Trying to figure it all out, trying to make it right, one day (and one night) at a time.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
So About Those Riots...
We did end up venturing out to Kottbusser Tor yesterday afternoon and were quite pleased to find what appeared to be a very peaceful, techno pumped street fair. No rioting, no tension at all aside from the usual claustrophobic discomfort of a few thousand people smashed into the same couple of streets. Police were everywhere but they looked more bored than anything. As we downed a few beers and danced along Oranienstrasse, we found our heads littered with confetti. How grouchy can one be, dancing to techno while staring at their friends' colorfully speckled heads?
But then darkness fell and I had left to retrieve a friend who was meeting me at our flat. As she and I walked back toward Kottbusser Tor, the scene had most definitely changed. Approaching the river, we realized that the demonstrations were underway. Police lights glaring, sirens blaring. We could also hear a whole lot of yelling or actually, more like cheering. We took a different bridge over the river but meandered back into Kottbusser Tor. I quickly discovered as we turned a corner and were greeted by a wall of cops in riot gear that I was not going to be reconnecting with my friends on Oranienstrasse. We tried another street. Yet another blockade. Although I didn't see anything, apparently things did get a little crazy in Kreuzberg last night. According to this article, police batons and a water cannon were used against "rampaging demonstrators." I cannot speak to that. The only cannon I experienced was the one that so sweetly sprinkled us with confetti from a fourth floor window.
And the Neo-Nazi demonstration? Yeah, apparently those 500 didn't get too far considering the 10,000 demonstrators who showed up to blockade their parade route. Silly Nazis.
So all in all, Berlin didn't end up being as crazy as police had anticipated. Then again, as I hopped off the U-Bahn after a night of dancing in Mitte, I noticed a man holding a big bloody bandage against his forward with one hand, a beer in the other. Perhaps I should have lent him my helmet. Next year, man, I promise.
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