The day continued with a boatload more of sitting and listening but with a change of scenery. We were invited to spend the afternoon at the Leipzigerplatz office of AJC Berlin. The American Jewish Committee coordinates our trip, and we owe them a big thank you, and got a bigger welcome. We were treated to a Mediterranean salad spread and spicy salmon, my first non-dairy protein of the trip! Over cookies and tea, office director and journalist Deirdre Berger gave us an overview of the office’s history and function. Considering I knew very little about AJC before, everything she had to say was new and much was interesting. In my understanding, the AJC creates strong diplomatic relationships with all kinds of leaders to give a Jewish voice to important discussions. Berger was a Medill Cherub, and therefore somewhat of a fellow Wildcat, and she had an impressive NPR career. Her office was air-conditioned and a great view, making the session pleasant, but still a lot of long sitting-and-listening stuff.
She invited a start-up non-prof called Typically German to come and speak to us. Sezen (Turkish 3rd Generation German), Max (old German who looks like an Abercrombie model) and Gerçe (born in Turkey, pro-revolution photojournalist) all work on workshops and other initiatives to build a brighter future for a diverse young Germany. They are calling themselves ‘new Germans’ – a wildly driven generation that ignores ethnic background stereotyping! Yeah! No more social taboos and boundaries! I tried to ask some hard-hitting questions about organizational structure and development because they are just so positive and so ambitious and so fun and cool and awesome and bright, it’s like too dreamy. Their biggest problem is not planning to quit their day jobs – they can’t spend enough time working on and delivering their great ideas.
Next stop was the Jewish Museum of Berlin, which chronicles centuries of Jewish history. We had an introduction given by a man who spoke in a German cockney English slower than molasses – I think he had a speech disorder, but it was so hard to understand him, which took away from my The exhibit was confusing and overwhelming. It’s very strange to look at your own living culture in a museum. I liked the early century pieces, old prayer books with medieval script and journal entries from an observant 1400s merchant woman named Gitl.
Then, we got into my time period. Exhibits I did not like included the face-in-hole of a Jew cartoon body, the statement that all women in non-orthodox synagogues wear phylacteries, and the Jew-In-A-Box. You may have heard of the Jew-In-A-Box. While the ‘Jew’ was not currently in the box, the exhibit asks real FAQs sent to the museum such as, “Why do Jews believe they are the chosen people?,” “Why does everyone hate the Jews?” And, “Do Jews believe in Satan?” Rather than maturely addressing these questions as the come, the exhibit takes on metaphorical and sarcastic interpretations, such as the opportunity to vote with a token whether you think Jews are: business-savvy, intelligent, caring toward animals, influential or beautiful. Being all of those things, I thought this exhibit had intellectual merit as a social commentary on the misconceptions and dialogues on Judaism but I highly doubt that all of the non-Jews going through could possibly interpret the nuances and offenses of the exhibit. So, my three friends and I left the museum in a huff, completed frustrated.
A long walk on the Spree River and through the Prizenstrassegartens soothed our pain, but our dialogue continued as we discussed all kinds of Jewish practices and perceptions around the world, personal and political both. After a Magnum ice cream break from all the walking and thinking, we talked about plastic surgery which was kind of a weird mental respite.
Our dinner of the night was with German Military Officers. Whoa, let’s just throw down with the controversial and confront it now, eh? We sat down with Sebastian, the sweetest former naval officer you ever did meet. This small-town blonde boy loved sailing, so he joined the navy at a young age, only to find out this also meant he would be part of the military. He spent three years exploding World War mines in the Baltic Sea. He only actually got to destroy 15. (There are predicted to be 80,000 out there.) In fact, Sebastian had just started his new job as a Youth Information Officer, a public relations associate who explains military activity and strategy to groups at German schools and on tours. We were in a way his first clients, as new to Berlin as he was. After much getting to know you, he eventually imitated Bevis and Butthead and we knew at that point he would probably be a lifelong Facebook friend.
Only on the subway after did it occur to me that taking a picture with a German soldier is weird. But, after a few days here, facing modern Germany, is it that weird? He didn’t even intentionally join the army. He was curious, interesting and incredibly polite. Can I feel negativity toward him for what his great-grandparents (perhaps but not so likely) may have done to my great-grandparents? We weren’t even born. We didn’t make the choices to be who we are. We did, however, make the choice to have a delightful dinner with an open intercultural discussion. Did he briefly make me think of the boyfriend in the Sound of Music? Yes. But do I have any legitimate ground for overthinking a picture with him? I’m not so sure I do, but I definitely just did that.
All days on this trip end with these exhausting thoughts, just as they begin. This program does an amazing job of allowing us to ask questions and confront issues from many perspectives, but that doesn’t mean we find any answers.
On the walk back to the hotel, we indulged in another analysis of the secret lives of Berlin’s many legal prostitutes, their corsets and plastic go-go-boots marking the cobblestones at each corner.
What am I doing here? Right now, just going to bed and re-dealing with it all tomorrow.
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