My Afternoon at Teufelsberg, Berlin

Berlin draws many different kinds of travelers.

From celebrities anxious to see its wonderful array of art, hotels and glamorous restaurants, to adventurous young Europeans looking for naughty nightlife, this city seems to have nearly every modern luxury.

Beneath this “new face” of Berlin, however, lies a backbone of decay and cold war history. It is these rare treasures that another kind of traveler comes to Berlin for. In my months living here I’ve been fascinated with the abandoned spaces, relics of the wall and reclaimed spaces, old townhouses turned into clubs; ancient department stores into art spaces. So when I heard there existed an abandoned American radio station at the highest point of the city in the west, I knew I had to go there immediately.

In wintertime, Berlin lies under flat gray skies. Everything is encompassed in the most destitute of light, so the opportunity to take a perfect picture is few and fair between. One day I woke up to a beautiful blue sky, and I knew I needed to take advantage of it, SLR in hand, and begin my long awaited journey to Teufelsberg. My destination stood in Grünewald Forest, a hillside created out of rubble from the Second World War that sits on top of an underground Nazi military college (the infamous building was sealed with cement by Allied forces following the war; it is the source of many urban legends and ghost stories, but has never been uncovered). A short trip on the SBahn would bring me to the edge of the forest, and from there it would just be a quick hike up the hillside to the fence of the radio station on top.

When I, joined by a partner in crime, dismounted the SBahn, it was easy to forget we were only a few minutes from the glamorous parts of Berlin. The forest’s slim trees and pleasant walking paths were worlds away from the shiny modern architecture at Potsdamer Platz, Mitte’s cafes or the bussel of Alexanderplatz. I had reached the edge of the city, and there was nowhere to go but up. Seeing as it was winter, the area was quiet, though I’ve heard that it is a popular destination for joggers, pet owners and families of picnickers. We lavished in the solace, taking the opportunity to shoot a couple silly artistic nudes in the fields of snow, between trees shading us from the light of the setting sun (ahem, note to aspiring exhibitionists: people do jog in wintertime).

After sacrificing some dignity for our art, we hopped back into our thick coats, walked all the way around the fence at the top searching for a way through, then finally found an entryway into the fortress of Teufelsberg. Unfortunately this entryway came in the shape of a 1by4foot hole in a steel fence. We nearly had to get naked again in order to slip through (it wasn’t until the end of the day when I was lodged halfway through this deathtrap that an older woman and her husband came along and told us about the entryway a few feet in the other direction. Oops). Once inside, we were treated to the visual mind explosion we had been hoping for, making the climb well worth the effort.

The history of Teufelsberg (translation: Devil’s Mountain) in itself is something to be admired when visiting the site. Built in the post-war era by the US National Security Association (NSA), the huge, globe-like radio transmitters served to provide 24 hour a day surveillance over East Berlin. The “Big Brother” aspect of the site is chilling it itself, be it in the panoramic overlooking view of Berlin and its citizens, or the rooms full of wires and broken radio equipment. Elaborate surveillance technology has always to me echoed the scariness of totalitarian control and its counterparts. History aside however, the real joy in Teufelsberg, as a photographer and a free-living Berliner, is its post-apocalyptic aesthetic. Walls are missing, glass is shattered everywhere, the walls of the open indoor space have become a graffiti artist’s paradise. The canvas covering of the once immaculate space-like globes has become dilapidated, its holes letting in beams of afternoon light. At the highest point, after climbing six or seven floors of stairs in pitch-black darkness, you can see a mass body of water peeking out of the horizon (the Strandbad Tegeler See) giving way to the urban jungle of Berlin.

As dusk settled and the sky, briefly a brilliant red of sunset, once again became gray, we dismounted Devil’s Hill. A bit of a confrontation with a territorial herd of wild boars aside (do NOT go chasing after these suckers for a photograph, apparently they are very dangerous in packs), the walk back to the train was peaceful and pleasant. We even had the opportunity to satisfy our appetite with some delicious schnitzel and pilsner at a restaurant at the bottom of the hill near to the Sbahn stop. An end to a great day, we were only left thinking: how could a treasure like Teufelsberg remain largely undiscovered when sitting in clear view on top of the city like a victorious trophy? Perhaps it is because most travelers don’t take the time to see the unlikely beauty in the things that have slipped through the cracks of Berlin’s makeover. This cold-war relic in its skeletal and shattered state stands as a reminder of the beauty that can come out of the struggle between victory and defeat and is a precise representation of a period of Berlin’s history many are eager to forget. Teufelsberg is here for all and I would recommend it to any traveler looking to get out of their comfort zone and see an unlikely visual stunner.

Photo of the NSA field station in Teufelsber, Berlin, Germany, by SnaPsi xyzzy

Topic:  Tips and Ideas | 1 Comment
Tags:  Berlin, culture

About the author

Edna Hund is a freelance writer and photographer from New York City. She enjoys sitting in parks and watching the days go by in her new home of Berlin.