Swimming in the outdoor pool: Weißensee lido: In the end the coot wins

A rose bush dabs the garden gate with delicate pink flowers. Goldenrod and sweet peas grow rampant on the fence, and berries and tomatoes shine in the beds. We eat strawberry cake, shaded by plate-sized vine leaves. Berlin-Heinersdorf, mid-July. I visit my girlfriend in the newly leased garden. As the evening bell rings, we walk through allotment gardens to the cemetery, park clinic and Weißensee. Get to the “sea bridge”, which is run by a male and a female Sculpture is flanked, each half human, half dolphin. A fountain bubbles in the lake.

The Beach resort is located on the eastern bank, where hunters and fishermen founded the village of Weißensee centuries ago. There was a castle, a brewery and a people’s house by the lake here. What remains are the open-air stage, animal enclosures and the more than 100-year-old lido on wooden piles, filled with Baltic Sea sand in 1980.

Above water

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Anne Hahn is an author of novels and non-fiction books and swims the waters of the world for “nd”.

Late swimmers pay five euros and we enter the terrace with wristbands. Parasols, sand and deck chairs. Wide stairs lead down a few steps into the water. The bottom is slippery, the water cool and dark. From here the fountain seems huge and very far away. A stand-up paddleboarder, a grebe and five swans cavort on the water, opposite is the “Parkgaststätte Milchhäuschen” – a low-rise building with a glass facade that was built in 1966 by the city district architect Ludmilla Herzenstein was designed.

The Weißensee, which is up to ten meters deep, is considered the most dangerous in the city. My friend says that four people drowned here again last year. Maybe they wanted to reach the fountain and couldn’t? In general, most people misjudge when swimming in lakes and rivers.

People on the terrace read, sunbathe, drink cocktails and talk to each other in many European languages. I cross the well-stocked canvas area. Backstroke is difficult because of the risk of collision, breaststroke is scary in dark water. I stare through the goggles and see nothing. Then it’s better to crawl, that’s better. Since one of us forgot our swimsuit, we share one. By the time my friend takes her laps, it is already so late that the bathing area is gradually emptying.

We watch from a bar table on the stairs as the children climb into the water for the last hundredth time. Clouds are gathering, the tram rumbles past the park like a thunderstorm, a queue forms in front of the bar. The payment and delivery process, including ordering chaos, reminds my friend of Müggelsee in 1987, she says when she finally returns with two Aperol Spritz. We watch the sunset over the lake. The paddler has disappeared, a young coot is playing catch with the children, clouds of joints are blowing in from the park. The fountain goes out, a tattooed giant collects the parasols like sticks and leads them around the bathing area. The coot crosses victorious in front of the steps. “I prefer to swim out in the dark,” says my friend. “Then you can see the starry sky over Berlin.”

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