“It's Christmas morning and I'm biking through East Berlin. The rain comes down as a mist, not enough to get us wet but definitely enough to make the whole area seem even more like a poster for anti-communism. The east side of Berlin is unmistakable this far out, at least compared to its western counterpart. Close to where the border was is now hip, the wall smoothed out and used for art; out here, though, massive heating pipes run parallel to the road, their bland green paint complementing the toned-down pastels of the imposing dorm-like apartments behind them. We stop in front of an abandoned apartment--still proudly heralding the "Cosmonaut" street name--while smoke pours from a tower nearby. Even the grafitti out here seems to lack the color that pervades as you move farther west.”