Living in Europe, I’m surrounded by history in a way I never was living in New York. Of course it’s in the nature of history that most of it is before my time and only really touches me tangentially, at best. But I remember the Cold War. It was the backdrop of my childhood. All the fears, real and imagined, are still there inside me, almost on a cellular level. So, for me Berlin — with its constant reminders of life as it was and hopes for life as it will be — was an incredibly moving revelation. As a seven-year-old, I remember having air raid drills where we were lined up in the school hallway and told to sit curled up facing the walls. I remember thinking that my small curved back would make a perfect target for a falling bomb, and I had nightmares about it for years. When the Wall came down, I was on my way to a life in Britain and I felt as if I was a part of history in a way I never had been before. So for a weekend’s worth of time, I felt my heart breaking and knitting back together over and over again as I walked for miles around this miraculous city.

Despite the fact that Checkpoint Charlie now seems as touristy as something out of Disney, it was amazing for me to see it. And the last remaining stretch of the wall covered with the “Eastside Gallery’s” mile of graffitti brought tears to my eyes. Yes, Iknow I am a hopeless romantic and I admit that many of my leftish leanings may be based on innocent optimism, but that doesn’t bother me. Berlin seems to me to be a city all about hope and optimism. As the city prepares to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Wall’s coming down, it is a living testimony that life can change for the better, that individual rights can win out.
So, what could have been better than landing, after a full day of sightseeing, smack in the middle of a new Berlin-style demonstration? As I walked towards my hotel, the road was blocked off with rows of police cars. Ordinarily, something like that would frighten me and hurl me in some other direction. But from a block away I could see balloons flying into the sky, I could hear German techno-punk rock n roll blaring from Potsdamer Platz, and I was pulled towards it. The square and surrounding roads were full of people of all ages, many carrying signs, some on floats, some handing out leaflets or wearing pirate hats. Unfortunately, I don’t speak German, so I asked someone if they spoke English and could tell me what the demonstration was about. The best she could explain in her limited English was that the government was proposing to make a new law limiting access to the internet, and that it had to do with censorship and human rights. I think it was a demonstration against the sort of law we are facing here in the UK (thanks to Elizabeth Baines for circulating this). To be honest, at the time it wasn’t the facts of the arguments that moved me. Rather, it was the fact that here in Berlin citizens were freely congregating to express their opinions in a way that was serious, yet fun and safe, with urgency but without violence. I tend to stay far away from such gatherings here in London, even if I agree with the issue. But there in Berlin, I was thrilled to have stumbled upon it and it touched on a fervent idealism that, I fear, has been lying dormant for too long. A real thrill.