From Hackescher Markt to the New Synagogue
12 New Synagogue (Neue Synagogue)
13 Monbijoupark
Despite its tongue-twisting name, Berlin’s Scheunenviertel (SHOY-nen-feer-tel, “Barn Quarter”) is one of the most accessible places to enjoy the city’s thriving foodie, culture, and arts scene. It’s also at the heart of Berlin’s former Jewish quarter, with a big synagogue and several smaller, easy-to-miss landmarks that evoke a complicated history.
This walk combines these two themes—trendy Berlin and Jewish history. We’ll also duck into several quintessentially Berliner Höfe—interconnected courtyards that burrow deep into city blocks, where much of Berlin life plays out. Perhaps most of all, I enjoy the Scheunenviertel as an opportunity to connect with a real-life Berlin neighborhood that’s conveniently close to—yet apart from—the touristy historic core.
(See “Scheunenviertel Walk” map, here.)
Name Game: In addition to “Scheunenviertel,” locals use various other names for this part of town—including Spandauer Vorstadt, the Former Jewish Quarter, North Mitte, or simply “Hackescher Markt Area.”
Length of This Walk: Allow about 45 minutes (a bit more if lingering in the New Synagogue).
When to Go: This walk works well anytime—and may be even better in the evening, after you’ve wrapped up your Museum Island sightseeing, and when restaurants and bars are lively (but if you want to enter the New Synagogue, note the closing time—listed below).
Getting There: It’s simple—just ride the S-Bahn (or tram #M1) to Hackescher Markt. If you’re walking from Museum Island, follow the riverbank behind and across from the Berlin Cathedral, then angle right under the train tracks (takes less than 10 minutes).
Hackesche Höfe: Free, open 24 hours daily.
Haus Schwarzenberg Museums: Free, daily 10:00-20:00.
New Synagogue: Main exhibit-€5, dome-€3, combo-ticket for both-€6, temporary exhibits-€3; April-Sept Mon-Fri 10:00-18:00, Sun until 19:00; Oct-March dome closed, exhibit open Sun-Thu 10:00-18:00, Fri until 15:00; closed Sat year-round.
Bonbonmacherei (in Heckmann Höfe): Wed-Sat 12:00-19:00, closed Sun-Tue.
Services: Otto Weidt’s Workshop for the Blind—in the Haus Schwarzenberg—has a free WC, as do area cafés and fast-food restaurants.
Eateries: You’ll pass plenty of options; for recommendations, see the Eating in Berlin chapter, here.
Starring: Bustling local life, characteristic courtyards (Höfe), and poignant reminders of Berlin’s Jewish heritage.
(See “Scheunenviertel Walk” map, here
• Begin in the bustling square next to the Hackescher Markt S-Bahn station.
This delightful people zone—tucked up against the train station trestle—is a lively place to simply hang out. It has ample al fresco cafés and restaurants, and on Thursday and Saturday mornings, it’s further enlivened by a modest open-air market, with food stalls, clothes, and touristy items.
The handsome old S-Bahn station is a classic example of the city’s Brandenburg Neo-Gothic brickwork, called Backstein (“baked stone”). It frames off a beautiful space, with artful iron window frames and benches with built-in chessboards—inviting Berliners to linger. Most of the brick archways are filled with hip shops, which have official—and trendy—addresses such as “S-Bahn Arch #9, Hackescher Markt.”
Hackescher Markt marks the boundary between the touristy hotels-and-museums zone of the historic core and the more characteristic neighborhoods of residential Berlin. This is the gateway to the Scheunenviertel, which sits just across the river from the city center, to the northeast. In German cities (with prevailing southerly and westerly winds), the northern and eastern parts of town—downwind of industry—were historically considered undesirable. In the olden days, the Scheunenviertel had barns full of gassy cows—which would have been a fire hazard in the city center, thanks to all that methane (a lesson learned the worst possible way in the Great London Fire). This part of town was also a logical place for warehouses, allowing merchants to store goods near the river that transported them.
Starting in the late 1600s, the Scheunenviertel became home to the core of Berlin’s Jewish community, after Berlin was hit particularly hard by the devastating Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648)—sometimes called the “first world war” because of its high number of casualties. The Prussian rulers needed help rebuilding and repopulating. Their pragmatic brainstorm was to import wealthy minorities, who were unwanted in other countries. They invited 50 wealthy Jewish families from Vienna—escaping pogroms in Austria—to resettle in this relatively undesirable part of town. Beliefs at the time forbade Christians from engaging in certain monetary tasks; tasks that Jews were allowed to do. Based in the Scheunenviertel, the Jews were close to the city’s commercial center.
At the time, Jews found a relatively tolerant home in Berlin—they were even permitted to build their synagogue in the city center. (The scant footprint of that original Jewish synagogue, from 1714, is just a couple of blocks away, under the S-Bahn tracks and down Rosenstrasse. It’s in a park with a monument to Christian women, married to Jewish men, who stood up to the Nazis—see here.)
Hackescher Markt got its current shape thanks to Hans Christoph Friedrich Graf von Hacke, a military hero who was promoted to Berlin City Commandant under Frederick the Great. In 1750, Hacke turned the smelly barns and swamplands of this area into a fine market square, similar to what you see today. The king was so pleased, he named the new space after Hacke.
From Hackescher Markt, walk with the train station on your righthand side to the busy cross-street with tram tracks. In Berlin, it’s easy to lose track of whether you’re in the “former West” or the “former East.” Here’s a tip: Trams were abundant in the East, while the West favored buses and subway lines. It’s not always the case, but usually if you see tram tracks, you’re in the former East Berlin.
• Cross the street, turn left, and carry on straight across Rosenthaler Strasse, past the tram stop. You’re headed for the entrance to that stately yellow-and-blue building (at Rosenthaler Strasse 40), the...
Step inside and explore this series of eight courtyards bunny-hopping through a wonderfully restored Jugendstil (German Art Nouveau) building. Many of Berlin’s apartment buildings are organized like this: courtyard after courtyard leading off the main road. However, the Hackesche Höfe is an unusually pristine—and unusually commercialized—example of a Höfe complex. This genteel space was built during a genteel age (1907), with artful details and spacious courtyards that were a reaction against the overcrowded, hastily built apartment blocks of nearby Prenzlauer Berg. We’ll see other, starkly different examples of Berlin Höfe on this walk, revealing that much of Berlin’s charm hides off the street-front.
The Hackesche Höfe is a fun place to browse. Wander, explore, and do a little window-shopping (for tips, see the Shopping in Berlin chapter). Courtyard #3 is a tranquil garden, while courtyard #5 is particularly charming, with outdoor benches. Throughout, information plaques explain the building’s history. The Hackesche Höfe links into yet another string of shop-lined courtyards, the Rosenhöfe.
When you’re done exploring, backtrack to the entrance. Standing in the doorway, pause and look down at your feet, where you’ll find four brass plaques embedded in the cobbles. These are Stolpersteine (“stumbling stones”): small monuments to everyday people who were murdered in the Holocaust. Each little plaque tells a story—in this case, of the Salinger family, who lived at this address. In 1942, daughter Ursula was deported to Riga, where she was killed. In 1943, dad Georg, mom Rosa, and son Gerd were deported to Auschwitz, where they were executed. If you keep an eye on the ground, you’ll see many Stolpersteine around Berlin—but particularly in this neighborhood, the former Jewish quarter.
• With your back to the Hackesche Höfe entrance, turn left. Just two doors down (at Rosenthaler Strasse 39) is the funky, ramshackle entrance to another courtyard, with a totally different feel.
Owned by an artists’ collective, this Hof comes with a bar, cinema, graffiti-slathered open-air art space (reminiscent of mid-1990s Berlin), and the basement-level Monsterkabinett gallery (with far-out hydro-powered art). Its Café Cinema is one of the last remaining ’90s bohemian-chic bars. In keeping with its anarchistic spirit, the courtyard is named after the self-proclaimed “Free Republic of Schwarzenberg,” which tried to carve out its own little statelet between the US and Soviet sectors at the end of World War II. (It lasted about six weeks.)
As you wander through the Scheunenviertel—and throughout Europe—you might stumble over small brass plaques in the sidewalk called Stolpersteine. Stolpern means “to stumble,” which is what you are meant to do. These plaques mark the former homes of Jewish and other WWII victims of the Nazis. The Stolpersteine are meant not only to honor and personalize the victims, but also to stimulate thought and discussion. In addition, they’re a meaningful rebuke to a prewar slur: When non-Jews tripped on a protruding rock or cobble, it was the custom among some Germans to say, “A Jew must be buried here.” The Stolpersteine turn this idiom around, creating individual monuments to those who have no graves to mark their unjust deaths.
More than 50,000 of these plaques have been installed across Europe, mostly in Germany. They’re made of brass so they stay polished as you walk over them. On each plaque is the name of the victim who lived in that spot, and how and where that person died. While some Holocaust memorials formerly used neutral terminology like “perished,” now they use words like “murdered” (ermordet)—part of the very honest way in which today’s Germany deals with its past. (The word versteckete means the person hid for a time.) Installation of a Stolperstein can be sponsored for €120 and has become popular in schools, where students research the memorialized person’s life as a class project. You can learn even more about each person’s story at www.stolpersteine-berlin.de.
This courtyard holds a pair of inspirational museums.
The Museum of Otto Weidt’s Workshop for the Blind (Museum Blindenwerkstatt Otto Weidt) vividly tells the amazing story of a Berliner who heroically protected blind and deaf Jews during World War II. Otto Weidt employed them to produce brooms and brushes, and because that was useful for the Nazi war machine, he managed to finagle a special status for his workers. You can see the actual brush factory with pedal-powered machines still lined up. The exhibits are described well (in English and Braille), and there’s a good intro video and free audioguide.
Right at the courtyard’s entrance, the Silent Heroes Memorial Center (Gedenkstätte Stille Helden) is a well-presented exhibit celebrating the quietly courageous individuals who resisted the persecution of the Jews from 1933 to 1945. Take some time to learn the stories of a few of them.
A third museum here, the pricey Anne Frank Center, is geared toward visiting school groups and offers almost no history on Berlin itself.
• Exiting Haus Schwarzenberg, backtrack past the entrance to Hackesche Höfe and hook right around the corner, then keep right at the fork to walk along...
This street once held merchant warehouses, and later—under the military-minded Prussians—was widened to more easily move armaments around the city. If you’re in a hurry, this street leads straight to the New Synagogue—where this walk ends—but we’re taking a more roundabout route, to uncover some hidden gems.
Oranienburger Strasse is an eclectic mix of local and touristy. You’ll pass (on the left) a Beata Uhse sex shop, part of a German chain owned by a Luftwaffe pilot-turned-businesswoman who opened what’s considered “the world’s first sex shop” in 1962—helping to normalize a healthy attitude about sexuality in postwar Germany. You’ll see popular street-food stands slinging Berlin’s two favorite handheld meals: Gemüse Kebab and Currywurst. And you’ll pass a variety of other everyday shops, including a costume superstore.
• After just one block, turn right up...
For 200 years, Grosse Hamburger Strasse was known as the “street of tolerance” because the Jewish community donated land to Protestants so they could build a church. Hitler turned it into the “street of death” (Todesstrasse), bulldozing 12,000 graves in the city’s oldest Jewish cemetery and turning a Jewish nursing home into a deportation center.
Just a few steps up Grosse Hamburger Strasse, on the right, pause at the small park that marks the entrance to a Jewish Cemetery. Defiled by the Nazis, today it’s carefully fenced off, with little to see inside. Through the gate, you can see two large tombstones with Hebrew carvings. If it’s open, you can find a few more examples deeper in the cemetery (men should cover their heads when entering).
In front of the fence is a small but evocative memorial, honoring the 55,000 Berlin Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust. The monument is piled with small stones, following the Jewish tradition of placing a stone on a grave as a sign of remembrance, and to prevent the body from being disturbed. The memorial dates from DDR times. In the waning years of communist East Germany, the failing government grew desperate for international support. Following the USSR’s lead, the DDR made overtures to Israel, including the creation of this monument (which originally was intended for the Ravensbrück Concentration Camp Memorial, but was installed in this more high-profile location instead). Berlin still has a sizeable Jewish population, though only a few local Jews are descended from those original Viennese settlers. Other groups include Polish Jews who passed through here after World War II and decided to stay, and Russian Jews who came during DDR times. Because each group brought their own traditions, there’s no single, unified “Berlin Jewish community.” And because Jewish citizens are understandably wary of being counted by the German government, it’s difficult to know their exact numbers; around 30,000 is a likely estimate.
Just beyond the cemetery, on the right, is a Jewish high school (you can still faintly read its original, prewar inscription over the door: Knabenschule für Jüdischen Gemeinde). This school—like all important Jewish locations in Berlin—is heavily fortified and carefully guarded by police. While fringe factions in German society (Neo-Nazis, Islamic extremists) do pose a small risk to Jewish institutions, the stout protection is also symbolic: Germany, ashamed of its history, is determined to make today’s Jewish people feel safe and cared for.
Nearby, across the street, notice the big gap between the two yellow buildings. “Missing buildings”—bombed out in World War II and never rebuilt—are not rare in Berlin, but this one has been turned into a thought-provoking memorial: High up on the white walls facing into the courtyard, notice the names of the people who once lived here.
A few steps farther, on the right, a courtyard leads to the 6 Sophienkirche—a Protestant church built on land that the Jewish community voluntarily donated for that purpose in the 1890s, giving this “Street of Tolerance” its nickname. See the photo of Martin Luther King, Jr., who delivered a sermon here in 1964, possibly at the invitation of East German authorities (who, in keeping with their “people’s party” politics, may have wanted to exploit the poor history of race relations in the US for propaganda reasons).
Keep going up Grosse Hamburger Strasse. At the intersection with Krausnickstrasse, look left to see the gilded dome of the New Synagogue, where this walk ends. But for now, continue straight one more block, passing the St. Hedwig Catholic Hospital (the huge red-brick complex) on your left—further showing this street’s historic intermingling of faiths (Jewish, Protestant, Catholic).
• At the end of the block, you reach the intersection with Auguststrasse. We’ll turn left here to continue the walk, but first consider a couple of optional detours: Straight ahead up Grosse Hamburger Strasse, on the right, is 7 The Barn, a gourmet coffee shop that impresses coffee snobs. If you keep going past that, you’ll reach the pleasant park called Koppenplatz. At the far end of the park is a subtle but affecting Holocaust memorial called “The Room Left Behind” (by Nelly Sachs, a Berlin Jew who fled to Sweden): A table and two empty chairs, one tipped over.
To resume the walk, head west down...
While outwardly nondescript, Auguststrasse hides beautiful little pockets of Berlin’s uniquely artistic sensibility. This is the place in town to go gallery-hopping. Head down the street, passing the fun Do You Read Me? bookstore (on the left at #28) and the first of many galleries (on the right at #61).
A few doors down, the crumbling building set back from the street on your left (at #24) is Clärchens Ballhaus. This old-slash-new, traditionalist-slash-hipster venue has been a Berlin institution since 1913 (and is government-listed as a protected building). In the evenings, it hosts ballroom dancing, dance lessons, and a lively courtyard restaurant under twinkly lights. If it’s a weekday lunchtime, head upstairs for a peek into the Spiegelsaal—the Mirror Room—a grand-but-faded tearoom with dingy-chic decor and crystal chandeliers (and a popular location for movies; only open to the public Mon-Fri 11:00-15:00). For a fun and accessible taste of Berlin nightlife, swing back here in the evening.
Continue down Auguststrasse, dipping into the galleries and enjoying the quiet, untouristy pace of life. After passing a couple of crumbling facades on your left, you reach a big, red-brick building that once housed a Jewish girls’ school; today it hosts some trendy restaurants (including the recommended Mogg Deli, the best place in Berlin for a Brooklyn-style Rueben) and—upstairs—the 9 Kennedys Museum, with exhibits on the American president who uttered his most famous quote here in Berlin (for more on the museum, see here).
• Just after the former Jewish girls’ school, also on the left, is the entrance to the...
This classic Berlin courtyard complex is a pleasing mix of residential and commercial. As you cut through the complex—enter through the door marked Zur Oranienburger Strasse, then keep going all the way to the opposite end of the block—think about how these Höfe were organized, socially. Notice that not all apartments were created equal: The units at the back of the complex (where you entered) are small, with relatively small windows and not much natural light. As you move through the courtyards to the main entrance at the far end, the apartments get bigger and more light-filled. Clearly, these Höfe were designed to house different socioeconomic classes in the same residential complex. It was believed that by mingling with wealthy and cultured people from the front, the poorer people at the back would be inspired and empowered to improve their lot in life. The idea was for a family to gradually work their way ever closer to the apartments in the front as they became more educated and found more lucrative work.
This unusually progressive attitude—which was fundamental to Prussian society—originated with Frederick the Great, the ultimate “enlightened despot.” Unlike his contemporary, the French King Louis XVI, Frederick realized that he had a duty to better his commoners’ lot in life. Perhaps not coincidentally, Prussia managed to avoid the ugliness of a homegrown, barricades-and-guillotines revolution. (For more on Frederick, see here.)
Enough history. It’s time for candy. Working your way through the courtyard, you’ll pass a fine inner square (with leafy trees, public seating, a sweet teahouse, and a small theater). From here, you can see the back of the New Synagogue—its dome, and the glass structure that stands where part of the original building stood. Keep going, pausing (just before reaching Oranienburger Strasse) at the Bonbonmacherei, where you can watch traditional candy being made the old-fashioned way.
Exit the Heckmann Höfe onto Oranienburger Strasse. To your right is a striking building, the former 11 Central Post Office (Postfuhramt, from 1881). In the building’s heyday, mail was delivered by horse—so this consisted mostly of stables. On the gorgeous red-brick facade, pick out the portraits of famous scientists (including Benjamin Franklin and Samuel Morse).
• Our next stop is in the opposite direction from the post office, a few doors up Oranienburger Strasse. You can’t miss the glittering dome of the...
Consecrated in 1866, the original synagogue that stood here was the biggest and finest in Germany, with seating for 3,200 worshippers and a sumptuous Moorish-style interior modeled after the Alhambra in Granada, Spain. It was desecrated by Nazis on Kristallnacht (“Crystal Night,” for the broken glass littering the streets) in 1938, bombed in 1943, and partially rebuilt in 1990. Only the dome and facade have been restored—a window overlooks the vast vacant field marking what used to be the sanctuary. On its facade, a small plaque—added by East Berlin Jews in 1966—reads “Never forget” (Vergesst es nie). Today the former synagogue is a museum and cultural center. The interior is only worth seeing if you have a strong interest in Berlin’s Jewish story. (For more on what you’ll see inside, see here.)
• The main part of our walk is finished. But if you’d like to unwind, a fine park is just a few minutes away. With the New Synagogue at your back, turn left and walk along Oranienburger Strasse (toward the TV Tower). After a long block, veer right to reach...
Convivial spaces like this one—busy with locals on a warm summer day—are the essence of today’s Berlin. Everybody’s out, meeting up with friends and enjoying a green space in a busy city: sunbathing, grilling, splashing in the children’s swimming pool (near the river), shooting hoops, or nursing a drink at the bar along the balustrade facing the Spree River.
Back when the Scheunenviertel really was the Barn Quarter, this was one of the pastures. Later it was the site of the opulent, Rococo-style Monbijou Palace, which was battered by World War II, demolished in 1959, and replaced by this park in the 1960s. Notice the suspiciously symmetrical bulge in the park (at the corner nearest the synagogue)—in Berlin, a likely sign that wartime rubble is buried beneath.
Also deep in the park is a popular amphitheater for summer performances. Monbijoupark is the centerpiece of Berlin’s thriving tango scene. In keeping with its youthful and international bent, Berlin brags it has the world’s second-best tango culture after Buenos Aires.
Take a seat. Relax. Grab a drink and settle in to enjoy it—like a real Berliner—looking out over the Spree and Museum Island. And think about all we’ve seen on this walk: trendy hangouts, fun-to-explore courtyards, and thought-provoking echoes of Berlin’s Jewish past. In a city like Berlin—and a neighborhood like the Scheunenviertel—it just makes sense that all those things can coexist so naturally.
• From Monbijoupark, you’re about a 5-minute walk from two handy S-Bahn stations along Oranienburger Strasse: You can head east, back the way we started, to the Hackescher Markt station; or you can head west, past the synagogue, to the Oranienburger Strasse station.
From Hackescher Markt, you can hop on tram #M1 and zip up to the Prenzlauer Berg hotel, eating, shopping, and nightlife zone (and my 
Prenzlauer Berg Walk). Or, from Monbijoupark, you can cross the bridge to the Bode Museum and start exploring Museum Island (see my Museum Island Tour and Pergamon Museum Tour chapters); the German History Museum is also not far away.