Not its reputation for sexiest city in the world, overflowing and hideously dirty rubbish bins (in equally filthy public places), permanently delayed public transport (the delay is a given, as is at least one drunk and liquor bottle rolling across the floor in harmony with the movement of the train), amazing and stupefyingly cheap food, and running the gauntlet of an unfathomable amount of dog poop.

History has held this city in its iron grip is and few places bore witness to the fast paced mayhem of recent German history more closely than the Adlon hotel. From the time, hotelier Lorenz Adlon convinced German Emperor Wilhelm II to support his vision of an extravagant, luxurious meeting point outside of the private home, to this very day when I, in awe-struck admiration of this reputation for luxury and a turbulent past, stepped inside the revolving doors and declined the porter’s offer to carry my cabin-sized trolley.

Contrary to my expectations, we didn’t walk into an imposing, intimidating lobby. I had imagined high ceilings and the lingering sound of my footsteps on polished marble as I approached a reception desk and grand staircase dominating a grand hall. But we came upon a table laden with lavish flower arrangements instead. Lilies, crane flowers and hydrangeas partially obscured a comfortably looking living room lounge from our view.

A very plush living room it was, furnished with fine Italian upholstery and bordered by a white marble balustrade. Beside the flower table three flags were raised. Those of Germany and the European Union we recognized and the third seemed vaguely familiar but we couldn’t place it. It was split in half horizontally and on the red and black background featured a yellow emblem in which I identified a star and machete. ‘Angola, we’re hosting the diplomatic delegation of Angola this week,’ the receptionist enlightened us. He went on to say the hotel was fully booked and for this reason an upgrade wasn’t possible. It was a very large delegation apparently, I realized in disbelief.

48% of the Angolan population are classified poor (Oxford Poverty and Human Development Initiative, 2015/2016) and the country ranks 147th out of 189 on the Human Development Index (United Nations, 2017).

The Adlon on the other hand, is one of the most expensive hotels in Berlin, even on special. And it was fully booked with Angolan politicians. The discrepancy between the common people and ruling elite in many African countries is appalling and a well-known fact, yet I was surprised. To blatantly brandish one’s own, self-selected privileges at an economic forum of all occasions to me testified to an ignorant, complacent lack of respect for the people one is elected to govern.

While we were allocated a room, I studied the buzzing lounge. The colorful potpourri of nationalities, languages and cultures was very fitting for the cosmopolitan meeting place the Adlon has always aspired to be. And seemingly oblivious to the noise level of a bazaar echoing of the gold-leaf embellished coffered ceiling. Opposite a grand marble staircase at the far end of the lobby, three elevators reinforced an old school charm that challenged the recent reconstruction of the hotel.

‘Bzzz, click, bzzzz, click,’ the golden pointer on a half-moon dial slowly moved up the numbers as the elevator crawled to the 5th floor. Turndown service had already drawn the curtains in our room and placed napkins and slippers next to the bed. In October 1907, the German Emperor himself opened one of the finest hotels in the world at the time and apparently paid an annual fee for permanent access to its luxurious rooms. Aristocrats followed in droves. Draughty winter palaces were sold to reside in a heated Adlon luxury suite with private bathroom, running water, a cooling system, electricity and, still a novelty at the time, elevators. Berlin finally had its own place for statesmen, tycoons, diplomats and private citizens with money to meet.

In 1997, the Adlon was reopened by Federal President Roman Herzog. The new hotel is not an identical reconstruction but was inspired by historicizing influence of the former Adlon. The latter, in the intervening years, bore witness to the fall of the German Empire, a short-lived Weimar Republic and Soviet occupation of East Berlin, including the borough of Mitte where the Adlon is situated. In between, World Wars I and II raged around its walls, literally on its doorstep, as this country committed some of humanity’s worst crimes.

The German Empire looked more kindly upon this establishment than many decades that followed. After its downfall in 1918, Lorenz Adlon for one had difficulty adjusting to Germany’s brief attempt at parliamentary democracy. He was hit by a car on Pariser Platz, just outside his hotel, twice, unwilling to accept that the middle arch of Brandenburg Gate was no longer reserved for the Emperor but a busy road. He died in the second collision in 1921.

His son, Louis Adlon, took over just as Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dierich and Greta Garbo succeeded emperors, kings and the Russian Czar in the hotel foyer. He carried on this vision of a meeting place that welcomed diversity, multiculturalism and difference. A cosmopolitan and tolerant view of the world that was blatantly at odds with the racist doctrine of the totalitarian Nazi regime that seized power in 1933.

Where once a bust of Wilhelm II stood in the hotel lobby, there was one of Hitler then and eventually, in 1940, Louis Adlon and his wife Hedda joined the NSDAP (National Socialist German Workers’ Party). In hindsight, I as many others are quick to judge passive followers of the Nazi regime, pointing out that everyone has that choice. Our principles and knowledge of the horrific crimes committed won’t allow excuses. But in real life unfortunately that choice was often denied by the necessity to survive. Louis Adlon most certainly wouldn’t have stood a chance running his hotel had he not joined the Nazi Party. 

Which makes me fear, that the anonymous crowd of halfhearted supporters wouldn’t be any smaller today.

When Hotel Kaiserhof, official Nazi quarters, was damaged during an air raid by British bombers in 1943, the Adlon was virtually annexed by the dreaded brown uniforms. As Germany declared war on one country after another and finally the United States, the number of international guests, needless to say, dwindled. Germany surrendered early May 1945 and for reasons still unknown and not a casualty of war, the legendary ‘grand hotel’ burned down after Russian troops allegedly raided its wine cellar.

Maybe Louis Adlon’s death after interrogation by the Russians was a sign of the pathetic existence his hotel was yet to endure on desolate wasteland turned no man’s land by the random, painful division of one city in two with demolition it’s only eventual relief from misery. Hotel Adlon Kempinski, which was rebuilt after the downfall of the DDR (or GDR, German Democratic Republic), and, reopened in 1997, is purportedly every bit as grand as the original. I can be no judge of that but was in awe of this building. Old or new, it reflects the tumultuous history of an entire nation so well, a whirlwind of events dominating the world stage the way no decades in recent history have.

One night, we fell for the voice of Andrea Bocelli at his Waldbühne open-air concert on the Olympic Park grounds west of the city center. The next, sipping an after dinner drink, I admired the elephant fountain, a gift from the maharajah of Patiala around 1930. This magnificent centerpiece of the Adlon lobby reached for a classicistic glass cupola, framed by a mosaic of translucent blue and yellow glass, well above our heads.

The pianist’s unobtrusive melody, hushing the whispering voices and occasional laughter was a far cry from Bocelli’s talent but created a lovely, soothing atmosphere anyway. As did the opulent chandelier of Murano glass that bathed this place of elegance in a warm golden light. ‘The bar lacks a Vodka Martini shaking bartender, James Bond style,’ I thought, tilting my head back against the bluish, gold embroidered velvet of the bergère. But that would be my only recommended improvement.

I liked this hotel in every way. The service was impeccable but the sophisticated old world charm and grandeur of bygone times truly touched me. There was simply no way knowing what these walls will have witnessed a hundred years from now.