Took a trip to the abandoned Russian weapon storage site deep in the woods in Brandenburg. It was one of those serenely clear and sunny days, and with the birds chirping and young birches swaying, it could hardly have been any more peaceful.
The site had long turned into a ruin: Think layers of paint cracked off the walls, revealing a layer of graying newspapers below. The buildings smelled of mold and humidity, but were otherwise empty.
Very hard to picture that this place had once hosted Soviet soldiers alongside of nuclear warheads. And while I realize the very real nature of the Cold War, it is sometimes hard to fathom the absurdity of this compound in the middle of nowhere, where soldiers once walked past a brightly colored wall of ideological symbols, kept themselves in shape in sporting facilities with the Olympic rings painted on the walls and feared war while they read their Russian papers about the Mexican World Cup of 86.