Germanic Grey. That’s the color of the sky ever since I arrived in Europe and the cold November morning that I arrived at Central Station in Berlin was no exception. I feel overwhelmed by the enormous subway map while finding the right train to take me to my couchsurfing host, Marcel, who explicitly wrote he is FKK in his house. I google and learn FKK (Freikörperkultur) which translates to free body culture was a popular movement especially in former socialist East Germany. “They didn’t have much freedom, you see, they took advantage of every little piece that was tolerated. So they walked around naked.”, Marcel explains to me naked while I sip my coffee in his apartment. He later shows me even Angela Merkel joined the FKK culture back in the days. I follow suit. We start touring at the Brandenburg Tor. 86 feet tall neoclassical gate was supposed to symbolize peace and religious liberty. Ironically, it stands next to the memorial for murdered Jews of Europe. An impressive piece of art that consists of 2700 concrete steles, arranged in a grid pattern on a sloping field. The memorial creates an uneasy atmosphere, and the whole sculpture represents a supposedly ordered system that has lost touch with human reason. I walk in and almost immediately lose the sense of direction between tall stones in the dark. Which way is right? It’s hard for me to tell. Remarkable representation of how a civilization lost its direction once it was sinked into poverty and dark propaganda. Germans are succeeding the bitter task of facing the past and making sure history doesn’t repeat. “Then, we have a rising, holocaust denier, AfD in the parliament so I’m not really sure about that.” Marcel disagrees. Unter den Linden is a time capsule. Four different states with four different ideologies ruled over this historic boulevard in the last 100 years. It has seen monarchy, nazism, socialism, and finally capitalism all within the same century. Marcel says “We have the worst taste of them all.” while pointing at a glass and steel skyscraper that could have been in the financial district of any city. “Even the Nazis had a better taste than us.” We turn to the monumental building of German Finance Ministry that was built by the Nazis in 1936 as the largest building in Europe.Marcel has a point. The marvel building is intimidating yet a thing of beauty. A short walk on the lively Unter den Linden leads you to Berliner Cathedral. “This building gives me a tic.” my architect host tells me. Even though the current building’s construction was finished in 1905, It is lavishly ornamented with gothic, grotesque sculptures alongside with a Baroque dom while having Hellenistic columns that support nothing. The cathedral, like all the other historic buildings in the city’s famous Museum Island, was too late for any of these styles. Later, I meet an exiled Kurdish journalist, Burcu, at a cafe that has all the leftist symbols I know on the walls in Kottbusser Tor. Kotti, as they call it, is a vibrant working class neighborhood that is resisting gentrification without much luck. Unlike any other German city, It is dirty and chaotic. People don’t wait for the green light. The variety of languages I hear, stylish youngsters with furs walking around make me feel safe despite being approached by multiple drug dealers. It’s a colorful mix. I expected to hear grim stories of a journalist in exile from Burcu. She tells me about the vivid queer community in Berlin instead. “It was New York in the 90s, you know, London or maybe Amsterdam later on but it’s now Berlin; the place to be.” she tells me. “You have queers of all kinds, wildest parties and a truly accepting community.” It’s inspiring how the city is held so dear by those who are seeking refuge here. It seems the city is returning to its tolerant, progressive past, in the roaring 20s, after a long interruption by dictatorships and wars. We leave the cafe to walk along the scenic Landwehrkanal. With the Kurdish Madonna in fur, I feel like Christopher Isherwood walking next to Sally Bowles from Goodbye to Berlin.