Berlin in Two Days: Startups, Stories, and Silent Monuments.

There are cities you visit because they’re on your bucket list, and then there are cities that call to something deep within you. For me, Berlin was the latter. I arrived not with a map of tourist sites, but with a curious heart and an open mind and what unfolded in those two days was nothing short of profound.

Day 1: From Tech Dreams to City Streets.

My Berlin journey began with a visit to Nelly, a leading fintech startup that’s quickly making waves across Germany and Europe. I spent the day at their vibrant office, immersed in passionate conversations with the team and their visionary CEO, Niklas. Talking with Niklas felt like lighting a match in a dark room the excitement, the ambition, the raw hunger to build something meaningful. That fire I carry for startups and tech was reignited. It reminded me why I began dreaming in the first place.

Berlin, as I was beginning to learn, isn’t just a city of memories. It’s a city of movement. Of reinvention.

Day 2: Walking Through History.

My second day began with the Brandenburg Gate standing tall and quiet in the morning light. I had a light breakfast at a cozy little café just outside the historic Adlon Hotel coffee, warm bread, and people-watching. Locals zipped by on bikes, artists began setting up near the square, and the hum of Berlin came alive.

From there, I walked to Potsdamer Platz, where the modern architecture practically sings of Berlin’s rebirth. Glass towers reflected the sky, but beneath the surface, the square still whispers stories of division and determination. My footsteps eventually carried me to the Topography of Terror, an outdoor museum that stands on the site of the former Gestapo and SS headquarters. No matter how many history books you’ve read, nothing prepares you for the heaviness of that place.

Each display, each black-and-white photo, spoke of a past so dark it seemed impossible. Yet, here I was, walking freely, reflecting on how far this city and the world have come. It wasn’t a tourist attraction. It was a reckoning.

Next was the Berlin Wall Memorial, a solemn reminder of the decades-long division between East and West. Standing there, imagining families torn apart and the resilience it took to heal afterward it stirred something deeply human in me.

Lunch was a quiet pause at a nearby McDonald’s, of all places, overlooking Checkpoint Charlie. The irony wasn’t lost on me global fast food in the shadow of one of the Cold War’s most symbolic crossings.

Later that afternoon, I visited the Holocaust Memorial, a maze of gray concrete slabs stretching solemnly across the landscape. As I walked through them, I felt the weight of absence. The underground museum beneath the memorial took me even deeper into the lives lost. Stories of children, families, love, loss it was overwhelming. And necessary.

From there, I made my way to the Bundestag, Germany’s parliament building. Its glass dome gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol of transparency and democratic ideals. It was beautiful quiet, yet strong.

Not far off, I stumbled upon a historic church, where I learned that Berlin began its expansion outward from that very site. Something about that fact grounded me. To be standing at the literal origin of this vast city was humbling.

Then came the breathtaking Berlin Cathedral (Berlin Dom). No words could prepare me for the view from its dome. The city unfolded in all directions modern bridges, centuries-old churches, and trees blooming with early summer. I stood there for a while, letting the wind cool my thoughts.

Museum Island and a Conversation to Remember.

The walk through Museum Island was gentle and contemplative. The architecture stood still, like a museum in itself. That afternoon, I met up again with Niklas for lunch. Our earlier startup talk had evolved into a conversation about life, dreams, risk, and the importance of failing forward. It was more than just networking it was the kind of connection that fuels your sense of purpose.

A Theatrical Surprise.

Just when I thought the day had offered everything, I received a message from an old friend a dear friend I hadn’t seen in years. She invited me to a local play that evening, something I hadn’t planned at all. I said yes immediately.

We met, hugged like no time had passed, and made our way to the small but vibrant theatre. The play, directed by a French director from Paris, was performed in English and filled with wit, emotion, and sharp social commentary. The dialogue was crisp, the actors magnetic. I found myself laughing, thinking, even tearing up a little. It was unexpected, and maybe that’s why it meant so much. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the feeling of being moved by live performance.

The City That Stays With You.

As I walked back that night, the streets glowed beneath yellow lamps, and Berlin’s heartbeat felt slower, more reflective. In just two days, I had seen more than I expected of the city, of its history, and of myself.

Berlin was a dream come true, one I hadn’t expected to experience so soon. It was intense and expansive, impossible to compress into a mere itinerary. It left me with questions, insights, and above all, the certainty that this won’t be my last time here.

I will return. And when I do, I’ll walk slower, listen more deeply, and explore the spaces I didn’t get to touch. Because Berlin is not just a place you visit. It’s a place that visits you through its past, its people, and its unrelenting push toward the future.

See you on the next one,

Fred Agaba