Our train passed many parts of the metropolitan area known as Berlin before we arrived at the main station. This introduction laid out in front of us one warning: Berlin is huge. Arriving from the east, our hostel was at the west end of the metro system (conveniently located next to the stop named ‘Westend’). It was a long trek from the center – about 20 minutes by metro – but cheap enough to swallow the minor inconvenience. Berlin is known to be one of the few capitals in Europe in which you can really stretch out each euro. Despite its cheap reputation, we managed to spend a bit more than we had planned.

First off, we spurned the efficiency of the metro system by purchasing the wrong ticket almost every time: the one day pass on the first day overlapped with a three day pass and stray tickets on each end as well. Not including the Potsdam travel zone saved us 2 euros up front but cost 10 later on. We made up for our minor errors by eating as cheaply as possible. Germany’s famous for its wurst, but on the backpacking circuit, it’s almost as famous for its falafel and kebab. For 2 euros each we had satisfying, if not wholly unhealthy, meals almost every night. Coming from Poland, this was the only thing that wasn’t a drastic upshot in prices. A price map of Europe would be pretty easy to construct. The further one moves north and west, the more expensive everything gets. Capitals cost twice as much as surrounding regions and coastal areas cost twice the capitals. It’s science.

The city of Berlin is crawling with history, almost too much so – I’ll touch on that a bit later. Unlike Rome, which has ancient treasures around every corner, Berlin has not-so-ancient ‘reminders’ at every turn. True, most of the city was destroyed in the war by Allied bombing. The post-war city planners voted to quickly resurrect the center as opposed to waiting for anything more aesthetic to produce itself, so most of the city resembles a morgue. Only a few Nazi era architecture structures remain, most notably the old Luftwaffe headquarters. Hitler’s bunker is nothing more than an apartment complex’s parking lot – with one information sign in the corner. (We were told that this area is a favorite among locals to bring their dogs to do their business) The 20 million dollar Holocaust Memorial (technically: Memorial to the Murdered European Jews) was designed specifically as an obtuse reminder to not-so-bygone atrocities. The Berlin wall is all but deleted from the city, save a few remnants here and there. The longest section still standing is protected by cement half-walls and runs along the front of the future site of a museum (former site of S.S. headquarters). Checkpoint Charlie is nothing more than a tourist trap, the checkpoint itself a replica from the ‘60s and nothing like its most recent incarnation up until ’89. The free walking tour we took was uber-informational and provided us with bits of history as we trudged through the downpour that plagued Berlin for most of the time we were there. Stories of gallant boyfriends saving their girls from East Berlin with customized low-rider Aston Martins give the scene a bit of a romantic air, but like I said, it must be a bit much for the locals to endure.

The new generation of Germans doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened seventy, eighty years ago. They learn about it from the time they are born. Not just in history class, the stories of their forefathers’ brutality seeps into literature and other studies as well, not to mention the memorials and reminders on every street in the city. Germans born as the Berlin wall was coming down do not need to provide excuses for the atrocities performed by its country almost a century earlier, and they feel as if this is still their duty. The next twenty years should see an entire generation (or two, if we’re lucky) shrug off the regret and blame that is deserved of their grandparents, but no longer warranted of Germans today.

The city of Potsdam is a quick 45 minute S-Bahn ride out of Berlin. Virtually untouched by the war, the city retains is 18th century palaces surrounded by lush gardens and architectural landscapes. We did what everyone else does here on daytrips: rent bikes. Now, I’ve been told by a handful of people that the Germans don’t tolerate much, and crossing when the light is red at a crosswalk could get you 100 dirty looks or worse, a ticket. Well, navigating the horrible map given to us by the bike rental shop while riding this bike set up for Andre the Giant, I wasn’t too concerned with the red and green lights. I looked for cars, just didn’t look for the lights to allow me to cross. Someone was watching me the whole time, though. Waved down by sirens, an outstretched arm, and a whole bunch of German yelling coming from a German police riot van, I was maybe a little too nonchalant. I thought he was giving me a quick wave: a warning. When he asked f or my passport I thought things were getting more serious. Then he asked for 45 euros. Upon learning that I had no cash to back up my million dollar smile, they urged us with fingers and grunts to leave our bikes behind and hop into the armored vehicle. Something didn’t register in my head that this was a potentially bad situation, and I just couldn’t stop smiling. Devin shared my disposition and had to stifle laughs of her own. While one cop drove, the other eyed us carefully from 2 feet away on the bench across from us in the back. He was making sure that we would blow through no more red lights on his watch. We arrived at the nearest ATM, about a 5 minute drive away, and were escorted to the machine inside a bank lobby. Passersby and lookers-on must have sensed a huge withdrawal about to happen. Instead, I sensed an extra 5 euro fee and complained to the officer that this would be unfair; that he should lower our fine to 40 euros for this to equal out. My explanation of international banking fees went by flawlessly with zero understanding on his part. But soon enough we were back in the car searching for a DeutscheBank – an affiliate of my Bank of America which waives all foreign transaction fees. We drove for another 10 minutes, passing by Dresdenbank and countless others with a “nah”. Finally they realized our demands and told us there was no DeutscheBank in Potsdam. We repeated the armed accompaniment withdrawal and were soon back on our bikes, 45 euros lighter than before. I found it funny that Devin was never even glanced at during the entire fiasco, the two German cops dumping all their punishment on me. Thankfully we only had to pay for one offense, narrowly avoiding the other that could have resulted from my cheekiness in the face of misunderstanding.

We spent our evenings wandering around Berlin, trying to find the life of one of its many neighborhoods. Big mistake. Berlin is so spread out and it’s really quite easy to get lost when walking between districts. It’s even easy to get lost if you take the metro. Metro is a loose term here: they have the S-Bahn and the U-Bahn. The S varietal stays above ground while the U species goes….. you get the picture. The result is a very efficient public transportation system, but if you don’t know where you’re headed, you’re in trouble. After two nights running into nocturnal dead-ends, we heeded the advice of a friend we met in Poland and headed to Warschauerstrasse in what used to be East Berlin. Somewhat of an alternative scene, mohawks and piercings dominated the style around the station. These ‘punks,’ as they’re known in Germany, are for the most part phony. Many are out on the street begging for coins before heading back to a warm bed prepared by mom and dad. The bars near Warschauerstrasse were the coolest we found in Berlin. This finally felt like the city that so many people we’d met had totally fallen in love with. Too bad it was our last night.