Natalia Valle

Borders in Berlin

September 30^th 2009

My story of Berlin has no beginning nor does it really have an end. Before I even stepped foot off the plane in Germany my mind was bubbling with excitement and theories that I thought would be reconfirmed by this country and it’s people. But when I left I was no longer looking for answers because I had begun to feel as if it was my country that I was leaving, that it was just as much my city as it was the native born shopkeeper’s down the road.

When I landed in Berlin the culture was so abundantly visible, it was the most noticeable change that would be constant throughout my experience in Berlin. I was lost; languages were dancing around my ears without my understanding and acknowledgment. I floated through the airport only comforted by the familiar stressful feeling rising inside of me. Sally and her incredible ability to speak the words that I longed so badly to understand, German, helped me along. The taxi driver barely interested, yelled and groaned at her attempts to explain our destination and when she finally felt satisfied with his gentle nod and relaxed eyes I drifted into the yellow painted Mercedes and tried to calm the nerves that were bursting inside my stomach. This is my first memory of Berlin and while it may appear to be a negative memory, it was by no standards bad. It was something that I could have only felt in that moment, it was Berlin, and it was a new culture, a new country, and a new experience that had just begun.

My Berlin was only mine. It was my experience that no one would understand or be able to relive without my input. It started with stress and ended with a heartbreaking sadness, I was leaving my new home to only return to my old one. I had become, in my eyes, an essential piece to the city in which I lived. Every morning I would no longer contribute a euro forty to the bakery down the street for a coffee and croissant. I would no longer be buying a bottle of white wine to keep in my fridge every other night from the grocery store a few blocks to the left. I was a piece of the puzzle that was Berlin.

About four blocks from the apartments that we lived in was a small restaurant that was so crunched for space, the only area to sit and eat was under a canopy outside where the food would be handed to you warm through the window. It was called “King Burger,” and rightfully so considering the food was fit for a king. Large, cheaply priced hamburgers with an abundant side of heavily seasoned fries were less then most bottled waters cost. The seasoning that graced the fries is something that I still dream about, a bit of a kick without the annoying spiciness included and plenty of salt without the necessity of water nearby.

Yani, the fifteen-year-old boy that often worked the hours that I visited, between 11pm and 2am, was a bit meek and soft spoken but as a kind as a person can be. He was Turkish, caramel colored skin with big, honey brown eyes. It was always pleasant talking with him and he often-made Lauren and I laugh until our stomachs were sore the next day. Yani’s older brother sometimes joined us in our late night cravings and the four of us would share buckets of free fries together. They told us about how their family moved to Berlin to open a King Burger and planned to open 2 more in the next 3-4 years. They only worked during the summer time though, their father was adamant about them attending college in the future. I would look forward to those cool nights when Lauren and I would jog down to visit them knowing that we would stay for an hour even if we only had twenty minutes to spare in our night.

One time we thought it would be funny to write Yani fake love letters about how much we were in love with him and would wait until he was older then run away with him. He always flushed red from the undesired attention and would pretend to run to the back to get new ingredients for our burgers. It broke his heart when he knew we were leaving soon and he begged us to come back once more each time until we ran out of meals to make excuses with. Yani was Berlin; he was part of my Berlin.

As the weeks continued on without my knowledge it came time for Istanbul and the impact that it would have on me was something that I never could have predicted, it changed me.

“I never thought that I would call Berlin home or that I would crave the bed in my apartment and the purple love seats so much. Istanbul is an incredible city and a city full of imagery and sadness. I loved much of what I saw but I also saw things that broke my heart.

Last year around December I went to the Dominican Republic. There, there is a very specific point where one city turns into two cities; this point is the line between rich and poor. I saw this same line, or border, behind Kenyon mall. Behind this brilliantly beautiful retail heaven lays the lives of families that have no shoes and live in under constructed homes. In the Dominican the same image was brought to the forefront of my eyes when I saw young boys running around on dirt roads into homes made of aluminum and cardboard yet the happiest people on earth. Istanbul with its bright lights, large night life and extravagant hotels screams rich and new, but around the corner is the sad, forgotten majority of their country forced to look out their window into a world that is out of reach, it torn me apart. How can people become so ignorant to the truths all around them, to the black and white of their worlds? I see now the melancholy that Orhan was seeing. I may not see it as a collapse of an empire but I see it in the minds and eyes of the people that remain in that fallen empire. In the ignorance about which they live their lives, in the lack of change that I saw people striving for.

This ignorance made me feel even further from home then Berlin had. While I have always had an ocean between my family and I upon coming on this trip, it wasn’t until Istanbul that I noticed this distance. I saw parts of my life in Istanbul, I saw the colorful speech that my mother uses when she gets excited, I saw the protective nature of my father in the eyes of the other men in our group as they watched with careful eyes over us. I saw the playfulness of my sister when bartering for jewelry in the Grand Bazaar and I saw the curiousness of my brother in each of us as we explored a city that was so unlike any other place. While all of these things reminded me of home I also found that what out-weighted my culture was, simply enough, their true culture. A lack of respect was very evident and while the freeness of the country was refreshing at first I seemed to miss the structure of Germany and many other more “westernized” (if that even works) nations.”

My impression of Istanbul is described best in this blog entry when we returned. I loved Turkey but the realization that came to me during my visit also changed me forever. It was beautiful but the beauty was far overshadowed by the ignorance of the natives and the poverty that was bursting at the seams but still trying to hide. My Istanbul was a group of young boys giggling in their naïve tongue as they mocked us for visiting their slum. The pure curiosity that was pouring out of their eyes, the sheer laughter that spilled from their lips at the idea of our presence was all a part of MY Istanbul.

In regards to my project, both countries are present in the research. This project was a piece of my experience; it was a part of My Istanbul and My Berlin. I asked the question, “Who is an iconic figure in Berlin fashion? How would you describe Berlin’s style and what are the essential items in the closet of a Berliner?” I wanted to address the people of Berlin specifically. I was interested in the designers, some department stores but mostly I wanted to know who the people thought defined their fashion, who was iconic in the public’s eyes, not necessarily designers. The issue was not something that needed to be answered in order to save mankind or answer any questions that have been around since the world began. It was a question that to me meant something. It was a topic that I was curious about and wanted to research. I wanted to know if people in Berlin saw fashion the same way that Americans did. My research here in Seattle showed me that often what people thought to be iconic or ‘in-style’ were based off of what a celebrity was wearing or what the media (the almighty controller) wanted the public to think was popular.

Fashion is something that everyone whether on purpose or not is involved with. You can try and not be fashionable, you can try to be in-style or you can even try to look as if you don’t care at all, but everyone is still influenced and an essential piece. The core issues behind my questions are people’s ability to pinpoint or recognize something that they may think they have no connection to. For example I questioned women who were involved in the fashion world but I also interviewed men who appeared to not care about their appearance at all and who also claimed to have no idea how to answer my questions. In the end everyone had an answer, a very large variety of answers but answers nonetheless.

It is relevant for that reason, we are all tied together on this topic, we are all connected as one race of humans by this, among other, factors. The debate that is also often brought up in association with European fashion and American fashion is whose ahead? Or is there a difference; is there an underlying difference that will never cross over cultures? I don’t know the answer to all of these questions but I was determined to seek it out.

Personally, fashion is a piece of everything I do. I love it. I love a pair of red suede, black embroidered, 5-inch pumps that are labeled Christian Louboutin for the sole reason that to me its like looking at a work of art. The workmanship in a pair of satin, bronze Jimmy Choos embellished by a massive fabric flower on the toe makes my knees weak. You may not understand that and you most likely are reading this and think I’m crazy, but fashion speaks to me the way music effects other people or the way a good meal can change your mood. This topic was something that I knew if I researched I would truly dedicate myself to the project, I would care about the answers that people gave me and I would push until I heard what I felt I needed to hear. I worked harder on this project because I was asking questions that I truly wanted to know the answers to.

When researching this topic there was more then one obstacle that slowed my process. I found that the people I wanted to hear from often didn’t want to be heard. No one allowed me to videotape them, only two allowed their voice to be recorded and a majority just said no to being interviewed. With the small amount of access I had to interviews I tried other forms of research. I went to department stores and asked what were the most shopped items, I went to flee markets and took photos of what was commonly displayed I even pretended to be interested in items to get hints on “what inspired” the design. These methods offered a lot of information and everything else was obtained from watching, listening, a few books and even Berlin Fashion week online.

I worked tirelessly the last few weeks searching for valid information that would help with my performance at the end of the program. But what I found to be the most helpful, was putting together my performance. Some of the answers that I didn’t have came to me as I tried to describe an action I wanted to add to my character, or a line I thought was important to say. I came to find that my most important question, what is Berlin’s style, was answered by simply say the word “me.” Every person was a part of what Berlin’s style is. Everyone was diverse, everyone had a different look and a different opinion. So many cultures had come together in this city to create this unified chaotic image, and that style was represented in each and every person walking the streets.

Besides the performance I didn’t find much help in the creative writing assignments nor any of the workshops. Although they were interesting and I was glad I was able to be apart of them, they didn’t touch on my personal topic at all.

The future question that I would like to explore is the topic that Cassie studied. I think that globalization is a very interesting topic and has great influence on the world and if I had the opportunity again I would love to pursue that. Having gotten to know both Molly and Cassie better I had a great time learning about their topics and their specific questions through them. Each of us had such a strong passion for what we were studying that it was thrilling to see those topics unfold and the different answers each of us found together through our final performance. We helped each other find answers to our questions, we helped each other understanding the answers more clearly and we each gave a more rounded perspective to our overall project.