It is 50 years since the first rolls of razor wire were strung out dissecting Berlin and Germany into two worlds, the communist east and the free west. Western Berlin became an island of democracy in a sea of red.
My first visit to East Berlin in October 1989 was to commemorate the 50-year anniversary of the death of my grandfather, an astronomer and founder of the Archenhold Sternwarte at Treptow Park. A mighty force of tanks had quelled street riots the week before.
I passed through Checkpoint Charlie as a VIP guest of the East Berlin mayor and entered into a world that was devoid of people and very, very grey. Warned not to take photos, my passport was taken from me until my departure.
This was my peek behind the Iron Curtain that I hoped to leave through the Palace of Tears at Friedrichstrasse railway station a few days later.
The following week, on November 9, 1989, the wall came tumbling down. On television, I watched East Germans staggering into the light, walking or driving their Trabants for miles to stand on western soil for the first time.
The abandoned Trabants became a quirky symbol of the time but have now become a motoring icon. Over three million were produced until 1990 and 30,000 are still registered.
Trabi Safari on Zimmerstrasse (www.trabi-safari.de) has 120 of the vehicles in its car park, making it the single largest owner in the world. What better way of driving part of the route of the double-defence wall and its Death Strip than in a Trabi?
I entered the car park under a leaden sky with thunder rumbling in the distance, and got up close and personal with a Trabant Rennpappe 601, made from duraplast, a carbon fibre DDR prototype. These were luxury family cars for the masses, and with a two-stroke 26hp engine and 600kg dead weight they have a top speed of 110 kph.
Christoph was the safari guide and Michael the lead driver. In the pre-drive briefing, Christoph reminded us that we had to obey the rules of the road, and he tells us to smile at the many tourists who will take our photos as we snake our way along.
It is then time to choose aTrabant, many of which have undergone a zebra and tiger stripe paint job that was not standard DDR. I picked out a snazzy white convertible but was persuaded that it was not a good choice due to imminent bad weather.
You have to be a contortionist to squeeze into a Trabi. Once behind the wheel, the basic dashboard and a shift stick gear change on the steering column was all I needed.
Christoph also explained there is a hand brake, lights and a horn. The only recent addition is the radio link to the lead car. The keys turned and the engines noisily fired up with a splutter of fumes.
As the rain started, so did we, stopping the traffic of BMWs and Mercedes as we rallied our line of six Trabants behind our leader, just like a mother duck taking her chicks for their first swim. Christoph’s instructions came across the radio in two languages as he nurtured us and complimented us as we kept together through traffic.
He filled us in on the sights and history of the wall. Much of the Death Strip is green tree-lined land, void of buildings, which ran through the heart of Berlin. It is a memorial to those who died trying to cross the great divide. The wall along Niederkirchnerstasse was fenced off from zealous souvenir hunters.
We wheeled along towardsPotsdamer Platz, lined with glass and steel modern buildings and hotels, then passed the 2,711 grey blocks that make up the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.
Next on our safari was the Brandenburg Tor. The wall here was at its tank-stopping thickest – over three metres. This is the symbol of Berlin, not counting the Ampelmann of course – another East German quirk much loved by Berliners.
We weaved our way through the government quarters where the Reichstag was purposely built across the great divide after Berlin became the capital city of Germany again, much to the chagrin of Bonn. If you want to enter the glass dome dominating the landscape, it is important to e-mail for a time slot three days before.
We followed the line of the wall and eventually entered majestic Unter den Linden, where imposing buildings such as the Humboldt University survived the bombings. Next, we crossed onto Museum Island, past the cathedral and the modern Humboldt Box, where you can donate to the massive multi-billion-euro debt that Berlin bears.
As the rain got heavier, I was pleased to find that the wipers worked but now the little windows were steaming up so the only option was to wind down the windows and get wet.
A right turn took me into Karl Marx Allee, lined with large Communist style buildings untouched by modern architecture and much loved by film-makers. BourneIdentity was filmed where the USSR military parades once took place.
Before long, we are at the banks of the River Spree and the East Side Gallery, a 1.3-km stretch of wall. The grey concrete was brightly painted by artists in 1990.
We cross the Spree to travel along the line of the Death Strip as it zigzags through leafy neighbourhoods where one side was on the east and one on the west.
A turn brought us to Checkpoint Charlie and a reminder of my entry there in 1989. Now history boards and photos line the street. The CIA coffee house and the Stasi building were just a few metres away from each other at the Cold War border.
A final right turn and we have all arrived safely back at base. With the rain still pouring I prised myself out of the Trabant and scuttled for cover. Christoph praised us on our driving skills and handed me a DDR driving licence.
I had traced the line of the wall that once divided this capital city.
The sadness of divided families and the deaths of those that tried to escape will forever remain. The people of Berlin do not want to forget the past but the pulsating city of the young now parties on.