The change in my father's voice gave me all the proof I needed. It suddenly became 40 years younger, became jumpy and excited, as if these 40 years were a heavy coat, he just through of him to run out and show me.
Sunday morning is sacred for Berliners, not for any religious reasons, no not at all. It is their traditional breakfast meeting with friends. So there we were, proud son and daughter of two 1970s Berlin émigrés. Two poor young men who found in Berlin a safe place to study, but mainly to escape from politically troubled little Greece in the dictatorship years.
From stories I know that they used to meet in dark Cafes in Charlottenburg, spend as little money as possible and hunt for those few bits of painful but precious news from homeland. More often in Bleibtreu cafe. It even became a song by the famous musicians of the Greek émigré community. Stay faithful.
And so we did. 40 years on with our parents well back in Greece, established and retired, we retraced their steps. K. lead me to a stylish street that definitely lacked the dynamic character of the new east quarters of the city. Prezlauberg it was not. But he said: "You know, here was the field of action" It's here they met, lived, worked, fought their daily wars. Can you feel it?
Yes I could.
The area aged gracefully. It accepted the fact that it was no longer the “field of action” of modern émigrés’ kept the wisdom of its past and gained in style. Just like the old hippies who come to terms with reality, accepting that they lost the battle, that the world will never change… but at least they know they tried.
West Berlin was full of memories. Not mine. But somehow I could feel my blood moving faster, getting warmer. Maybe after all strong memories and big loves of one’s youth pass on to the offspring and in that way they achieve immortality. They live on.
Maybe this is how you stay faithful to yourself; to your youth and its companions.
Bleib treu
Sunday morning is sacred for Berliners, not for any religious reasons, no not at all. It is their traditional breakfast meeting with friends. So there we were, proud son and daughter of two 1970s Berlin émigrés. Two poor young men who found in Berlin a safe place to study, but mainly to escape from politically troubled little Greece in the dictatorship years.
From stories I know that they used to meet in dark Cafes in Charlottenburg, spend as little money as possible and hunt for those few bits of painful but precious news from homeland. More often in Bleibtreu cafe. It even became a song by the famous musicians of the Greek émigré community. Stay faithful.
And so we did. 40 years on with our parents well back in Greece, established and retired, we retraced their steps. K. lead me to a stylish street that definitely lacked the dynamic character of the new east quarters of the city. Prezlauberg it was not. But he said: "You know, here was the field of action" It's here they met, lived, worked, fought their daily wars. Can you feel it?
Yes I could.
The area aged gracefully. It accepted the fact that it was no longer the “field of action” of modern émigrés’ kept the wisdom of its past and gained in style. Just like the old hippies who come to terms with reality, accepting that they lost the battle, that the world will never change… but at least they know they tried.
West Berlin was full of memories. Not mine. But somehow I could feel my blood moving faster, getting warmer. Maybe after all strong memories and big loves of one’s youth pass on to the offspring and in that way they achieve immortality. They live on.
Maybe this is how you stay faithful to yourself; to your youth and its companions.
Bleib treu
I should ask my father. He'll know.
2 comments:
This is my favourite, connecting across the generations. I wonder where your children will go to link to your past?
Yeah that is a very good question. I think I will have to sketch a trail for them...
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