Back in the days of the GDR, I took a tram to Pankow, where it stopped and then ran in a tiny circle to go home again. I stepped off and looked around. Pankow had little to commend it.
The ticket was obtained from a machine on the tram itself. An Ostmark was dropped in a slot that looked like a kid's holiday savings tin. You then pulled off your ticket. I pulled too hard, and the whole roll came away. I spent the entire trip to Pankow trying to stuff tram tickets back in the machine. The driver was unperturbed, needless to say.
Pankow is now for the adventurous, who should always try to remember why they went there.
I'm sorry to trouble you. I read this back and feel ashamed.
The roll didn't fall out of the holder because I pulled too hard, it just fell out because it was loose. It seemed so comical at the time. The insecurity of the tin box, the lack of security for the roll of blue tickets. I could have taken the whole roll, and no one would have been any the wiser.
But, then, why would I have done that? In the West, the payment would be scrutinised; now there'd be a payment terminal - "Do not pin your banknotes, do not fold them, put them in the right way round". But in East Berlin, it was the one thing that wasn't verified. They verified your allegiance and they verified your loyalty and they verified who you spoke to. But they didn't verify whether you paid your tram ticket. You just paid it, because that's what people did. And you took a ticket, just one ticket, because what the hell would you do with a second ticket? Communism in East Germany relied far more on the state of your mind than the state of your wallet, so it was into the former that the State poured all its resources. It didn't give a fuck about whether you paid for a tram or not. Funny that. The West is exactly the opposite.
Pankow is a district of what used to be East Berlin, and is where the road sign in the background of your photograph is pointing towards. It IS your photograph?
I find that interesting. It was the first thing I noticed, aside from the characteristic Berlin-style of "es-zet" in Danzigerstraße.
It's a thing with me - where are we? where are we going? Remember how I was trying to work out where we were in Los Angeles? I was just writing on my blog about how I like to include maps to get perspective on the other. You gave me an article again. Useful, you are.
Back in the days of the GDR, I took a tram to Pankow, where it stopped and then ran in a tiny circle to go home again. I stepped off and looked around. Pankow had little to commend it.
The ticket was obtained from a machine on the tram itself. An Ostmark was dropped in a slot that looked like a kid's holiday savings tin. You then pulled off your ticket. I pulled too hard, and the whole roll came away. I spent the entire trip to Pankow trying to stuff tram tickets back in the machine. The driver was unperturbed, needless to say.
Pankow is now for the adventurous, who should always try to remember why they went there.
I'm sorry to trouble you. I read this back and feel ashamed.
The roll didn't fall out of the holder because I pulled too hard, it just fell out because it was loose. It seemed so comical at the time. The insecurity of the tin box, the lack of security for the roll of blue tickets. I could have taken the whole roll, and no one would have been any the wiser.
But, then, why would I have done that? In the West, the payment would be scrutinised; now there'd be a payment terminal - "Do not pin your banknotes, do not fold them, put them in the right way round". But in East Berlin, it was the one thing that wasn't verified. They verified your allegiance and they verified your loyalty and they verified who you spoke to. But they didn't verify whether you paid your tram ticket. You just paid it, because that's what people did. And you took a ticket, just one ticket, because what the hell would you do with a second ticket? Communism in East Germany relied far more on the state of your mind than the state of your wallet, so it was into the former that the State poured all its resources. It didn't give a fuck about whether you paid for a tram or not. Funny that. The West is exactly the opposite.
This is, in fact, Berlin but your story is a gem!
Pankow is a district of what used to be East Berlin, and is where the road sign in the background of your photograph is pointing towards. It IS your photograph?
Of course it’s mine:) Just never noticed that sign:)
I find that interesting. It was the first thing I noticed, aside from the characteristic Berlin-style of "es-zet" in Danzigerstraße.
It's a thing with me - where are we? where are we going? Remember how I was trying to work out where we were in Los Angeles? I was just writing on my blog about how I like to include maps to get perspective on the other. You gave me an article again. Useful, you are.
Glad to be of service:)