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BERLIN
Berlin is disorienting. With no mountains or seas nearby, the blank horizon stretches out endlessly. Nothing to distinguish north from south, or where the city ends and the countryside begins. The city is humming with art and music and bike riders traveling in pairs, lazily enjoying the endless summer sun on the banks of the Spree river. Layers of the city’s tumultuous history are cheerfully packaged and sold to tourists: chunks of the Berlin wall in cellophane, enamel keychains of Checkpoint Charlie. The people have moved on and have twenty-first-century concerns, but the city itself continues to tell the story. When you’re there, Berlin is endless. Berlin is the world.