Humanity 4, England 3, Germany 2. What will remain of us is love.

The Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, was opened in 1791 and has become a cipher of Berlin city pride and, by extension, of the German nation. Marched through by a conquering Napoleon and later, in 1933, by SS Storm troopers and later still by conquering Russians after some of the bloodiest and intimately brutal fighting of the 2^nd World War, it has been both a symbol of triumph and defeat. I was expecting something imposing, frightening, a stark demonstration of German national might and the symbol of an empire that would last a thousand years. Instead, with its soft yellow stone mellow in the March sunshine, surrounded by Hotels and restaurants, bars, Starbucks and milling tourists, it actually seems a lot smaller than I’d imagined and quite homely and inviting.

Chatting casually to an English guy and his American wife (now a UK citizen, after much effort and having to answer some silly questions, including one on Torvil and Dean, for God’s sake), I discover by accident that England are playing Germany in a friendly at the Olympic Stadium. Now that will be something to see, so I walk some 8 kilometres to the ground, eventually get a black market ticket, have a few beers and wait for the game. I’m a little on edge, as I sit in a bar which is crammed full of German supporters, keeping myself to myself, but people are very friendly, one group buying me a ‘special’ dark beer which is only available at limited outlets, apparently. I did watch it being poured, just in case! All good. My fears are allayed temporarily, but stirred again by the extensive police presence of blue and silver riot vans, windows protected by wire metal frames, some with barking police dogs. The police seem relaxed though, hanging around in groups, chatting with each other whilst casually watching passers-by with nonchalant languor in the warm early evening sun. It takes around 45 minutes to queue to get into the ground due to the security and it feels a bit disorganised, but I get to my seat in the German supporter’s end. The stadium is actually the same one where Jesse Owens won 4 Olympic gold medals in 1936, the first black man to do so, under the unamused gaze of Adolf Hitler. Fantastic to be in such an architecturally and historical important monument. I find myself next to 3 lads from Wolverhampton and two from Leeds. We cheer the team on and of course, we are 2 goals down in about 20 minutes. It could be another of those dire England performances! What transpires, however, against all the odds, is an extraordinary second half performance, including a brilliant side-step goal by Jeremy Vardy and within a few minutes of the end of extra time we are 2-3 up. Unbelievable and fair play to the German supporters who didn't react at all to the triumphant singing at the end! What a performance, what a game, what an atmosphere!

‘Against all the odds’ has a different but similar type of resonance after visiting an incredible exhibition at the Menschen Museum today by the anatomical artist Gunther von Hagens. The exhibition consists of plasticised bodies and body parts, or put simply, dead people, whose bodies have been donated to science and subjected to a 4-part process of dissection and embalming which takes around 1500 hours over the course of a year for each body. The captions of the displays describe how we work mechanically and how unlikely our being here, right now, really are, as the people we are. An ejaculation contains within it some 200 million to 500 million sperm. Only around two hundred reach the site of fertilisation, the fallopian tubes. Only one, sometimes, enters and fertilises an egg. If another sperm did so, that would produce a different person. The chances of us being here are slim. Simply to be, is an act of defiance, against all the odds.

The once alive bodies, partly stripped to reveal the delicate, complex interweaving of muscle and sinew, the fragile filigree of tendons and ligaments are in various poses, both funny and awful: ballerina, skate-boarder, archer and, most amazing of all, an entwined pair of lovers, perpetually frozen forever in an interlocking, almost desperate embrace. It reminds me of the Philip Larkin poem, ‘An Arundel Tomb’, where the hands on the effigies of a dead husband and wife gesture towards each other but never quite touch, in an ambiguous image of eternally frustrated, emotional and physical longing. The exhibition is poignant, touching and moving almost to the point of tears.

Leaving the exhibition, I’m confronted with the bustle of Alexanderplatz, full of people, who I now see as beautiful, diverse, complex, funny, intelligent anatomical structures. The terrorists who strive to destroy this beauty have no beauty in their souls. That, in part, may ultimately save us. To quote the last line of the Larkin poem, ‘What will remain of us is love’.

Hostels are useful for drying tents

Holi-Hotel Berlin. Described as a hostel, but absolutely fantastic!

Utilitarian East Berlin. I like it! Reminds me of Cavendish Square, in Swindon.

Berlin Cathedral

Errrr, name a gate beginning with 'B'. Think Hitler and rallies.

1930's Art-Deco Olympic Stadium

Come on England! Minute's silence for victims in Brussels.

Extraordinary. Is that what we are?

Ode on Vanity?

Skate Board Dude

Is this what love is? Is it both as much and as little as this?

Does it both join us and tear us apart?

Is that what will remain? I hope so.