The face in the mirror in Berlin

Through a rare set of circumstances I was able to fulfill a lifelong dream of visiting Berlin.

It was after World War II had ended, but during the time when there was still a wall between East Germany and West Germany. This was a time of peace and booming prosperity in West Berlin, and a time of peace, but not prosperity in East Berlin. This contrast in the conditions on each side of the wall was exaggerated by the time of the year. It was in early December, and the stores in West Berlin were crammed with Christmas merchandise, and the streets were ablaze with Christmas lights, along with the glaring neon signs. The sidewalks teemed with shoppers and the streets were crammed with automobiles. Everything denoted business and feverish activity.

The tour I took covered the sights in West Berlin, and also included a 6-hour tour of East Berlin. I had been told about the differences I would see between the two sides of Berlin, yet it was still a shock to make the transition from west to east.

To begin, we entered East Berlin through the border guard at "Checkpoint Charlie." Our bus was stopped three times in a 50-yard distance as we zig-zagged through the crossing. Each time we stopped an East German guard came aboard our bus and carefully compared each face with our passport picture. Then he would move us forward a little more. There was no grousing, or joking with the guards. We just sat meekly, and did as we were told.

The overall impression of East Berlin was that of varying shades of gray. The buildings were gray, the sky was gray, the few automobiles on the street were drab brown or gray. And though there were not great crowds on the streets, the people we saw wore gray or black coats. The people with whom we came into contact were solemn. It was as if a gray pall lay over the entire city.

In East Berlin, I had thoroughly enjoyed seeing the Peragamon Museum, which features the original (some say looted) walls and city gates of old Babylon, all restored to the original beauty, with vibrant blues and gold (unlike the bleakness of East Berlin). It is like walking down the street in old Babylon. But I did not really enjoy being in East Berlin. It was too drab. There were too many policemen, and as we left East Berlin the mood of our group seemed to reflect the pessimism of the city.

It was just after sundown when we left East Berlin and the streets were mainly dark. There were few street lights, and few cars driving on the streets. Occasionally would we see a small candle in a window -- but there were certainly no big Christmas displays in East Berlin, either private or commercial.

It was entirely dark by the time we arrived back in West Berlin, past the famous Brandenberg Gate, which at that time was incorporated into the Berlin Wall and marked the division between East and West, but now symbolizes the reunification of East and West Germany. The scene was totally different in West Berlin -- like emerging from a cave into Disneyland. The main street, Der Kurfurstendamm, or Ku'damm, was alive with traffic, automobiles and pedestrians alike. The stores were bright, with lots of animated displays in the show windows. Santas and religious displays were evident in each block. Garish neon and other lighted signs gave off the impression not unlike downtown Las Vegas.

One of Berlin's most famous landmarks is the Kaiser Wilhelm Church---or what is left of it. The original church was built in about 1895 and was the place where the old German Royalty worshipped. During World War II, Berlin was severely damaged from the relentless allied bombing raids. The bombs all but destroyed the church, yet the church tower managed to survive, even though, it too, was badly damaged. Somehow, that church tower, looming up over a leveled city became the symbol of Berlin's resolve to rebuild, and serves as a constant reminder of the awful destructiveness of war.

In the 1950s, there were plans to tear down the church tower and erect a grand modern new church on the site. The outcry from Berliners was immediate and effective.

Instead, the old church tower still stands, while a new, ultra modern church, made of blue colored glass bricks, with its own tall bell tower stands beside the old church tower.

Across the street from the Kaiser Wilhelm Church tower was a very nice restaurant on the second floor of the building. It probably was a little more expensive than I had planned, but after all, how often did I get to Berlin. It seemed like a good place to relax a bit after a strenuous day, and I thought it would be a good place to watch Berliners as they ate a bit before their night on the town.

I began to feel as if I'd made a mistake. The lady who showed me to my table looked startled as she handed me a menu and stood for a moment as if she were about to say something to me, then changed her mind and quickly turned away.

As she left she went over to the cashier and whispered something and they both looked over at me. All during my meal waitresses kept looking in my direction and whispering amongst themselves. I had the very uncomfortable feeling that I had done something wrong and was about to be reprimanded. Had this been in East Berlin I should have been downright terrified. I finished eating quickly and called for my check. Then suddenly I knew what all the strange looks and whispering had been about.

A fellow dressed in a cook's uniform came through the door and approached my table. He was about the same size and age as I was, and he looked like me. No it was more than that -- it was like looking into the face I see each morning in the mirror.

We stared at one another for a long moment. Then he pushed his glasses back on his nose with his index finger -- a gesture I too have been known to use -- and without saying a word, picked up a tray of dishes and retreated back into the kitchen.

As I paid my bill I started to ask the cashier about the fellow I'd just seen. But my German was not good, and another group of diners had entered the restaurant. The cashier was engaged in showing the diners to their table. So I picked up my change and left. It was only later that I began to think of the questions I would have liked to ask.

Was the fellow a long lost relative? It was certainly possible. I had other relatives in Germany. Berlin, I didn't know about. What was the fellow's name? Did he have a wife and family?

Did his kids look like mine? We could at least have had our picture taken together. I could have gone back to the restaurant later and asked my questions, but the next morning I left Berlin and never have been back.

They say that everyone has a look-a-like -- somewhere. Since that time I have believed that to be true. Mine lives in Berlin.