Heading North: East Germany

...(continued)

The return journey included a short holiday near Rostock and then the whole way down towards (East) Berlin. Rostock turns out to be a spectacle with its Baltic Sea beaches swept by the relentless northern wind and for this reason equipped with incredible convertible deckchairs (it was like being on the beach in a Deux Chevaux). Logistical problems, however, sorely test our mettle as spoiled westerners: two days to fill up with petrol. I'm not exaggerating, we had to leave the car parked overnight so as not to lose our place in the queue. And two days wouldn't have been enough if we hadn't emptied our pockets to bribe a kind local driver who gave us his place (yes, indeed, our morals were getting more and more corrupted). As if that weren't enough, in those days a sudden bread shortage hit the area with consequent rationing and endless queues even for food...

and our inevitable, less than glorious flight towards Berlin. At customs, an event that almost cost us our lives (am I laying it on too thick?). We were there, nice and calm, having our visas and passports checked by the very serious and very formal Vapoz, when suddenly the Fiat's rear window exploded with a bang that everyone took for a rifle shot. The very young soldier assisting our Vapoz immediately levelled his machine gun, but fortunately everything calmed down once it was understood that the explosion was due only to a sudden temperature change. The upshot: the rest of the holiday with cellophane over the rear window and the undignified image of floundering do-it-yourself tourists. Despite all this we manage to reach Berlin and enjoy the last days of a reality that would shortly see the wall dividing it from its western half come down.

Once over in the West we find a white-hot mood. I remember a city buzzing with culture and the feeling of having your feet on a lit brazier. A few months later the wall came down, in one of the most significant moments of the last century.