BERLIN

-- The U-bahn and S-bahn--wow--quiet, fast, efficient, clean, easy . . . the public transit system that should be the envy of all other cities.
-- The nightlife--the kids are very, very cool, the music was very, very hardcore, and the bars were what NYC’s bars wish they could be.
-- The flea market running down Strasse des 17 Juni on a Saturday morning--jam-packed with everything from candelabra to comics.
-- Restaurant Abendmahl--a vegetarian stalwart in Berlin with the most creatively named dishes I’ve ever seen ("Scandal in Bethlehem" was my favorite). (See Mr. Wonka's Berlin journal for this write-up.)
-- Museumsinsel--the Alte Nationalgalerie, the Berliner Dom, the Altes Museum, the Pergamonmuseum--it’s a lovely area packed with stately architecture and world-class museums.
-- Shopping on a Friday afternoon on Friedrichstrasse when everyone is out strolling.
-- The Gemaldegalerie--an extensive collection of early European painting, beautifully laid-out and seamlessly arranged.
-- It’s cheap! Berlin is an incredibly inexpensive city, especially for a European capital of its size. Beer is, of course, exceptionally cheap as well (and you can drink it in public).
-- The Berlin Mark--a funky little hotel in a fantastic location; the staff was über-helpful, and I have an enormous crush on the Polish bartender.

While everything from streets signs to museum collections has been for the most part homogenized, the east side of Berlin is where everything is happening. The former west appears a bit faded, or at least outdated, even with the lovely streets of Charlottenburg and the high-end stores on the Ku’damm. The east is exploding with art, music, and the famous bohemian lifestyle of those crazy German kids. Since unification, the city is ever-expanding eastward; Mitte (the former old town) has already been almost completely rebuilt--beautiful, delicate glass buildings, fancy stores, even a Four Seasons hotel--and the artists and cool kids have moved further east to Friedrichshain and Kreuzberg, where rent is cheap and the famously mercurial nightlife is currently happening.

Berlin is a city of dichotomies--tradition versus avant-garde; 19th-century buildings rubbing shoulders with hyper-modern glass domes; people maintaining a certain respect and politesse while displaying a progressive open-mindedness--and this split may be the catalyst, or at least provide the breeding ground, for the pulsing youth culture. You can’t help but get the feeling that people are creating and doing great things around every corner--there’s an energy and excitement unmatched by any other city I’ve ever been. With all this going on, I expected some pretension, but there was a refreshing absence of any of the trendier-than-thou attitudes I’ve gotten accustomed to in NYC.

Most importantly, perhaps, Berlin is a city in the midst of the tremendous boom that can sometimes come after an earth-shaking and wonderful change--it’s growing and shifting exponentially. It is one of those rare cities where circumstance, time, place, and a certain propulsive culture has come together--think of Paris in the ‘20s, or NYC in the late ‘70s--to create a city in its absolute prime. It hasn’t yet become a legacy of what it once was, or a tourist trap--it’s happening, emerging. This isn’t the Berlin of 2 years ago, or even of last month--and it won’t be the same city next week--which is why it’s such an exciting place to be right now.

Quick Tips:

-- If possible either stay near a major metro stop (like the Zoo station)--or in the east--as you’ll want to get all over town, and it’s far easier when you can just hop on a train or wake up near major attractions.
-- Read up before you go--there are more museums, galleries, restaurants, etc. than you can possibly see in a few days, so try to get some idea of what you want to see the most, and then go from there. Make sure to stop at whatever interesting markets or festivals you might see, because you’re likely to stumble across some of your most memorable activities by mistake--they aren’t written about in any guidebook yet (especially nightlife).
-- Make sure to ask people where to go at night, as everyone is more than happy to help, and the nightlife is in a constant state of flux. (Time Out Berlin has a decent listing of bars, clubs, and cafés--I found it to be better than any other guide, but it’s still a bit behind and sometimes inaccurate.)

Best Way To Get Around:

Take the U-Bahn and the S-Bahn! It’s one of the best metro systems I’ve encountered in Europe--clean, efficient, and very fast. It’s on the honor system, so one enters, finds a ticket machine, and buys a ticket right on the track (from 1.50 euros for reduced fare to 4.50 euros for a day pass). We saw no one checking tickets while we were there, but it’s allegedly sporadic. You can also decide for yourself whether you are a "reduced fare" or a "normal fare," which is fantastic for a student with an expired ID card.

Taxis aren’t ludicrously expensive, but they aren’t cheap either. If you can make it to the U-Bahn before it closes (between midnight and 1am, but the U1/15 and U9 lines run all night), that’s a better option. Otherwise, there is a comprehensive night bus and tram schedule (Nachtliniennetz), which runs between 1am and 4am. Apparently, on lines N11 and N41, the bus will take you to your front door, as long as it’s close to the route.

Tucked in between a falafel booth and a pizza café, this brat stand is not to be missed if you’re a carnivore. Actually, perhaps any bratwurst stand in Berlin would be fantastic compared to what I’m used to in the States, but these guys were über-friendly, the brats über-cheap, and the varieties of meat über-tasty.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what it was that I tried. I did have three separate varieties of brat, though, and each was delicious. One was long and grayish, with a C-curvature that didn’t stop the stand guy from putting it into a mini-hamburger bun, so that it stuck out about 3 inches on each side. It was mild and pork-like and, although I felt a little obscene with it on the street, I enjoyed it immensely. Another was rust-colored, thicker, and a bit meatier. Both tasted outstanding with some mustard, which came highly recommended. The third, unfortunately, I can’t remember very well--but I do know it was incredible. It was a narrow, long brat, I think, and it sort of snapped when I bit into it.

All were less than 2 euros, and the stand is open until at least 3am or 4am, so if you’re in dire need of late-night protein and you’re not afraid of a little meat, head to the local Zoologischer Garten brat stand.

Located just off Pariser Platz and the Brandenburg Gate on Unter den Linden, Issan looked interesting enough from the outside to return that night for a meal. Besides two German girls, we were the only people there (it was a bit later on a Sunday night). There definitely seemed to be a tropical motif--straw mats, palm trees, colored candles and . . . who knew? . . . a thatched sushi bar.

Our waiter was quite friendly--he was great help when I thought I broke the cigarette machine in the back alcove--and was very patient with our English. The food is mostly Thai, but there is a full sushi bar as well. The menu selection is huge: sushi; tons of noodle and rice dishes; shrimp; chicken and beef dishes; fish and shrimp dishes; and a dessert selection (if you see an overlap there, don’t blame me-—those are the actual categories on the menu). There is also a vegetarian section consisting of eight or so items (which didn’t seem to be standard in Berlin).

After a lengthy debate, we started with a German beer, a house white wine (there’s a small but solid wine list), and some veggie spring rolls. The rolls were hot and delicious, and the sweet-and-sour dipping sauce was spicy and tangy. The house white turned out to be a tasty chardonnay, and the half-pint of Herforder was nice and refreshing (especially for 2 euros). For the main course, I had a pineapple chicken and rice dish which, when it came out, was actually served inside a pineapple. When our waiter lifted the top, steam came pouring out, and the shrimp, rice, sliced almonds, peanuts, and pineapple within were absolutely delicious. My friend’s curry was apparently very good as well.

After the meal, we were served a small liqueur of bright green liquid--it turned out to be a refreshing kiwi/mango infusion. Since I haven’t had this kind of food in Thai restaurants before, I can’t say if it’s authentic or not. It is very, very tasty, however and, for the amount of food and friendly service, the prices were pretty good (the bill was about 40 euros for both of us). Overall it’s a great spot for a quiet and delicious meal.

P.S. Upon closer inspection of the bill, this restaurant appears to be owned by Mao Thai, a popular Thai restaurant in Prenzlauer Burg (which already has two other spin-offs in Berlin).

Located just a bit down the street from Bergwerk on Bergstrasse, this dark, relaxed bar had some low-key trip-hop spinning and plenty of open spots to sit and drink. It’s got a red velvet/black lacquer feel to it--the tables are red and sparkly; there are low, swinging red lights; projected prints on the wall; and the people (many of whom were couples) were artsy, but not overly trendy.

We sat up on the cushioned bar stools and had what the bartender recommended--"Staropramen Prager Bier" (from Prague)--which turned out to be a large, dark, bottled beer for a mere 2 euros! A similar place in NYC could easily charge $8 for half the beer.

The bartender was a cute little German girl who was happy to recommend places for us to go the next night. She even looked up a few things after we talked and came back with more info later. There’s also an overflowing magazine rack that has magazines, newspapers, and periodicals so you can look up what’s going on in town.

This is a sexy, funked-out bar--a perfect chill place to stop either on your way out for the night or your way back home.

As we were headed east on the S-bahn, we glimpsed what appeared to be an enormous flea market--tents and crowds of people stretched down a broad avenue and into the Tiergarten. We hopped off the train at the next stop, jumped on a train going back to the previous stop, and alighted on Strasse des 17 Juni.

The market was bustling with an eclectic mix of families and children, teenagers, twenty-somethings, and septuagenarians. It runs down Strasse des 17 Juni until the arch at the beginning of the Tiergarten, and consists of two alleys--we walked up one and back down the other. The market has a wide assortment of goods, from candelabra to German comics, vintage clothing to porcelain. Not to mention CDs, Indian jewelry, antiques, Persian rugs . . . and, of course, the ubiquitous sprawling tables of weird, assorted junk.

I got a ‘70s Adec watch for 6 euros--mostly because the man selling it couldn’t guarantee that its battery was the only defect. (After getting a battery back home, though, it works perfectly!) I also found a ‘20s pearl broach for 5 euros—what a deal. There were some very tempting coats . . . but the vintage clothing was a bit more expensive than I would have paid at the Salvation Army at home, so I forced myself to keep walking. (My friend got two rad shirts for cheap, however--one old-school plaid number, and one vintage Jägermeister T-shirt.)

There’s also a wide range of food stalls: Thai noodles, winstubs (with brats and vin chaud), sandwiches . . . we got a hot, delicious cone of fries before hopping back on the S-Bahn.

Open Saturdays only.

We walked from our hotel towards Potsdamer Platz, excited for our first stop in Berlin, the Neue Nationalgalerie. After taking photos of the exterior and writing down pertinent location info, I took a closer look at the door . . . and discovered that it was closed for three weeks! Ah, foiled! (No, we didn’t call in advance as we had been advised to do when dealing with still-in-the process-of-unification museums.) We made our way to the Gemäldegalerie instead, though, so it wasn’t a huge disappointment.

I would like to have seen their collection of 20th-century international paintings, however--it’s supposed to have a very strong assortment of German Expressionists and Surrealists (such as Beckmann, Mueller, Kirchner, and Klee). Non-Germans include Picasso, de Chirico, Leger, Wols, and Dali. Apparently this permanent collection is often put into storage when larger temporary exhibitions are displayed, so make sure to check what’s on before you go.

We did at least get to see the glass-and-steel cube-like exterior designed in the early 1960s by the famous Bauhaus architect Mies van der Rohe. It’s essentially a large steel box, with a heavy top and long glass windows on all sides. Since it was a drab day, the windows didn’t add much light, and the brown steel looked more . . . well, brown. The building looks a bit outdated, but if you’re an architectural fan it is still worth seeing. I don’t think it compares to the elegance of fellow Bauhaus architect Walter Gropius’ white modernist creation, however, which now houses the Bauhaus-Archiv. The inside is spacious and more impressive, but the downstairs area was closed.

Here are a few photos of the exterior, at least!

Tel: 030/266 2662
Hours: 10am - 6pm Tues., Wed.; 10am - 10pm Thurs.; 10am to 8pm Fri.; 11am to 8pm Sat., Sun.
Go to Berlin Museums for more info.

Just two doors up from the Berlin Mark Hotel, Getranke Riese offers a huge range of very reasonably priced wines, beers, and liquors. I stopped several times in the evening on my way back to the hotel, and was astonished (and delighted) at their extensive selection. Their German wines were ridiculously cheap, especially in comparison with New York prices, and they had racks of obscure European beers that we don’t see in the States at all.

On one occasion, I asked if the lady working there could perhaps open the Riesling (5 euros) that I had just bought. She hardly spoke any English, and unfortunately I speak no German, but after enacting a "I’m uncorking this bottle of wine" charade, she understood. Since she didn’t have a corkscrew behind the counter, she went to the back of the store and opened one of the corkscrews that were for sale! This kind of courtesy was almost typical of Berliners--everyone was helpful and friendly to the point where I felt guilty for being a fumbling tourist. The next night, after I bought a nice little pinot noir, I asked again if she could open the bottle, assuming the same corkscrew would be open. It wasn’t--and she had to open another one from the store! I tried to stop her, but she just smiled and popped it open. Wow.

Anyway, if you’re looking for a really nice selection of wines from all over the world, a vast array of mostly European beers, and your choice of liquor at extremely reasonable prices, Getranke Riese is the place to go.

Tel: 030/887 21 695
Closed Sunday. Open until 8pm Mon. - Fri., 6pm Saturday.

Unfortunately I didn’t have time to go to a performance at the Staatsoper--I just walked past the stately facade and stepped inside the lobby for some information. Here’s what I found:

Founded by Frederick the Great in 1742 as Prussia’s Royal Court Opera, the Staatsoper has a longer and grander history than its main competitor, the Deutsche Oper (the respective conductors, Barenboim and Thielemann, are reputably Germany’s best Wagner directors). Although the building was destroyed twice in WWII, it has been rebuilt and replicates the original 18th-century opera.

Currently, debates are raging about the Staatsoper, the Deutsche Oper, and the Komische Oper. There is talk that Berlin cannot support three opera houses, and funding may be cut at one or more of them. This, of course, is a heated topic. Komische was once the "people’s opera" in the east, the Staatsoper the court opera of the east, and Deutsche the major house of the free west. Thus, choosing any of these over another is quite a messy affair, as politics, egos, and regional pride are inextricably intertwined. We’ll see what happens.

At the Staatsoper, any unsold tickets are available for 10 euros a half hour before performances.

Go to Staatsoper Berlin for more info.
Tel: 203 540; for tickets 2035 4555
Box office 10am - 8pm Mon. - Fri.; 2-8pm Sat., Sun.
Tickets 5 to 120 euros

After walking down Charlottenstrasse, past the Four Seasons and myriad chic restaurants, I looped back up towards the Friedrichstrasse S-Bahn on Friedrichstrasse. I was pleasantly surprised to find a bustling, upscale shopping street.

It was quite nice slowly making my way up the street on a Friday afternoon, as it was just getting dark and stores were beginning to light up. There are two H&M’s, multiple shoe stores, an Audi showroom complete with gasping Germans peering in from the sidewalk, a shopping mall, and lots of funky German clothing stores.

The Galleries Lafayette, while not as large as the behemoth in Paris, has an impressive modern version of that famous Parisian Art Nouveau glass dome--this one is a hyper-modern glass cone that extends up into the store; a mirror hangs opposite and extends down several levels--one can see diners at the Galleries Lafayette restaurant below, reflected in the glass.

Stores in Berlin are closed on Sunday, and they close early on Saturdays (by 5 or 6pm), so Friday seems to be the evening for window-shopping and strolling.

We headed to Delicious Donuts after Bergwerk and Z--so perhaps we were a bit more receptive to its charm than we were the first two bars--but this was my favorite spot the night we went out. Somehow, bars in Berlin can be funky and very cool, with very, very cool people, and still resist that annoying holier-than-thou attitude and over-the-top trendiness that bars fall prey to in the States. Delicious Donuts is a perfect example of this phenomenon.

Located on a corner, you step through curtains into red lighting and shabby-chic decor. There’s a long bar, a few tables up front, a small dance floor, and a circle of overstuffed couches in the back. We got a couple vodka cranberries (5 euros each), which came in something more like mugs than cocktail glasses, and settled into the incredibly comfortable couches--I would even venture to say womblike.

The drinks were sweet and strong, and the DJ was spinning some ambient funk. There was a lone dancer on the tiny dance floor doing her thing under spinning lights--she was content and very mesmerizing to watch. For a Thursday night, it was quiet--there were probably 10 people there total--but it was still happening in a low-key fashion.

Beer, wine, and well drinks are available (3, 4, or 5 euros).

The Deutsche Guggenheim Berlin is housed in a significantly less dramatic building than its sister museums in New York or Bilbao, but it still holds a prominent place on the Unter den Linden in Mitte. The museum is a joint venture between the Deutsche Bank and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation. The idea, basically, was for a cultural heavyweight to join forces with business-savvy financial backing, to create a museum that would commission young, internationally renowned artists to create new works for the exhibition space.

It doesn’t have the best reputation amongst its sister museums, but the Guggenheim has managed to appear as a blip on Berlin’s contemporary-art radar screen. In the past, such artists as James Rosenquist, Andreas Slominski, and Bill Viola have exhibited here. There is a focus on young, innovative artists, with major names shown as well (Rothko and Klee, as well as Rubens and Richter, have all been exhibited here).

There are temporary exhibits only at the museum, and Kasimir Malewitsch, the "unconcious harbinger of Suprematism," was showing when I was there. I don’t think Suprematism is a widespread term in the States; it was essentially very abstract (think floating cubes and lines--a cross between Mondrian and a less colorful Kandinsky) and rather cold. Apparently, Malewitsch wanted to "free himself of all objects, images, and ideas of everyday didactic life," which, judging from the level of engagement I had with his work, he succeeded in valiantly. He is revered by many, however, as a the harbinger of an important artistic movement.

There was a rather comical section describing a play he created which I enjoyed--everything was atonal and off, the costumes and sets bizarre and incongruous; it was kind of an existential dilemma (i.e., Waiting for Godot) meets conceptual art meets a bad acid trip. But then again, this is a man who "recreated a world according to his cosmic customs."

The explanatory panels were informative and interesting and, while I could appreciate the works as an inherent component of a certain artistic evolution, it really was hard to engage with it on any personal level. There are two paintings at the very end--the only two in which you can make out a semblance of a recognizable shape (women)--that stood out as very stark and depressing, whereas the rest sort of bled into each other. I actually saw the entire exhibition in a half an hour and, after conferring with the ticket lady, was disappointed to learn there is no permanent collection at all.

Be warned, however, the actual exhibition space is small (almost the same size as their store, actually, if that is an indication of anything). There was a nice courtyard where one could sit and have kaffee in the summer.

Upcoming exhibitions:

Until 4/27/03 -- Kasimir Malewitsch: Suprematism
5/10/03 -- 7/6/03 -- Richard Artschwager -- Sammlung Deutsche Bank
7/19/03 -- 10/5/03 -- Tom Sachs: Nutsy?s World

Check Deutsche Guggenheim for more info.

Tel: 030/202 09314
Email: berlin.guggenheim@db.com

This tiny museum, right next to the actual Checkpoint Charlie on Friedrichstrasse, is crammed with information, photos, and stories of escapes (or near-escapes) from East to West Berlin. While a bit disorganized, cramped, and packed with tourists, it’s still an essential stop for those interested in the Berlin Wall or the Cold War.

Upon entering, one is confronted with staggering statistics: WWII left 55 million people dead--6 million of whom were Jews; 21 million Russians (12 % of the population); 7 million Germans (10 % of the population), 6 million Poles (14%); 2 million Slavs (13%); plus 20 million of mixed ethnicity. This war-ravaged society was the stark breeding ground for the Cold War. Right after these numbers, there is a short biography on Albrecht Haushofer (1903-1945; the man shot in the neck without trial for writing Moabiter Sonette, a testimony of resistance against the Soviet NS-regime), while in prison.

The museum traces the formation of the Socialist Unity Party (SED), a combination of the KPD (Communists) and SPD (Social Democrats), despite the fact that 85% of Western Berliners voted against its creation (those in the East weren’t allowed to vote). It then covers the Soviet Blockade and the SED’s subsequent self-declared parliamentary leadership, from which the GDR was born. Soon after, the notorious Berlin Wall was erected. After covering this, most of the museum focuses on locals’ escape attempts.

There are a myriad of exhibits on near-escapes, successful escapes, harrowing encounters with Soviet officers, etc. An escape car stands in the middle of the downstairs room--in its trunk are suitcases that would have had their sides cut out and have been pushed together as one so that a girl could curl up inside. You’ll also find handmade, faux-Soviet officer uniforms; pliers and tools actually used by escapees; and shovels for digging tunnels. One account involves a group of eight elderly people who were spurned by younger escapees as being "too old"--they proved them wrong by digging their own tunnel under the wall and making it high enough so that their 80-year-old wives could walk though instead of crawling.

There is a small room upstairs that covers the fall of the Wall and the nation’s subsequent rejoicing. Throughout, there are many photos of a destroyed Berlin, which are especially striking in contrast to the modern built-up city now surrounding the museum. There is also various artwork inspired by the Wall and the political climate. Although hectic and cramped, this is a very worthwhile and touching museum.

"We Berliners will not allow ourselves to be an object of barter in these dealings and negotiations. We can neither be negotiated nor sold. It is simply not possible to make a shabby compromise over the heads of such a brave, persevering people . . . !"
--Ernst Reuter, Mayor of Berlin, 1948

Tel: 030/253-7250
Email: info@mauer-museum.com
U6 Kochstrasse
Hours: Daily: 9am to 10pm
Prices: 7 euros, 4.50 reduced

I'm not going to do another write-up of the Brandenburn Gate, but here are some pictures on a gorgeous, sunny day. Pariser Platz was packed and lively with street musicians and strolling Berliners. Through the gate is the Reichstag and its vast park.

Klingelhoferstrasse 13-14
Tel: 030/254-0020
Hours: 10am to 5pm Mon., Wed.-Sun.
Admision: 4 euros; 2 euros reduced Library open M-F 10am-5pm

As soon as one crosses the Landwehrkanal (Landwehr Canal), Walter Gropius’s white, geometric museum pops into view. Gropius was the founder of the Bauhaus school, and his building now houses the Bauhaus Archive - Museum of Design. As you approach the entrance, which is between two wings of an elegant building, you pass several multi-colored poles--the best description I can think is of that of a modern totem pole, all candy-striped and shiny. The museum houses a permanent collection and also first-rate exhibitions.

The Bauhaus school has a complicated history--moving from Weimar to Dessau to Berlin, 1914 to 1933--and the introductory plaque states, "Our image of Bauhaus is most especially determined by furniture that was created at the school or within its sphere of influence." Founder Gropius hoped to achieve the goal of "an ideal unity" in arts and crafts by developing new educational methods and insisting that practical crafts were treated as an essential pre-req for art.

The timeline is as follows:
Bauhaus Weimar, 1919 -- 1924. This earliest Bauhaus era was still heavily experimenting with Expressionist forms. Heads and professors included such luminaries as Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky, and Theo van Doesburg. A perpetual drive for modernization set in almost immediately. The aim was to explore the nature of an object, "for it must serve its purpose perfectly, that is, it must fulfill its function usefully, be durable, economical, and ‘beautiful.’" (This, the museum states, is "the programmic transfer from handicrafts to design.")
Bauhuas Dessau 1925 -- 1933. The school then moved to Dessau due to drastic budget cuts by the Thuringian parliament. Here, the first series of Bauhaus books and the Bauhaus magazine was produced. Gropius resigned as director, and Hannes Meyer took over. In 1930, Mies van der Rohe took Meyer’s place and reorganized the school; production was mostly discontinued, and priority given to the educational aspect. Then, in 1933, the school was shut down by the Nazis.

The museum expresses concern that the image of Bauhaus design is often confined to Marcel Breuer’s famous tubular steel chairs--they are probably the most widely recognized product of the school--however, they say that while the chairs are "‘modern classics,’ they are part of a historical movement." For each piece, there is a small plaque which gives the name of its creator, school affiliation, and a short context.

Upon entering the first room, a row of Bauhaus chairs from incremental periods is lined up upon a platform, and the parade of chairs rises up a slope until it continues on suspended from the ceiling, in a slight s-curve. They’re all models of streamlined perfection in design. There were some amazing pieces from the ‘20s and ‘30s--the clean lines were more elegant than most hyper-modern designs I see nowadays.

The next room is larger and rectangular, and the collection shifts from exclusively chairs to include armoires, beds, tables--and even fully recreated rooms. (Marcel Breuer wanted to design a whole flat without the help of traditional pieces; judging from the photos and selection of furniture, it was successful, if a bit cold.) I especially liked Josef Albers’s stackable mahogany tables--they fit into each other perfectly, like Russian nesting dolls, and each was topped with a fitted glass plate in either teal, yellow, orange, or blue. There is a small enclave that holds Kandinsky’s bedroom furniture, which was designed by Breuer, but in a style reflected Kandinsky’s own art, as well as much of the various designers’ own furniture.

The museum was busy, but not packed. An information packet is available (in Italian, Spanish, German, French, and English) which gives an extensive history of the Bauhaus movement and school. This small but top-notch museum is a must for anyone at all interested in design (or even if you just have a mild interest in symmetry).

There is an extensive design/architecture library, but I wasn’t able to see it as I was there on a weekend. There is also a small, but very nice shop with decorative Bauhaus items such as bowls, jewelry, ashtrays, etc.

Situated in a quiet area in Charlottenburg, Schloss Charlottenburg is a congenial place to go on a weekend morning or afternoon. The nearest metro stop is the U2 or U12 to Sophie-Charlotte-Platz--from there, you can hike up Schlossestrasse to the palace (a good kilometer or so). The quiet streets surrounding the castle are lined with trees, small cafés and restaurants, and have an entirely different feel from other sections of Berlin. You can’t miss the palace, which crowns the broad avenue with a mint dome and sparkling gilded fences.

The Schloss is divided into several different areas: the Altes Schloss (Old Palace) is the original sector, built by Friedrich III in 1695 as a summer home for Queen Sophie-Charlotte; the Neue Flugel (New Wing) houses the apartments of Frederick the Great, and the winter rooms of King Friedrich Wilhelm II; the Neue Pavilion, directly east of the palace, was designed in 1824 for Friedrich Wilhelm III by the Berlin architect KF Schinkel--the simple house now holds art of the Schinkel period; and the gardens, which contain a belvedere built in 1788 that now houses a Berlin porcelain collection, and a mausoleum (open only in the summer) containing the tombs of Friedrich Wilhelm III and his wife, as well as those belonging to Kaiser Wilhelm I and his wife.

In the new wing you wind your way through some notable artwork, a room of portraits, a few rooms of porcelain and silver, and then into the darkened room that holds the crown jewels. (It smells rather fusty towards the back, but seeing the jewels is almost certainly worth braving the odor.) The crown gems, lit before a black velvet background, include gold, worn-looking crowns; a bejeweled scepter; swords; and a mitre. While you shouldn’t expect the plethora or majesty of England’s Crown Jewels, this display has its own appeal, in that it’s more intimate, there are no lines or crowds, and you’re able to get a lot closer to the jewels than allowed at the Tower of London.

The palace itself, which I found to be less impressive than many French chateaux or Italian villas, is also nonetheless still worth seeing. That said, if you’re not interested in the palace itself, the extensive gardens are open to the public and a popular place for a weekend stroll. As befits a traditional English garden--the gardens were originally laid-out in a more formal French-style, but were reshaped in their current fashion in the 19th century--the landscaping includes immaculate red, black, and white patterns created with rocks; gravel paths; and small footpaths that wend through some heavily wooded areas.

The day I was there was bright and sunny with a startlingly blue sky-- a man was outside playing the piano, German families were out walking, and runners cruised along the paths. Actually, while watching the piano player, one little 4- or 5-year-old kid walked directly up to him--apparently mesmerized by the music--and finally placed his forehead on the piano, just above the keys. His lack of self-awareness was so funny and endearing that I stopped and stared for quite some time, but the pianist only smiled and kept on playing.

For those with more time, the Schloss Potsdam was also highly recommended by the Germans we met.

Tel: 030/320 911
Website: Schloss Charlottenburg
U2 Sophie-Charlotte-Platz or U7 Richard-Wagner-Platz
Hours:
Old Palace: 9am - 5pm Tues. - Fri.; 10am - 7pm Sat., Sun. (Last tour 4pm.)
New Wing: 10am - 6pm Tues. - Fri.; 11am - 6pm Sat., Sun.
New Pavilion: 10am - 5pm Tues. - Sun.
Mausoleum: April - October 10am - Noon, 1-5pm Tues. - Sun.
Belvedere: April - October 10 am - 5pm Tues. - Sun.; November - March Noon - 4pm Tues. - Fri.; Noon - 5pm Sat., Sun.
Closed Mondays.
Combination tickets: 5 - 8 euros; 4-5 reduced (sold separately as well.)
No credit cards.

Matthaikirchplatz 8
Tel: 030/266 2951
S1, S2, S25, S26, U2 Potsdamer Platz
10am to 6pm Friday through Wednesday; 10am to 8pm Thursday
3 euros; 1.50 euros reduced (no credit cards)

Located in the same complex as the Kunstgewerbemuseum (Applied Arts Museum), the Gemäldegalerie (Painting Gallery) houses one of the finest collections of early European art in the world. Entrance is quite cheap--3 euros--especially considering the quality and breadth of the museum.

Upon entering the hushed, beautifully-lit gallery, one notices immediately the wide skylights at the top of each room, teak-like polished floors, and high walls which alternate between sage, rose, and steel blue. The rooms are seamlessly arranged chronologically and by region.

We started with the Italian masters, of which there is a vast collection. Wandering through the typical gilt backgrounds and cherubic Madonnas that the Italians are so famous for, one can watch the flat figures slowly transform into three-dimensional images as the Renaissance nears. It took a moment to get over my initial awe, as I had just gotten off the plane from New York a couple hours before; encountering paintings from the early 15th-century was pleasantly jolting.

Watch for Hans Baldung’s Kopf Eines Greises, a portrait of an old man’s face illuminated against a vibrant midnight-blue background. There are several Lucas Cranach d. A. (the elder) paintings in the earlier rooms that are noteworthy as well. One, Adam un Eva im Paradies, shows a bearded Adam tenderly looking at Eve, who is staring disinterestedly into the distance. Then, his Apoll und Diana shows Apollo and Diana in almost exactly the same situation--he stares at her intently, and she stares distractedly into space.

There are a couple of works by Pieter Brueghel the Elder which are typically bizarre and trippy--Niederlandischen Sprichworter was particularly strange. I always seek out Breughel works (both elder and younger) wherever I go, and this one stands out as one of my favorites. It’s packed with more allusions than the eye can take in and crazy imagery--there are walking eggs, playing cards falling from windows, a soldier with his head and body against a wall while still in a full stabbing position, ghoulish faces peering out of gaps . . . lots of crazy shit. It’s a really fantastic example of Brueghel the Elder. There’s a Brueghel d. J. (the younger) in the same room which is similar, but distinct in that it’s slightly sharper and more precise, and while it’s still packed with action, it’s a bit less fantastical and allusive.

There’s a full room of Rubens--and of course his pink, Rubenesque figures, and also a large sampling of Dutch masters. A full room is devoted to Franz Hals, a personal favorite--I love his faces with the thick brush strokes and clay-like features as well as his ability to capture fleeting, almost ungraspable emotions. There’s also an entire room of Rembrandts. Many were perfect examples of what Rembrandt does best--illuminated figures that glow in front of very dark, obscure backgrounds, always eerily beautiful. His Raub der Prosperina was especially stunning; several figures grasp at Prosperina from the darkness, and just her face and chest is lit from the front. There is also one Vermeer, Das Glaswein, a typical domestic scene with impressively photographic stained glass.

Make sure to wind your way to the handful of downstairs rooms, where Botticelli’s Venus resides. It’s the same figure, the same wistful expression as that of the famous Birth of Venus in Florence’s Galleria degli Uffizi--yet this is only her figure on a stark black background, which makes her far more haunting.

Make sure you have at least a few hours to wander the Gemäldegalerie, as it’s an enormous museum with such a strong collection that you don’t want to skip over anything. Velasquez, Caravaggio, Raphael, Van Eyck, Bosch, and Titian make appearances here as well, among many others. There are lots of places to sit, and the Thursday evening we were there was almost empty and quiet--very conducive to soaking up this stellar European assortment.

After three years of restoration, the Old National Gallery has reopened its marble stairs, showcasing one of the best collections of 19th-century art in Germany. There are more than 440 paintings and 80 sculptures, which span from the early 1800s to the early Modernists. German artists are emphasized, but many nationalities and movements are also represented.

Once in Museumsinsel, one crosses a lovely portico-enclosed courtyard before entering a vast white marble hall, complete with arches, red carpet, and rich, beautifully framed portraits. The same impeccable lighting is apparent here as was at the Gemäldegalerie, and the walls are of muted blues, rusts, and moss greens. Upon climbing the marble stairs to the second floor (where I started, as I wanted to save the first-floor Modernists for last), a stunning mint dome appeared above, and the Berliner Dom became visible through the long, elegant windows. The rooms are interconnected and have several exits each; they also wrap around the arched back of the building, making it quite difficult to tell where you started and what you''ve seen, but very fun to wander around and get lost.

I began in the Idealism/Realism area, with works dating back to about 1861. All of the signs are in both German and English, and they''re quite informative. Some of the Hans Makarts (1840-1884) were particularly memorable, especially Tasso and Eleanor d?Este. There is a hall of portraits by Franz von Lenbach leading into a room of impressive Berlin-born Max Lieberman (1847-1935) works; his Self Portrait 1925 is very post-Impressionist, with its soft, slightly abstract contours and thick, Cezanne-like paint on the face. The next couple of paintings, which are of gardens and courtyards, are very precise. Upon closer inspection, however, there are globs of paint--one thick perfect stroke for a sun splash on a brick wall, one stroke perfectly placed for a shadow--that come together to present a whole.

Several striking Lesser Ury (1861-1931) paintings are on display here, too. Although in many ways a student of realism, Ury often flattened perspective by using a palette knife to give an otherworldly effect. There is an incredible depth of color and, although I hate to keep giving well-known comparisons, Modigliani immediately came to mind (it seems to help in picturing the work, even though he''s not a precursor or influence). One work in particular, Nollendorfplatz by Night (1925), blew me away: thick strokes of deep blues and greens that are streaked and broken by orange lights.

There is a large room of French Impressionist works, which are OK, if not outstanding. The rest of the museum seems far more thoughtful--regardless of the size of the name, pieces are well-selected and artists well-represented. The Impressionism section, however, seems as if it had been selected based on famous names alone. None of the paintings presents the artists'' best work. There are a couple of early Renoirs, a small bronze version of Rodin''s The Thinker, a few Cezannes (two good still-lifes), a few nondescript Monets, and a fine Maillol sculpture. There are a couple Manets worth noting, however: White Lilac and the more famous In the Conservatory.

Up on the third floor is the Gothic and Romantic art, which starts at the very beginning of the 19th century and runs to mid-century. This particular period isn''t as engaging to me, but it is a nice collection. Several were quite striking, among them Christian Gottlieb Schick''s Heinrike Dannecker, where a young girls sits in profile, turning nonchalantly towards the audience. The background is soft, a random landscape, but she is vivid, almost 3D; the composition is balanced and graceful. Her vibrant blue dress and red vest pop out of the painting, and her luminous face gives off an expression of wistfulness and curiosity. Upon closer examination, it is Schick''s tomb she sits upon. I perused some Walkdmuller portraits, which verge on photographic, and then headed down to the main floor.

Before getting to the paintings, one enters a beautiful arched sculpture gallery with a red-tile floor inlaid with fleur-de-lis, black marble columns, golden marble walls, intricately painted ceilings, and white marble sculptures lining both sides of the long room. It is one of the most ornate rooms in the museum.

After this, I was immediately confronted with some of the most innovative, interesting Modern work I have yet seen in person. Most were German: among them, Georg Kolbe and Ferdinand Hodler were strikingly modern, using fuzzy lines, and muted tones, yet infused with absolutely glowing, pulsing color, often in bizarre shades (garish greenish skin, or lemon-yellow rocks). Franz van Stuck had three that were eerily attractive to the eye--one gravitates towards them immediately. One, Tilla Durieux Depicting Circe, is an ashen-pale woman with dark hair, a haunted expression, and brilliant blue dress holding a bowl out to the viewer with a smirk. Another, Die Sunde, instead of using semi-gloss paint, is realized in matte and had the same bluish skin, but longer black hair, and just half of her appears through the blue shadows. They''re both stunning.

After this, you wind through the Louis Corinth section, mostly portraits, and then Max Kilinger works. There are a couple of fantastical swimming scenes by Kilinger, and then Walkes (Ambush), which portrays a long brick wall that ends before the edge of the canvas, two men up against it, and three men facing them with guns; it is very reminiscent of T. S. Eliot or Waiting for Godot in that it''s stark, strange, and depressing--even though there is a clear means of escape, the viewer gets the feeling that nothing will ever, ever happen.

The Alte Galerie has three rooms of Adolph Menzel (1815-1905)--the largest collection of his works in the world. They are all beautiful: his night scenes are lush and glowing, and his domestic scenes poignant and evocative. One of my favorites is Das Balkonzimmer--it depicts an empty room with sunlight coming in through white curtains and one empty, graceful chair. It''s quite perfect--there is a palpable sense of absence. His colors and style are very reminiscent of Breitner, for those of you who are Dutch fans. There''s more Realism on this floor as well; you''ll find a few early Pisarros, a couple Courbets, some Fantin-Latours, and a Delacroix nude.

The Alte Nationalgalerie is really quite an exceptional museum. Take a full afternoon or morning to visit--perhaps more. I ended up seeing far more than I had expected. There is a tiny bar in the gift shop downstairs, but no café. (I bought a poster of the beautiful mint dome, but unfortunately I left it in the Frankfurt airport!)

Altes Nationalgalerie
Museumsinsel
Bodestrasse 1-3
Tel: 030/209 050
Berlin Museums
10am to 6pm Wed-Tues, 10am to 10pm Thurs
6 euros; 3 euros reduced