Germany’s Service Desert. Case 2.

Apologies for my silence last week. I have been home alone again, with Willem that is, as Frederik is off to PSI, Villigen, for his yearly summer of experimenting and Janne spent two weeks with family in Belgium. Blogging with Willem around is like eating chocolate mousse with chop sticks: very inefficient. Back to the desert: Germany’s-Service-Desert!

Case 2: The New Museum in Berlin

This happened during Janne’s spring break last year. We went to Berlin for a couple of days and, of course, we also went to the Berlin’s famous museum island. A lot of renovations were going on, so only a few museums on the island were open, so we went for the “New Museum”, mainly filled with Egyptian art. Have you ever seen the beautiful head of Nefertiti for real? Then, you probably have been to this museum.

After buying tickets at the ticket office, we try to locate the entry of the museum. There is only this plain double door with two security guards in front of it. As other people show their tickets to these guys and enter, we assume that that is the entry and we go over to the guards. In front of us is a German family consisting of -what I assume- a mom, a dad, grandparents and a seven or eight year old sitting in a pull wagon. As we stand in line behind them, I hear one of the guard in a very irritated voice telling the family they cannot enter with the wagon: “Our boss does not allow it!” The father takes out some sort of identificition card out and shows it to the guard. I can’t see what it says. It clearly presents some sort of reason why they should be allowed to take in the wagon. The guard looks at the card and keeps repeating in distress: “My boss does not allow it into the museum.” In the meantime, the other guard has stepped aside and has started talking on his walkie-talkie. He comes back telling the other guard that he can let them in. Finally, the family walks in at last very displeased, but with the pull wagon.

Overhearing the conversation, I know by now that Willem’s little balance bike will be a problem. I guessed correctly. The same guard immediately starts grunting immediately:

– What is this thing?

– A balance bike. It’s for little kids and smaller than a stroller! (I quickly add)

– No way can you enter the museum with a bike! What are you people thinking!? Where do you get these ideas?! My boss does definitely not allow this!

– Well, what are we supposed to do with it then? Isn’t there a locker room or something where we can store it?

– This thing cannot come in. 

– Fine, we’ll just leave it here then.

I put the bike against the wall of the museum. I admit that I am pretty mad by now. Frederik and I both and Janne is panicking and telling me not to talk back. But we are not done yet. When the guard sees what I am doing, he immediately starts again: “You cannot leave the bike here! What if someone trips over it? You need to remove it!”

Frederik and I look around trying to figure out what to do with it. I suggest to Frederik to put the balance bike against the back of a stone statue twenty meters away. There are construction works going on and it is not going to obstruct anyone when it is against the fence of the construction works. But the guard catches Frederik in the act and starts yelling at Frederik: “You cannot put the bike there!! You need to put the bike in the bike stall!!”

We look around us. There is no bike stall anywhere in sight. So, Frederik asks where the bike stall is. It is twohunderd meters away from the building on the other side of the street. As Frederik heads off with the bike, I complain to the guard, pretty defensive, while he lets other people in: “Why can’t we take the bike in, while the other people eventually took the whole pull wagon in?” The guard simply ignores me. “What about people with strollers? Are they forbidden, too?” He answers: “We never had that problem. Kids just don’t come here.” 

In the meantime Frederik has returned and we finally can go in, upset and angry. As we walk into the building, we cannot believe our eyes: We walk into a giant vestibule, with lockers in all sizes and shapes, with two people waiting to handle coats and with plenty of room.

Being afraid that the balance bike might get stolen, we talk to one of the lady in the vestibule, asking if she could hold onto the bike for us. Her reply: “I would be very happy to store it here for you, but it is forbidden by my boss and I do not want to get in trouble.”

While we are deciding to just leave the bike where it is, hoping that it will not get stolen, another guard comes up to me: “Your purse is kind of big. Could you leave it in one of the lockers?” I am ready to punch him, but I restrain myself.

I have a lot of comments on what happened that day. But I am pretty curious what you make of all this. So, I will keep mine for next week.

The museum was wonderful and very worthwhile. No other unpleasant encounters. And the bike was still there when we came out two hours later. Fortunately.