Abandoned Berlin

    Has Berlin become uncool?  Trendy columnists from the New York Times to Die Welt have declared, 'Berlin ist nicht mehr cool, nicht mehr hip….Berlin ist angepasst und out.'

    If Berlin has become uncool – and to my mind there are few more exciting capitals in the world – then it's down to the rapid gentrification and wanton destruction of many of the old places and spaces that made the city unique.  Over the last five years I've written many siren-voiced posts about rampant development, spiralling property prices and loss of cooperatives like Tacheles, but another foreign resident – one who is Berlin's most important (and entertaining) subversive blogger – does much more to draw attention to the true damage.

    The website Abandoned Berlin uncovers the hidden history and preserves the memory of neglected buildings.  To its Irish creator – der Irische Berliner who goes by the delightful penname of Spudnik Ó Fathaigh – 'every crumbling building, creaking floorboard, fluttering curtain and flaking piece of paint has a tale begging to be told.'

    And Spudnik tells those tales.  In his once-and-a-while blog he visits the abandoned Iraqi embassy, tramps through the ghost stations of Siemens' forgotten S-Bahn line, sneaks into the overgrown airfield of Oranienburg. 'If it's still standing, it's got to be fun,' he declares.

    'Lenin is a lonely man,' he writes of Wünsdorf-Waldstadt's 'Forbidden City', once the Red Army's European HQ.  Here Lenin's crumbling statues gaze 'forlornly across the overgrown lawn, abandoned by his comrades after they all departed in a hurry on a fateful day in August 1994…  Another Lenin [statue] frowns disparagingly in front of a boarded-up villa, maintaining some form of dignity despite the fact he’s covered in lichen and no one has even asked him how he’s feeling for nearly 20 years.'

    Along with his disarming prose and photographs, Spudnik shares practical advice on finding these inaccessible spots.  He even advises would-be explorers on what to bring with them: i.e. bring 'someone to carry your sandwiches and beer, or drag you back out by the legs if a roof falls on your head.'

    For the exploration of abandoned Berlin – or soon-to-be-transformed-into-high-end-condos Berlin – is not without risks.  Security guards, nosy neighbours, police patrols and especially unstable walls and flooded bunkers are real hazards.  'Of course the thrill of being caught only adds to the pleasure,' writes Spudnik.  'People who don't see that miss the point. Eintritt Verboten is an invitation, and it should never be refused.'  Enter at your own risk.

    Among Spudnik's most moving visits are those to the 'lost city' of Vogelsang, a 7000 hectare military base where the Soviets once stationed atomic weapons for use against London, Paris and Rome ('… now the Germans want to wipe it from the face of the earth. Mechanical rubble makers are slowly making their way from the north, gobbling and grinding their way through history…') and the abandoned Köpenicker Straße ice factory ('… the damned thing is of historical importance, under Denkmalschutz as a protected or listed building…now caught in the web of the huge Mediaspree project which wants to allow corporate greed corrupt Berlin's riversides with apartments, office spaces and gold mines for investors. I guess this is how they can demolish a listed building...').  So how does one access the Eisfabrik?  'No longer possible,' he writes with honesty. 'The security is back and all the bottom windows and entrances are bricked up. I mean, maybe it is possible, at night, with a grappling hook and/or a sledgehammer but you’ll either kill yourself or make an almighty racket so it’s probably best just to go to the pub.'

    For me, Spudnik's most hilarious 'discovery' is the vacant Bierpinsel, or beer brush 'walrus in a tutu' observation tower-cum-Argentinian steakhouse which was meant to be an icon of futuristic 1970s architecture in Steglitz.  'Construction took four years – not bad when you consider how high everyone must have been at the time, and I’m not referring to the Bierpinsel’s 46 meters,' he declares.

    As this important, self-confessed 'raving and ranting reporter' writes, 'the buildings may be falling down, vandalized and abused, but they maintain stoic dignity through the dust and decay. They want visitors! They want to share their memories!'  Soon they will be 'lost to history forever, consumed by apartments, another f***ing hotel or razed to the ground to make way for a golf course. Berlin seems determined to ruin all of its beautiful ruins. Don't wait any longer!'

    In Abandoned Berlin Spudnik celebrates that which Berlin is tearing down, that which makes the city so special (and even cool).