Around seventeen years ago this playground, built by the parents of Prenzlauer Berg, then part of the Soviet-dominated East Berlin, opened. Just a little while later Rick and I came upon it. We usually spent much of our time in Berlin in the East, and still do. It was a cold day, and in the home-made fireplace a bright fire burned. Kids were running, climbing, and having a wonderful time in this very low-tech "adventure playground."
It's still here, still low-tech and still much-beloved. It's always meant a lot to me; it was very dramatic to cross into the East, see trees growing from the roof of the decimated central Synagogue, see a wall right across the very beat-up Brandenberg Gate (which now looks like this by the way)
and to know that the people whose children played here were trapped, and, much of the time, scared. That they were able to create this for their kids in the middle of it all was inspiring. So, tired and not really up for a serious narrative tonight - I offer you this lovely little place - still loved by parents and kids alike - and probably, among those kids, some whose parents were playing there when we first visited. Goodnight.