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He frequently visited eastern Berlin to buy cheap books. "We queued for an hour to obtain a visa and then passed through. We went to bars and restaurants and left big tips for the waiters. We talked with the locals at watering holes. It was true they weren't free. Those who became more active could be spied on. There were very few cars on the roads. But they had jobs, cheap food, public transport and free healthcare," adds Lambros.

On 9 November 1989 he chose not to personally watch the tearing down of the wall. "As a lefty, I followed the events on TV. I wasn't enthusiastic about what was going on, but I appreciated it. The wall’s collapse reunited a nation, brought together families. It was a historical moment, but there were some scary consequences as well. The wall was a fence, and afterwards the world became a free-for-all," Lambros concludes.

Dimitris Kalaitzidis

I felt lucky that I experienced history

Dimitris Kalaitzidis visited eastern Berlin quite often. "It was quite an experience, I used to buy cheap books. I visited the theatre, the opera, the Pergamon Museum. People didn't go hungry, but commodities weren't abundant. East Berliners could obtain university education and the government found jobs for them."

On the day of the wall’s collapse, Kalaitzidis saw on television what was happening. He immediately went to the Brandenburg Gate, which was open. "We had some friends from Athens visiting, and when we saw what was going on, we went there. I felt happy I was experiencing a bit of history close-up, and in the future I could say: ‘I experienced that moment myself.’

Just like my grandparents who had experienced two world wars. We watched how people were chiselling away at the wall. This had been horrible: dividing one nation into two states. Over the following days people from East Berlin went over to West Berlin to do some shopping. They were given 100 marks each as a welcome. The eastern currency suddenly vanished – it was bought out by the capitalists," he says.

Nikos Athanasiadis

I took up a chisel and chipped off a piece

Nikos Athanasiadis arrived in Berlin in 1975 for his university studies. The Wall stretched out in front of him and sent shudders down his spine. "A little later I had no problem with it. I used to take my walks alongside it, it was a part of everyday life," he says and then adds: "I frequented East Berlin. Control was tight, one needed a daily visa to go in, and Western marks had to be traded for Eastern currency. This part, where I lived, was the shop window of the Western world, and the East was grey. There was a strong smell in the air from cleaning. People used to watch us, the differences were visible. Yet they were carefree: they didn't live in luxury, but they had security. They had their jobs, they had their homes, and didn't care so much if their lodgings were decorated or not. Indeed, they were missing the freedom of speech. They were not allowed to see the rest of the world. On the other hand though, the schools and the doctors were the positive elements in the system."

Today, Athanasiadis is a member of the Federation of Greek communities in Germany. On 9 November 1989 he followed the events on TV. Then he went out in the central street and couldn't believe his eyes. "East Berliners had flooded the streets, and neither side was fully aware that the borders were open. We experienced it as a daydream. We were watching the Trabants going around in the centre and all this looked so incredible. These were historic moments. The following few days, I grabbed a chisel myself and chipped off a piece of the wall."