Teufelsberg (cont')

Not more than 20 meters from where children were sledding is a large, disturbed patch of soil in the scrub.  A man told me I had missed the boar by a minute. He showed me his cell phone pictures, and described how the animal had quietly wandered off.  In fact, boars infest this city (see here and here for U.S. news reports).

The Listening Station on Teufelsberg was bought by private investors in 1996.  Their plans to build condominiums were thwarted when the city declared the complex parkland.  The Listening station is now mostly a canvas for street artists.

Some of the rooms inside are filled with debris- lighting ballasts, ceiling tiles.  There is a massive paper shredder deep in the interior. The room is too dark to photograph.

The radoms, we are told, were covered to protect equipment from the elements- also to prevent the Soviets from monitoring the direction of surveillance.  The topmost radom is a different material- and design- from the others, which are geodesic.

Originally it too was geodesic.  However, after the fall of the Wall, German aviation authorities leased the radom and installed their own equipment.  The radar did not require covering, but the city insisted on preserving the landmark's architectural integrity.

On this snowy day, the Reuters power station is working hard.  The park- filled with sledders and others earlier- is nearly deserted at dusk.

Teufelsberg, Weihnachten

To grasp the magnitude of destruction German cities endured, visit their “Trümmerberge”- rubble mountains.  Every major Germany city has one or two heaps where debris was deposited during reconstruction.  In Berlin, there are nine.  The largest and most mysterious is Teufelsberg- named for a nearby lake on the western edge of the city.  Teufelsberg rises 80 meters tall- the highest point in Berlin- and is constituted by 75 million cubic meters of debris.

The mountain is weedy and traversed by ribbons of paths; the debris lies beneath a thin layer of soil.  It is not hard to find shards of plates, tile, chunks of brick and ceramic.  Much of the rubble is from buildings that were demolished in a 1950s building frenzy- the dumping here continued into the early 1970s.

From the top of Teufelsberg, you get a pretty good survey of Berlin- in particular, the smokestacks of Reuter and Steglitz power stations.  But also, strangely, one sees the way this city is surrounded by wilderness.  A mere 15 minute walk from the S-bahn, wild boars are said to roam the area, and only woods are visible to the western horizon (see photo).

Teufelsberg was originally to the location of a Nazi military-technical college- a complex designed by Albert Speer and envisioned as part of the World Capital Germania.  Demolition of the complex- still under construction as the war ended- proved too difficult, and instead it was simply buried under debris.  This is yet another example of the odd ways that reconstruction had to negotiate the grandiose that Speer had launched.

The "Listening Station" - a complex consisting of three or four radomes, some concrete buildings, and oil tanks- was established by the U.S. National Security Agency in 1963- a prime spot for intelligence gathering from behind the iron curtain. The facility discontinued operations after reunification.

The perimeter of the complex is lined with a barbed wire fence- heavily patched and reinforced- and the campus buildings are covered in graffiti.   Also there are strange tree-houses on the property.  Apparently, the listening station has one legal resident- a Shalmon Abraham- who can arrange tours and rent the facility.  The torn covering of the towers flap loudly in the wind.  David Lynch is said to have purchased property on Teufelsberg with the aim of establishing an "Invincible University" for the teaching of meditation and yoga.

Nearby, there is another huge mound where- I am told- people attempt to hang glide, fly kites, and in the winter, ski.  It affords another good view of the listening station, the infamous olympic stadium, and still other disasters of modernism- to be covered in future installments.

Rummelsburger Landstraße

Klingenberg Heizkraftwerk is a towering specimen of Expressionist architecture.  It sits on a lonely boulevard on the southeastern side of Berlin, next to the Spree. When the plant opened in 1925, it was Europe’s largest coal fired power plant, and the area was heavily industrialized. Today this is Berlin's 4th largest plant.

I have come to this area in search of two watertowers.  The first, which caught my eye a few weeks earlier on a cab ride, is at the south edge of the power station.  More on that another time.  

Further south is a complex of disused industrial buildings from the first decades of the century, and recently cleared lots.

The second water tower is said to be in a waterworks, located within Park Wuhlheide- a large expanse of woods which,  according to a web site, hosted Nazi Germany’s first “Work and Education” camp.  

Just beyond the parking area is a squatters encampment –Wagendorf Wuhlheide.  The homes are a mix of huts, campers, and ramshackle railway cars, and the settlement stretches surprisingly deep into the woods. Laundry is flapping in the wind, and two characters are returning from the wood with wheel barrow of logs. 

The watertower of Wuhlheide turns out to be a disappointment- stubby, surrounded by fences and trees, and virtually unapproachable. I meander through the almost empty park and find my way to Wuhlheide S bahn station.  

An email has arrived from the doctor: “I already left a message on your mailbox. Please excuse my impoliteness yesterday.  It was a bad day with too many problems accumulating and I let go of the professional attitude.  If you want to tak about the findings of our examination you can send me an email or call me."  

On the ride back, I spy a spectacular water tower.  It sits in a large rail yard- an area I know to be filled with unusual ruins.  It will be impossible to access.