An attack at Kaiser Wilhelm's church

As I was writing of my visit to the Kaiser Wilhelm Church in Berlin, a young Tunisian called Anis Amri drove a black Scania semi-trailer into a Xmas shopping crowd around the church, killing twelve people and injuring 56. He couldn't have chosen a more poignant location to create this carnage, because the church is a monument to the tens of thousands of Berliners killed by Allied bombing in WWII. The building has been left in its distressed state as a reminder of the insanity of war, and beside it has been built one of the most beautiful structures I have ever seen.

The black stump of the church

A remarkable apparition has sprung up in the shadow of the ruin; a new church whose 50,000 stained glass windows, homage to Chartres Cathedral in France, blaze in a vast display of incandescent blue. Sitting in the church, I reflected on how an artistic masterpiece on this scale can create a monument to the dead that remains with you for months afterwards.

The next week I listened to a performance of a J.S. Bach cantata in the new church, with full choir, the centre-piece of a service conducted in German by a bearded clergyman with a sonorous voice and vigorous gestures. The choir were located on a mezzanine floor, so their voices flew overhead like a divine wind.

The fire-bombing of civilian areas of German cities would now be deemed a war crime (think Aleppo, but on a vast scale) - but was thought necessary in 1945 to 'break the spirit of the German people'. If anything, it firmed the resolve of the populace. Kurt Vonnegut's novel 'Slaughterhouse Five' is a black comedic account of his survival of the fire-bombing of the medieval city of Dresden, to the east of Berlin. As an American Prisoner of War, his task was to emerge from the basement of a slaughterhouse after the holocaust, and sweep up the charcoaled remains of some of the 20,000 German civilians incinerated in one night, largely women and children.

It's hard to know whether Anis Amri, the truck driver shot dead two days ago by Italian police after he fled to Milan, had any understanding of the act of desecration he was about to commit. The killing of a French cleric in his church by a jihadi this year suggests the target may have been deliberate. Amri was a petty criminal, involved in the drugs world before becoming radicalised in Italian gaols. He chose this most sacred of spots in Berlin to renew the cycle of death that probably won't end until the unemployed and disaffected young men of the Arabic diaspora in Europe are drawn out of rage-filled isolation into the cultural mainstream.

Last Tango in Berlin

The tango club, the Haus der Sinne, was somewhere in north Berlin. Part of my mission over the city was to dance my way through as many tango clubs as I could, in a city second only to Buenos Aries in its obsession with this most passionate of dances.

The sheer ferment of tango culture in Berlin is astonishing. I found tango clubs tucked away beneath the rough brick arches of railway embankments; I stumbled across outdoor milongas swirling along the banks of the steely River Spree on a hot afternoon ... and bursting out of stylish cafes in the 19th century Kulturbrauerei in Pankow.

Now it was 10pm, I had walked for hours in search of the Haus of Sin, and found my way blocked by a long, sinister boulevard, devoid of pedestrians or lights. I had the odd feeling that I was entering a parallel universe. I hurried up the deserted road for twenty minutes, pleased to escape un-mugged into the warren of backstreets that led to the Haus. Next day, I discovered I had crossed the famous Mauepark, a former killing zone beneath the Berlin Wall ... now a monument to the divided city. The remnants of the Wall had been invisible in the darkness.

Mauepark - a former killing zone

At the door to the Haus der Sinne, a statuesque blond woman, with bright red lipstick, clad in black leather and holding a tassled cane waved me inside. I perched on a bar stool with an orange juice, watching the tangueros move about the floor in their fixed, intense coupledom. They were submerged in the gloom, like strange four-legged animals in a primordial sea. On a pillar was a picture of a bear-like creature, and next to it, a wan-looking girl with her legs splayed open. But there didn't seem to be a lot of sinning going on. Perhaps my translation was wrong? On checking the German, I found 'Sinne' means something else altogether. 

Tango couples are hermetically sealed; locked into their twelve minutes of love with a fixity that excludes the world ... and I watched as they danced tanda after tanda. The pairs weren't breaking ... it seemed that the Haus der Sinne attracted couples, rather than the free spirits I was in search of. Very different from Cafe Franz at the Kulturbrauerei where I had animated chats with foreign tangueros and begun dancing immediately. This club was patronised by native Berliners. After an hour or so, unable to attract another dancer with the traditional cabaseo, I gave up and ambled off into the night. The blond woman at the door grinned and gave me a playful whip on the butt as I departed. 

Quite why Berliners have taken so avidly to tango is a hard to explain ... a tortured history; their historic interest in intense, theatrical art-forms ('Cabaret'), and Berliners' very un-German obsession with sensuality. Christopher Isherwood's 'Goodbye to Berlin' and its depiction of licentious Berlin culture between the wars, is a classic portrait of a doomed civilization, and the spirit of the Weimar Republic still lives in Berlin. Tango allows raw and unbridled expression of passion between total strangers. And yet, paradoxically, it is also a complex and mesmerizing art form, in which the human spirit soars free within the architecture of the dance. 

Eating with Syrian refugees in Berlin

During a month in Berlin, I met a young couple who had fled the conflict in Syria, their home and jobs destroyed. Some of the one million refugees that Germany has let into the country, they spoke no English and little German, and had a young child - a lively addition to Berlin's multi-cultural mix. My Berlin friend, Barbara, was teaching them German, as many Berliners have volunteered to do, and in return they took us to eat in Sonnenallee; 'the street of the Arabs', a bustling thoroughfare with a fascinating history (it was once bisected by the Berlin wall), and where only Arabic can be heard in the shops.

Sonnnenallee, -  Arabic brio

We ate on the sidewalk ... a delicious, heavily spiced Syrian meal, hummus, green chillis, olives ... which our host perilously retrieved from a food shop thronged with battling diners. Although Syrian refugees have been targeted by Far-Right groups in Germany, there was none of that on Sonnenallee, where the vivacity and brio of the street was a sign of Berliners' legendary tolerance of outsiders. Or perhaps it's just indifference - Berliners are notoriously oblivious to others.

Along Sonnenallee, the average pedestrian seemed about thirty; it's mainly the young who have been able to flee from war-torn Syria in significant numbers. Specialist shops vending coffee and spices echo with voices from farther afield ... Lebanon, Iraq, Palestine and Turkey, while shops sell fine silks and the tortured metal-work of ornamental hookahs.

Hookah shop

With the West turning against refugees in the wake of the US Presidential elections, Angela ('the Angel') Merkel continues to show moral leadership and compassion at the risk of her own political career. It was heartening to see such a vibrant enclave of Arabic culture at the heart of Germany's spiritual capital.

In a strange reversal of history, from Trump Tower, New York, a city once renowned as a haven for the oppressed and racially persecuted of Europe, comes the ugly voice of racial bigotry; while in the former home of Nazism, the doors have been flung open to desperate refugees and their children.

Auckland skippers - Hoturua Barclay-Kerr and 'Haunui'

The day I sailed with Hotu and his crew on Haunui, he had a party of school kids aboard, mainly Maori and Pacific Islanders. He spoke to them of the biology of ocean voyaging; astronomy, physics and the agriculture of the Polynesian peoples. He spoke of Captain Cook’s admiration for the masterly seamanship and vast distances Polynesians travelled in their waka as a matter of course. He pointed to the flag he was flying on the stern … the Confederated Tribes flag, and explained how in the 19th century Maori were active traders around the coasts and to Australia. The boat had become a classroom.

“I’m from the Tainui tribe, and my parents would often visit Turangawaewae where I saw the revival of the Waikato River canoes at Ngaruawahia. At the Auckland Anniversary regatta in 1970 a war canoe was used for the first time in years … I was young but it had a huge impact on me. In 1972 the Maori Queen commissioned a new war canoe, and this boosted the tradition.

             Skipper Hotu and Haunui waka                The Waikato Independent

"By the time I was 17 I was in charge of a big waka. Then in 1975 I saw a film about the launching of the Hawaiian waka, Hokule’a at the Maori Queen’s house … from that time I was fascinated by this ocean going craft and wanted to sail on her. After studying anthropology at Auckland University I went to Hawaii and hung out with the Polynesian Voyaging Society, who were relearning ancient celestial navigation techniques. They had brought in a Micronesian master navigator called Mau Piailug to teach them the old skills. He became navigator on a voyage from Hawaii to Tahiti in 1976.

"Until 1992 the Hawaiian canoe was the only double-hulled waka in Polynesia. Then Hec Busby built Te Aurere here in NZ and from then on I was involved in her ocean voyages … to Rarotonga and back, and there was a lot of knowledge exchange with Hawaiian crew …

"The German philanthropist Dieter Paulmann became interested in the impact of man on the world’s oceans, and saw a waka fleet in the Pacific as a way of publicising this. We agreed to build waka to teach sailing and navigation and to record the degradation of the oceans … First Peoples from every land were saying we had become deaf to the message of nature.

"Haunui was built in 2009, the second in the fleet of seven, which were all built at Salthouse Boats in Greenhithe. She’s made of modern materials, but based on drawings made by 18th century European explorers … meticulous naval drawings of Polynesian canoes. Each of Haunui’s twin hulls has its own name … I named the port hull after one of my aunties and the other hull after my Dad. He was pretty sceptical about my whole interest in waka revival.

"As different island groups acquired their waka they came to Aotearoa to learn to sail them home, and I helped teach the crews the skills they needed. In 2010 we shipped Haunui to Samoa and then sailed back on her maiden voyage … the first such voyage in 400 years. We had to learn everything along the way; points of sai;; how to use the steering paddles.

"We’re re-introducing the Maori and Polynesian kids on board to the greatness of their ancestors. Many of them aren’t aware of how astronomy, biology and sailing are part of their heritage.

 

Auckland skippers - Marguerite Delbet on 'Nomos'

I met Marguerite at a concert at the Auckland Town Hall - a string quartet playing works by Shostakovich. A Parisian lady whose family owns a 14^th century castle in central France, Marguerite worked for the United Nations in South Africa and Cambodia, and learned to sail on the Mediterranean. She is Head of Democracy Services at Auckland City; and at the time was handling the fall-out from the infamous Ngati  Whatua Room Incident. She skippers ‘Nomos’, a Catalina 400. Her crew of nine is almost entirely men.
 

“Water is not my star sign, but it is my soul sign … I love the way my boat puts me in touch with the beauty of the Hauraki Gulf ... I have a responsible, high stress job, and sailing takes me back to nature, it grounds me.  I like to say ‘the world was discovered at five knots’ … that’s the speed Christopher Columbus sailed across the Atlantic to the Americas.

Marguerite Delbert

"I grew up in Paris in a family of art, classical music, and literature lovers who spent a lot of time at the theatre and opera. My father was a reconstructive surgeon specialising in burns, and my mother worked as a flying nurse repatriating injured French soldiers from the Vietnam War … I  was their little princess and learned to sail Optimists on the Cote D’Azure at the age of seven. I have memories of  free diving for sea urchins in the Mediterranean, spearing them with a trident, then eating them raw on fresh baguettes and butter …

"I studied business at Lille University in Northern France and during that time I began sailing with some friends on the Brittany Coast  … In 1992 I went to work for the United Nations as a supervisor for the first elections after the overthrow of the Khymer Rouge … it was an intense and captivating experience for me, and a huge change for the better in the lives of  the Cambodian people. Then I went to South Africa as an observer in the 1994 elections when Nelson Mandela was elected. That felt very much like being part of history!

"I came to New Zealand in 1995 and had to learn sailing terms in English … I sailed a Warwick 10.6 on Wellington Harbour and in Cook Strait. I raced on Nomos  for several years in Wellington, before buying a half share of her in 2014 and when I moved to Auckland I sailed her part the way up the East Coast.

Nomos on the Waitemata

"I’ve always had a special feeling for the boat … She was built in California to the Catalina 400 design, so there’s nothing unique about her … but she’s really well designed and constructed.  Very spacious downstairs, well laid out, and comfortable to cruise on … my floating bach! My racing crew in Auckland consists of a Chilean doctor, a English video producer, a Dutch business partner and bunch of Kiwis … mainly guys!

Nomos means ‘the law’ in Greek, and when she sails in her sweet spot, particularly with the spinnaker up, it’s something special. If you can get a crew that gels you get a wonderful sense of elation … the combination of a great boat, a team of good people and a beautiful environment … it’s a unique feeling. We cruised around the Hauraki Gulf last summer, to Rakino, Waiheke, and Kawau Islands and had a magical time on Great Barrier … and a beautiful spinnaker run back to Auckland. 

Auckland skippers - Henk Haazen on 'Tiama'

The cabin on 'Tiama' is a homely place, with packed bookshelves, hanging pewter wine goblets, a framed photo of a 19th century tea clipper, a fruit bowl and rocks and shells from expeditions to the deep south. Pride of place goes to an aerial photo of a flotilla of protest yachts ringing a deep sea oil platform off the North Island's west coast. An emblem of a life devoted to campaigning to conserve one of the most beautiful parts of the planet.

“I joined the Greenpeace boat ‘Rainbow Warrior’ in Jacksonville, Florida in 1984, and helped convert her to a sailing ship. Acting on a plea from Rongalap islanders in the Marshall Islands we relocated them to escape fallout from US nuclear testing which had made them very ill … Then I settled down in New Zealand and was Third Engineer on the ‘Rainbow Warrior’ when she was blown up by the French secret service on  Marsden Wharf 1985.

Henk Haazen

"I sailed up to Moruroa Atoll with Greenpeace in the 1990s to protest against French nuclear testing their, and then to Antarctica to establish a permanent base as part of our successful campaign to turn the continent into a protected World Park. 

"That gave me the idea of building ‘Tiama’… a smaller boat that would be a fraction of the cost of a big research vessel. It took me seven years to construct in the Auckland suburb of Grey Lynn, although I promised my wife it would only take two. She’s made of steel and has double bottom floors, and closely spaced frames to make her ice resistant. She also has a lifting keel and rudder for the ice. ‘Tiama’ means ‘standing clear’ in Tahitian Maori …

"My first job was a charter to the Kermadec Islands for the Auckland Museum gathering geological specimens and some underwater samples. Our next trip was around Cape Horn and to the Antarctic Peninsula  … taking some climbers who wanted to scale a virgin peak in Antarctic. Then we spent 2-3 months on the Great Barrier Reef in 1999 mobilising towns along the Queensland Coast to oppose shale oil development there. We were concerned about pollution run-off damaging the reef.



'Tiama' near the Sub Antarctic islands                                              DOC

"From 2000  I worked 'Tiama' as a charter boat for the Department of Conservation, NIWA, and the University of Otago ferrying scientists and researchers to the Sub Antarctic islands. This has been her bread and butter work ever since,  and I spend about 100 days a year at sea. We proved you can safely do an expedition to Antarctic waters using a small purpose-built vessel like 'Tiama' …

"The trips to these Islands are helping conserve the wildlife, particularly seabirds … 75% of the world’s albatrosses breed on the NZ’s Sub Antarctic Islands. Two years ago 'Tiama' was part of a fleet of half a dozen boats that sailed to Raglan on the west coast, where they were doing exploratory drilling for oil. Our intention was to warn against the dangers of deep sea oil drilling.

Auckland skippers - Jim Mitchell on 'Koraki'

I first met Jim fifteen years ago when he was a trawler skipper, and ran into him regularly at the Tepid Baths spa pool, bleary-eyed and warming up after several days at sea. Now he's skipper on the tug 'Koraki' which is moored at Bledisloe Wharf. I clambered down a five metre steel ladder onto the heaving deck of the tug on a rainy winter day in a pair of black brogues. I hadn't quite prepared for the meeting.

“When the container shop 'Rina' wrecked on a reef off Mount Maunganui we were sent down to mop up the oil spill. We also tried to get as many containers off the ship as we could before they were washed into the sea. 

"Right now we're towing a big barge up to Whangarei twice a week to pick up 2000 tonnes of cement for the Auckland building industry. Tomorrow I’ll be up 3.30am for a 5am departure from Auckland. It's a twelve hour sail up the coast.

"I first went to sea at the age of 14 as a deck hand. I liked the life ... seeing whales and dolphins in summer between Little Barrier and Cape Rodney … I got my skipper's ticket when I was 19 and my first job was running a Danish Seiner. My Dad had been a Danish Seiner fisherman working out of Auckland before me. And now my son Nick is a First Mate on a tug in Darwin running supplies up to Aboriginal communities in the far north of Queensland.


'Koraki' mops up oil from the wreck of the 'Rina'

"On ‘Koraki’ we have a crew of five, First Mate, Engineer and two deck hands. If the wind is from the north-east it can be pretty uncomfortable … and above 25-30 knots we don’t sail.

"Recently on the Whangarei cement run we had a fire in the port engine at 2am just off Pakiri Beach, and had to abandon ship. Toxic fumes were coming off the engine and it was so out of control there was a risk of it exploding. We were in a 25 knot sou'wester with rain, so it wasn’t too comfortable in the life raft. We were picked up by the Coast Guard from Whangarei and the good old NZ Navy extinguished the flames … so we were back on board by 10am the next morning.

"Sometimes when we're out to sea, we get worse weather than is predicted … 40-50 knot wind behind you with a 2,000 tonne barge behind can be a trial. In the stronger weather we let out the tow line further to absorb the strain.