In the heart of Berlin, a serpentine structure unfurls, affectionately nicknamed the Bundesschlange. The Bundesschlange, or “Federal Snake,” earned its moniker from its winding form. It stretches along Joachim-Karnatz-Allee, rising from five to eight stories, a unique landmark on the Moabiter Werder. Built in the late 1990s, the Bundesschlange was initially intended to house civil servants relocating from Bonn. Its 712 apartments, ranging from single apartments to penthouses with Spree River views, quickly became a subject of debate. Some mocked them as “civil servant closets”, criticizing the lack of balconies and the unusual, slanted windows. However, for residents like Dr. Martin Schenkel, the Bundesschlange offered a different perspective. He found an oasis of tranquility, appreciating the proximity to Tiergarten and the vibrant cultural scene. The Bundesschlange’s architecture, while perhaps not the most efficient in terms of space utilization, seamlessly integrates with the landscape. Its serpentine design cleverly shields residents from the noise of the nearby railway while opening up towards the Spree and Tiergarten. This duality is reflected in its facade. A fortress-like, perforated facade faces the railway, while continuous bands of windows, almost 500 meters long, embrace the green spaces on the opposite side. Despite the Bundesschlange’s prime location and architectural charm, life within its walls presents challenges. The thin walls mean every cough from a neighbor is audible. Damp cellars and mold, due to the proximity to the Spree and rising groundwater, are recurring issues. Dealing with repairs can feel like “David versus Goliath,” as residents often face lengthy battles with Vonovia, the property management company. While the rent increases arrive reliably, basic amenities are lacking. The nearest supermarket is a long walk away. The promised shops and cafes along the railway embankment never materialized, leaving a sense of desolation in the evenings. The Bundesschlange’s story is one of contrasts. It’s a story of architectural ingenuity and peaceful green spaces, yet also of frustrating maintenance issues and unfulfilled promises. It’s a microcosm of Berlin itself, constantly evolving, full of contradictions, but always captivating.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to