Vegas of Europe. The cit is much smaller than say Berlin, but still big and populated. Over the lack of overs infancy makes it easier to enjoy all that Prague has to offer, at least along the borders of the beautiful river that flows right through the middle of it.

On our first day, we spent most of the time touring around the old, famous castle on the nearby hill that overlooks the whole city. There were lots of people, but it was by no means crowded. On that same night, I decided to go for a night run to try and claim a little more familiarity with the the city. I got lost and eventually found myself at this same cattle from earlier, the only thing was there was no one there. I mean no one. Throughout the whole surrounding neighborhood on the hill, there was nary a soul in sight. Only occasionally did I jog passed a small group of people dressed up from the medieval fair earlier in the day, who had no business otherwise to be there. This is an area of beautiful small buildings and tight alleys, cobblestone roads everywhere. I kept on trying to find a restaurant or a cafe that would be open at this hour, but there was nothing. This struck me as special in two ways. First that a whole neighborhood in such a dense city could maintain such an absence of night life. Secondly, that this absence, I believe, was due out of an old respect for the castle, church and other old traditional buildings in that area. It is no secret that Prague has become an increasingly touristy city. The locals know his and, in order to preserve the dignit of these sacred places, want to avoid having people get drunk on its premises and thus risking turning the place into a sty either through garbage or drunkenly damaging the property.

Benjamin says, “that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.” Keeping this in mind while visiting a museum on the history of German film is truly inspiring. No art for in history has so mercilessly rendered all other art forms so obsolete as film has. A film is in itself already a mechanical production, and thus mechanical reproduction is nothing special. Where as for thousands of years, what man has done by hand is now possible almost entirely though technology. 3D printers for sculpture, computers for architecture, and graphic design for painting. Of course there are the differences that cannot be replicated through technology, such as the brush strokes and the cracks in the concrete. These are the small minor details, that when accumulated together makes art human. In terms of photography, and later film, though, all production is created through a lens, what is produced is merely manipulated rather than created. The stage of theater has long been a home to artistic expression, and now, through close ups and filters, we have stories revealed to us one frame at a time, all rehearse and perfected and captured and copied exactly forever. There may be, in terms of aura, advancements that have been made as technology has advanced. For instance the introduction of sound has lead the text dialogue to become completely unnecessary. And the ability to allow color to be visible when filming has changed how we see the world through the screen. These two examples, although aged,  both have their own situational qualities to them. I use the recent film The Artist as a great example. In this day and age of computer images, it still takes a special talent, a flair for brining the old school back, that which was once revolutionary to be brought to light all over again. The film the Artist is in black and white and with no sound, a true homage to the birth of film if there ever was one. Instead of letting what was dead stay there, it has been cleverly reborn again to serve as a reminder of just how far we have come.

Sound and color are probably the two most obvious forms of aura for a film that can come to mind. Just as the dust on a record produces the crackling sound that adds an aging effect that we all cannot help but love, so too has the clear and succinct sharpness of film come from a place of similar origin. Old film reels often have scratch marks that, for a brief second are visible before they disappear. Older film can often be full of these marks and thus a whole reel can consist of brief stutters and halts that add an authenticity of sorts that one would not find in movies today. When you think of clear images, you would usually want to avoid these minor imperfections, but when you see them for what they are, you gain an appreciation for their existence as you think that never would you see this happen nowadays.

After visiting both the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe and the Topography of Terror in one day, so much was on my mind that I needed a day of recovery to gather myself to properly convey what it was that I had just experienced.

Beginning with the Memorial, I decided to read through the whole chronological timeline first when I arrived. Although it took quite a bit of time, as I read it I increasingly felt that it was more and more important to finish. As I was reading the information, I noticed that a lot of the people around me where looking up at the section written in German. I wondered how they felt about reading this. I saw the word German referring  to forces, authorities and soldiers many times and I realized that these were the ancestors of some of the people standing next to me. I can’t begin to know how one should go about dealing with being associated with such monstrosities. I know that these people could not have possibly been part of what happened to the Jews, and I guess what I’m wish I could tell them was that I knew that. History is filled with wrongdoings, that is why it is essential in schools, we must learn from our mistakes. I  claim American citizenship, yet I wish that Oppenheimer had never built the atom bomb. I also wish that we would not have invaded Iraq and Vietnam, and, and, and…

As you can see, my thoughts have strayed from the primary reason for the Memorial, but I like to believe that is one of the purposes. Our tour guide Boris mentioned a way that people should feel. Usually I am against enforcing a certain mentality, however, in this case, I feel it is certainly appropriate that at boy the Memorial and the Topography of Terror, people attempt to remain both self conscious as well as open to influence. After reading the Huberman, this is a good time to remind people that sometimes we have to force ourselves to imagine the unimaginable.