By Eric A. Anderson and Alex PappasA few months ago, I was visiting a friend in Berlin.
She told me she was working on a book about her family.
It was my first visit to Berlin and the city that had once been a symbol of hope and opportunity.
For many years, Berlin has been the heart of European Union membership talks and the center of much of Europe’s foreign policy.
For the first time, the capital was becoming a symbol for the continent’s political divisions, with nationalist, Euroskeptic and anti-establishment forces vying for the city’s attention.
At a time when the continent is being torn apart by the conflicts of the Middle East and North Africa, Berlin’s political climate is the epitome of Europe at a crossroads, with many of its citizens feeling lost and alienated.
For a while, I thought I’d just be sitting in a bar with a beer.
Then I saw the bookshelves and knew it was a place I could work.
I went straight to the shop.
The shop had a good selection of books, but none of them were in English.
I asked a customer if he wanted to read the German version of my book.
He said he wanted the English edition, and that I could send him a copy, as long as I paid a fee of €1,000 ($1,600).
The German language is an integral part of the German culture, but I didn’t want to buy books that I would never use in my life.
So I just ordered the German edition and started reading.
Within days, I’d made an online appointment to meet with the editor of my German book, the founder of a Berlin-based design firm, and the CEO of a local news agency.
I had to tell them about the book and why I was going there.
After several hours of waiting, I finally got the call.
They were delighted and asked if I would like a coffee and tea.
The first thing they said was, “It’s really good!”
The editor asked if they could use the Berlin of the West, which is a term I had never heard of before.
I told him that I had a project in mind, and he was very interested in finding a German publisher.
We started by checking my passport.
The office of the Berlin-born editor was in the heart-of-Berlin district of Kreuzberg.
I’d been to Germany before, and I was surprised to see a German flag.
But then I saw an American flag, a blue one, in the window.
“That’s America!”
I thought, and so I bought the book.
I didn’t get any more than 10 pages before I ran out of money and was forced to return to the office.
The German publisher told me that the book was not in English and I had only 30 days to sell the book in Germany.
That seemed unlikely to me, so I decided to return the book to the store.
I knew the store was in Kreuzburg, a city that has been a hotbed for anti-Americanism for decades.
The next day, I walked into the shop and handed the book back to the editor.
He looked at me and said, “I think you might be a little crazy.”
He then asked me if I had any questions.
I replied that I didn; that I was writing a book.
Then he asked me to show him the cover.
He then took out a copy of my passport and showed me a picture of the United States flag.
He told me he would take the book home and read it.
After he finished reading the book, he asked if he could print it for me.
He printed out the cover and gave me the copy.
He asked me what I wanted the book’s title to be and I said, I wanted to say I’m writing this book.
We talked for a while about the differences between Berlin and Kreuzbourg.
He explained that Kreuzburger is a small town in southern Germany, which has a population of about 25,000, and its inhabitants speak a dialect of German called Bürger, a form of German that is almost entirely spoken by Germans, a population that is about 25 percent Muslim.
“The only difference between Kreuz and Bürgers is that Bürges is more Western,” he explained.
I asked him if he knew how to spell the word “Bürger.”
“I don’t have a clue,” he replied.
I was surprised that he couldn’t spell the name of the town, which he said is known as Bergenburg, which means “town of the sea.”
It’s a little odd to hear the word Bergen, which was not always spelled Bergen in the past, but it’s a word that was pronounced in the city as Berge in the 16th century, before it was
