Nein.  Not only am I not bitter, I’m very grateful to my friend Thilo for showing me the amazing history and culture of Berlin, to the extent that was possible in a few days.  Not knowing just how far we would be walking I got blisters the first day, but I did remember to wear my more comfortable shoes when we resumed our intense sightseeing.  In these pictures there are a few buildings that survived the bombings at the end of WWII (very little of the city did).  There are also wonderful contrasts between the eastern and western parts of Berlin, although very little of the actual wall remains and with each passing year the ability to recognize one side or the other will get harder.  There are these cute little cars they have for rent which are made out of some kind of treated cardboard.  Bears are the symbol of the city of Berlin (like peaches for Atlanta and apples for New York).

I didn’t even know that the TV tower existed in Berlin, but I went up it.  There were also a few war memorials, including the Holocaust Memorial which I made sure not to smile while posing in (it is indeed somber, but abstract).  I just didn’t have the energy to get to the gay memorial for the war.  I did make it to Brandenburg Gate, where Michael Jackson’s baby was dangled in the nearby hotel, and where they were celebrating a French holiday, as that was part of the French-occupied Berlin.  You will see the Sony center which is designed to look like Mount Fuji, and nearby there was a Lego giraffe.  Lots of interesting things and some poignant commemorations to the people who lost their lives attempting to cross that damned wall that was there for decades.

In addition to getting a lot of culture in, I also enjoyed the gay night life mostly in Schoenberg, where I stayed.  I was trying to pronounce things in German, even if I will never speak it.  I also translated successfully the sign I’m standing below which advertises Teddybears as “a friend for life.”   Like Iceland, pretty much everyone spoke English, which was almost too easy for an Anglophone, but on the last day when I was anxious to find my way back to the airport alone since Thilo had picked me up and I hardly had paid attention, no one at the closest train station, Wittenbergplatz, claimed they could speak English.  In fact, they all told me this IN ENGLISH.  Fortunately a nice guy walking around the station who apparently also worked there saw me looking at the maps and asked me in English what I needed and helped me get to the airport in plenty of time.