![]() The first visit I just gawked and wondered aloud how this could happen. In middle of this public park, now reclaimed by Berlin's citizens (I am told they will never develop it now), there is a community garden.Īnd I am wandering through this garden, taking photos. It is a place to picnic by the little old airplane. It is a place for children to race on foot, with start and finish lines painted out. It is a sprawling runway for bicycles and skateboards, rollerblades and scooters. Tempelhof is now many things to many people. This patch of grass and concrete and asphalt has worked its way into Berlin's heart. It was here that the US would drop off supplies and aid. Unlike Edmonton's Municipal Airport, Tempelhof is a war hero. It was slated for redevelopment, like our own. The Tempelhof Airport is an abandoned city-centre airport, like our own. ![]() I am wandering, jaw dropped and wide-eyed, through the most wild and beautiful garden I've ever seen. So let me take you to Berlin's abandoned Tempelhof Airport. When I feel this sort of overwhelm, I know I need to focus–to zoom in on just one moment. The beer steins and lederhosen of Munich. The midnight bike-ride through a pitch dark drug park. The massive treasure chest of modern art that is the Pompidou Centre. ![]() I return refreshed, with a full memory, and a fuller memory card. I've been back from Europe nearly a week and I'm just now getting settled.
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