The words translate as 'until we meet again', and for we two travellers, I reckon we will return to Berlin. Today, we leave for France. I've found many stories in Berlin - proving the fact, in this city at least, writers need only open their senses and their 'story eyes' to find the possibilities. I thought I'd bring you a pictorial post of extra bits and pieces.
HISTORY: Frederick the Great, my favourite German monarch and his Sans Souci, the chalet at Potsdam. Note his gravestone - potatoes and roses. The legend goes that during a famine, Frederick brought potatoes into the country, but people didn't want to try this new food. So he put a guard around a crop of potatoes and ordered them to look the other way if people stole the vegetable. Of course they did - if something must be guarded it must be good. And so potatoes came to the kingdom.
HISTORY: Countless stories in Berlin's more modern era. From the horror of war-torn, Berlin, the fascists, Hitler's bunker, the killing of the Jews, the Gypsies, Communists and Intellectuals - to the tearing apart of a city during the Cold War into East and West Berlin. My German friend, Wiekbe told me many stories of when she was growing up in this divided city, and about the time The Wall came down.
THE FRIENDS: The delights of meeting friends, old and new in this city. Lucie, Wiebke, Christopher and Gerhardt.
THE FOOD: For me, Berlin's bread and pastries will long stay in my memory. That's if they're not supplanted by France's culinary delights. How could one ever eat white, sliced bread again after Berlin's tasty breads. (Not that I eat white and sliced).
Farewell, and we'll see you next in Paris.