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* You can replace "Berlin" with the name of your own hibernating hometown or favourite frostbitten favela (Paris, Chicago, Hoboken, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll- llantysiliogogogoch, Hódmezövásárhely, Scunthorpe, etc.).

Snowstorm Blues

by Deaf Pomegranate Washington

Schönstedtstrassenbrücke across the Panke, Wedding, Berlin, Germany.

The Panke is a river which flows south-westwards through the Berlin districts of Pankow and Mitte. A hundred years ago it was still navigable by small boats, but since it was canalized to prevent flooding it rarely reaches more than a metre in depth. Thankfully, during the greatest period of Berlin's growth - the building boom during the 19th and early 20th centuries - the Panke's boggy banks were considered unsuitable for building, so that today for much its length the stream is lined by green areas, parks and public footpaths. Walking and cycling along the Panke is a popular pastime for Berliners. The area around the stream is surprisingly rich in birdlife, including ducks, blackbirds, tits, crows, magpies, sparrows, swallows, swifts, finches, woodpeckers and the occasional heron. I have also seen squirrels, foxes and a marten scurrying about here. Apparently, "Das Paradies liegt an der Panke" (Paradise lies on the Panke) is an old Berliner saying, and although I've never heard anybody saying it myself, there are days and evenings when you could almost believe it. Almost.

From its source north of Berlin the Panke passes through the suburban gardens of Pankow (formerly in East Berlin) which, although only 20 minutes by underground from Berlin's city centre, still retains some of the historic charms of a small town. At its end the stream is surrounded by a Victorian industrial landscape of old red-brick factories which are inevitably giving way to modern high-rise apartment and office blocks and new government buildings; there is now even a helicopter pad for politicians in a hurry. At Nordhafen (North Harbour) the Panke finally flows into the Berlin-Spandauer Canal which itself joins the River Spree a little further south. Until World War 2 this manmade confluence was part of a busy industrial waterway carrying components, goods and fuel to and from local harbours, factories and warehouses. The inevitable pollution inspired the locals to dub the river "Stinke-Panke".

During the Cold War it became part of the iron curtain border between East and West Berlin. A section of the Berlin Wall and an East German watch tower * can still be seen here as well as the 18th century Prussian military cemetery Invalidenfriedhof.

* The Kieler Eck watchtower is one of the last 3 remaining of 302 DDR observation posts along the 155 kilometre "innerdeutschen Grenze" (Inner German Border a.k.a. the Anti-Fascist Wall) which separated East and West Berlin from 1961 to 1989.

Just a few months ago this garden, unusually large for this part of Berlin,
was full of people enjoying a warm summer evening, eating, drinking
and watching the soccer World Cup on an improvised projector screen.

Everlastingly laborious

In Greek mythology, Sisuphos (Sisyphus) was the founder and king of Ephyra (later Corinth) who offended the gods, allegedly. For his impiety he was condemned to Hades and commanded to push a huge stone up a hill. Every time he got the boulder to the top it rolled down again, and he was forced to endlessly repeat his labours.

The terms "labour of Sisyphus" and "Sisyphean task", signifying a never-ending chore, are rarely used in English today, but every German speaker knows what "Sisyphusarbeit" means: no end of work.

The Germans were once renowned for their dedication to hard work, efficiency and order. Other countries especially envied their ability to keep the roads and railway tracks free of snow with salt, sand, shiny snowploughs and the shovels and sweat of armies of workers. This was a good source of seasonal income for students and the unemployed, and ordinary citizens pitched in with their own unpaid elbow-grease and even the ashes from their heating stoves.

"Those days have gone forever, over along time ago."

Nobody seems to bother any more. A political storm in a snowshoe broke out during and after the winter of 2009-2010 when huge piles of frozen snow lay on Berlin's streets from November until March. Council cleaners were conspicuous by their absence and many public rubbish bins also remained unemptied for months. Getting around the city was difficult for motorists but a nightmare for pedestrians, especially as the snow became filthy slush which froze to deadly ice when the temperature dropped. The railways also failed to cope with the strange white stuff falling from heaven, causing perpetual misery for passengers, or "Fahrgäste" (travel guests) as they have now euphemistically become known.

Just to make things more interesting, the Berlin water authority finally decided to start a large project to replace aged, leaky water mains pipes and dug up several streets in preparation. Unfortunately, they left this until the end of October, shortly before the inevitable, predictable first snows fell on the city. The freshly-dug trenches were just left abandoned until the next spring, which brought just that extra dash of chaos and misery for motorists and pedestrians alike.

When the snow finally thawed in March, the stink was appalling as tons of dog turds, rotting garbage, broken glass and even fizzy wine bottles and used fireworks (left over from New Year's Eve celebrations) lay around. Local authorities and politicians tried to shift the blame onto private contractors and even house-owners, and threatened to prosecute just about everybody in town.

The fuss seemed to have all blown over and away with the snow and the stink. But now, incredible as it may seem, winter has returned. Who would have expected such a thing? Well, not the local authorities or the railways, that's for sure.

The photo above shows one of the small orange vehicles which appear now and again and push a bit of snow off the pavement (sidewalk, Bürgersteig) in the direction of the kerb. The two main effects of this are: 1) a centimetre or so of snow remains, compressed by the snowplough then further trampled down by pedestrians, causing a frozen mass which becomes dangerous to walk on; 2) the piled-up snow along the kerb, which quickly becomes filthy with unswept street rubbish and oily muck from motor vehicles, makes it even more difficult to squeeze between parked cars and trucks when attempting to cross the street. (Mind you, it can get worse in other cities such as New York, where walls of scummy snow are sometimes piled over a metre high along kerbs. It gets like trench warfare out there.)

In other words, such a pathetic show at clearing and cleaning the streets is a complete waste of time, resources and money. Even worse it is dangerous, as more fresh snow falls on the old compressed stuff, many people can not see the peril of the slippery substrata. By February you stop counting the number of old ladies you see taking a fall, and if you manage to survive a winter without a bruised behind and injured pride you count yourself extremely fortunate. The politicians and bureacrats may claim to be making an effort, but a lot of people don't think they they are really bothered; after all, winter has not yet become an electoral issue here.