Sunday was rainy most of the day, and we stayed home until the evening, described later in this post. On Monday, we set out again to see more of Berlin's culture and history. Our first stop was the New Synagogue, which replaced the Old Synagogue some time in the 19th century. Here's its dome, seen from a few blocks away:
As with so much Jewish history in Berlin, the story of the synagogue is both heartbreaking and inspiring. On our first day's walk around I saw this plaque, describing the near-destruction of the building on Kristallnacht in 1938:
It would have burned to the ground, as did many other synagogues, but a local police official pulled a gun on the SS and told the fire brigade to do their job, so it was not destroyed. Allied bombing later damaged the large sanctuary* beyond repair. (*I apologize for my ignorance; I don't know what that part of a synagogue is correctly called.) it was huge and elaborate; here's a photo of a photo:
Today, a portion of the building has been restored, and the dome was rebuilt using the original plans. A foundation is dedicated to maintaining the history and interpreting the artifacts that remain.
Our next stop was the DDR Museum, a very interactive presentation of life during the East German regime that ended with reunification in 1991. (Sometimes it's GDR for German Democratic Republic; sometimes DDR for Deutsche D. R.) This museum is a popular tourist attraction, with lots of displays, typically furnished rooms, doors and drawers that open to show you more detail, etc. It's much noisier than any of the other places we've been, with a noticeably younger crowd than, say, the German History Museum (well, duh). The tone of virtually all the descriptions is mildly to actively negative, even scornful in describing the centrally-planned economy and the omnipresent surveillance. Our journalist host said that some victims of the regime consider the museum to be condescending, which I can understand. One object of scorn is the Trabant, a small car intended to compete with the VW Beetle. However, during its ~35 (?) years of production, its technology was improved almost not at all, leading to this joke: "How do you double the value of a Trabi?" "Put gas in the tank." The museum lets you sit in it and drive via a simulator:
On a much higher note, I had an inspiration Saturday evening and went to the website of the Deutsche Symphonie Orchester Berlin, aka the Berlin Philharmonic, and bought tickets for Sunday's performance. (Memo to online sites: visitors don't always have access to a printer, and you should let them show barcoded tickets on their phones. Fortunately your correspondent found an internet cafe (remember those?) where she got actual pieces of paper printed.)
The outside of the hall is not to my taste. It's much bigger than this, but the evening sun made it impossible to photograph the brilliant gold structure.
I like the inside of the hall much more. Our seats were behind and above the orchestra, so we were looking out at the rest of the audience, with the percussion section (seven gentlemen) right below us. (Zoom for tympani.)
We could not get a good view of the accordion soloist for the Astor Piazzola "Aconcagua" concert for bandoneon and orchestra, but we've heard enough tango music to appreciate its secretive, sexy, surprising rhythms and harmonies. Copland's "Appalachian Spring" and Bernstein's "Symphonic Dances from West Side Story" were familiar and terrific. The only piece we didn't know at all was Silvestre Revueltas's "Sensemayá," a percussion extravaganza that made us really happy with our seats. We never saw a tympanist using maracas on his drums before.
I'm really grateful for the internet cafe.
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