MY VISIT TO EAST BERLIN

Looking into East Berlin not far from famous Checkpoint Charlie.

I visited East Berlin in 1963, not too long after the infamous Berlin Wall had been constructed. I wanted to make an appointment to visit an East German camera manufacturer. Attempting to place a telephone call from my hotel in West Berlin, I was informed by the operator that my call, instead of just reaching across the Wall, a distance of about a mile or so, would have to go long distance via the West German city of Hamburg!

I decided to take a taxi to Checkpoint Charlie. That was as far as the driver would take me. I left the cab and walked the dozen or so eerie yards to the East German customs inspection office. I watched in amazement as armed border guards peered into each car headed for the West, even to shoving an upward-facing mirror mounted on the wheels and single axle of a decrepit baby carriage beneath each vehicle.

When I approached the pedestrian entrance a quite friendly guard asked me: "Kommen-sie mit auto?" Inside, though, the friendliness vanished. A guard in a green uniform with breeks (pants that tighten to leggings below the knees) took my passport and disappeared into a back room.

I wasn't the only person sitting there waiting. A guard came out of the room several minutes later and began calling the owners of each passport by officiously barking out the number of each passport--in German. Since my Canadian passport cover was distinctly different from the others in his hand, I just waiting until he held mine up.

After carefully questioning me in English to ensure that I wasn't a spy or someone who was bringing no good to  the GDR (German Democratic Republic), I was permitted to walk into the "East." 

It was a rather strange feeling. I knew that I could return whenever I chose, but for East Germans, this made about as much sense as flying to the moon (something that had not yet been accomplished.) Many had tried running the gamut through the open space in an attempt to somehow climb over the wall before they could be shot. Only a few of them made it.

I took a taxi to the camera manufacturer's address and then began a very interesting sales pitch about why they should advertise to the Canadian market. The two men carefully paged through our magazine that I had brought, speaking to one another in German. Whenever they saw an ad from a German camera manufacturer, they kept saying, "Vest," referring of course to one of their competitors on the other side of the Wall.

My mission was modestly successful. The exchange rate between Canadian dollars and GDR Deutsch marks made even a small advertisement almost prohibitively expensive.
A taxi returned me to Checkpoint Charlie and after briefly showing my passport, I was permitted to walk back through the "no man's land" and into the freedom of West Berlin. Even after such a short visit, I was pleased and not a little relieved that I had left the GDR.--Irvine Brace. I.Brace@Rogers.com