https://www.facebook.com/101650289599711/

The Bofamily's European Adventure, Cambridge (2024)

17/09/2024

The brutal history of Tallinn, Estonia was difficult to hear. My heart ached as we learned about the ancient city and its citizens who have endured terrors of war and communism. Records note establishment of the city in 1154, however 3000-year-old artefacts have been discovered in the area. Built between a lake and the sea, Tallinn is 30 km long but only 5 km wide. Commuters glide along the main thoroughfare admiring the beautiful harbour, sculptures and monuments.

The sharp angles of many of the modern buildings were striking. Furnishing a wedge-shaped office must present a challenge. The graceful seaside Russalka Memorial dedicated to sailors lost on a Russian naval vessel in the Gulf of Finland decorated the sky beautifully.

Music lovers from points far and wide flock to Tallinn every five years to enjoy the famous choir festival. With the sea as its backdrop, the amphitheater welcomes visitors. Emotions run high as choirs perform, coming together on the last day to sing together. Imagining 30,000 voices serenading the crowds in unison brought powerful feelings of fellowship and patriotism. In 1989, residents of came together creating a human chain.

The sun shone and a lovely breeze set the stage for our visit. I asked our guide if the heat of the day was unusual for September. She said it was, but often they experience an “old wife summer” with warm days into October.

The memorial to the victims of communism brought more strong feelings through poetic design and natural beauty. The long path past the names of the thousands of Estonians killed etched into stark walls was difficult. Lush apple trees calmed us as we emerged from the dark walkway. What appeared to be metal shards adorning the outer wall were thousands of bees, symbolising the desire of prisoners to return home. Further along, the names of the Estonian soldiers murdered and their photos hidden inside artistic bullet holes made the tragedy even more human.

Tallinn is separated into the Upper Town and Lower Town for obvious hilltop reasons. In the past, the two areas were governed separately and closed to each other at night. Gates within the city wall whose walls were four metres thick were locked to maintain peace. Palace Square in Upper Town, the Governor’s Garden and the Cathedral impressed us with their grandeur. What fun to have a pink Parliament building! The Cathedral was built in 1900 for a Russian Orthodox parish, though most Estonians are Lutheran.

I love flags and their symbolism. The Estonian flag’s blue stripe representing their sky, black stripe for their land and white stripe for hope for the future are a beautiful tribute to this land.

The Dome Church, initially built in the 13th century with renovations done in the 15th and 17th centuries stands majestically in another small square. Through one of the city gates, we found the Danish King’s Garden and the faceless ghosts of monks who are said to haunt the city. They were indeed creepy.

Our visits to these Baltic lands have illustrated just how lucky we are to enjoy freedom and safely. Knowing people were plucked from the safety of their homes, enslaved and murdered leaves a heavy darkness in my heart. Leaving prayers for the victims of the horrific crimes and appreciation for the lives we are blessed with helps me find hope and peace.

16/09/2024

Photos of Lübeck, Schwerin, Gdańsk and Klaipeda have been uploaded!
Enjoy!

(This is what I enjoy after Smith finds my phone unattended. He generously changes my wallpaper to feature his goofy face also!)

16/09/2024

Another gray day dawned, but with another new country to explore, we didn’t mind a bit! Klaipeda, Lithuania is a beautiful city. Classic architecture, wide open lush green parks decorate the Old Town and the Danès River is home to a beautiful array of boats and ships.

Klaipeda, the oldest city in Lithuania, was settled in 1252. The legend behind its name claims an ancient tribe that worshiped the sun lived aside the Akmena River and wanted to relocate. A pair of brothers, Deer and Wolf, were sent as scouts. When they spotted the sea, they set out to find a new home for their brethren. Deer arrived safely, but Wolf was lost in the marshy land near the shore and only a single footprint survived. Klaipeda means “lost footprint.”

Klaipeda followed the other destinations on our adventure that have welcomed us very warmly. The frigid rain Poland’s skies sprinkled on us was replaced by warm humidity and a light mist. The Old Town was near the port and the easy walk was a great tart to our visit. Classic houses and beautifully decorated shops line narrow stone streets. We had to stop into a small grocery to try local chocolate bars! We joined the crowd on the quay celebrating a dragon boat race, enjoying the festivities until a nasty bee chose to make a meal of Chase. Total buzzkill. We loaded him up with antihistamine and popped into a pub for a bit of ice. He weathered the storm bravely, but it was time to return to the ship.

16/09/2024

Apologies for my long posts devoid of photos! Our budget doesn't cover wifi onboard ship and my efforts to finish my posts in port have failed.

Tons of pics coming soon!

15/09/2024

This morning, the Poesia docked in Gdynia, Poland, a small fishing village that grew from 1,000 to 130,000 residents in the early 20th century when its value as a port was appreciated. The city was annexed by the Third Reich, welcoming and sending soldiers to destinations near and far, and L**h Walesa led the anti-communist movement from the shipyard. As was true in Berlin, marshland served as a base for construction. Over time, many heavy brick buildings and towers have begun to tilt. The columns of the —- Church all lean in different directions!

Just down the road, we found the scenic and charming Gdańsk, aka Danzig, because Slavs employ “Gd” in many words but Germans don’t. Settled in the sixth century, the city was established by the Pomeranians in 920. Locals eager to assimilate into the European community converted to Christianity soon after. Granaries of yore house city dwellers today. Their narrow footprints reflect an early taxation system where the width of each beautifully decorated façade determined their annual contribution. After the fall of communism, houses here sold for no more than 15% of their value, but there were still few buyers because no one had savings to spend.

Along King’s Road, we learned that Daniel Fahrenheit studied the behaviour of mercury in the cold in Gdańsk and that zero was established as the base of the system because that was the coldest temperature he recorded during his studies. The Neptune fountain from the 17th century impressed us with its intricate details and fun story. Legend says the liquid pouring from Neptune’s trident is gold, representative of his wealth, and gold became symbolic of Gdańsk. The building behind the fountain is Arthur’s Court where elites who frequented events and the ratskeller claimed all were welcome. Craving some dry space and a warm lunch, we dipped into Zielony Zakątek where the chefs tickled our tastebuds with a lovely cream of tomato soup, braised short ribs with beets and dill potatoes and crumbed pork loin with cold cucumber salad and mash.

The Golden Gate, built in the 1500s to replace medieval fortifications featured an arch of triumph designed to welcome visitors and the king. A moat encircled the city and the prison tower and armoury stood nearby. The narrow spires of St. Mary’s Church created a lovely contrast to the gray sky. A young musician named Johann Sebastian Bach entered and lost a competition in the church in the early 1700s. Undeterred, he went on to have a fabulous career. The artistry, science and beauty of the astronomical clock made us wish we had all afternoon to investigate its detail. Created in 1464 as a calendar, planetarium and theatre of figures, the clock fascinates locals and tourists alike.

The Gdańsk crane near the Motława river impressed us as well. From 1444 until World War II, 16 men walked inside the crane’s giant wheels up to 14 hours a day unloading cargo from visiting ships. A galleon chauffeured us down the harbour channel past Westerplatte, the former site of an ammunition depot for the League of Nations where the first battle of World War II was fought. The scene my imagination conjured up was far more terrifying and bloody than the view the plain, green field and monument paint today.

Our tummies were contently full at dinner time, so we ate light and launched another sortie into karaoke in the Disco Lounge. The couples from Peru, Colombia and Canary Islands that shared the microphone and the dance floor with us were fabulously energetic and wonderfully patient as we practiced our Spanish.

14/09/2024

We were up with the sun today to head west into Germany to visit Lübeck and Schwerin. Our tour guide shared some history of the region, which is quite different from the central and southern areas we have visited. The Romans didn’t make it this far north, so the counties near the Baltic Sea were settled by the Slavs. The areas town names ending in “-in” no “ow” reflect this heritage, as does the name Lübeck, which is Slavic for “love.”

The charming city of Lübeck is snuggled between two rivers and is known as the City of Seven Spires for the impressive towers built on city churches. A detailed model in the Central Market illustrated the layout of the island. Lübeck was a critical port and was very densely populated in the 1940s, making it an obvious target for Churchill’s forces. One air raid destroyed most of the city infrastructure, allowing British forces to use it as a supply source for their Red Cross for the remainder of the war.

City Hall frames one side of the market square. Built in 1280 with large holes to allow strong winds to pass and a large ratskeller where wine from France was stored in barrels, it was critical to the city’s development. A white facade was added in the 16th century. Also in the market sits the “Butter Box” where dairy products were sold under shade from the sun and local petty criminals were put on public display.

Lübeck is famous for marzipan, which is sold in pieces, loaves and pig shapes for good luck. One must never bite into a loaf of marzipan. It is always cut into portions with a knife. Until locals learned to cultivate beets for sugar, marzipan was very expensive to make. Lübeck offered loaves of the sweet to the Pope as gifts until the candy became more commonplace.

Behind the market we found St. Mary’s Church with its green spires. Amazingly, someone was working on one of the spires waaaaaay up in the air. Gave me the shivers. The church was built with bricks because of the marshy land of the area and lack of stone resources and this turned out to be a poor engineering decision. Today, several of the church spires lean precariously. Churchill’s fire bombing on Palm Sunday, 1942 destroyed much of the church. The heat from the blaze caused the church bells to ring before they melted and fell into the church.

Outside, a sculpture of a wee monster is poised for photos with tourists. It is said the Devil helped build St. Mary’s Church thinking it would be a wine bar. When he learned it would be a church, he tried to destroy it by throwing stones, but failed. Germans say they “take the devil by the horns” when they mean to get something done. Across from the statue, a rose bush holds court. Legend has it the bush symbolises the city and the city will live as long as the roses bloom there. At one point, a family of mice invaded the garden, nibbling on the branches, threatening the vitality of the tree. This story has been retold for centuries to remind Germans that small things can have a great impact.

St. Catherine’s Church was just around the corner. St. Frances came to Lübeck in the Middle Ages and established a monastery at the site of the church to help support workers and travelers. A sculptor was employed to decorate the facade, but his statues evoked too much emotion for church leaders and his contractor was shortened from sixteen statues to only three, who do surprise the senses a bit. One is of a woman freezing in the cold weather, next to her stands a boy terrified to sing in publican

As Lübeck grew, large estate owners allowed their employees to build small homes on their land. A requirement of these dwellings was that their doors could not be any larger than was necessary to carry a coffin outside. When merchants died, their widows were not permitted to take control of their shops. This left many women without homes. Some moved in with their children, but in the 1630s, courtyards were established to house those who had no options. Very meager accomodations were developed to provide comfortable apartments for widows to enjoy. A “hospital” was established in 1227, not as a source of medical care, but rather a resource for travelers and workers to find hospitality in the form of meals and lodging. Church services were held in the small chapel and living spaces were built in the long room.

The sound of a city-wide mobile phone alarm gave us a jolt. We were meandering toward a marzipan shop for a cup of tea as it sounded. We had left the former East Germany, but were still stunned. A quick snapshot with Google Translate put us at ease; it was a test.

The history of the area was particularly interesting because my paternal ancestors emigrated to Wisconsin from Schleswig-Holstein. “Wiese” means “meadow” in German. Driving through the vast farmlands, I imagined them working the land - successful farmers outstanding in their fields. Sadly, I have found no connection between my family and the Mecklenburgs who ruled the region from 1170 until 1917 and for whom the territory is named.

On our way back to the ship, we visited the Fairytale Palace in Schwerin. Construction on the castle began in 941 and continued until the 19th century. The palace is truly enchanting. Robust steeds flank the entrance, beckoning us to enjoy the architecture and lush gardens.

After returning to the ship, we grabbed a quick nosh to fuel the Boboys’ brains as they had schoolwork to complete. They dove into their assignments while Rick and I escaped to the wine bar to sample some lovely reds. A lively musician entertained the crowd crooning about the 24 years he lived next door to Alice. We took comfort knowing none of our fellow passengers, like us, had no idea knew who the **** Alice was.

12/09/2024

Leaving Berlin was another ride on the Deutsche Bahn roller coaster! The night before we left, we found a beautiful restaurant that served us rich, luscious traditional German comfort food, which is my favourite. Their pretzels had a crunchy crust and wonderful ye**ty middle, their veal meatballs were beautifully tender and their gravy was a savory splendor. I have always been a lover of French cuisine, but German food has nudged its way next to it's français friend to the top of my list.

Our train to Hamburg was on time and lovely. I had booked seats, so we planned to spend two hours on one train and then four hours on the next, arriving in Copenhagen just after lunch. Just before arrival in Hamburg, we learned that there was a mechanical failure down the line that was causing delays. We stood on the platform waiting for our train, but the digital screen read “Ankunft,” which we thought was a different town. Only after much consternation and cussing did we think to ask Google translate for help and learned it means “arriving” and we missed the “from Amsterdam” at the bottom of the screen. Scores of fellow folks headed to Berlin boarded and most were left standing in the aisles. Considering the four-hour journey, we opted to wait for the next train. We asked about booking seats, but were told all of the day’s trains were full. Again, we employed our politely aggressive transit techniques and unapologetically secured seats in two areas. Some travelers had reserved seats, including a darling young Italian woman traveling with her dog who shared our table, but the harried masses were jockeying for seats and we were not about to cede our territory.

Several hours into our trip, our train stopped and learned that a fellow soul had been caught in front of a train and that the tracks were closed. A profound sense of sorrow overcame me. I prayed for those involved and thank God we were safe. The conductor spoke of bus transport and we waited to hear about the fate of our transit, happy we were in cozy seats. After resting in the country for several hours, our train was able to continue its journey to Copenhagen. We arrived just after midnight and Rick guided us to our rental apartment.

Danes have it figured out. We arrived at our hotel, entered a code and were allowed into a foyer with a small screen mounted to the wall. There, I entered my reservation number and name, scanned my passport and agreed to the terms of service. Within seconds, a room was assigned to us, two key cards were printed, and the receipt was emailed to me. Quick and easy, which was perfect for four travelers who had anticipated a six-hour trip and ended up spending 16 hours on a train. The room we rented was simple yet elegant. We had everything we needed and nothing we didn’t. The beds were soft, the duvets were fluffy and the blackout curtains were divine.

Our day of exploration in Copenhagen was hijacked by Mother Nature who sent a downpour. Multiple locals told us that rainfall was “hellacious” and unprecedented. Chase has been battling a cold, so we let him sleep and we all took it easy, catching up on laundry and resting in the homey respite of our abode. Rick and I often chuckle about how Chase’s name is so fitting for him. It’s a family name on Rick’s side, and coincidentally, our son is an incessant kinesiological force. He. Never. Stops. We let nature rule, and he slept 18 hours straight. We knew our decision to lay low was best.

We didn’t want to load up with groceries, so we opted for takeout from a local sushi spot. As the rain poured down, we shared ahi, wasabi and laughs.

The next morning, a gregarious taxi driver gave us a penny tour of Copenhagen on our way to the harbor where our ship headed up the Baltic Sea awaited our arrival. We will have one day to explore when we return to Copenhagen and took careful notes as he chatted about his hometown. We had prepared for a long, boring embarkation process at the port, but found ourselves on board within twenty quick minutes and quickly settled in our room. The Boboys set off on their usual nautical scouting adventure to get the lay of the land while Rick and I unpacked. We have a balcony room this time, so we have more light and a bit more room. We were again impressed by the closet and drawer space, but happy to have brought magnetic clips and an over-door shoe organizer to arrange un**es and togs.

Table 628 in the Il Palazzo restaurant has been reserved for our dinner every night at 2030. We are fortunate to have Swardika from Indonesia looking after our every desire.

The battle continues to rage between carpe’ing our diems on this adventure and appreciating our limits. We were scheduled to dock in Sweden, another new country for all of us, but Chase was still unwell and we were all quite tired from our train escapade, so what to do? Fortunately, Mother Nature helped our decision, pouring rain on Karlskrona this morning. We could only reach town by tender, and with waves raging and the gray sky dumping rain around us, we opted to allow explorers with adventure fever and Goretex to brave the seas and sleep in. At 1300, the clouds surrendered to the sun and our ship’s tenders were open for a skip across the harbour to Karlskrona.

As we wandered the streets of town, we were once again charmed by quaint buildings and impressed by the city’s attention to urban planning. There was no architecture to write home about, but the naval history of this small town spoke to me as the granddaughter of a devoted naval architect. At every turn, gigantic anchors and propellers reminded us of the maritime importance of Karlskrona as an international port and military bastion. That said, the trans-auricular endotracheal intubation slide at the park did catch us off guard.

The weather was perfectly bright for a stroll along the seawall and along the pedestrian shopping area of Karlskrona. I’ve been contemplating the border for my cross stitch and wondering where I could find a nice sepia-toned floss… During our skip about town, we happened upon a yarn shop with every DMC color available! I called up a photo of my project and bought six bundles of what I hope is the perfect sepia floss for 140 SEK (Swedish krona, 100 SEK = $10 USD.)

After a workout under a gorgeous sunset, we shared karaoke with a few other courageous souls and took full advantage of the empty stage. After I sang All Fired Up and Like the Way I Do, our hosts suggested several other tunes I’d never tried and I went for it. Rick and I rocked The Time of My Life and we cheered our compatriots on and had a blast.

We enjoy our train travel and apartments, but having our closet follow us, our meals prepared, our entertainment planned and our beds turned down is spoiling us. It’s a nice break from navigating railways and making pasta in rental pans.

Tonight at dinner, our table had a nearly 180-degree panoramic view of the sea prompting Chase to note, “this looks like the view from the Piz Gloria.” I love that my boys are experiencing the world, creating incredible memories. Later in that same meal, though, Chase rubbed a bit of the luscious olive oil Shasdika gave us for our bread into his hands and cooed “oooh, palm oil!” They’re world travelers, but they’re still twelve-year-old boys and I love it.

09/09/2024

Berlin is a fascinating city.

This afternoon we toured the city, taking in many important monuments and learning some of Germany’s incredible history. We started at the Trains to Life - Trains to Death sculpture outside of the Friedrichstraße station. Our emotions whirled like flurries in a snow globe when we saw children on one side of the piece waiting to be transported with 1,600,000 others to death camps and those on the other side who were saved by the Kindertransport, a train that brought 10,000 Jewish children from endangered countries to the UK. The sculpture was created by Frank Meisler, who was saved by the Kindertransport himself.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe employs 2,711 concrete blocks of different heights arranged in neat rows in a 4.7-acre square in Berlin. The ground between the stones rises and falls without predicability, creating a labyrinth through the display. Navigating through the maze is a solemn experience. The number and design of the structures are said to have no significance and the intentions of the artist are not known, but the psychological impact of following a quiet, dark, uneven path between large, imposing pillars, capturing fleeting glances of others as they walk brought a sense of isolation and despair. At the corners of the display, the pillars are shorter and the increase in light provides comfort.

The Reichstag is a building worthy of its historical stature. It commands a strong presence and could tell many tales. In its 130 years of existence, it has served as headquarters for many governments and survived a devastating fire in 1933 and significant damage during World War II. It was after the fire in 1933 that Adolf Hi**er convinced the legislature that only he could protect Germany, accelerating his rise to power. Damage from allied gunfire is visible in the stone façade of the building.

Near the Reichstag, a Soviet War Memorial looms large in what was once West Germany. This curious placement was the source of many skirmishes after the division of Germany ordered by the Treaty of Versailles. The memorial was constructed with stone taken from Hi**er’s chancellory after its destruction following the war. Smith was impressed by the two T-34 tanks that flanked the monument.

We strolled along the Straße des 17. Juni fascinated by stories of its establishment as a pathway between two royal palaces and use as a landing strip one day in 1945. Hannah Reitsch, a petite, blonde poster-girl pilot for the Luftwaffe, flew to Berlin to rescue Hi**er as the war came to a close, setting down on the Straße. Her career as a test pilot and engineer of a su***de mission team was impressive and simultaneously profoundly disturbing. We could see the gold-topped Victory Tower in the distance as we approached the Brandenburg Gate.

Standing on the spot where Ronald Reagan pleaded with Mr. Gorbachev to “tear down this wall,” Jimmy shared some history of the Brandenburg Gate and Berlin Wall. The Gate was constructed by Prussian royalty to provide them an ornate exit point from the city. Commoners transited via side doors, paying a fee for the privilege. The Gate symbolised peace to city residents and visitors until Napoleon rode through in 1806, setting up his occupation. The Quadriga sculpture of a chariot pulled by four horses was taken to Paris as spoils of war. Germany recovered the piece in 1814 and the proud victors added the Cross of Prussia to ensure the monument could not be displayed elsewhere.

The Brandenburg Gate has been the site of many rallies including the 1933 march of N**i Storm Troopers memorialised in photos. When Germany was divided in the 1970s and 1980s, the Pariser Platz on the city side of the Gate was an “exclusion zone” manned by snipers poised to kill anyone with an intention to cross the border. When the Berlin Wall was dismantled in 1989, the Gate served as a monumental meeting place for Germans to reunite.

Unbeknownst to us, lurking just beneath our rental unit sat Hi**er’s bunkers. Communist-era apartment buildings, including ours, and a car park occupy the land now with only one small placard marking the site. After Adolf Hi**er and Eva Braun’s su***des, their bodies were cremated in a bomb crater above the bunker where a playground now stands. Creepy.

The Federal Ministry of Finance is housed in a gigantic building in the former East Berlin that looms with communist energy. The structure was built in 1935 to house the Luftwaffe, despite the Treaty of Versailles forbidding Germany from mounting an Air Force. Despite government propaganda claiming life in communist Germany was wonderful in the 1950s, dissatisfied workers staged a massive uprising at the site. Again, evidence of gunfire was easily identified on the walls.

We ended our tour at the largest remaining section of the Berlin Wall. Erected in 1961, the Wall was meant to protect East Berliners from “fascist elements,” and to ensure citizens in communist East Berlin did not escape to capitalist West Berlin. Barbed wire, armed guards and mines bolstered the power of the Wall. We heard tales of despair and demise as we stood in the “Death Strip” just outside the wall. Over 100,000 people attempted to escape East Berlin between 1961 and 1989, with only 5,000 succeeding.

On the opposite side of the wall section, the Topography of Terror open museum displays photos, documents and videos depicting the rise of the Third Reich, the horrors N**is inflicted and victory in Europe. Plexiglass sheets containing historic documents take space in front of the crumbled brick foundation of the former headquarters of the Gestapo and SS. A thick sourness again polluted our spirits as we walked among the artifacts. The entire era is just so unfathomable.

It’s apparently not a trip to Berlin without a sampling of currywurst, a bratwurst covered in ketchup, Worcestershire sauce and a heavy blanket of curry powder. The vendor near a classic East German car monument served us up a heaping helping to make our visit complete. My Wisconsin upbringing instilled strict restrictions on appropriate bratwurst accoutrements with ketchup being on the verboten list, and with good reason. The Berlin combination of sauces and spices was interesting, but we Bopeople prefer our wurst with mustard, onions and sauerkraut, as God intended.

A beautiful cool breeze landed on the city during our walk home. We’ve settled in to watch the 2003 film, Downfall, that recounts the last days of Hi**er’s regime with scenes from his bunker. Knowing that hideous hideout was just outside of our window adds a hefty gravitas.

08/09/2024

The trip from Amsterdam to Berlin via air is swift, but we have Eurail passes and prefer trains to the bumble and bustle of airports. Despite a six-hour itinerary, we were excited to settle into our seats and enjoy the scenery. Deutsche Bahn, German’s railway system, had another idea. We think construction was our nemesis, but can’t be sure since none of us speak a word of German. We did come to understand that our cozy single-train voyage would become a complicated, delay-infested puzzle involving many frustrated fellow travelers and crowded coach cars.

Instead of zipping from Amsterdam to Copenhagen as a family in reserved seats as planned, we disembarked in Rhine, not far from Berlin, with hopes of grabbing seats near each other on another train to Hannover several minutes after arrival. Nope. Delayed. Then, the platform for our next ride was changed. We thanked the gods of electronic signage as we struggled to follow the ever-changing plan and garbled announcements in Deutsche.

Eventually, our carriage to Hannover arrived. We have learned to become politely aggressive when boarding mass transit and were able to secure a two-and-two seat situation in a comfortable car. We were assured we would board our last vehicle of the day in Hannover, but so were several hundred other hopeful passengers. As the train barrelled into Hannover nearly full, it swept the wind from our sails. Scores of dreamers hopped on board anticipating a miracle, but only a handful of our brethren were accommodated. The rest of us stepped down and gazed from the platform at our fortunate fellow voyagers with envy.

Undaunted but experienced, we decided to give one more train a chance, but investigated lodging options in Hannover in case our evening and luck ran out. Again, with eager anticipation and fierce determination, we stationed ourselves strategically along the quay to board ahead of the hoards. Chase and I took the forward approach while Rick and Smith charged from the rear. We wriggled down the aisle until we spied pay dirt, plopped our bags down like flags into moon rock and heaved a sigh of relief.

The Berlin Hauptbahnhof, or main station, was a ghost town when we arrived at 2300. We poured our tired bodies into a taxi and were soon fetching keys to our apartment from a lock box. Our rental was several blocks from the key office, so as we walked the quiet streets lined with beautiful, full trees, we shared our surprise at the calm and safety we felt. We weren’t expecting a Gestapo on the footpaths, but even the night revellers we had imagined weren’t out and the streets were peaceful.

An odd lighted profile welcomed us to our neighbourhood in Berlin. We learned this is a memorial dedicated to Johann Georg Elser, a carpenter who saw the dangers of the rise of N**ism and crafted a plan to assassinate Adolf Hi**er in 1939. Elser planted a time bomb in a Munich beer hall, intending detonation at 2120 on November 8, soon after Hi**er spoke to a group of supporters. In a twist of weather that changed the world forever, fog descended upon Munich that evening. Hi**er finished his speech early to facilitate his departure and left the beer hall at 2113, seven minutes before the explosion that would have certainly ended his life. Elser was captured and imprisoned, enjoying privileges during his incarceration for recreating the bomb for his captors. One month before the fall of the Third Reich, Hi**er tied up a loose end, calling for Elser to be transferred to Dachau and murdered.

Our apartment is huge and modern, but sits on the seventh floor and lacks air conditioning. We opened every window in the place as we donned light jammies, ready for bed.