Scene in Berlin

Each city is its own ecosystem. A different pulse seems to run through each concrete conglomerate, ticking to its own beat. And while there is no scientific unit for measuring the personality of a city, we can definitely sense its character after strolling through its streets, dipping into its shops, glancing at its architecture, or musing over its historical significance.

And for anybody who has been to Berlin, the character is obvious, though it might wear different hats depending on who you're talking to: the lost hopeful, the problem child, the poor bohemian, the rogue bureaucrat.

In Berlin, most Bezirke (districts) have museums that attempt to sum up a sense of identity for the surrounding community. Kreuzberg, the demonstrator; Prenzlauer Berg, the cultural entrepreneur; Marzahn, the wise older sister. But they function as a kind of memory vault, too, combining both permanent and temporary exhibits that offer locals and tourists a glimpse at the neighborhood's history, together with topical issues that effect the development of each region, like industry and immigration.

The history of everyday life

It's been said that if you haven't been inside the Kreuzberg Museum, you aren't a real Kreuzberger. In a typical factory building off of Kottbusser Tor, the district museum Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg merged two collections in 2004 to offer monthly exhibitions that define a new type of museum - the history of everyday life.

Photographs by Jonas Beck of Kreuzberg's May Day protests offer impressions of the ever-recurring interplay between protesters, police and press. Snaking through the museum's permanent exhibition room is an extensive 3D model of all the buildings in the Kottbusser Tor area.

Through slides, photographs and other memorabilia, one can see how Kreuzberg became a political hotspot for radicals and alternative living, and how this identity continues to fade in the face of gentrification.

It leaves me wondering at which point the Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg museum will have to update its archive to reflect the newer version of the two regions - one which incorporates the Mediaspree urban investment project, the thirsty ex-pats, and rising market value of real estate?

Grouping the histories of both Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain, a great portion of the museum's archive tells the tales of the demonstrations and demolitions that divided its residents and brought them together again, weaving historical experiences, lifestyles, and the coexistence of cultures. Portraits of Turkish families furnish the walls of a simulated Kreuzberg living room.

On the third floor, German photographer Claudia Wiens is currently exhibiting her collection "Shoe size 37," an ode the women soccer players of Egypt, Turkey, Palestine and Berlin. (Eds: Click on the link below for a look at the exhibition.) Regardless of discrimination, nationality, religion, sexual orientation and social status, Wiens captures the right of women everywhere to play, just in time for the recent FIFA Women's World Cup.

In the 'hood

As a sprawling urban beast, Berlin is home to approximately 20 smaller locales - 'unofficial' Kiez, or groupings of streets. These days, Kiez essentially means 'hood. Yet the word Kiez actually derives from the Middle Ages, during the eastward expansion of German settlers into Slavonic territories. Slavic in origin, chyza, meaning hut or house, once referred to a settlement close to a German town.

Riding south out of Kreuzberg, you can pass through several Kiez as they morph from Reuter to Schiller, Körner and Rixdorf, until you reach the Museum Neukölln, featuring a permanent collection called "99 x Neukölln."

Like an anthropologist mining for cultural artifacts, visitors can inspect 99 original objects from the district. A jar of honey from the pastor of Neukölln's Moravian Church, a street sign from the 47 tram line and a post-war era slot machine have all been isolated for inspection.

Three things in my life

The temporary exhibit, "Three Things in My Life," at the Museum Neukölln offers groupings of three personal objects that were humbly selected by residents of Neukölln. Under one glass case I find a Monopoly game board, a Mickey Mouse book and running shoes. Other cases include random objects with no narratives, links or clues. A seashell, a teapot, a slide projector, a stuffed teddy bear, an AC/DC record: so relatable that they need no explanation.

I stare at the tiny objects and try to imagine which three things I would have submitted. Though I can't claim to be a long-time Berliner, I have no doubt that at least one-third of my contribution would be something precious from my current life in Kreuzberg - maybe the furniture or knick knacks I found left on the streets for passersby, or the cheap summer dresses I bought from the Turkish market, or the first book in German I ever received, "Irishes Tagebuch" by Heinrich Böll.

Break a metropolis down into its smaller parts and you will sense an attitude that speaks differently to each of us - and it changes from intersection to intersection. As Berlin continues to shift and reinvent its pieced identity, local museums help preserve a sense of origin in the most colorful and idiosyncratic ways, helping to reflect and restore the age and the attitude of the streets.

Author: Melanie Sevcenko

Editor: Kate Bowen