My son and grandchildren show me Berlin. We head for one of the many playgrounds that look like large sandpits, under trees surrounded by decorative apartments.
We wander, scoot, scuff and trundle our way along Straße cobbled and stolpsterstein-ed past bookshops, toy shops, cafes, bakeries, hairdressers, clothes shops and ice cream shops (some of these shops will soon shut for the winter).
Sometimes we stop to gaze in at the quirky window displays …
The roar and rush of yellow trams …
Nearly there …
When we arrive I see why they call it the trampoline park
It is busy and crowded, with a friendly and respectful atmosphere. There are many parents and their kids gathered here for an end of the day play before the evening meal.
The playgrounds is located in Gethsemane Plaza behind the Gethsemane church, a church significant personally and historically. It is where two years ago Chris, Jenny and wee A. brought me so that I could light a candle for my late mother on her birthday. It is also where protest groups against the government of East Germany secretly met and gathered in strength, ushering in the breaking down of the Wall.
I think about that as I look around at the peaceful surrounds of brick and trees and colourful flower boxes on the many balconies and watch my grandchildren play; my son working the seesaw.
Through trees with leaves beginning to turn, I catch a glimpse of the red brick of the Gethsemane church.
Leaving my son & his kids for a bit, I wander around the church. Scaffolding that was there two years ago, is still in place. The restoration must be quite something.
A handsome clock catches my eye.
I see some other attractive corners to take photos of. Sometimes you get on a roll. A man passing by mutters something at me in Deutsch, goodness knows what he said. But this is Berlin. Random stuff happens. People can be unpredictable. The lost and the found existing side by side. There’s a creative, free buzz you can ride like a wave which somehow gives you permission just to be yourself.
Then I found my favourite (expensive, Jenny tells me) green cafe! So I had to have a cup of tea there. I tip the waitress far too much, but hey. This is Berlin. I’m doing my own thing because I can – German limits and ‘rules’ permitting of course.