O visitors to Berlin with all of your expectations! Give them a rest – come and find me instead! My name’s Celeste. I’m a friend of Clara’s, the young dome over the Reichstag, of Sibylle and Ludmylle’s, the domes of Frankfurter Tor, and I’m close with the twin domes of the Gendarmenmarkt, too. Come a little closer, let me tell you a story.

You can find me at Parkanlage Tempelhofer Freiheit. I’m there where Tempelhof, Kreuzberg, and Neukölln meet. You can reach me in a number of ways: you can take the 104 bus, or the U6 subway line and get off at Platz der Luftbrücke, Paradestraße, or Tempelhof (at the latter there’s also an S-Bahn stop for both the S41 and S42).

Come into the park and lay down in the center on the grass. Do you see this whole sea of green? There are more than 300 hectares (approximately 740 acres or over 3.5 million yards) of lawn, I’ll have you know, surrounded in the west by the circular structure of the ex-airport of Tempelhof, which continues right up to the edge of the bushes and trees. If you now turn your gaze from the right to the left and from the left to the right, pausing for a moment in the middle to look straight up into the sky, you’ll see me. That’s right – I’m a dome! Right above your head! Why Celeste? Well, as you can see, I consist of sky. I have seen many things happen here right under my eyes, especially over the last two hundred years but, thanks to my usual sense of reserve, I’ve never talked about it. Well, up until today that is…today I feel so light and free…

If only you had been here on a sunny Sunday about two hundred years ago! The lawn would’ve been full of women and young girls in long dresses with puffed sleeves, their hats decorated with ribbons and flowers, and a lot of parasols. The men would have been wearing dark suits, ties, vests, and hats and would have been carrying canes; the little boys would have been dressed in sailor suits, and the girls with hoops and balls. You would have seen horses running about and, just maybe, been allowed to visit the exclusive equestrian club. Maybe you would have taken a swim in the little lake which has since disappeared…We would have been able to see the Prussian military on parade, an ocean of Pickelhauben, heard the marches and the bugles and, during the week, you could have watched the drills…

It’s a good thing, however, that you weren’t here at 6:50 a.m. on June 12, 1897, when Doctor Wölfert’s hot-air balloon took off straight for me and then exploded, taking with it the good doctor together with his dream and his colleagues!

But those were the days when we were all just crazy to fly!

On September 5, 1909, Orville Wright came here to demonstrate the stability of his plane and at the end of his 19-minute flight (which thankfully ended with a soft landing), you no doubt would have applauded enthusiastically along with your fellow onlookers.

In 1923 the Airport of Tempelhof was officially opened. There were few travelers and the rules for them were similarly rather few and certainly unsophisticated: you were obliged to wear protective goggles and a foulard, you were prohibited from getting on with shoes or hats (they could have gotten caught up in the gears), you were prohibited from throwing anything out of the plane (with the force of gravity even little objects would have been dangerous), and you were prohibited from drinking water or alcohol before the flight, as well as from eating black bread, beans, or peas…

In 1926 I witnessed the creation of Luft Hansa from the fusion of Junkers Luftverkehr and Aero Lloyd, which was celebrated with the first Paris-Berlin flight in May. Just think: it only took eight hours to get there including stops in Essen and in Cologne!

My most cherished memory, however, is the day we were all awaiting Clarence’s arrival. Clarence Chamberlin, that is. It was 5:30 in the morning on June 4, 1927. We were all emotional, me more than anyone else. After all, he was coming directly from New York on one of the earliest trans-Atlantic flights! Lots of folks were throwing their hats into the air, a band was playing, there were cries of enthusiasm…but as the airport’s sirens began to signal his approach, everything was covered up by the immense rumbling of his motors. Before landing, he circled over the airport. I think he did it just for me. And then, with the utmost of elegance, he sat down on the grass with a smile. He was so devilishly handsome, I’ll never forget it. He called his airplane Miss Columbia and so, as you may have noticed, the long avenue which runs along the north of the airport is called Columbiadamm to this day.

The following year saw a lot of construction work down there. There were so many people working that I didn’t manage to sleep a wink. But more importantly, I didn’t understand what was happening. Even the prison that was there where they planned to construct the new airport had been named after Clarence’s plane. I saw doctors, lawyers, journalists, philosophers, social democrats, Jews, and communists go inside. I heard that they later took them to Prinz Albrecht Straße to the headquarters of the Geheime Staatspolizei, otherwise known as the Gestapo.

I never saw any of them again.

The Columbia Haus was then demolished in order to make room for, in Hitler’s words, the “biggest and most beautiful civil airport in the world.” I remember May 1, 1933, quite well. First all air traffic was deviated to Staaken and then, right under my feet, they celebrated the strength, the power, and the invincibility of National Socialism. Four giant swastikas held the savage crowd mesmerized. Dr. Joseph Goebbels spoke, and I was afraid. Sometimes my friend Clara asks me, “But where were you? Why didn’t you do anything?” And I never know how to respond other than to tell her that I was afraid. The airport was constructed in grand fashion. People said it was the biggest airport in the world and, on top of that, it had this dynamic, modern, and powerful semicircular form. It was 1,230 meters (4,035 feet) long and had a surface area of 284,000 square meters (over 3 million square feet). Hitler wanted it to silence European criticism of Germany, but that continued all the same.

1936 saw the Olympics held in Berlin. 200,000 passengers came and went before my eyes. I remember that in July the order came through for all anti-Semitic signs to be taken down to show the world that Germany was by no means racist. Everything was cleaned up by August 1 and the Olympic games began. For me, they were two agonizing weeks.

But I hadn’t yet seen the worst.

In 1939 the war began and Lufthansa enormously reduced the amount of civilian flights. Construction on the airport slowed, but I saw them build those sheds of horror, fifteen of them right there on the Columbiadamm. Here I saw women, Jews, and Slavs put into forced labor by the company Wese, which began to produce fighters and bombers instead of civilian planes. I saw two thousand slaves produce the FW 190 fighter and the Ju 87 dive-bomber, also known as the Stuka. Lufthansa, too, became part of the war effort and at one time counted 400 forced laborers in its ranks, some of whom were even children between the ages of twelve and fifteen. It was true horror below me. I was petrified.

After six long years and unspeakable suffering, on April 28, 1945, the Red Army arrived, destroying here and there what hadn’t already been bombed and on the roof of the airport, right next to the Nazi eagle, they raised the Soviet flag.

Having divided Berlin into four sectors, Tempelhof now belonged to the Americans. And so, now we all spoke American. They immediately wanted to build an air base; however, it was said that the grass wouldn’t support the weight of the new planes and so they constructed an almost two and a half kilometer long runway reinforced by perforated metal sheets. The first civilian DC4 landed in the spring of 1946. There was a lot of confusion about and a certain amount of tension.

Three days after the summer solstice in 1948, the feast day of St. John to be precise, the Russians blocked all rail, road, and water access to West Berlin. The Americans, French, and British organized a colossal “airlift” to resupply the city with essential goods. Planes arrived, above all, here at Tempelhof from Hamburg, Hanover, and Frankfurt, unloaded food, coal, and building materials and took off again in record time. The pilots only had a few minutes to have a coffee at the jeep-bar that arrived on the runway and then they were off again! This insanity lasted an entire year, I never had a moment’s rest. Couldn’t close my eyes for a single second. Planes day and night. It was enough to make you crazy. They started off with C47s, which are like civilian DC3s, then moved on to C54s, which are similar to DC4s and which could carry three times the amount of goods. We were hypnotized, all of us just staring up at the sky. A lot of people climbed up onto the rooftops to get a better look. One day Colonel Gail Halvorsen had the idea of throwing candy out of the planes for the children, and that’s how they ended up being called “Raisin Bombers”.

That year came to an end as well, however, and Berlin celebrated the help it had received with a monument designed by Professor Eduard Ludwig of the Academy of Fine Arts, which was inaugurated July 10, 1953, by then current mayor Ernst Reuter. “Long live liberty,” he said at the end of his speech. He died two months later of a heart attack and thankfully never saw the building of the Wall. The Berliners immediately renamed the monument the “Hungerharke” or “Hunger Rake.” It symbolizes the three air corridors: the American, English, and French and you can find it now at Platz der Luftbrücke. Professor Ludwig had wanted to have it realized in aluminum, but metal was scarce and so it was built with reinforced concrete. In Frankfurt and Celle they made its twins. Over the following years, the American military planes continued with a different sort of “airlift,” transporting close to 1,500 children a year to “summer families” in special sister cities like Frankfurt, Bonn, and Cologne, from which they were then sent on to host families.

On July 14, 1950, a part of the airport was reinstated for civilian traffic, which had been increasing from year to year. In 1959 the civilian area was enlarged once more at the military’s expense. In 1962 the large check-in hall was enlarged and modernized and, finally, the Nazi eagle was removed from the roof. In the meantime planes had been getting bigger and more powerful and therefore needed ever-bigger runways. The two runways down there were two kilometers long, but couldn’t be extended by much. And then there was the problem of the noise in the center of the city. So, bit by bit, international traffic started to be directed to Tegel. The American military base continued to control the airspace up until 1994 when then President Clinton disbanded the Berlin Brigade. The last civilian flight took place in 2008.

And now, dear visitor, tell me what you see!

You are sitting in the park which was opened May 8, 2010. It is the biggest park in all of Berlin and I, Celeste, all modesty aside, am without any doubt the biggest dome. I am so big I make you feel magnificent and free and this is the reason I’m here: to be free and to give freedom. Spread your arms, look at me, roll around. How do you feel? Go on, do it again! Give me a break, no one will think you’re crazy, you’d need to do a lot more than that around these parts. You’re in the freest spot in all of Berlin. Come on, stretch yourself out, free yourself from the confines of the city!

Where are you exactly? Go into the center. You should see the terminal in front of you. Two thirds of it was used for civilian traffic, and the other part you see there, yes, that blueish part off to the right with US Army Aviation written on it, well, that was obviously for the military. That gigantic golf ball on the over-seventy-meter-tall (approximately 230 foot) tower there was the radar. Underneath it was the space reserved for refueling and is closed to the public even today (look at all the gates, cameras, and barbed wire!). This is the last little bit of the military presence, not really as a memorial, but for a specific reason, which, however, I won’t reveal to you due to my aforementioned reserve. I’ll only tell you that you don’t really want to get it into your head to feel free right there. Do whatever you want to do anywhere else in the park, but stay away from that little bit unless you want to have problems with the Bundeswehr (the German Army) or NATO. Take my word for it and don’t ask any questions. Period. I know, I know, even if you see the young guys in camouflage playing ping-pong. Trust me, it’s not a recreation-center!

And now tell me what day it is. On weekdays the green sea here is reserved for you alone and for all the other lovers of freedom like you. On weekends and holidays, on the other hand, you’ll just be one among many. On the American side you’ll find tennis and basketball courts, a place to play baseball, softball, and beach volleyball, and, curiously enough, the university students’ excavation spot of the fifteen concentration camp sheds, right there, between the softball and volleyball. How does that sound? Softball-beach-volleyball-concentration camp? My friend Isabelle from Gendarmenmarkt would say that it clashes. But I, Celeste, just say: Berlin, history…it all clashes. Maybe that’s not good enough for Gendarmenmarkt, over there they like to keep things harmonious, but over here it all just dissolves into air.

Imagine, right here, this was the area that was under consideration for the Pioneer Feld Columbiadammn 2010-2013 project. After a lot of discussion and far too many meetings (I had a headache from 2007 to 2009), they decided to donate 14,000 square meters to social projects of an athletic or cultural value. And so we have, among other things, the City-Camp project, which is there to inform people about bio-diversity (let’s see if you can manage to find the amaranth plant or the insect “hotel”), the Nurture Mini Art Golf course as it’s called (don’t think it’s going to be all that easy to put the ball into the hole, these artists are Mephistophelean and the message seems simply to be: “the important thing is to try”) and, last but not least, the Shaolin Temple, which is available for Buddhist ceremonies, Tai-Chi, Qigong and Chan meditation…see how the Buddhist temple backs right up against the picnic area? Well, things get real interesting on holidays. Barbecuing is the Turkish way of passing the holidays, you see, and so, in general, great numbers of Turkish families spend their weekends here doing just that and – since it’s now illegal to barbecue over in Tiergarten – those numbers have been steadily increasing. The Buddhist-Muslim border, however, is also fluid: the smell of grilled meat is everywhere and yet the Buddhists seem to enjoy themselves all the same.

On the other side of the airport you’ll find the Oderstraße entrance, otherwise known as the “Neukölln side.” That is the working-class district with all the virtues and defects of a young, dynamic, and multiethnic quarter. Recently a project of making garden plots available to citizens in order to have them learn about, recognize, respect, and grow different plants has really flowered. An ideal was turned into reality, and a direct relationship with nature created just one step away from home thanks to the hard work of locals.

And yet, even this idyll recently came under threat from a luxury homes project. However, on May 25, 2014, a referendum put an end to that. My two oldest friends around here are two old plane trees not far from the Buddhist temple, Ernst and Knut. Now, right in the middle of the two they put one of those pre-fab, clear, wooden things that was supposed to be an exhibition space of the ideas and projects for the future of the park. That little building and the project on a whole – the two of them didn’t talk about anything else! At first Ernst thought the new mega-library and the lake were good ideas, while for his part Knut was interested in seeing restaurants on the roof and finally getting to see the girls walking by from the ground up as it were. They talked and talked and talked and, quite frankly, had become a bit boring.

“How much you two are looking toward the future!” I said. “I don’t recognize you anymore!”

“And you, Celeste?” they said, “you’ve always got your head in the clouds!”

“Oh yeah? Well, where should it be exactly?” I asked and then we made up and everything was just like it was before.

But I know how the future was initially decided. One sunny day the twelve most famous architects in the world (whose names I also can’t reveal) came to take a walk around the park and to organize a public competition for the contract that would decide the future of the airport and the lands surrounding it. The initial round consisted of a written exam. Among the seventy-three candidates there were architects, engineers, and technicians of every type. The theme of the competition was “The relationship between the gasometer in Schöneberg and the ex-airport of Tempelhof.” But as the twelve most important architects in the world detest reading texts with spelling errors, they proposed, instead, the addition of a series of multiple-choice questions. You were supposed to check the box following the question and then integrate the answer with the following possible justifications: “But this is not the point” or “This is precisely the point.”

There were six possible answers:

1. Non-existent
2. Various
3. Homosexual
4. Sadistic, with the gasometer dominating the airport
5. Interesting

Only one out of the seventy-three passed the written exam and made it on to the oral exam. The solution: A) B) C) D) E) true; A) C) D) but this is not the point B) E) This is precisely the point.

The toughest thing for the candidate, however, was getting ready for the oral exam. He had to take out all of his earrings one by one, cover up his tattoos with a nice white shirt, and leave his longboard outside. When all that was done, however, he was welcome to come in, and come in he did, relaxed, tanned, and smiling. As soon as he began to speak it became clear that he was competent.

“Every day I cross both runways three times or more with my board,” he began, “and am aware of the problems. The ground seems flat, but it isn’t. All around you you can see the outlines of the tallest buildings in the city: the TV Tower, the minarets of the mosque right here, the smokestacks of the factories and ex-factories, the church spires, the towers, the apartment buildings, the gasometer in Schöneberg…Everything’s right there but, strangely, it can all disappear at once. It all depends on your point of view.

“When I’m on the Oderstraße side and look back toward the airport, it seems to be topped by a crown of thorns and I think, ‘Here we go! The gasometer has jumped on top the airport again.’ But after only half a turn on the runway, I see it slowly dismount and move to the side. And then, after another quarter of a turn, it’s hidden behind it once again. The dance of the gasometer and the airport is, for our purposes, both irrelevant and highly significant. I mean, what do personal choices have really to do with us? It is, however, significant to the degree that it once again proves how every single thing can be beautifully significant simply by virtue of one’s point of view. And this is of utmost importance when they try to make decisions that concern all of us. An architectural project can never be simply a mere investment, whether public or private. It must take into account the greater good and consider each and every particular position.”

“Wonderful! Sounds great! Encore!” the twelve most important architects of the world said in unison and awarded the prize for investing in Tempelhof to the young skateboarder. And now the future of Tempelhof lies completely in his hands.

The twins of the Gendarmenmarkt might say that I’m asocial, but I’ve been here forever and know every single one of the 236 species of bee and wasp by name and am even a full supporter of the
40 species that are on their way to extinction. It certainly doesn’t make me a spy when I notice that the “cuckoo bees” leave their larvae in others to have their hosts take care of their growth. Every day I speak with the larks, the greenfinches, buntings, swallows, Calandra larks, whinchats, hooded crows, buzzards, and kestrels! I dance in the sea of oats between the vetch, hollyhocks, nasturtium, and morning glory! I keep the cicadas cool! You can accuse me of being anything but being antisocial!

Now, in case you were wondering, there is an advantage to being a dome as opposed to a tree and it consists in the fact that we are able to consider many questions from a wider and more elevated point of view. We aerial domes are also gifted by a dynamism that is fundamental to understanding reality. Just as having a good pencil doesn’t mean having a good project, the most important thing is staying put, observing how the flowers grow, breaking bread with the people, smelling the scent of barbecues…and, in order to understand the future of the Parkanlage Tempelhofer Freiheit (Tempelhof Freedom Park) – just like Leonardo, Otto Lilienthal, and the other greats observed birds in order to understand flight – observing the kites.

I didn’t ask you to come and visit, dear tourist, in order to bore you with our citizens’ disputes, you no doubt have enough of your own from wherever it is you come from. You have come to Berlin to enjoy yourself and to get to know the city a bit and I have made you lose an entire day lounging about a meadow. It’s a pretty magical meadow, though, you’ve got to admit. It’s a meadow made up of the past, the present, and the future. It’s a meadow where you can even liberate yourself from the TV Tower for a minute, for goodness’ sake! There are points in the park where it even disappears, sucked up into some miraculous Bermuda Triangle, or held behind a tree. It’s a meadow where even airplanes can disappear, and you won’t even notice unless you open your eyes.

It’s the kingdom of the Fata Morgana. If it gets hot enough, the runways begin to shimmer and, from far away, you might even think there was a lake here (which, as I told you before, there in fact was). I have invited you, dear tourist, because here you can find all of Berlin, far away and yet so close, present and absent. Here all around us you can see Berlin’s proverbial green, all of it. Indeed, “Green Celeste” Clara likes to call me when she wants to get a rise out of me. I’m not green, or red, or blue, or black, or even rainbow colored. I’m Celeste, full stop. You can’t be more of a citizen than me, and this is why I love my city. Just like those who live around here in Neukölln, Kreuzberg and Tempelhof. Are three hundred hectares of lawn for three city districts too much? It’s so nice the way it is! Public spending on law and order and health should go down, that’s what I say, I who’ve seen so much already.

But you, dear visitor, what do you think? What do you have to say? What impressions do you have and which ones will you take home with you?

Come on in, become one of us, we who are those others off to the side, and those guys down over there, too. And yes, you definitely have the right to say what you think after having shared these spaces with us, after having walked these paths and meadows far and wide, with or without a kite, after having spoken with the birds, and smiled at the flowers.

Translated by Alexander Booth