In from the cold

Hope you like the photo of the Brandenburger Tor in Berlin from the East German side. It illustrates our team's foreign outing - no expenses spared.

We had spent the day scattered over Berlin in various Wienerwald restaurants. I was in the Hermannstrasse branch, wherever that was.

We agreed to meet back at the hotel and from there make our way over the border for a night of food, drink, dancing, discos, girls, music and fun. Nigel was not impressed or very believing the trip would deliver the promised benefits - he looked at our fellow team of three close to pension age. He was, however (as always) along with the three Germans punctually ready at the hotel, showered, shaved, changed into civvies and ready to hit town. I turned up late (as always) and had no chance to change, so had to leave with them in business suit and tie.

Since around November 1989, one was now allowed to cross the border without a visa but only at very selected points. In Berlin city, it meant West German nationals had to cross at the Brandenburger Tor and foreigners at Checkpoint Charlie.

And so we split up into the two groups and agreed to meet at the end of the East German "Unter den Linden" street at the Brandenburger Tor and then get to business on the food and beer before the wine and women.

Nigel and I zig-zagged through the endless corridors of Checkpoint Charlie and got the nod, emerging the other side into almost pitch blackness, on cobblestone roads, not a soul to be seen and the stench of something unpleasant. Every so often there was a street lamp doing a worse job than a glow worm and emitting a very dim, yellowish, sulphur-like, pinpoint of light.

Somehow we managed the Brandenburger Tor, met the others and where the photo was taken. There followed what seemed like two hours of marching up and down the prestige shopping and in-scene area along the Friedrichstrasse with countless swish looking hotels and restaurants. And still not a soul on the streets. Ok it was mid-week but we were in the very centre of the capital of the German Democratic Republic, the arch enemies for the last 45 years. Were theyall behind those drawn curtains and peeking out at the edges watching our every move?

I don't remember how many bar/restaurants we eventually went in to. All empty except for two or three female staff behind the bars strategically placed at the entrance to the dining areas and  with a few men, mainly in military officer uniforms, all smoking and with drinks in front of them, clearly enjoying their chat with the staff. As we entered all went still, half a dozen pairs of eyes stared at us and on asking where we could sit in the empty restaurant, were told all tables were reserved - "Sorry".

Very weary and at the furthest point our tired feet and choking lungs, from the three or four two-stroke Trabbie cars that roared over the cobblestones in all that time, we eventually found a tall modern western looking hotel. At the reception, we were told no food available but we could sit in the foyer and would be served a beer.

We had no choice but knew we would be ripped off even more than we knew we would be ripped off officially by the East German laws on exchange rates between West German Marks and East German Marks. I think the correct rate was about 1:10, the going rate 1:1.

Nigel was keen to get his hands on some East German Marks as a souvenir, highly illegal for anyone to leave the DDR with any of their money and worse still any East German caught selling money to a foreigner would be locked up. Naturally, the waiter was more than pleased to oblige Nigel's request no doubt feeling relatively safe with the thawing cold war.
" How many do you want?"
"Ten  East Marks  "
"Of course sir, that will be Ten West Marks"

Enough to keep the alcoholic waiter in beer until August and his holiday to Bulgaria to stock up beer costing 10 cents a crate of 10 litres.

Beer downed and we abandoned the idea of food, discos, wine, women, music and fun and trudged back south to the Brandenburger Tor where we split again and agreed to meet up near the hotel.

Nigel and I continued to Checkpoint Charlie and entered the maze of zig-zag corridors with cameras in every corner of the ceiling.

I went first in suit and tie and got the nod at the actual passport check. I continued down the other side of zig-zags and suddenly realised there was no footfall behind me. Stopped looked around - no Nigel. Started walking back to see him at a desk stuffing items back into his crumpled jeans and putting his everyday gardening anorak back over his 1976 C&A woolly jumper. He nodded to something said by one of the guards, turned and came toward me beaming from ear to ear.

He ignored my questions and we briskly walked through the rest of the maze and kept silent until we had crossed the few metres of no man's land tarmac and had the physical comfort of the wall at our backs.

Nigel had been stopped, told to empty his pockets and naturally the East German money appeared. "Where did you get it from?", "Who did you get it from?" .........

Amazingly they allowed him to keep it though. I guess they could no longer really care. I think 10 Marks were involved worth one West German Mark or in today's language, €0.50 cents.

We laughed, met the others and had to settle for a MacDonalds. Everywhere else in the vibrating neon-lit West had closed at the late hour.