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One more picture and one more glimpse out the window before we lift off and return home.

Auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland (which isn't "good-bye" but "until next time...")

These double-cobblestone strips trace the path of the wall throughout the city. One of many sobering reminders of the complex past of this fascinating capital. You can't walk Berlin without being captivated by its history -- the city is one giant memorial to the rights and wrongs of history, a flood of symbols holding before our eyes those things which we must never forget.

Probably the highlight of my visit to Berlin was the four-hour guided walking tour that I took on our last day. From this point our guide spent about a half hour recounting the battle for the Reichstag between the Russians and the remaining Nazis. At some point I became utterly engrossed in his account of the final days of the war: As he got to the part where thousands of Russian soldiers and tanks stormed across this ground (amidst Nazis on the roof armed with rocket launchers) and entered the Reichstag, engaging in close-range combat (including knife fights in the pitch black basement!), I realized that my heart was racing and my palms were more than a little sweaty.

The Reichstag, the seat of the German parliament, is worth a visit in its own right. Climbing the dome at the top offers spectacular views of this historic city. But it was the war stories that I will never forget.

If you're ever in Berlin, get the tour from Ken from Scotland. You will never look at this building or this city or WWII the same again.

The Fernsehturm ("TV Tower") -- also called Fernspargel ("tele-asparagus") and the Death Star -- was built by the Soviets in 1964 to demonstrate the strength and sophistication of the socialist, atheist state.

Only a couple problems.

First, they couldn't figure out how to build it without it sinking in the unstable ground. So they contacted Moscow, inquiring how they had built theirs. The answer: "Don't tell, but we got the Swedes to do it for us." Problem solved.

The second problem is more well-known. As you can see, when the sun shines this great Soviet icon displays a blinding cross for all of its western counterparts to see -- they affectionately called it Rache des Papstes ("the Pope's Revenge"). This was a cause of great embarrassment for the Soviets, who invested much time and money to obscure the unwanted image. Yet for all their efforts, the anti-Christian, anti-Western Soviets were stuck with the biggest cross in Europe atop a giant structure that they couldn't finish without help from the West.

Made up of 2,711 slabs ("stelae") of varying heights, a walk through this piece of art begins by looking over it in curiosity and before long leaves the visitor in the middle of the large, gray, empty stelae, slightly disoriented, wondering what it all means.

A hugely controversial project, this monument covers five full city blocks smack dab in the middle of downtown Berlin. We're talking prime real estate. Why was it so controversial? Five main reasons (with a few of my own thoughts in response to each one).

1. The land could've been used for other purposes -- The designer (American Peter Eisenmann), however, specifically requested such a setting, one that would "interrupt" the daily lives of ordinary people (besides, does Berlin really need another McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts?).
2. Some argue that it should focus on more than just the Jewish victims -- Other memorials are on the way, e.g. for homosexuals and Jehovah's Witnesses. Still, it seems entirely appropriate to me that the people who suffered the biggest loss (what other group lost six million?) should be offered a memorial by the perpetrators.
3. The 25 million euros could have been used to support existing memorials which have an educational component to them -- The "waste of money" argument could be leveled against any work of art. Art captures parts of human experience and expression that historical accounts and photographs sometimes can't.
4. Its designer used no symbolism, religious or otherwise, which is conspicuous for "memorial," especially a Jewish one -- I suppose in a way the lack of symbols conveys a certain meaning, which is traditionally accomplished by means of symbols. I can understand this complaint from a Jewish perspective (insofar as you can critique a work of art), but I'm not Jewish.
5. Finally, to the aggravation of many, the monument comes without a word of explanation -- This abstract quality is what compelled me to walk through more than once. As soon as the downtown bustle fades away behind the cold concrete, you're left to interpret your own emotions. While some are uncomfortable that visitors can reach their own conclusions, it was this aspect that made it very personal for me.

In all, I found the monument to be quite moving, and very memorable (which, I suppose, is the purpose of a memorial). I appreciate that it just doesn't make sense (financially, logically, artistically). While some inevitably come out saying "I just don't get it," others, simply by reading the title of the piece and wandering through, will grasp a personal encounter with the reality of six million murdered Jews in a way that they might not experience at a museum.