AquaDom & SEA LIFE Berlin

Why am I always so comfortable in a big modern bad ass city? As good as Marbella and the Spanish Sun Coast was Berlin is another dimension.
From the moment I stepped outside the hotel onto Wittenberg Platz I felt at home. Totally comfortable as I walked to Die Creme for früshstück this morning. No longer walking the pretty sun brightened streets of Marbella. Or smelling the ocean breeze. Instead traffic, graffiti, folks rushing, sirens howling. But damn I was home. Finishing my bowl of granola with fresh berries and coffee I exited the small cafe to get my city pass I had purchase on line. This was going to be a day for a little shopping, learning the subway system and walking.
I headed toward Potsdamer Platz 1.3 miles away to get a proper Berlin public transport pass. Offices close. Open Monday-Wednesday or weekends. Well that walk healthy still took time and pissed me off. So I kept walking almost in circles until fatigue urged me to rest. When my legs were about to give up finding me in a jail cell for sleeping on a cold wet park bench a Hop On Hop Off bus turned the corner headed towards me. It stopped. I got on.
Not a word of English did the driver speak. I showed him the Visit Berlin pass but in English he couldn’t understand it. In German I had to buy the tour bus pass at the Tor. “Ok” I said. He let me on. No jail tonite.
Sitting in the upper deck toggling through an exhaustive list of languages I found the English narration. Up and down streets the bus went. Here’s the Opera House, then museum xyz, a decaying Berlin Wall picked clean by human woodpeckers and a remnant of a bomb out WWII building. Past Check Point Charlie into the government quarter where we were forced to stop to allow a cavalcade of police cars, blue lights on, motorcycle escorts and dark Mercedes Benzes. King Charles was here yesterday but had already departed for Hamburg. This definitely was a important politician. It reminded me of the night in DC went we were surprised by Trumps parade of black vehicles on route to the White House. It was probably a late night Taco Bell run. We did “salute” as the Beast passed us.
Anyway the bus made to the Tor and I jumped off with a quick Vielen dank.
The subway station that would get me back was nearby by.
I went down the stairs to the ticket kiosk. Location instructions were difficult to interpret and my phone was of little use. So I went looking for help. And then serendipity.
There was an older man we’ll probably my ages at a seat waiting for the train. He was wearing a baseball cap and from a distance I recognized it as the Cuban flag it was embroidered on the side and Cuba above the bill.
Incredulous I stopped and in Spanish I said “¿Tu eres Cubano?” He smiled and replied “Si.” Instantaneously, as brothers from some distant land there was an bond.
I continued asking if he knew the system and where I wanted to go. As he began explaining his train approached. I said thanks indicating I understood in Spanish of course and shook his hand.
I continue the short distance to the escalator that would take me to the other side of the tracks. As I walked across, I looked down and saw him still on the platform his train gone. He had not boarded and was waving at me to come back. Weird. I made a u-turn and headed back down.
He was very apologetic feeling he had not given me clear instructions. Since he wasn’t working today he could take the next train home.
We talked and I learned how to get back to the hotel. Then a little bit of chit chat asking him if he lives in Berlin etc. Yes he told me for the last 30 years.
I began to probe further but again the next train approached. Yeah German schedules.
I stopped the questions and asked if I could take a selfie of us. Immediately he said No, no pictures please. Ok I respect that. Many people are camera shy. But this was different. Summing it up in my mind I knew it was the long arm of the Cuban government. Stretching all the way from Havana it’s authoritarian reach beyond comprehension.
I firmly shook his hand again and patted his shoulder.
How many lives has the regime destroyed? For how many more years will the suffering continue?Read more