EXBERLINER : Berlin in English since 2002

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  • Cost of clubbing crisis : When did Berlin parties get so expensive ?
    https://www.exberliner.com/music-clubs/cost-of-clubbing-crisis-when-did-berlin-parties-get-so-expensive

    A Berlin le tickets d’entrée des clubs augmentent radicalement. Les membres du club autogéré Mensch Meier ne gagnent plus assez pour participer aux parties de leur propre boîte. Les augmentations de frais post-covid provoquent un Klubsterben . Les boîtes qui survivront la crise seront marquées par l’exploitation de leurs employés et des prix faramineux.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0rKW3kduy0&t=217s


    J’ai la nostalgie de l’époque quand les copains transformaient d’anciens bunkers et toilettes publiques souterraines en boîtes techno. La vie chère tue la culture partout.

    24.11.2023 by Dan Cole - Like pretty much everything in Berlin, clubbing is getting more expensive. We could just pass this off as a simple fact of life – prices rise, that’s the way it is, suck it up. With clubbing, the impact is deeper. Door entry hikes start to price out the very people who built up the club culture in the first place. Clubs in Berlin are rightly lauded for their sense of community and the way they provide space for those who live more on the margins. When these people become unable to attend the parties they’ve arguably contributed to the success of, then we can say clubbing is facing a crisis.

    For one weekend in September, Berghain increased its entry cost to €30, sparking outrage. It was only last year that the standard door price rose to €25. That’s in addition to the increase in prices for drinks and the cloak room. And it’s not just Berghain – the entry fees for many clubs have risen disproportionately to the average rise in wages throughout the city, with an average increase of 25% across all venues according to Tagesspiegel. Not so long ago, Berghain was a mere €15, and you wouldn’t pay more than €10 to get into Sisyphos.

    There is even a German word for it, Klubsterben, which translates as the death of clubs

    The factors for these price hikes are well reported. Minimum wages for staff have risen since the pandemic began, and the less said about energy costs the better. Rents are also increasing, and DJ fees are going through the roof. Add on other various expenses and you’ve got a very costly business to run.
    Photo: IMAGO / Emmanuele Contini

    The collective behind Mensch Meier recently announced they would be closing at the end of the year due to these rising costs. In an interview with Groove, a German online magazine for electronic music and club culture, Jenny P, the club’s public relations officer, stated that the Mensch Meier’s members and staff couldn’t even party at their own events, because they were too expensive. This was the last straw for the club and they decided to close.

    It’s yet another sad chapter in the slow demise of clubbing in Berlin. The phenomenon is so pervasive that there is even a German word for it, Klubsterben, which translates as the death of clubs. This year, Anita Berber closed for similar reasons to Mensch Meier, and Fiese Remise will meet its end in November. But what’s the solution? Are high entry fees really the only way to keep a club open? At its core, clubbing is, or at least was, about community and creating safe spaces. Increased prices create social inequality, excluding many of the people who benefit the most from these spaces.

    Not so long ago, Berghain was a mere €15, and you wouldn’t pay more than €10 to get into Sisyphos.

    To find a better answer to this problem, we have to return to our roots. Yes, clubs need state support, but beyond that we need to start looking closer to home. Booking more local DJs than expensive international names can reduce a club’s overhead. Some of our favourite clubs were built upon having a strong roster of local, in-house residents. Smaller clubs and club nights are able to throw great parties with just Berlin-based DJs, so why don’t the bigger clubs use the same approach?

    Some underground venues still manage to keep their door fees low. Oxi Berlin, for example, is operating on a donation-only basis for their in-house events, safe in the knowledge that having an affordable-for-all door price that brings in more regular clubbers is a better solution than having a higher ticket price but less people on the dancefloor. Community spirit is thin on the ground these days, and it’s better to club together than to push each other further apart

    #Berlin #loisirs #tourisme #musique #techno #culture

  • Mrs Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer: The woman who married the Berlin Wall
    https://www.exberliner.com/books/eija-riitta-eklof-berliner-mauer-the-woman-who-married-the-berlin-wall/?mc_cid=2d6f23269c&mc_eid=31ea758e59

    11.8.2023 by Poppy Smallwood - The course of true love never did run smooth. The story of how a Swedish lady married the Berlin Wall.

    https://www.exberliner.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Photo-via-kotzendes_einhorn.de_-jpg.webp
    It was a lover and his lass. Photo: via kotzendes-einhorn.de

    On August 13, 1961, amidst rising tensions between East and West Germany, and much to the surprise of ordinary Berliners, the construction of the Berlin Wall began. Locals regard the anniversary with mixed emotions, but for one eccentric woman, it would have been an occasion for a birthday cake, candles and perhaps even a present. Because it’s important to celebrate your husband’s birthday.

    He was a wall. She was a girl. Can I make it any more obvious?

    Eija-Riitta Eklöf was born in the little town of Liden in Sweden in 1954. She was just seven years old when the Berlin Wall went up, but she claimed it was love at first sight when she first saw the majestic structure on television. As a child she began collecting photographs of ‘him’ from newspapers and magazines, later adorning the walls of her room with pictures of her heartthrob just like any other teenage girl. In her teens and early twenties she saved money for romantic visits, during which they became increasingly close.

    https://www.exberliner.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/imago0149784867h-jpg.webp
    The early days of the Berlin Wall. Photo: IMAGO / UIG

    We don’t know who popped the question, but on her sixth trip in June 1979, they officially tied the knot – it’s ok, we’ve done the maths, and can confirm that he was 18 years old at the time. It was an intimate ceremony with only a handful of family and friends. She hired an animist who claimed to be able to communicate with the Wall, and who was able to communicate his (hopefully enthusiastic) “I do”. Being a progressive young couple, they went for the triple barrelled married surname of Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer (Eklöf-Berlin-Wall).


    Eija-Riitta Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer and a replica of her late husband. Photo: https://www.facebook.com/Traditionsverband.NVA.Polska/photos/a.1752291644993012/1752292461659597/?type=3

    Eija-Riitta insisted that she had a full and loving relationship with the Wall, although presumably communication was sometimes difficult. She explained that she found “slim things with horizontal lines very sexy… The Great Wall of China’s attractive, but he’s too thick – my husband is sexier.” He was the strong, silent type, and she knew in the end that he’d always be there for her. Until of course, he wasn’t.


    The Berlin Wall falls, 1989. Photo: IMAGO / Sven Simon

    Ecstasy and tragedy – Eija-Riitta is widowed

    In 1989 the world looked on with wonder as the Berlin Wall was torn down by euphoric Berliners. It must have been a terrible day for Mrs Berlin Wall, as she watched people trample, beat and hammer away at her husband’s defenseless body. He was only 28 years old, taken before his time, and Eija-Riitta became a widow. “What they did was awful. They mutilated my husband” she commented tearfully after the event.

    Just as Eija-Riitta’s life was defined by her love of inanimate objects (she was said to have conferred her affections to a garden fence after her husband’s ‘death’), so also was her death – she died in a house fire in 2015.

    However you choose to commemorate the anniversary of the start of construction of the Berlin Wall, take a moment to think of Mrs Berlin-Wall, and to remember a solid relationship like none other.

    #Berlin #mur #histoire #Suède #wtf #amour #mariage

  • Berghain is not a zoo ! Party-goers angered by Airbnb club “experience”
    https://www.exberliner.com/english-news-berlin/berghain-is-not-a-zoo-jesus-airbnb-club-experience


    Moin connu et plus excentré que Berghain le club Cassiopeia est aussi prisé par les partygoers de la capitale allemande.

    Le weekend arrive, enfin, qu’on s’amuse, boumtchk boumtchk boumtchk, si t’as raté les célèbres Love Parade de 1997 ff. là tu peux passer devant la queue d’attente des clubs à peine ringards de Berlin, pour quelques bricoles seulement, vieux plouc !

    A man calling himself Jesus charges between €199 and €497 to get tourists into Berghain.

    Ever get the feeling Berlin is turning into a theme park? A few reports are going around that regular party-goers of the famously exclusive club Berghain have been bumping into groups of tourists who are being led around by a tour guide. So, is Berghain now accepting tours?

    The truth is a little more complicated. The news seems to have been sparked by an observation on the reddit group /Berghain_Community, where many users reported seeing the tours in person. Apparently, the excursions are run as part of an Airbnb experience where a man (who calls himself Jesus) charges tourists between €199 and €497 to provide them with outfits and get them into Berlin clubs like Berghain and Sisyphos.

    Understandably, many visitors to the club are upset, feeling that paying a guide to get you in violates the ethos of the space. As one visitor commented, “Berghain is not a zoo!”.

    https://www.exberliner.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/imago0152602600h-scaled.webp

    #Berlin #été #boîte_de_nuit #club #danse #techno #tourisme #AirBnB #corruption #racket #WTF

  • Babylon Berlin author Volker Kutsche: “Nobody wants to be a Nazi” - Exberliner
    https://www.exberliner.com/books/babylon-berlin-author-volker-kutsche-weimar-gereon-rath-nobody-wants-to-

    14.11.2022 - Babylon Berlin author Volker Kutsche: “Nobody wants to be a Nazi”
    As the fourth season of Babylon Berlin just had its finale, we had a chat with Volker Kutscher (author of the original Gereon Rath books) about his third novel, the latest season of the TV show and the meaning of 1930s crime.

    The Gereon Rath novels and Babylon Berlin

    Volker Kutscher spent over a year looking for a publisher for volume one of Babylon Berlin, but there are now nine best-selling novels. Set in the years after 1929 against the rise of National Socialism, detective inspector Gereon Rath and his co-police-worker Charlotte Ritter are old-school sleuths in the neo-noir tradition of grey-zoned morality in Berlin’s Weimar underbelly.

    The series has since sold hundreds of thousands of copies, been translated into 22 languages and been adapted as a hugely successful television show. Babylon Berlin is Germany’s highest-budget TV show, and it may be the most expensive non-English-language TV series ever made. Season four of Babylon Berlin is based on book three of the Rath novels.

    Season four of Babylon Berlin, based on your third novel, Goldstein, was released last month. What’s your take on it?

    They’ve taken quite a few liberties; some things have been left out, and some added. I’ve gotten used to that, but I’m happy that the story is being told very well. My project is the novels series, not the TV adaptation.

    The intention is, I think, similar to that of my novels: showing how people experienced Berlin in those times, and how it changed. Babylon Berlin just does it with different methods. Goldstein’s character, the New York-based, lapsed Jewish gangster, has been cast very well, although the fact that he’s crossed the Atlantic to get involved in gang warfare comes across far less than it does in the novel. The TV adaptation has more narrative threads; the timelines are adjusted. That’s just the nature of TV.

    You know, I wrote that book about 10 years ago. At the moment I’m writing about 1937, in the middle of National Socialism. It’s nice to see the TV spectacle of that older work but it doesn’t have a lot to do with what I’m working on at the moment.

    The constant throughout your series is detective inspector Gereon Rath. He’s a morally flawed character who doesn’t mind bending the law in the pursuit of justice. How important is vigilante justice in your novels?

    I’d say it’s the main topic that runs through all of the Gereon Rath series. I chose it because in a way it’s Gereon’s modus operandi. He likes to use his own methods and often applies his own vigilante justice when he realises that it can’t be achieved by other means. He’s not as brutal as the White Hand vigilante organisation that he is fighting, but the thinking behind his methods is similar.

    I didn’t want a glowing hero.

    My aim was to encourage people to think about vigilante justice. It’s not really in line with the rule of law. Later in the series, when the Nazis come to power, using this kind of justice to combat an unlawful regime turns into an advantage. For as long as a lawful state exists, I believe one should adhere to its precepts. That’s the be-all and end-all of democracy.

    He’s also an outsider, a Rheinländer in Berlin. What drew you to this scenario?

    I wanted him to have an outsider’s view of Berlin. As a native of Cologne, Gereon Rath stays a stranger and maintains a degree of scepticism. The fact that I’m a Rheinländer myself obviously plays a role – he’s closer to my heart. And the so-called Rhenish mentality – the ability to wiggle through, get by, and be a bit opportunistic – these are traits that fit well with the character I had in mind.

    I didn’t want a glowing hero. Somebody who’d seen through the Nazis from the beginning would have been an Übermensch, beyond reproach, uninteresting. But we can relate to Gereon Rath. He’s fallible.

    Rath’s long-term love interest is Berlin local Charlotte Ritter, a woman who has pulled herself up from underworld beginnings to join the police force and study law. Is she the innocent yin to Rath’s hard-nosed yang?

    She has strong principles, she’s Prussian – but in a good way. She feels a sense of responsibility for her fellow human beings. She may have started with the best of intentions, but she has also strayed from the straight and narrow, covered-up crimes, and ends up becoming a bit more like her (later) husband Gereon, although she’s morally firmer than him.

    Your novels are replete with amazing historical details. Let’s take just one example from Goldstein: the police search for vendors of Camel cigarettes in 1931 Berlin. How do you research?

    I do a bit of everything. Lots of walking, comparing what I see to old photos, trying to beam myself into that time. Reading contemporary newspapers plays a big role – not just world affairs but headlines from those years that tell us what people thought was important. War reparations were a huge issue for example. Local news is also a good source: traffic accidents, fires. And advertising: department stores and car sales. Even crosswords and cartoons are interesting. They’re immersive. What did people think, what did they laugh about?

    What did people think, what did they laugh about?

    The Camel cigarettes example you mentioned was also an opportunity to bring in a little humour, spotlighting the Berlin inspector who mispronounces it as the German word ‘Kamel’ before being corrected to ‘Kämmel’.

    So you’ve covered Berlin on foot… from Grunewald to the shacks of Müggelsee?

    I’ve visited most of the locations in the novel, although I take the S-Bahn to get to outlying places like Müggelsee, and then explore. I like Berlin a lot; I have a small flat there now. I just like walking through areas that are off the tourist trail. So many buildings are witnesses to history. One example in Goldstein is the Jewish hospital situated off Schulstraße in Gesundbrunnen, which I researched in detail.

    The novel I’m currently working on is set in 1937 and reading those newspapers was a lot less fun. By then, they were all toeing the same line. You have to read between the lines to get a more differentiated view.

    Differentiated in what sense?

    I wanted to show the caesura in 1933 – but also the many continuities: like living and working in a city, maybe thinking that politics was not as important as a happy home life. Many people just hoped that things would quieten down again. I wanted to show and understand how a country could be turned on its head.

    Is that what attracted you to the historical setting of the Weimar Republic? The grey areas in which crime thrived?

    I think that the Weimar republic deserved a longer life and that its downfall was perhaps avoidable. Its potential was considerable, it just had a very difficult start: war reparations and the fact that the German people were, a bit like the Russians today, pariahs in the world community. Many people had high hopes which they lost when the economy began going downhill. For me, that was tragic.

    My characters belong to a luckless generation.

    That was one of my main motivations: trying to work out why Weimar failed. Obviously, it’s all been very well researched by historians. But I still had questions and I try to answer them by creating a fictional situation in which empathy is allowed to play a role and helps us understand different people, of varying political and moral mindsets. How did they react to the changes happening at the time? It’s like a little experiment, following those characters through those times. It’s as much an experiment for me as it is for the readers.

    What are your preferences when it comes to authors of crime fiction?

    There is no one favourite author for me but James Ellroy (The Black Dahlia and L.A. Confidential) is a particular role model. Many of his novels are set in the past, like mine. Interestingly his work was never stamped as ‘historical crime novel’ and I don’t see mine in that category either. To be honest, I don’t see myself as a crime novelist.

    So how do you see yourself?

    As someone who tells stories from a different time, trying to make history tangible while staying true to the historical picture – not blowing Hitler up Tarantino style but sticking to the developments that took place in Germany during that time. Even now, I’m not sure what’s going to happen to the characters in the final volume, but I know what happened in the world.

    My characters belong to a luckless generation. Whether perpetrators or victims of crime, they were forced into decisions that inevitably involved pain. Once you cross the threshold of 1933, you’ve crossed that Rubicon. Up to that point, other scenarios were possible. Seeing how quickly it’s possible to go down a non-democratic path with democratically elected politicians is frightening.

    Are you alluding to current developments, trying to raise some sense of historical awareness?

    Seeing how quickly it’s possible to go down a non-democratic path with democratically elected politicians is frightening.

    I’m not a finger-wagging teacher! But historical amnesia is widespread, so widespread that many people don’t realise that they’re talking the way the Nazis did. Nobody wants to be a Nazi – but succumbing to certain thought patterns is a problem that I see. Words are important. They change the way we act. If I talk a certain way, I’m more likely to act that way. Words should be weighed before being used. Using words like völkisch as the AfD did for a time, without acknowledging that it was Nazi-speak, without having that critical context – that’s a great danger.

    The TV comic adaptation The Boys is a case in point. It’s set in a world of superheroes and one of those is a female superhero called Stormfront. She’s a Nazi but comes across as super cool. At some point, she says: “People like what I have to say, they believe in it. They just don’t like the word Nazi.” It’s like Putin describing the Ukrainians as fascists… We definitely need historical awareness.

    Volker Kutscher was born in 1962 in North Rhine-Westphalia. He studied German, History and Philosophy in Cologne. He subsequently worked as a reporter covering local affairs before the success of the Gereon Rath novels allowed him to transition to life as a full-time writer. His days as bass player in the four-man outfit The Contrelles are over – but you can still catch his music skills on YouTube, and of course his novels on your favourite streaming service.

    #Berlin #Geschichte #Literatur #Krimi

  • Lights out for the Kurfürstenstraße sex strip?
    https://www.exberliner.com/berlin/lights-out-for-kurfurstenstrase-sex-strip

    21.1.2022 by Graham Anderson - Is Kurfürstenstraße about to lose its infamous reputation?

    It’s just after 4 pm, and the bleak November night as darkness falls. Here on a corner of Kurfürstenstraße, two worlds are about to collide. Pupils from the French primary school Voltaire, vagrants and mosque-goers, white collar workers on their Feierabend mingle on the bustling street …But then as night closes in, groups of girls appear seemingly out of nowhere in front of the notorious Love-Sex-Dreams sex shop, and Kurfürstenstraße becomes the sex strip it’s famed for.

    Local authorities lifted Kurfürstenstraße’s Corona curfew on Berlin’s century-old red-light hotspot last August. Since then, Eastern European sex workers, underworld pimps, druggies, pickpockets and deranged freaks have returned to find their old haunts gentrified. Previously bombed-out, vacant blocks now boast six-storey, luxury apartments.

    Meanwhile construction sites and security fences have closed off formerly condemned buildings and restricted access to much of the strip. Despite the change of scenery, they’re all back: women prowling the streets, pimps loitering in the doorways, potential customers nervously casting their eye over their options.

    The locals

    Kurfürstenstraße’s old hands and Multikulti shop owners shrug their shoulders at the street’s overnight renaissance. However this isn’t the case for the upmarket newcomers. Many moved in completely oblivious to its colourful reputation, and they’re outraged at the prostitutes and pimps invading their expensive idyll. They’re pinning their hopes on local women’s rights non-profit Terre Des Femmes and its fight to introduce Swedish-style prostitution laws in Germany.

    Under this model, punters face stiff fines and a criminal record for paying for sexual services, while sex workers are retrained for “normal” jobs. Pimps’ incomes from female sexploitation dry up overnight, as do the human traffickers’ multimillion-euro businesses. If the law was to be introduced in Germany, it would mean curtains for Kurfürstenstraße’s hedonistic heyday.
    Image for Lights out for the Kurfürstenstraße sex strip?

    Love-Sex-Dreams. Image: Christine Kunert

    However not all the cashed-up newcomers are turned off by the street’s kinky charms. “It’s not so much the sex strip that concerns me but the crime that comes with it,” says a middle-aged female resident of the plush Voltaire Apartments. “The rents are sky-high. Fortunately, we haven’t had any rough sleepers ringing bells and camping in the foyers yet. Nor have the doorways been used as public toilets like elsewhere in the street,” she adds. A two-metre tall German giant clambers into his Mercedes. “I don’t care about what goes on in the street. It all happens at night anyway,” he laughs. Indifference rules here on Kurfürstenstraße.

    The sex workers

    Hungarian sex worker Katalin has been hooking Kurfürstenstraße’s car and footpath punters for three years. “The Arabs and Afghanis are the real problem. They ask over and over again for the prices. They get aggressive when I don’t reply,” says the twenty-something. “A blowjob costs €30, sex with a condom €40, and sex and a blowjob €50. Love-Sex-Dreams sex shop charges €5 for a cabin, which are about one metre by one metre. Everyone just uses them for sex.”

    Katalin usually whisks car-bound punters off for a quickie in the car park opposite Hübner’s furniture store, about 150 metres away in Genthiner Straße. Sometimes she’ll even take them inside a suspiciously parked bus. A 1950s design, the big green vehicle with no windows is occasionally found in the corner of the car-park, and made available for the ladies. Indeed, churchgoers outside Kurfürstenstraße’s Twelve Apostles Lutheran Church pretend not to notice. Katalin charges punters an extra €20 for sex in nearby Bülowstraße’s hourly hotel.

    Although the scene really comes alive after dark, Kurfürstenstraße’s sex strip runs non-stop, with ladies loitering around Love-Sex-Dream’s heated foyer 24/7. Whether it’s a stress-relieving quicky at 5am on the way to work, or a blow-job during lunch break, there are always options available.

    Despite it all, optimism thrives on Kurfürstenstraße. Two older, plumper, far-gone beauties from Romania follow a pedestrian. “Hast du Lust? Hast du Lust? Ein Dreier mit uns?” (Do you feel like it? Do you feel like it? A three- some with us?)

    A turf war breaks out on the corner of Kurfürstenstraße and Frobenstraße after a hefty Hungarian lady stakes her claim on a young German redhead’s corner patch. Tempers flare. The redhead kicks her rival’s legs out from underneath her; the Hungarian thuds onto the footpath, winded. The slim redhead’s an experienced street-fighter. Onlookers moan at the quick end to the brawl between boardwalk brides. “I had to put her out of action,” says the redhead.

    Religious intervention

    It isn’t only the sex workers and residents who are drawn into street’s sex scene. Kurfürstenstraße’s Twelve Apostles Church takes centre stage in Berlin’s red-light roadshow, particularly following Tempelhof-Schöneberg Council’s decision to build a slap-up wooden toilet in front of the church. Here, ladies and punters file in and out of their altar for round-the-clock rituals of quickies, shooting up and calls of nature.
    Image for Lights out for the Kurfürstenstraße sex strip?

    Twelve Apostles Church. Image: Christine Kunert

    Pastor Burkhard Bornemann strolls through his red-light flock every day tending to Kurfürstenstraße’s fallen angels. For many, faith in God and drugs gets them through their nocturnal sexcapades. Bornemann’s “Wednesday Initiative” hands out food parcels and spiritual guidance – key forms of sustenance, no doubt – but he argues that more needs to be done to address the problems he sees on the street.

    “Politicians on both sides of the fence dodge the issue of banning Kurfürstenstraße’s sex strip. It’s too hot for them. A ban would certainly allow us to get back to tending tourists’ and parishioners’ spiritual needs,” says the 57-year-old, Berlin-born preacher. He’s right. Tempelhof Schöneberg’s recently appointed mayor Jörn Oltmann (the Greens) has long resisted banning Kurfürstenstraße’s sex trade.

    Perhaps unsurprisingly, Bornemann isn’t the only local religious figure calling for action. About 150 metres up the road and on the other side of the street, 400 Muslim faithful stream out of Semerkand Mosque after Friday prayers – where they are welcomed by Kurfürstenstraße’s streams of sex workers. “It’s a very unpleasant situation for us,” says mosque spokesman Ömer Burak, 24. “We have children and teenagers coming here. They’re exposed to the streetwalkers. It’s even more unpleasant when we have high-ranking visitors. The mosque would definitely support a ban on street prostitution in Kurfürstenstraße.”

    Inspector Wolff’s approach

    A first-hand witness to some of the problems associated with the strip is chief inspector Ingo Wolff, who fronts the Berlin Police’s Crime Prevention Squad in the area. “Kurfürstenstraße is a microcosm of Berlin’s crime scene. Prostitution, human trafficking, drugs, violence, theft – the street has everything,” he says.

    Highlighting the darker side of the sex trade, in 2018 Berlin Police investigated 156 cases of human trafficking, most of them within the city’s thriving sex industry. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg, according to Wolff. “Tracing pimps’ incomes and securing a conviction verges on a Mission Impossible. We have to prove that over 50 percent of their income comes from prostitution,” he says.

    To help protect sex workers from some of the dangers of the industry, Wolff and his crew take a cooperative approach. “We work with the girls, not against them. We’re their friends,” says the mild-mannered 50-year-old. Indeed, young, happy-looking Romanian streetwalkers frolic in front of the Twelve Apostles Church, paying scant attention to and completely unperturbed by Wolff’s weekly Friday info stand, which sits just in front of the huge, brown Backstein building.

    “It’s legal for them to work in front of the church. But a quickie in public is definitely out. They can use the portable toilet in front of the church for that,” Wolff says. “The Voltaire primary school calls us when the girls stray up to the children’s playground. We then call the social workers from Frauentreff Olga to haul them back and tell them it’s not on.” Softly, softly. In words and action.

    And despite being on the frontline of the fight against sex industry-related criminality, Wolff gives the thumbs down to Sweden-style prostitution laws. “Kurfürstenstraße’s sex strip is a Berlin institution. It’s been here for over a hundred years. I can’t see it being banned. A ban would make the situation worse because we would lose contact with the girls and pimps. Criminalising punters and retraining streetwalkers has a bad taste for us, especially with Germany’s dark past from 1933-1945,” says Wolff.

    Olga’s safe house

    The police aren’t the only ones looking after the Kurfürstenstraße girls, though. Just a few doors up from the mosque, streetwalkers mill around the front of Frauentreff Olga, a support centre for sex workers. Olga’s social workers provide counselling, hygiene articles, meals, condoms, needles and a safe place to sleep for those working the street.
    Image for Lights out for the Kurfürstenstraße sex strip?

    Frauentreff Olga is a support centre for sex workers. Image: Christine Kunert

    “Few women ever get out of the scene. They hardly ever rat on their pimps – out of fear,” says Olga social worker Lonneke Schmidt-Bink, 47. “Unfortunately, plans to get the girls off the street by converting the Love-Sex-Dreams sex complex into a four-storey, walk-through love house fell through when the owner sold the building. He was all for it, but the new owner plans to flatten the building.”

    Echoing Wolff’s sentiment, Schmidt-Bink believes that prohibiting sex work would do more harm than good. “Banning Kurfürstenstraße’s sex strip would simply move it to freeway entrances. Or force it underground. That means we wouldn’t be able to reach the sex workers in need of help.”

    Schmidt-Bink does however foresee Kurfürstenstraße’s demise on the horizon. “When the construction work is finished and the security fences narrowing the street are removed, the cars and sex workers will be back in force. That’s when the pressure to ban the sex strip will peak,” she says.

    Despite the increased calls to rid the stretch of its most famous attractions, those in the middle of it remain defiant. “The strip’s not going anywhere. We’re here to stay,” says Julischka, a Hungarian sex worker who has clocked up six years patrolling the pavement opposite the LSD sex shop. “There aren’t any problems. Everyone gets on fine. From the Muslims leaving the mosque to the pedestrians, they never say a thing. No insults, nothing.” But then the 30-year-old in skin-tight leggings glances over her shoulder and suddenly falls silent. Ten metres away a beefy man stamps his authority on Julischka’s problem-free zone.

    #Berlin #Tiergarten #Kurfürstenstraße #Prostitution #Collège_Voltaire #Tourismus

  • Berlin’s failed rental revolution - Exberliner
    https://www.exberliner.com/berlin/berlins-failed-rental-revolution-crisis-expropriation-mietendeckel-entei

    8.8.2022 - How Berlin went from cheap rents to a housing crisis, saw its rent cap defeated and what will happen next with calls for expropriation.

    Nick saw it all coming. In the early 2000s, while some Berliners were spending less on rent than on beer, Nick and his partner took out a mortgage on an apartment in Kreuzberg. Friends were puzzled.

    “My German friends told me I was crazy for buying a flat when it was so cheap to rent,” says Nick, a Canadian importer. “They thought Berlin was immune to what was happening elsewhere. But I lived through one property boom in Vancouver. I knew what was coming.”

    Today Nick pays no rent, and his apartment is worth at least five times more than it cost. But his paper profit brings little comfort: selling would only require buying again at today’s fast-rising prices. And money can’t buy what doesn’t exist.

    Berlin’s housing drama is a story of knock-on effects: ignorant optimism – leaderless capitulation – ill-fated regulatory resistance – crushing legal defeat. But Berlin’s rental revolutionaries haven’t given up hope.

    Easy pickings

    Finding a rental apartment in Berlin in the early 2000s was as simple as walking down the street and ripping a tab off a “Zu vermieten” flyer. If you didn’t mind coal heating and shared hallway toilets, Berlin was your oyster.

    Most real estate investors were scared away by the lack of viable industry, and a militant anarcho-leftist scene which burnt cars to defend its territory. Cowed by a guilty conscience and an oversupply of flats, mainstream-voter landlords showed unusual pricing restraint.

    At the turn of the millennium, around five percent of Berlin flats were vacant (today it’s less than 1 percent). In 2002, the average rental price was €6.07 per m2 (it’s now €10.55 per m2). Demand was so low that the city’s public investment bank called for “necessary measures such as demolition and de-construction.”

    The sell-off

    Berlin’s leaders found another way of getting rid of property. The neoliberal SPD mayor Klaus Wowereit and his finance minister Thilo Sarrazin saw the city’s publicly-owned apartments as a piggy bank to pay off the city’s enormous debt.

    That strategy amounted to a fire sale of its assets. Between 2002 and 2007, Wowereit’s SPD, in coalition with Die Linke, sold off more than 110,000 flats – almost one third of the city’s housing stock. In one sale, 66,000 apartments were sold to investors including Goldman Sachs for €405 million – or €6000 for each flat.

    Only one regulation existed to control prices, capping increases at 20 percent over three years on existing contracts. But there were no limits on how much landlords could charge for new contracts. Sharp-eyed investors saw through the rhetoric of strong tenants’ rights, realising there was room for exploitation and no penalties for infringement.

    The buy-up

    With the Berlin Wall long gone, waves of international capital flooded the property market. The ‘tide that lifts all boats’ became a tsunami that smashed all cities, though the money took a little longer to wash up the Spree.

    In response to the 2008 global financial crash, governments printed trillions of dollars, euros and pounds and slashed interest rates, hoping investors would fund new job-creating activities. Instead they bought up undervalued assets with easy returns.

    Between 2009 and 2018, investors spent €139 billion purchasing old buildings in Berlin, and only €16 billion building new ones, according to research by Die Linke. During the same period, around 20 percent of the city’s properties changed hands.

    By 2017, Berlin was experiencing some of the biggest property price increases in the world. The following year, Berlin was declared the number one city in Europe for property investment.

    Rental prices were levelling up to match cities such as Madrid and Milan. But incomes had failed to keep pace. Even today, the majority of Berliners spend more than 30% of their income on housing – a rate economists consider to be both unaffordable and unsustainable.

    Too little, too late

    Politicians made moves to slow the spike. In 2013, Berlin limited maximum allowed increases on existing contracts to 15 percent over three years. In 2015, the Federal Government ruled new rental contracts could only be 10 percent above average official prices, though the law was largely ignored: one report found 95 percent of all new property listings were priced above the legally allowed amount.

    By 2018, Berliners were finally furious about property prices. A demonstration against Mietenwahnsinn (rental madness) drew thousands of participants – newspapers said 13,000; demo organisers counted 25,000. Among their demands? The expropriation of investors’ properties.

    The rent freeze

    Spooked Berlin politicians responded by offering a more moderate, yet still extraordinary reform: instead of seizing private property, they proposed freezing all rental prices for five years.

    The idea, first floated within the SPD, was endorsed by Berlin’s governing coalition parties, including the Greens and Die Linke, and despite internal disputes and heavy opposition, it made its way into law. On January 30, 2020, the Berlin parliament voted on the Act for the Restriction of Residential Rents in Berlin, better known as the Mietendeckel, or rent cap.

    “It’s the biggest and most important reform in the city since the fall of the Berlin Wall,” said Rainer Wild of the Berlin Tenants’ Association at the session.

    The Mietendeckel effectively suspended the free market for rental property in Berlin, a city where rentals dominate the property sector. It stopped most price increases for five years, except for flats built after 2014, to create an incentive for new developments. It mandated rent reductions for leases worth over 20 percent of average official prices. Cheating landlords were threatened with fines of up to €500,000.

    Opposition parties and the real estate lobby were astounded. They mounted a PR offensive using the slogan “Bauen Statt Deckeln” – build, don’t cap – which claimed, falsely, that the Mietendeckel discouraged investors from building new apartments. Opponents brought a case before Germany’s Federal Constitutional Court. For almost a year, Berliners endured a cliffhanger wait to see if judges would uphold or kill the great rent freeze experiment.

    The meltdown

    “The Mietendeckel is void” was the court’s April 15, 2021 verdict, declaring the city’s attempt to control rent prices unconstitutional because only the federal government was entitled to regulate rents. Gleeful landlords demanded rental back-payments, some worth thousands of euros.
    When the rent cap was overturned, acivists looked for other ways to combat rising rents. Photo: IMAGO / IPON

    Then, in November, came a second devastating legal decision. The Federal Administrative Court ruled that governments could no longer buy property using Vorkaufsrecht, or right of first purchase, which had allowed the city to forcibly acquire more than 12,000 private apartments and put them in public or cooperative hands. Within the space of months, Berlin had lost its two most powerful weapons to control property prices.

    Landlords strike back

    For more than a year, the Mietendeckel kept rents in check. During that time, some landlords kept their flats off the market, preferring no income to reduced profit while awaiting the court decision. One study found there were 60 percent fewer advertised flats during the Mietendeckel-era.

    Those have since bounced back – along with rental prices. Another analysis found Berlin had experienced the biggest rental price increases in all of Germany.

    Another impact of the Mietendeckel was to speed up the conversion of rental apartments into private residences. With prices at record highs, many owners decided to cash out and sell their properties rather than lease them, leading to a huge drop in potential rental properties.

    Potential buyers are paying high prices. In 2021, average buying prices hit €5416 per sqm, nine percent more than in 2020. But a bigger problem than cost is the highly competitive market.

    Every rental property listed is hotly contested, according to the portal ImmobilienScout24. Buying is also a battle: up to five interested owners register for each available property weekly, and most have to bid above the asking price to secure a purchase.

    The remains of the day

    What hope remains for Berlin’s tenants, now that the Mietendeckel is dead, and judges have barred the city from purchasing properties via Vorkaufsrecht?

    Germany’s top courts have made it clear: only federal government intervention is allowed in the property market. But the current governing coalition shows little appetite for major reform, mostly due to resistance from the neoliberal FDP party.

    The federal coalition agreement between the SPD, Greens and FDP promises only to maintain the existing Mietpreisbremse, or rent brake, the legislation that caps new rental contracts at 10 percent of average prices. For existing contracts, the maximum allowed rental increase could be set at 11 percent over three years (down from the current 15 percent).

    However, bringing legal action against deviant landlords will be up to tenants And even then, tenants are limited to reducing their rent to the legal maximum, but only from the date they lodge their complaint.

    A new dawn

    Housing activists weren’t satisfied with such incremental change. They’re now waging an even bigger battle to secure a truly ground-breaking revolution. The initiative Deutsche Wohnen & Co. enteignen is demanding that the Berlin city government use an obscure constitutional provision to forcibly acquire the property of any owner possessing more than 3000 apartments.

    Advocates say it could bring over 240,000 flats into public ownership to better control rental prices, and argue it should cost around €8 billion. Its opponents – including all political parties except Die Linke and the Greens – argue it would cost around €36 billion, which is a little over the city’s current annual operational budget.

    The idea captured the imagination of most Berliners. The enteignen campaigners collected tens of thousands of petition supporters and triggered a referendum. With the rent freeze melted, and little visible political appetite for reform, many Berliners saw mass expropriation as the only remaining solution to price spirals. In September 2021, the enteignen proposal received a greater percentage of votes than the winning coalition parties.

    Despite the overwhelming democratic mandate, the SPD under new mayor Franziska Giffey is staunchly against expropriation. Instead of implementing the idea as demanded by voters, a so-called expert commission was set up to examine the proposal and provide a recommendation. Few expect a positive outcome. Even if the city’s politicians obeyed voters and implemented Enteignung, the expropriations would almost certainly be challenged in the courts, which have a track record of supporting investors.

    Failure of the enteignen initiative could leave its million-plus supporters feeling defeated, disillusioned and disenchanted with democracy. Or it could spawn a new generation of outraged activists seeking even more radical means to fight investors. Win or lose, the enteignen campaign will reshape the city’s property politics for years to come.

    After two decades of property price hikes and political failures, activists have learned the lesson: if you want a minor reform, demand a revolution. And if you get your revolution, prepare for revenge.

    #Berlin #Wohnen #Immobilien #Mietendeckel #Gentrifizierung #Spekulation

  • Amok Mama: Why I love the €9 ticket - Exberliner
    https://www.exberliner.com/berlin/amok-mama-why-i-love-the-e9-ticket

    8.8.2022 by Jacinta Nandi - Living out in Lichtenrade seems cheap, until you factor in drunken taxi rides. But, with Germany’s €9 ticket, there’s no excuse not to take the bus.

    When I left my youngest kid’s dad, my two boys and I got “weggentrifiziert” to Lichtenrade, and when I say weggentrifiziert, I mean WEG gentrifiziert. Lichtenrade is literally the absolute middle of nowhere, the Arsch der Welt, the arsehole of the universe. We are officially in Berlin but surrounded on three sides by Brandenburg and one side by Marienfelde/Mariendorf, which, no, isn’t the same place. WE’RE EVEN FURTHER OUT THAN MARIENFELDE. THAT IS HOW FAR OUT WE LIVE. People who still, somehow, have normal flats, in normal parts of Berlin, will often say to me, when I tell them where I live, sadly, shamefacedly: “Oh I have never been to Lichtenrade!” like as if I am going to be surprised.

    Why would I be surprised? Before I moved here, I had never been here either! Nobody has! You go to Spandau more often! You go to Marzahn more often! You even go – and I am not being sarcastic or melodramatic, to Kladow more often! Nobody ever goes to Lichtenrade ever!

    I know you haven’t been here. Why would you? Nobody has ever been here, ever.

    Actually, I am exaggerating a tiny bit. On the main road of Lichtenrade – the fifth avenue of Lichtenrade – also known as Bahnhofstraße – there is a kebab shop that Heidi Klum went to once. You can tell it was just the one time because they have reproduced the same picture in different sizes and different colours to make it seem like they have more than one photo.

    It’s boring living in Lichtenrade. If they did one of those time-loop movies here, but set in 2006, it would LITERALLY take the protagonist at least 100 years of the same day to notice they were in a 2006 time loop movie. We have no Korean barbecue places, no poetry slams, no hipster porridge bars and no lesbian English-language bookshops. All of our Kneipen are either old men’s pubs or those weird sporty places. The only good thing about Lichtenrade is that the kebab shops sell alcohol. I love having a cheeky vodka lemon drink with my döner. Oh – and it’s cheap. I can still get a large Latte Machiatto for €2,50. See what I mean about 2006!

    I’ve got a British friend who also lives here. Yes, there are British people living here now. It’s a bit depressing because they all own property, while I am renting a cheapo apartment. But still. It’s nice to know some Brits, even if they are rich. “How much is your rent? €700 a month? That’s so cheap! Really great price. But you do have to add on your taxi costs to your rent each month. How much do you spend on taxis in a month? Or Ubers? Like when you’re drunk and the M76 isn’t working? For me, it’s at least €300, so that means, theoretically, you could afford at least a €1000 rent a month and live in the city.”

    My heart turned to stone, my face to marble, the inside of my mouth to ash. SHE WAS RIGHT. I spent at least €300 a month on taxis when drunk! I had to add my taxi costs onto my rent – actually my flat isn’t that cheap at all, after all.

    You know what, though? Since they invented the €9 ticket, I am too stingy to order an Uber or fall into a taxi, no matter how drunk I am. I know the trains are almost free, and it just makes me like using them more. I actually think they FEEL more comfortable just because I know they’re practically free. To be honest, I even like night buses now. I used to feel like waiting for a night bus was the most miserable thing in the world. Now I just sit there cheerfully, knowing one will be along in a minute.

    The €9 ticket makes you feel connected to the world – mobile, flexible, ready to go anywhere. Even, it turns out, if you live in Lichtenrade!

    #Berlin #Lichtenrade #Bahnhofstraße #Taxi #Uber

    • 9€ le voyage en Allemagne, normal.

      Inflation, pas d’indexation des salaires, donc baisse du pouvoir d’achat,
      Le gouvernement allemand fait un effort pour cacher tout cela.

      Cet hiver, avec l’embargo sur le pétrole et le gaz russe d’ursula gertrud von der leyen, née albrecht et de l’union européenne,
      les trains pourront ils encore circuler an Allemagne ?

  • Lieferando throws a pool party, doesn’t invite riders
    https://www.exberliner.com/berlin-english-news-blog

    Thursday June, 30 - The summer party is a staple of German work culture, and a great way to boost team morale. That is, if you are on the guest list. Food delivery service Lieferando explicitly did not invite the thousands of riders that work for them to their party on July 1 at Haubentaucher in the RAW-Gelände. “What are the key ingredients for a proper day club party? Food, drinks and an exclusive pool just for you” read the invitation, apparently not seeing the irony. In response, riders, led by the Lieferando Workers Collective have taken to social media to organise a protest, set to take place at the door of Haubentaucher while the party is underway. The collective published the invitation in full, where one can read at the bottom: “Only Lieferando employees (from Germany & Austria, with the exception of drivers and temporary workers) are invited to the event.” Riders weren’t really surprised, as in February 2022 the company financed a trip to a Swiss ski resort for 5,400 office employees at a cost of €15 million.

  • Red Flag : Corona Corruption Is Legal in Germany
    https://www.exberliner.com/features/opinion/corona-corruption-legal-germany-georg-nuesslein-alfred-sauter

    Malheureusement il est toujours vrai que la définition de la corruption pour les membres du Bundestag et des autres parlements allemands empêche l’action juridique contre les abus de leur position. On part du principe que l’acceptation de paiements fait partie de leur liberté garantie par la constitution. Cet article explique comment quelques membres particuliers du Bundestag en ont profité.

    November 24, 2021 by Nathaniel Flakin - Half a year ago, we learned that members of Germany’s conservative party had taken in millions of euros from companies selling overpriced masks to the state. These politicians got “provisions” for recommending dubious merchants to their colleagues.

    As Spiegel International reported in English at the time, Georg Nüßlein and Alfred Sauter of the Christian Social Union (CSU) in Bavaria were among the worst offenders. Sauter, a former justice minister and now a parliamentarian in the state, drew up contracts to get masks to the Bavaria’s health ministry. Each politician got about €1.2 million in kickbacks.

    Now, an appellate court in Munich has essentially thrown out the charges, arguing that such high-priced influence-peddling is not actually illegal. Paragraph 108e of the German Criminal code does not prohibit politicians from taking bribes per se — as long as it is for services unrelated to the “exercise of their mandate.” In this case, the politicians were using their contacts for deals outside parliament.

    The court, for its part, called for the law to be changed, as cases like this undermine faith in democracy. When healthcare workers in Germany were desperate for masks, numerous politicians were looking for ways to enrich themselves.

    Now, Nüßlein and Sauter stand to get their money in full. The prosecutor is planning to appeal to the decision, but chances of a conviction are small. It would be up to the Bundestag to change the law. That seems even less likely. As I’ve written before, German politicians are so corrupt they would put Central Asian autocrats to shame.

    This is not just about direct payments like this. Corruption is built into the system. MdBs (members of the Bundestag) are supposed to represent the people. Yet as soon as they are elected, they get a base salary of €10,083 per month, and become wealthier than the vast majority of people in Germany. This is in addition to a monthly expense account of €4,418 and numerous other privileges, like a round-the-clock car service. Even if a politician comes from a working-class background to begin with, they immediately join a wealthy caste.

    What is the justification for such obscene salaries? We’re told that politicians who are fabulously well-to-do will be less susceptible to corruption. It’s also supposed to be a difficult job. Except: MdBs are still allowed to earn unlimited amounts of money on the side — apparently the job is not full-time after all. The only requirement is they make vague declarations about their side hustles.

    Jens Spahn, our hapless health minister, has long been “representing” us in questions of healthcare while simultaneously taking money from the industry he is supposed to regulate — all completely legally. Would he have been slightly less incompetent if he was focussing on his ministerial tasks, instead of accumulating millions?

    What can we call this besides completely legal corruption?

    Voting for the Bundestag is supposed to be an expression of democracy or the rule of the people. But as Marx wrote, it means nothing more than “deciding once in three or six years which member of the ruling class was to misrepresent the people.” The original German is a play on words: they vertreten (represent) and zertreten (crush) the people.

    We are watching this play out in Berlin right now. In September, 59.1% voted to expropriate big landlords. Yet this big majority in the city is barely represented in parliament. Instead, the new government has announced the creation of an expert commission that is supposed to “study” the problem. How is this democratic?

    One can’t help but wonder: would this happen if our “representatives” earned anything like normal wages, and they were in the same housing market as the rest of us? The corruption of Nüßlein and Sauter is shocking. But it is also business as usual in a corrupt system.

    #Allemagne #politique #Bundestag #corruption #civud-19 #masques

  • Who are my unvaccinated friends and why didn’t they get their jabs?
    https://www.exberliner.com/features/who-are-my-unvaccinated-friends

    November 26, 2021, by Nadja Vancauwenberghe - Why have over 30 percent of Berliners decided not to get their Corona vaccination? Our Editor-in-Chief spoke to five friends about their views. Photo: IMAGO / Stefan Zeitz

    Over 30 percent of Berliners aren’t allowed on public transportation anymore unless they show a negative test. From Saturday they won’t be let into shops, restaurants, theatres or swimming pools. Most have been asked to stay at home by their employers. If they don’t have a car, or can’t afford a cab (taxis are strangely exempt from the 3G rule), it will be difficult for them to ride the U-Bahn.

    These are the “unvaccinated”, i.e. my fellow citizens who for whatever reason didn’t follow government advice to get their two jabs. Take RR, an unvaccinated colleague of mine. From Wednesday, he’s had to pass an official test centre every morning before getting on the S-Bahn. He’s barred from entering the office unless he can show his negative test. What’s more, he’s got to face bemused, occasionally reproachful, stares from some colleagues.

    This made me wonder: why wouldn’t RR get vaccinated like everyone else in our office and be left alone?

    It wasn’t the first time I’d come across someone who, despite scientific consensus, growing restrictions and peer pressure, simply didn’t get their jabs. Many don’t say it aloud because they’d rather avoid the guilt-trips and the shaming that comes from being part of what has been by now dubbed an “epidemic of the unvaccinated”.

    I looked around me for those who decided to opt out. I wanted to understand their reasoning. I also wanted to show that many aren’t the conspiracy theorists they’re often portrayed as. They’re not science deniers either, and all the people I found had been vaccinated in the past. So why not this time?

    Leo V, 60, entrepreneur, Corona-vaccine sceptic: “I have weighed the risk benefit of this vaccine, I’m not convinced.”

    Leo V is surprisingly well informed about stats and Covid-19 developments the world over. He has followed the numbers on a daily basis and weighed up the long term risk of new mRNA tech and assessed the side effects he observed on one hand, and the promised benefits on the other: “I told myself I’d wait and see. But then I look around and there’s no sign that this vaccine protects people from being infected. Many of my friends got pretty sick after two jabs, and it wasn’t even 5 months later ! So what’s the point?”

    Is he anti-vax? “I get my vaccinations every 10 years. My vaccine-pass is top notch.” So why not this time? “My chances of dying are very small,” he continues, citing a 0.04% in his age category. “I’ve got a greater chance of getting sick with the virus despite the vaccine, than of getting seriously sick.” He’s been collecting official data here and in countries all over the world. He cites growing numbers of hospitalised among the vaccinated here in Germany - “Among my age category (60+) half the people who died in German hospitals were vaccinated, and it’s rising. In Israel it’s the overwhelming majority, I wonder why people are so blind and keep believing in that vaccine” His conclusion? Until someone shows me a vaccine that really works, I’ll opt out, and find my own way through the epidemic“ he says referring to the €70 he spent on a fake “Genesen” certificate.

    Do you believe in vaccinations? Yes (all vaxxed)

    Do you believe the virus exists? Yes, but it’s not as dangerous as they make it seem

    How do you protect yourself? Tests and masks

    How will you deal with the new 3G restrictions? I have a fake “genesen” certificate

    Irina: 35, cleaner, unwillingly unvaccinated “I wish I could get my jabs, and now I’m so scared they’ll deport me”

    “When I got on the U-Bahn platform on Wednesday and I read the message on the LED sign - ‘from now on it’s 3G rule ...Guten Fahrt’, I froze,” says Irina. “I felt as if everyone was staring at me, so I immediately went back home and canceled all my shifts. I don’t know what to do. I already tried to get vaccinated, but everyone tells me it’s not possible for me.”

    Irina is from the Ukraine. She moved here to live with her Russian-German partner 10 years ago but somehow never managed to sort out her legal situation. She’s been here on visas from Poland, but since Covid-19, she hasn’t been able to renew them. She works 60 hours a week from Monday to Saturday cleaning homes in Berlin. All on the black. “I’ve kept on working throughout the pandemic, hoping for the best. Until now, it wasn’t really a problem. I wear masks and I test myself regularly - at home. I’m on good terms with my employers and no one complained.” Irina says she won’t take the risk to go to work until she finds a solution. A fake pass isn’t on the table for her, as she’d still need to show her ID to the pharmacist to get her QR code and is too scared to do so. “I’ve heard some doctors help illegal immigrants, I’m looking...”

    Do you believe in vaccinations? Yes

    Do you believe the virus exists? Yes

    How do you protect yourself? Mask. Home tests.

    How will you deal with the new 3G restrictions? I don’t know, yet

    Oliver: 32, physiotherapist. Pfizer-BioNTech-resistant “I’m waiting for a traditional vaccine to get my jab”

    “I’ve distrusted that particular vaccine from day one. The mRNA Technology is too new, and got on the market without proper long term assessment of risks. As for its immediate side effects, they’re here, for everyone to observe” says Oliver. “I understand why big labs don’t like to report them too much, but I don’t get why the media cover it so little. It’s crazy!”

    He mentions a colleague who was in bed with a high fever for a full week after her Biotech/Pfizer jab; or a 90-year-old neighbour who passed away – a blood clot – after her first jab.

    “Since when are vaccines supposed to make you so sick?”, he challenges. “And they keep telling us it’s safe but Moderna is now banned in Iceland, and now they advise you against it in Germany too if you’re under 30. Few months ago it was all safe! Hello?? ” His conclusion? “Sorry, I’m not taking that risk, especially now we see it’s not even working so well! I’ll wait until they develop something that works and that I can trust. I’d rather get Sputnik to be honest!”

    Do you believe in vaccinations? Some

    Do you believe the virus exists? Yes, a friend died

    How do you protect yourself? Masks

    How will you deal with the new 3G restrictions? I’ll dodge them somehow. Or wait for a traditional vaccine

    Ilya; 71, retired Greek civilisation professor, vaccine-hesitant, turned vaccine resistant. “I know all about political propaganda, and this totally turned me off”

    “In the beginning I wasn’t really sure what to think, then I saw how much effort they were putting into pressuring us — the government, the media. No place for a debate. As soon as you expressed a doubt, they’d shame you as a conspiracy theorist.” He brings up the demonstrations of last year. “I was there only once, with friends who like me lived through communist propaganda, in the DDR or in the soviet block… But on TV they only showed the loonies. They called us proto-fascists. It brought back dark memories — media manipulation, the fabrication of consensus...”

    Ilya says it was a turning point. “Then I noticed the conformist effect it had on people. Every time I’d point to something illogical or irrational, even some friends would get angry.” Ilya is 71, a retired teacher of Greek history and civilization, who lived through Soviet communism. His uncle died in a Stalin camp.

    “I’ve experienced totalitarian propaganda and I know how it feels, and now I have this bad feeling in my stomach. It tells me ‘no sorry, I’m not going to buy everything you’re trying to jam down my throat.’ First they promised you’d be safe with a vaccine, but only *their* vaccine. Not the Chinese or the Russian one. Doesn’t sound a little weird to you? Now we see it’s not working that well, and they don’t know what to do anymore, they call it an “epidemic of the unvaccinated”. They’re scapegoating fellow citizens. I’ll resist and fight against that.”

    Do you believe in vaccinations? My Impfpass is up to date

    Do you believe the virus exists? Yes

    How do you protect yourself? Tests and masks

    How will you deal with the new 3G restrictions? I’m retired, mostly at home, use my car

    Sarah: 28, web designer “I got so sick with my first jab, I can’t get myself to go back to the Impfzentrum!”

    Sarah is young and rather obedient. “I’m a good girl! When they told us to go and get vaccinated, I got online and booked a slot, like all my colleagues and friends here.”

    Sarah moved from Brussels to Berlin three years ago to work for an international start up. “I first wanted Johnson & Johnson because it was only one shot, but then I read Pfizer or Moderna were safer for younger women.” So Sarah got her BioNTech shot at Tegel impfzentrum last May, “It was so easy, barely any wait and I felt fine so I went back to work after that.” Then in the middle of the night, “I broke a fever. I was aching all over and felt I’d die or something, so I called a friend who’s a doc and she told me not to worry, that it was ‘normal’ - she said normal! - 48h max and I’ll be alright.” The next day, she couldn’t go to work. “I was unable to move, as if my body was broken and then my neck was so stiff and my head so bursting with pain that my neighbour called the emergency services. They came, tested me (I was negative!) and advised me to stay at home. Hospitals were on Corona alert anyway and I’d rather stay where I was and let it go away.” But the pain increased, so they called another doctor. “This time he was a weird guy who didn’t speak good German but had good drugs. He gave me morphine! I finally got some relief.”

    The pain kept on for six days and seven nights. “I called my Russian doctor two more times, I could have become a heroin addict out of this!” It took Sarah another week to entirely recover. Did she report her reactions to health authorities? “First everyone told me, it’s fine, it’ll go away! Then I wasn’t in a condition to report anything and make a fuss about a vaccine everyone praised as the best and safest. A German national treasure!” She never went to her second appointment, which was scheduled for June.

    “Especially when people tell you it gets worse with the second jab!”

    Until now, she managed to slip through the net. She’s even taken the train to Paris and Brussels, and flown to Portugal several times. And now? “To be honest I don’t know. Some people told me there’s a black market for fake passes. A friend got his for €150, but I’m a little scared.”

    Do you believe in vaccinations? Yes, I’m vaccinated

    Do you believe the virus exists? Yes

    How do you protect yourself? Tests and masks

    How will you deal with the new 3G restrictions? Testing every time I need to go somewhere.

  • Rosa Luxemburg’s Berlin - EXBERLINER.com
    https://www.exberliner.com/features/history/rosa-luxemburg-s-berlin/#page=1


    Da hat der Exberliner gute Arbeit gemacht. Inhaltlich und persönlich kommt man Rosa Luxemburg durch seinen Artikel nicht näher, aber die Topgraphie und Zeitablauf sind gut beschrieben. Und dann könnte man kritisieren, dass der eine wunderbare Openstreetmap-Karte enthält, die Links zu den einzelnen Stationen aber zu Google Maps führen? WIeso? Was soll ser Scheiß? Bekommt der Exberliner dafür etwa Geld?

    “Berlin has made the most unfavourable impression on me.” It is 1898 and Rosa Luxemburg has just arrived in the capital of the German Empire. She describes it in a letter as: “cold, tasteless, massive – a real barracks; and the dear Prussians with their arrogance, as though every one of them had swallowed the cane with which one had once been beaten...” Fair to say it isn’t love at first sight, but Luxemburg stays here until the bitter end.

    Für unsere Stadtführung von Bedeutung sind ihre

    Wohnungen, zunächst in Berlin
    #Cuxhavener_Straße 2, im #Hansaviertel am Rande des Tiergartens nahe den Stadtbahn-Bahnhöfen #Bellevue und #Tiergarten

    ab 16. August 1899
    #Wilhelm-Hauff-Straße 41 (R.L. schreibt Hauffstr.41 ) in #Friedenau

    24. Oktober 1899
    #Wielandstraße 23, 2. Stockwerk, Balkon

    August 1902 bis 1911
    #Cranachstraße 53 oder 58, 2. Stockwerk
    http://www.friedenau-aktuell.de/stra%C3%9Fen-pl%C3%A4tze/cranachstra%C3%9Fe nennt die Hausnummer 53, das Eckhaus an der Beckerstraße, andere Quellen sprechen von der Hausnummer 58

    ab 1911
    #Biberacher_Weg (vor 1878 bis 1960 #Lindenstraße) 2 in #Südende – 5 Zimmer, Küche, Haushälterin Gertrud Zlottko und Katze

    Der Exberliner erwähnt noch das Frauengefängnis #Barnimstraße 10 (www.barnimstrasse.de) in #Friedrichshain welches RL ab dem 18.2.1915 ein Jahr lang „bewohnt“. Das Urteil lautet auf 14 Monate für „Aufforderung zum Ungehorsam gegen Gesetze und Anordnungen der Obrigkeit“ wegen ihrer Frankfurter Rede vom 26. September 1913, die später unter dem Titel Militarismus, Krieg und Arbeiterklasse gedruckt wird. Nach drei Monaten in Freiheit beginnt im Juli 1916 ihre „Sicherungsverwahrung“ aufgrund einer Verurteilung nach dem Schutzhaft-Gesetz. Erst am 9.11.1918 kommt sie in Breslau aus dem Gefängnis frei und erreicht einen Tag später Berlin.

    https://www.openstreetmap.org/node/6982962072
    Sie arbeitet und schläft in der Druckerei der Zeitung Rote Fahne #Königgrätzer_Straße Ecke #Möckernstraße. Dieses Gebäude wurde durch die alliierten Bombenangriffe im Frühjahr 1945 zerstört.

    Am 11.1.1919 findet sie bei Dr. Alfred Bernstein in der #Blücherstraße 13 in #Kreuzberg Zuflucht.

    Am 12.1.1919 begibt sie sich gemeinsam mit Karl Liebknecht in ein Versteck in #Neukölln und später nach #Wilmersdorf in die #Mannheimer_Straße 43. Die Wikipedia spricht von einer Wohnung Mannheimer Straße 27 . Dort werden beide denunziert, am 15.1.1919 von Paramilitärs verhaftet.

    https://www.openstreetmap.org/way/564397058
    https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%BCrnberger_Stra%C3%9Fe_(Berlin)#Eden-Hotel
    Sie werden in das Eden-Hotel an der Kreuzung #Budapester_Straße / #Kurfürstenstraße / #Nürnberger_Straße gebracht, gefoltert und ermordet.
    Budapester Straße 35, bis 21.4.1925 Kurfürstendamm 246/247
    https://www.openstreetmap.org/way/25539413

    Rosa Luxemburgs Leiche wird gegen Mitternacht in den #Landwehrkanal in der Nähe der heutigen #Lichtensteinbrücke und des #Rosa-Luxemburg-Steg geworfen.
    https://www.openstreetmap.org/way/579947221#map=19/52.50909/13.34315
    Karl Liebknecht wird als „unbekannter Toter“ den Behörden übergeben.

    #Berlin #Geschichte #Politik #Revolution #Kommunismus #Stadtführungen