Hello! My name is Hannah Carroll, and I am a rising junior double-majoring in history and art history at Bryn Mawr College. I am participating in the Temple Summer in Germany program with InterDaf at the University of Leipzig, and I am taking intermediate German I. Besides improving my German Sprachkentnisse (language skills), I hope to see a lot of museums, try new foods, and get to know the local wildlife (I am an avid birdwatcher, and Leipzig is home to one of the best zoos in Europe). I’m looking forward to sharing some of my experiences with you!
Before we arrived in Leipzig, we spent a few days in Berlin. Since this was my first time in the city, I tried to explore at my own pace, and mainly did so on my own. I had a very ambitious list of things I wanted to see (like the Deutsches Historisches Museum, Tierpark, Alte Nationalgalerie, and some decorative arts museums) and I did not get through all of them, or, for that matter, very many at all. Retrospectively, I do not believe I had even intended to go to all of these places, because squishing in so many museums and memorials means less time to spend in them, and anyone who knows me knows that I like to take my good old time in museums. Instead, how I tried to budget my time outside of planned excursions was to pick some must-see things and otherwise stick to bummeln (wandering about).
One of the trips we took as a group was a tour of the Reichstag (parliament building). Although the stratigraphy of history is something I experienced all over Berlin, I thought that the Reichstag provided a particularly dynamic example of this idea compressed into a single space. The building, completed in the 1880s (in a neo-baroque style which was standard for the time) was repeatedly damaged, defaced, and abandoned throughout the twentieth century, but the building was repaired and renovated after German reunification in the 1990s. However, the architects chose to preserve some of this evidence of turmoil in the form of exposing some of the war graffiti left after the Soviet occupation. Most of this, our tour guide explained, entailed an individual soldier’s name, some relevant military information, and a simple message like “I was here” or “glory to the Red Army”. Such a thing would have been a typical way of asserting dominance in the aftermath of a war victory, but the act of preserving it and allowing it to linger in the seat of German government really struck me as an interesting example of the way that the city juxtaposes its past and present and invites engagement at many different levels.
One of the things I am trying to do while traveling through Europe is visit sites and learn the stories of local Jewish communities. My own college Jewish community has been so important for my social and cultural life, so I like to explore others in whatever places I go. Doing this provides me not only with a sense of comfort in a new place, but also gives me an anchor to guide my itinerary. In Berlin, this meant walking around Oranienburgerstraße, near the Museuminsel. This street is home to the Neue Synagogue, a stunning Moorish revival building whose dome was even visible from the view on the rook of the Reichstag.
I also went out of my way to go to the Jüdisches Museum, at the behest of my German professor at home. If you had to pick one museum to see (as I did), this one would have to be it. It was an incredible educational experience, but the highlight of my walk through the main exhibit was seeing some Moritz Daniel Oppenheim paintings in person for the first time. Last semester, I wrote a paper about his famous, nostalgic scenes of Jewish ritual and family life, and it was such a special experience to see some of these up close, because I wrote my entire paper having only referenced them from books and exhibition catalogues. There really is something special about experiencing pieces of art in person.
On a personal level, being there and learning about the Jewish community in Berlin was very important. I believe it is important not only to reflect on antisemitic violence, but also to understand and celebrate the life of the community which persevered in spite of it.
I am looking forward to spending some more time in Leipzig and Saxony and hope to return soon with more stories from my trip. Bis bald, tchüss (goodbye)!