TRAVELS WITH MY OPERA GLASSES

A trip down memory lane in one of Europe’s most theatrically cultured and musically sophisticated capitals fails to deliver the operatic riches expected of it. Professor Anthony Ogus nevertheless finds consolation in less urbane circumstances

Over the years, Berlin has had an enduring fascination for me. In no other place have I had such a direct encounter with modern history. There was, in 1975, first the sight of the Wall dividing the city and, from the Western suburban train which looped around it, the curious experience of being on the other side, but not being able to alight. Then a day later, when visiting East Berlin via Checkpoint Charlie, finding a totally alien world: an overwhelming impression of dark streets and decaying buildings, a joyless atmosphere with few people around, even in the formerly elegant Unter den Linden boulevard. There were also aspects which had strong Third Reich associations. The area around the ruins of the Reichstag, a symbol of the Nazi contempt for democracy, was, because of its proximity to the Wall, a wasteland, a haunting image of the savage turns of German history.