berlin - day 1

Here beginith my wild and adventurous journey with my trusty side-kick, Maggie*. Listen to our exploits as we travel through the heart of darkness known as Berlin. Within these digital pages you, dear reader, shall come to know of fear, love, loss, bratwurst, mystery and excitement of which you shall unfortunately never experience. Read on….

Alright, probably not, or at least not as dramatic as I just made it sound. But as you’re here (since I have probably e-mailed you and demanded you read this), you might as well get on with it.

*she’s not really my sidekick, but me travel buddy. If I don’t clear that up she may very well hurt me next time we meet.

The start of the trip started like many others, went to the airport after picking up Maggie. We waved our thanks and farewells to me Moo-Ma for the lift (pathetically I still can’t drive). There was the standard several hours of mind-numbing waiting, the always fun security check where I get routinely groin patted due to my height. This seems to happen to a lot of my midget family; maybe most coke-mules are ‘vertically challenged’.

Anyway, airport inner-sanctum; perfume, alcohol, tobacco and tobler-fucking-one (I’ve ranted about that before, so I’ll leave it there). Got to the boarding gate for our Ryan Air flight to schonfeld flughafen, an airport south east of Berlin. Ah, Ryan Air, the only flight company that can make you vomit before you’ve even taken off. I never thought it would be possible to make flying look gaudy, but they managed it, impressively so. Luminous yellow headrests, faux-leather plasticy seats, that easy to wipe type stuff, which is understandable considering the decor. Plus, Ryan Air, it’s not the safest airline, which we found out when the captain told us that we had to keep the rear six and front eight rows of seats empty because there was a ‘balance problem’. Oh dear….

The air-hostesses and air-hisseses all seemed remarkably slick and groomed, manicured, glossed, not hair out of place. In essence they were the décor of the plane in human form. In fact, they all had the look about them of ex-escorts and ex-porn stars. I made a passing comment at Maggie that I had defiantly seen one of the women in Soho Angels 4, which got me a jab and a dirty look. I kept my mouth shut after that.

The flight was thankfully short since if you needed to feed or water yourself you had to bring your mortgage papers with you. We got to schonfeld flughafen at about 9:30 AM, with just a short security check and wander through the guts of the ‘port. We spent a good fifteen minutes working out how to get into the city, and what the bloody hell you’re supposed to do with the travel tickets you buy. Fortunately most of the population are friendly sorts (even if they are quite unhappy looking). A woman at the info desk explained how our ‘welcome pass’ worked and of several decent hostels to check out. So we walked down to the S-Bahn (the Berlin equivalent of DLR) and travelled up to the central street in Berlin, FriedRichStrasse (I think that’s how it’s spelt).

I suppose along with excruciating detail about how exactly we got from point A to B I should make a few comments about the city itself. Since Schonfeld Flughafen is in the south east of the city on the outskirts we travelled through a fair amount of the city. When the wall was still up the East side was dominated by the Soviets, the west divided between the Allies (English, French and Americans). As you can imagine the Russkies were a tad pissed off with Germany attacking and invading their country some years before, so the east side was not the place to be. At the start of the division most of the intellectuals fled to the Allied sector, teachers, nurses, architects etc. leaving the proles behind. The Soviets knew they couldn’t develop their part of Berlin if all the brains buggered off, so up went the wall. Suffice to say the East fell into disarray. A lack of control over basic infrastructure and the implementation of a communistic form of government certainly didn’t help. From what Maggie and me saw there hasn’t been much improvement since the unification of Germany, although the outsourcing of jobs in the last few years certainly hasn’t helped the unemployment rate and wealth gap. For about ten to fifteen minutes of our trip we passed dilapidated factories and buildings. Half ripped down and smeared top to bottom with graffiti, most of it just graffiti for the sake of it, some of them quite political. The ground looked barren and unsustainable, more than likely due to the great swaths of chemicals and smoke that used to burp out of the now savaged factories. Luckily we kept going onwards.

After 45 minutes on the rather clean and surprisingly comfy train we hit the city centre. After leaving FriedRichStrasse’s S-Bahn we noticed two things 1) There was no ticket barrier to prevent anybody jumping on a train and sailing around the city for free. 2) Coming out the station reminded us of London Bridge. And thus, since it’s easier and faster to write LDN Bridge, that’s what I’m calling FriedRichStrasse for the rest of this trip.

We walked down LDN Bridge road, discovering that nearly all the sites of Berlin can be found in one very small square area. Reichstag and Brandenburg on the right, Checkpoint Charlie just down the road. We were looking for a hostel called 3 Little Pigs, which was suggested by the flughafen info point lady, and which looked a hell of a lot closer to LDN Bridge on the map. We found three hotels on the way down, all next to each other (and weirdly all owned by the same company). We checked out two but left rather quickly once we found out the price for a night, I was half expecting a fore-lock tugging butler to whack us with a broom on the way to the exit.

Eventually the 3 Little Pigs was found, which brought us much joy, or at least it did for one night. They only had a double bedroom available for that day only, which meant hitching up and moving on the following morning. But we decided, sod it, might as well secure the first night and do a search for any other available places. They did have space in the massive 6 or 8 bed forms, but me and Maggie decided that would just be uncomfortable. Besides which we needed some isolated respite at the end of each day.

We hiked up the four flights of stairs to our lodgings for the night. It wasn’t bad I must say. Clean, quite large and two separate singles. We had a quick scan through all the maps we had acquired at the flughafen, and decided to find a place called BaxPax in Mitte, the centre of Berlin, but lunch first. At the station next to our lodgings (Anhalter station from memory) there was a little café/restaurant place that served good old German food.

The posters inside sold it for me though, a mounted shot of James Dean on one and Casablanca on another. That’ll do! We sat down and got greeted by a very frightening looking waitress. She had the look of Vigo the Carpathian about her, ‘You are like the buzzing of flies to her’. Anyone get that reference? No? Bugger you then. We ordered a potato and sausage soup apiece and I spied mulled wine on the menu. For our first meal it was delicious, a bit heavy on the salt (even the bread they served was salted), but for the price it all came to I wasn’t going to complain.

Following our coronary lunch we experienced what was probably the most stressful part of our trip, trying to find a hostel with room for two nights. According to most of the places we tried in, Berlin was simply packed with travellers. Which me and Maggie worked out as being an extra 100 people in the whole of Berlin. We hopped on the Anhalter S-Bahn to head towards LDN to get a connecting train, but not before getting stuck in a tunnel. We should of realised that the train wasn't going the rest of the way when every other person got off at Potsdamer Platz and gave us curious glances as we happily stayed seated. The trained pulled off, then stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and it didn't like it was going to move for quite a while. Maggie started getting a bit panicky, worried we may be stuck there for a long time. I made a passing comment about 'Creep', a vicious murder film based in the London tubes, which wasn't well received. Finally the train started moving, back towards Potsdamer Platz. We weren't any chances again and got off. Eventually we made it to LDN Bridge via the S-Bahn, then took another train to a place called Hackscher Markt. The place was surrounded by construction work so we got a bit lost, plus my map reading is equivalent to a married woman trying to find a friends party while the husband’s driving.

A local saw us wandering about and tried to help, directing us to a hostel just round the corner. It wasn’t the BaxPax, but it was still a hostel. It was a place called CityStay, and it was a rather nice looking pad. We enquired about rooms but yet again they only had a place for one night and that was it. We told the woman we may be back later on that day. We found BaxPax, no joy at all there. Several others were also checked out, but again and again we were told there was no room at the inn. It was nearing 3 or 4 PM now so we decided on City Stay for the single night. So we went back by train to Hackscher Markt (we got through so many fucking trains and stations that day).

The same woman greeted us and sorted out the room. We thanked her and went off to start our sight-seeing. Luckily I was just outside lighting up because she ran out to us apologising like mad. Apparently the bloke next to her had pushed enter at the damn near exact same time, although he was just a smidgen faster, meaning we lost the room. To make up for something that wasn’t actually her fault, but that bastard Murphy’s, she rang up another Hostel. Praise Allah, they had a place for the night. They withheld it for us until 2PM the next day, when they would open it up again, meaning no dicking about in the morning. We thanked her for all the help and finally started our sightseeing.

First stop, the Brandenburg gate, made famous from all the marches and parades held around there in the time of the 3rd Reich. It wasn’t as big as we expected, but it was still impressive, even with the construction work for a new U-Bahn (Berlin underground) in front of it. We got many a picture since the weather was crap and my camera is somewhat knackered from all the nights out in China the year before. Then straight through the gate is the Reichstag, the German hall of power. It’s not as big as the houses of parliament, but it’s certainly got a sense of grandeur and strength, plus the glass dome on top is fucking cool!

Built by a British architect it’s got a modern look that doesn’t subtract from the original design of the Reichstag. I always enjoyed the fact that a Brit architect designed the dome, never ever in a million years would our halls of power let some *spit* German put anything on top of ours. So deep do our old prejudices sit. We stood in the continental queue (by which I mean thronging mass) that leads into the building and ultimately, the dome itself. I managed to get away with calling a French bloke in front of me a cunt for sitting on the Reichstag pillars, and even with shouting out bollocks inside the building when I dropped all my money over the floor.

The view from the dome itself wasn’t that great, but that was because of the brooding storm clouds and weak light straining to shine through. We tried to make out the other sights from there, but to no avail. The look of the dome itself is very much disorientating. Angled mirrors on the central pillars means you’re normally looking at yourself suspended in the air, or of people below you. The walkways winding up and around the dome means there’s a seemingly constant stream of people going two different directions at the same time. There was certainly a lot of planning put into the dome, for the purpose of giving you a massive head-fuck.

After leaving the dome (where I sadly didn’t get to swear for any legit reason) we had a bit of a sit down on a bench to decide what next. Maggie wanted to head towards the ‘chick on a stick’, what the locals affectionately call the pillar of Queen Victoria that stands in the centre Berlin’s largest park, ‘Tiergarten’. So instead of walking the mile long road in the pissing rain we got a rickshaw instead. I haven’t been on a rickshaw since I was in china, and those were stolen bikes with seats welded on to the back (where most of the welding’s done out the back of a friends restaurant). But this was much more comfortable, we even got a little blanket to cover up legs up, OAP style. After nearly getting us run down on a main road, our driver took us some odd route through the park, past the Russian monument (replete with mounted tanks) and past lots and lots of manky looking trees. Not to mention several ‘walkers’ who cheered us on and called out for a free lift.

We got to the ‘chick’ with everything still where it should be, and our friendly rickshaw man even offered to take a few snaps of us. My first thought was that he was going to take the cameras and cycle away, albeit quite slowly. Although I realised that it would be one mean feat since we were still sat in the back of the rickshaw.

Once the snappy snaps were snapped he cycled off at a slightly quicker pace then before, since my arse was no longer tilting the bike. Once he was out of sight me and Maggie realised, oh, there’s nothing else here. We’d been lumbered in the middle of a round-about, the nearest U or S Bahn being a good fifteen minute walk away. So I hoisted our already worn map from my back-pocket and worked out which route would be best to take.

The next fifteen minutes was undoubtedly our most depressing moment in Berlin. Trapped in the wind and rain, the clouds fattened and ominous, walking down empty streets, the sound of church bells reverberating around us with a monotonous peel. We were freezing, wet and knackered. But once we found the U-Bahn the ennui lifted. We got back to Anhalter station and wandered back to the hostel, but not before checking out what looked like a partially destroyed church. It was made from yellow brick and had a very holy feel to it. Then we read the plaque attached to it, and my dear readers it couldn’t be less than holy. Turns out it was an old rail line to send the Jewish population up to Auschwitz.

After an hour or so of rest in the room we planned where to go to eat din dins. There was a place called Potsdamer Platz which seemed to be a hip and happening place and not too far away. Half an hour later we were there, in the platz (which we worked out must mean square in German) of Potsdamer, surrounded by big funky angular buildings, a piece of the Berlin wall, mounted and newly graffitied on. Not to mention a weird tent shaped object just behind some of the buildings. Turns out we managed to stumble onto the famous Sony Centre. A place my Berliner friend described as very cool and modern, where lots of events occur, and what my best bud detailed as ‘a small tent where they show off Sony TV’s’. I think the former was closer then the latter.

The Sony Centre is essentially a ring of buildings with this glass and canvas tent thing seemingly plopped on top as an afterthought. The inside was great though, for one thing we weren’t getting soaked anymore (several hours before this the bloated clouds had finally succumbed and ripped open), plus the internal architecture was very modern; glass walls, strip lighting and yet, you still felt like you’re outside. We found some Australian themed restaurant to eat in. True we were supposed to be eating German, but we were shagged and fagged by this point, and the prices inside looked pretty reasonable. After eating we couldn’t see anything else around and by this point I had been up for 36 hours since I left for Berlin straight after work, I was fucked.

Back to 3 Little Pigs, up the four flights to the bedroom, realised I needed to rent a towel because I foolishly forgot to bring one, back down the stairs, one Euro to rent, four flights back up, defiantly needing a shower by this point. Went down to the communal bathroom, had a well needed shower, then retired to bed. All in all one hectic first day in Berlin.

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