Map: Reichstag & Brandenburg Gate Walk
2 Memorial to Politicians Who Opposed Hitler
3 Berlin Wall Victims Memorial
7 Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe
Trace Germany’s turbulent 20th-century history on this walk, as we weave together a cluster of must-see sights near Berlin’s most famous landmark, the Brandenburg Gate. We’ll start at the Reichstag—symbol of Germany’s nascent turn-of-the-century democracy—and learn how that democracy was toppled by the rise of Nazism. We’ll see sites associated with Hitler, remember the destructive consequences of World War II, and ponder a moving memorial to Jewish victims of the Holocaust. We’ll remember how postwar Berlin was split in two by the Berlin Wall. And finally, we’ll see gleaming new buildings, announcing how Berlin has risen from those difficult years once again.
(See “Reichstag & Brandenburg Gate Walk” map, here.)
Length of This Walk: Allow about 1.5 hours.
Tours: 
Download my free Berlin City Walk audio tour, which narrates much of the same information covered on this walk.
When to Go: This walk is designed to be done early in your stay in Berlin—to help get your bearings to some key landmarks. It can be done at any time of day, but note open hours for the information center at the Jewish memorial (below). If you’d like to ascend the Reichstag dome, reserve a time in advance, then plan this walk around it. (Without a reservation, try to book a slot while on this walk, and circle back later.)
Getting There: The Reichstag is easiest to reach on bus #100 (Reichstag/Bundestag stop). You can also take the S-Bahn to Brandenburger Tor and walk 10 minutes (through the Brandenburg Gate, then turn right). Or, from the Hauptbahnhof or Brandenburger Tor, ride the U55 line to Bundestag and exit toward Reichstagsgebäude (this option will become far more convenient once the U5 line is complete, likely in 2020).
If you have a limited time in Berlin—or just want to spend your first few hours getting a solid orientation to the sightseeing spine of this sprawling city—consider linking this Reichstag and Brandenburg Gate Walk with the 
Unter den Linden Walk, followed by the Communist East Berlin Walk, to create one big “Berlin City Walk.” Following all three walks takes you from the Reichstag to Alexanderplatz and beyond, and can take up to five hours—or fill a whole day if you visit museums along the way.
I’ve recorded a condensed version of this whole handy route as a free Berlin City Walk audio tour (just under 1.5 hours; see here).
Whether on paper or in your ear, this “Berlin City Walk” route sets you up to enjoy a fun and smartly planned visit to Germany’s capital.
Reichstag: Free, reservations required—see here, daily 8:00-24:00.
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe: Free and always open. The information center is open Tue-Sun 10:00-20:00, Oct-March until 19:00, closed Mon year-round; last entry 45 minutes before closing, brief security screening at entry; S-Bahn: Brandenburger Tor or Potsdamer Platz, tel. 030/2639-4336, www.stiftung-denkmal.de. A €4 audioguide augments the experience.
Services: There are pay WCs in the Berlin Pavillon across the street from the Reichstag, and free WCs in the basement of the Academy of Arts on Pariser Platz.
Eateries: This is not a great area for a satisfying meal. In a pinch, you’ll find mostly overpriced, tourist-oriented eateries, especially on Pariser Platz (Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, and a basic Currywurst stand in the median in front of Hotel Adlon).
Starring: Germany’s tumultuous 20th century, including its parliament building, its definitive landmark, and its most poignant memorial.
(See “Reichstag & Brandenburg Gate Walk” map, here.)
• Begin directly in front of the Reichstag, the giant domed building dominating the big park called Platz der Republik. Stand in the park about 100 yards from the grand Reichstag and take in your surroundings.
The Reichstag is the heart of Germany’s government. It’s where the Bundestag—the lower house of parliament—meets to govern the nation (similar to the US House of Representatives).
Berlin has always been Germany’s capital, whatever the form of government: from the first Dukes of Brandenburg in medieval times to the democracy of today. In between, this city was the seat of the kings and emperors of Prussia, the Weimar Republic of the 1920s, Hitler and the Nazis, and communist East Germany.
Think of the history the Reichstag has seen. When the building was inaugurated in 1895, Germany was still a kingdom, ruled by the Hohenzollern family that had reigned here for nearly 500 years. Back then, the Reichstag was far from the real center of power—that was a mile east of here, at the royal palace. Kaiser Wilhelm II disdainfully called this place the Reichsaffenhaus—the “Imperial Monkey House.” But after the emperor was deposed in World War I, the German Republic was proclaimed right on this spot. Look above the columns to see the promise they carved into the facade: Dem Deutschen Volke—“To the German People.”
That first democracy, known as the Weimar Republic, proved weak. Meanwhile, the storm of National Socialism was growing—the Nazis. Soon the Reichstag had dozens of duly elected National Socialists, and Adolf Hitler seized power. Then, in 1933, the Reichstag building caught fire and nearly burned down. No one’s entirely sure how it happened. The Nazis blamed the communists. But many believe it was a setup, and that Hitler planned the fire as an excuse to frame the communists and grab power for himself.
Whatever happened, it worked. With Hitler as Führer and real democracy a thing of the past, the Reichstag was hardly used. But it remained a powerful symbol. That’s why, after Hitler led Germany into World War II, the Reichstag was a prime target for Allied bombers. It survived, but you can still see the bomb damage: Look closely at the inscription above the door, and notice the lighter stone patches where they repaired it. As World War II wound down, and Soviet troops advanced on the city, it was here at the Reichstag that 1,500 German troops made their last stand before Berlin fell. An Iwo Jima-like photograph of Soviet troops raising the hammer-and-sickle on the Reichstag’s roof is—at least in the Russian world—an iconic image of that war’s end.
After the war, Berlin was divided into East and West. The Berlin Wall ran right behind the Reichstag. Now in a kind of no-man’s land, the Reichstag fell into disuse, and the West German capital was moved from Berlin to the remote city of Bonn.
When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 and Germany was reunited, the Reichstag became the focus of the new nation. It was renovated by British architect Norman Foster, who added the glass dome, or cupola. In 1999, the new Reichstag reopened, and the parliament reconvened. To many Germans, the proud resurrection of their Reichstag symbolizes the end of a terrible chapter in their country’s history.
Look now at the Reichstag’s modern dome. The cupola rises 155 feet above the ground. Inside the dome, a cone of 360 mirrors reflects natural light into the legislative chamber below, and an opening at the top allows air to circulate. Lit from inside after dark, it gives Berlin a memorable nightlight. Entering the Reichstag is free but requires a reservation; once inside, you can climb the spiral ramp all the way to the top of the dome for a grand city view (for details on reservations, and what you’ll see from up top, see here).
Facing the Reichstag, do a 360-degree spin to find some other big landmarks. To the left of the Reichstag, at the Bundestag U-Bahn stop, the long, partly transparent building houses parliamentary offices. Beyond that, in the distance, is the tower of the huge main train station, the Hauptbahnhof (marked DB for Deutsche Bahn, the German rail company). Farther left is the mammoth, white, concrete-and-glass Chancellery (nicknamed “the Washing Machine”). This is the office of Germany’s most powerful person, the chancellor. To remind the chancellor who he or she works for, Germany’s Reichstag (housing the parliament) is about six feet taller than the Chancellery.
Beyond the Chancellery—and curling behind the Reichstag—is the Spree River. When kings ruled Prussia, government buildings crowded right up to its banks. But today, the riverscape is a people-friendly zone.
• Walk up closer to the Reichstag, turn right, walk nearly to the street, and find a small memorial next to the shipping-container-like entrance buildings. It’s a row of slate stones sticking out of the ground—it looks like a bike rack. This is the...
These 96 slabs remember the 96 members of the Reichstag who spoke out against Adolf Hitler and the rising tide of fascism. When Hitler became chancellor, these critics were persecuted and murdered. Each slate slab memorializes one man. You’ll see his name and political party—most are KPD (Communists) and SPD (Social Democrats). There’s also the date and location of his death; KZ denotes those who died in concentration camps. These courageous politicians are honored here, in front of the building in which they worked.
This memorial is only the first of several we’ll see on this walk. (For even more memorials near here, see the sidebar on the next page.) Berlin is a city with a troubled past, which its citizens commemorate with moving monuments. Just up ahead is a memorial to the next dark chapter in Berlin’s history: communism.
• Walk east, along the right side of the Reichstag, on busy Scheidemannstrasse, toward the rear of the building. When you reach the intersection at the back of the Reichstag, turn right and cross the street. Once across, you’ll see a row of white crosses along the sidewalk.
The Berlin Wall once stood right here, running north-south down what is now busy Ebertstrasse, dividing the city in two. This side (near the crosses) was democratic West Berlin. On the other side was the Soviet-controlled East. The row of white crosses commemorates a few of the many brave East Berliners who died trying to cross the Wall to freedom.
Think about the events that caused Berlin to become so horribly divided: At the end of World War II, Hitler was defeated, and the city was essentially destroyed. In May 1945, Berlin was finally taken by the Soviet army. As had been agreed at the Yalta Conference, the city was divided into four sectors, one for each victorious Allied power: the USSR, the USA, Britain, and France.
In short order, it became clear that Berliners preferred the Western Allies to the Soviet sector—and it didn’t take long for the paranoid Soviets to begin closing off free passage. Their first bold move came in 1949, when Soviets blockaded road and rail access into West Berlin; the Western Allies responded by supplying the entire city with food, fuel, and medicine by airplane (the Berlin Airlift—see here). Eventually the Soviets relented—and the flow of people from East to West increased. Finally, in 1961, the political division became a physical reality when the East built an imposing barrier: the Berlin Wall (Berliner Mauer), which encircled West Berlin in concrete, rebar, and barbed wire. (For more, see “The Berlin Wall: The Basics” on here.)
Modern Germans are painfully aware of the many tragic victims of their forebears. And, particularly in the years since the Berlin Wall came down, the German government has thoughtfully erected monuments to various victims in its capital city. Here are six memorials to very different groups, all within walking distance of the Brandenburg Gate—listed in the order you reach them, heading south from the Reichstag. (The first two and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe are also described on my Reichstag & Brandenburg Gate walk.)
In the paved area immediately in front of the Reichstag, the low-profile Memorial to Politicians Who Opposed Hitler recalls those who dared to defy a rising tyrant. Across the street, at the corner of the vast Tiergarten park, simple white crosses constitute the Berlin Wall Victims Memorial.
In the park just behind the Berlin Wall Victims Memorial is the Monument to the Murdered Sinti and Roma of Europe—commemorating the roughly 500,000 victims of the Holocaust who identify as “Sinti” and “Roma” (the main tribes and politically correct terms for the group often called “Gypsies”). These groups were as persecuted by the Nazis as were the Jews, and they lost the same percentage of their population to Hitler. The opaque glass wall, with a timeline in English and German, traces the Nazi abuse and atrocities. To learn more, enter through the rusty steel portal to reach a circular reflecting pool surrounded by stone slabs, some containing the names of the death camps. In the water along the rim of the pool is the heart-wrenching poem “Auschwitz,” by composer and writer Santino Spinelli, an Italian Roma. Dissonant music evokes the tragedy of the Sinti and Roma genocide.
Also in the park—in the opposite direction, toward the Victory Column—is the Soviet War Memorial, adorned with hammers-and-sickles and Cyrillic lettering. This monument honors the 80,000 Red Army soldiers who died in their successful attack on Hitler’s capital, which brought World War II to a decisive conclusion. Erected just months after the war’s end—within the British sector of the city, but before the Wall went up—this monument makes a statement that still fills some Berliners with unease. While today the Soviet Union is often thought of as a hated oppressor, these brave young men fought valiantly to defeat one of the world’s greatest threats. Is their sacrifice less worthy of remembrance because of the flag they fought under? Either way, the monument is in impeccable repair, and often adorned with fresh flowers (Berlin has many Russian residents, and even more Russian tourists). If this interests you, a much bigger Soviet war memorial is at Treptower Park (see here).
Farther south—immediately south of the Brandenburg Gate—is the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (see the description in the walk).
Across the street from the Jewish memorial is the stark Memorial to the Homosexuals Persecuted Under the National Socialist Regime (access it from the Jewish memorial’s southwest corner, across Ebertstrasse from Hannah-Arendt-Strasse). Nazis particularly targeted gay men, whom they considered both “too weak to fight” and unable to increase the Aryan birth rate (a Nazi priority). Concentration camps attempted to “cure” homosexuality through hard work, medical experimentation, or castration. An untold number of gay people died during the Holocaust; unlike the other groups, homosexual executions were not as carefully documented. This memorial is simply a dark-gray concrete box, tucked into a corner of the park. Through a small window, you can watch a film loop of same-sex couples kissing—a reminder that life and love are precious.
And finally, quite a bit farther south (in front of the philharmonic, facing the Tiergarten), is the Memorial to the Victims of Nazi “Euthanasia.” Even before the Holocaust began in earnest, as early as 1940, Hitler sought to rid German society of “useless eaters”—people with physical and mental disabilities. Doctors were required to register newborns with birth defects, and parents were prodded to authorize their murder. Over time—in the “T4” program, which was administered from a building that once stood on this site (Tiergartenstrasse 4)—the Nazis involuntarily “euthanized” 300,000 German citizens. (While the Nazis called it “euthanasia,” implying a humane act, many of the victims died painful deaths, sometimes by starvation.) This monument—consisting of a long, transparent, blue wall, information panels, and portraits of 10 victims—is yet another powerful reminder of the many victims of the Third Reich.
During the 28 years the Wall was up, around 5,000 people managed to escape—but an estimated 136 were killed trying to do so. Those are the people honored by this monument. Read some of the crosses. The last person killed while trying to escape was 20-year-old Chris Gueffroy. He died a mere nine months before the Wall fell in 1989. He was shot through the heart just a few steps away from here.
• Continue south down Ebertstrasse toward the Brandenburg Gate, tracing the former course of the Berlin Wall. While the Wall is long gone, you can see a thin strip of memorial bricks embedded in the pavement of Ebertstrasse indicating where it once stood.
Ebertstrasse spills into a busy intersection dominated by the imposing Brandenburg Gate. To take in this scene, cross the Berlin Wall bricks to the piazza in front of the...
This massive classical-looking monument is the grandest—and last survivor—of the 14 original gates in Berlin’s old city wall. (This one led to the neighboring city of Brandenburg.) The majestic four-horse chariot on top is driven by the Goddess of Peace. When Napoleon conquered Prussia in 1806, he took this statue to the Louvre in Paris. Then, after the Prussians defeated Napoleon, they got it back (in 1813)...and the Goddess of Peace was renamed the “Goddess of Victory.”
The gate straddles the major east-west axis of the city. The western segment—behind you—stretches four miles, running through Tiergarten Park to the Olympic Stadium. To the east—on the other side of the gate—the street is called Unter den Linden. That’s where we’re headed. In the distance (if you jockey for position), you can see the red-and-white spire of the TV Tower that marks the end of Berlin’s main axis.
Historically, the Brandenburg Gate was just another of this city’s many stately Prussian landmarks. But in our lifetime, it became the symbol of Berlin—of its Cold War division and its reunification. That’s because, from 1961 to 1989, the gate was stranded in the no-man’s land between East and West. For an entire generation, scores of German families were divided—some on this side of the Wall, some on the other. This landmark stood tantalizingly close to both East and West...but was completely off-limits to all.
By the 1980s, it was becoming clear that the once-mighty Soviet empire was slowly crumbling from within. On June 12, 1987, US President Ronald Reagan stood right here and said, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.”
And then, two and a half years later—almost out of the blue—the ecstatic moment arrived. On November 9, 1989, the world rejoiced at the sight of happy Berliners standing atop the Wall. They chipped away at it with hammers, passed beers to their long-lost cousins on the other side, and adorned the Brandenburg Gate with flowers like a parade float. (For more on this story, see “The Wall Comes Down” on here.) A month and a half later, on December 22, West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl led a triumphant procession through the Brandenburg Gate to shake hands with his (soon-to-be-defunct) East German counterpart—the literal opening of a big gateway that marked the symbolic closing of a heinous era. Eventually, the Wall was physically dismantled, and Berliners—East and West—could now enjoy total freedom.
• Turn 180 degrees and take in the vast, green expanse of the park called...
Look down the long boulevard (Strasse des 17. Juni) that bisects the 500-acre park called Tiergarten (“Animal Garden”). In the distance is the 220-foot Victory Column, topped with a golden statue that commemorates the three big military victories that established Prussia as a world power in the late 1800s—over France, Denmark, and Austria—and kicked off Berlin’s golden age. The boulevard’s name comes from the 17th of June, 1953, when brave East Germans rose up against their communist leaders. The rebellion was crushed, and East Berliners had to wait another 36 years for the kind of freedom you can enjoy next. (For more on Tiergarten and the Victory Column, see here).
• Walk through the Brandenburg Gate, entering what for years was forbidden territory. Just past the gate, there’s a small TI on the right, and on the left is the Room of Silence, dedicated to quiet meditation on the cost of freedom. As you emerge on the other side of the gate, you enter a grand square known as...
Pariser Platz marks the start of Unter den Linden, the broad boulevard that stretches before you. “Parisian Square” was so named after the Prussians defeated France and Napoleon in 1813. The square was once filled with important government buildings, but all were bombed to smithereens in World War II. For decades, it was an unrecognizable, deserted no-man’s-land, cut off from both East and West by the Wall. But now it’s rebuilt, and the banks and hotels that were here before the bombing have reclaimed their original places, with a few modern additions. And the winners of World War II—the US, France, Great Britain, and Russia—continue to enjoy this prime real estate: Their embassies are all on or near this square.
Check out some of the buildings facing the square (on the right as you come through the gate). The US Embassy reopened here in its original location on July 4, 2008. The building has been controversial: For safety’s sake, Uncle Sam wanted more of a security zone around the building. But the Germans wanted to keep Pariser Platz a welcoming people zone. The compromise: The extra security the US wanted is built into the structure itself. Easy-on-the-eyes barriers keep potential car bombs at a distance, and the front door is actually on the back side of the building—farthest from the Brandenburg Gate.
To the left of the US Embassy is the DZ Bank Building, built as a conference center in 2001 by Canadian-American architect Frank Gehry. Gehry fans who enjoy his attention-grabbing forms and colors might be surprised at the bank building’s low-profile exterior. Structures on Pariser Platz are designed so as not to draw attention away from the Brandenburg Gate. To get your fix of wild and colorful Gehry, step into the building’s lobby. The undulating interior is like a big, slithery fish.
Two doors past the bank is the ritzy Hotel Adlon. The original hotel was demolished after World War II, and rebuilt in 1997. Over the years, this place has hosted celebrities and VIPs from Charlie Chaplin to Albert Einstein. And, yes, this was where pop star Michael Jackson shocked millions by dangling his infant son over the railing (from the second balcony up). The Hotel Adlon was also the setting for the classic film Grand Hotel, in which Greta Garbo uttered the immortal line, “I vant to be alone.”
• And I say, “I vant to move along,” because we have a lot more to see. The most direct route to our next stop is by passing through the Academy of Arts (Akademie der Künst) building—it’s between Hotel Adlon and the DZ Bank, at Pariser Platz 4. (If the Academy of Arts is closed, loop to the left, circling around the Hotel Adlon to Behrenstrasse.)
Enter the glassy Academy of Arts (WC in basement) and start making your way to the back. Just past the ground-floor café is the former office of Albert Speer, Hitler’s chosen architect. Continue on, passing Speer’s favorite statue, Prometheus (from around 1900). This is the kind of art that turned Hitler on: a strong, soldierly, vital man, defending the homeland.
As you exit out the back of the building, veer right on Behrenstrasse and cross the street. You’ll wind up at our next stop, a sprawling field of stubby concrete pillars.
This memorial consists of 2,711 coffin-shaped pillars covering an entire city block. It remembers the six million Jews who were killed by the Nazis during World War II. Completed in 2005 by the Jewish-American architect Peter Eisenman, this was the first formal, German-government-sponsored Holocaust memorial. Using the word “murdered” in the title was intentional, and a big deal. Germany, as a nation, was admitting to a crime.
Start walking through, aiming for the information center in the far-left corner. As you enter the memorial, notice that people seem to appear and disappear between the columns. No matter where you are, the exit always seems to be up. The memorial is thoughtfully lit at night and guarded. The pillars are made of hollow concrete. They stand in a gently sunken area, which can be entered from any side. The number of pillars isn’t symbolic of anything—it’s simply how many fit on the provided land. The memorial’s location—where the Wall once stood—is also coincidental.
Over 160,000 Jewish people lived in Berlin when Hitler took power. Tens of thousands fled the Nazi regime, and many thousands more were arrested, sent to nearby Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp (see the Berlin Day Trips chapter), and eventually killed. Murdered.
Inside the information center, exhibits trace the rise of Nazism and how it led to World War II. Six portraits, representing the six million Jewish victims, put a human face on the staggering numbers. You’ll see diaries, letters, and final farewells penned by Holocaust victims. And you’ll learn about 15 Jewish families from very different backgrounds, who all met the same fate. A continually running soundtrack recites victims’ names. To read them all aloud would take more than six and a half years.
The meaning of the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is open to interpretation. Is it a symbolic cemetery full of gravestones? An intentionally disorienting labyrinth? Like death, you enter it alone. It’s up to the visitor to derive the meaning, while pondering this horrible chapter in human history.
Please be discreet at this powerful site...obviously. Or maybe not so obviously: Recently, young international visitors have taken to snapping irreverent selfies on this hallowed ground. A local artist started a selfie-shaming initiative called “YOLOcaust,” which digitally replaces the blocks in the background with piles of dead bodies. Today’s Germans—even several generations removed from the atrocities of their ancestors—still live by the ethic: “Never forget.”
• At the far-left corner, a little beyond the information center, you eventually emerge on the street corner. Our next stop is about a block further. Carefully jaywalk across Hannah-Arendt-Strasse (named for the writer who originated the phrase “banality of evil” to describe the Nazis’ gruesome efficiency) and continue straight (south) down Gertrud-Kolmar-Strasse. On the left side of the street, you’ll reach a rough parking lot. At the far end of the lot is an information plaque labeled Führerbunker. This marks the...
You’re standing atop the buried remains of the Führerbunker. In early 1945, as Allied armies advanced on Berlin and Nazi Germany lay in ruins, Hitler and his staff retreated to this bunker complex behind the former Reich Chancellery. He stayed here for two months. Meanwhile, Berlin was laid to waste by Allied bombing. Tens of thousands of Berliners lost their lives, and hundreds of thousands were forced to evacuate to the countryside.
It was here, on April 30, 1945—as the Soviet army tightened its noose on the Nazi capital—that Hitler and Eva Braun, his wife of less than 48 hours, committed suicide. A week later, the war in Europe was over. The information board here explains the rest of the story. It shows a detailed floorplan of the bunker complex, which stood right about where the plaque is today. A timeline traces the bunker’s history and ultimate fate. After the war, the roof was removed, and the bunker was filled with dirt and covered over.
Though the site of Hitler’s Bunker is certainly thought-provoking, there really isn’t much to see here. And that’s on purpose. No one wants to turn Hitler’s final stronghold into a tourist attraction. Present-day Germans still treat the touchy subject of Hitler with extraordinary sensitivity. There’s an understandable concern about stoking the fires of neo-Nazism, which never seems to die...in Germany, or around the world. They’ve been wary of making Hitler’s book, Mein Kampf, available on a mass level. It took Berlin 65 years for the German History Museum to hold its first exhibit on Hitler’s life. Schoolkids are taught the hard lessons of history. But when it comes to Hitler memorabilia and Hitler sites, there’s a distinct shortage. It’s a balancing act—remembering Hitler, without glorifying the memory.
• We’ll return to Unter den Linden and the Hotel Adlon. Backtrack up Gertrud-Kolmar-Strasse, and turn right on Hannah-Arendt-Strasse. Then take your first left (at the traffic light) on...
This street was the traditional center of the German power, beginning back when Germany first became a nation in the 19th century. It was lined with stately palaces housing foreign embassies and government offices. This was the home of the Reich Chancellery, where the nation’s chief executive presided. When the Nazis took control, this street was where Hitler waved to his adoring fans, and where Joseph Goebbels had his Ministry of Propaganda.
During World War II, Wilhelmstrasse was the nerve center of the German war command. From here, Hitler directed the war, and ordered the Blitz (the air raids that destroyed London). As the war turned to the Allies’ side, the British began returning the favor. Wilhelmstrasse and the neighborhood around it was heavily bombed. Most of the stately palaces were destroyed, and virtually nothing historic survives today.
Case in point is the British Embassy (two blocks up Wilhelmstrasse, on the left, with the smooth, stony facade). When World War II broke out, the British closed their embassy. Then it was bombed by the Allies. After the war, the West German capital was moved to the city of Bonn...and the British Embassy went with it. But in the 1990s, when the seat of government returned to Berlin, Wilhelmstrasse was completely modernized, and the British Embassy was rebuilt. (The building’s purplish color is what you get when you mix the red, white, and blue of the Union Jack together.) This is now just one of the nearly 150 embassies in the globalized city that is today’s modern capital of Germany.
• Wilhelmstrasse spills out onto Berlin’s main artery, the tree-lined Unter den Linden, next to the Hotel Adlon.
Our walk is finished, and you’re standing right in front of the Brandenburger Tor S- and U-Bahn station. To continue Berlin’s story with a walk down Unter den Linden, turn to the next chapter.