"Berlin es la puta madre"

"Berlin es la puta madre," as written a collage in an art studio on the top floor of Kunsthaus Tacheles, in its literal translation is not how I actually feel about the city. However, from living in Spain I know that this rather off-putting phrase in fact encapsulates my love for Germany's capital city- quite ironically, in a Spanish phrase. In other words, Berlin is the bitch mother. Wait! What I mean is... Berlin is simply- the best.

Eddie and I set off for Berlin during the puente in early December. Puente literally translates to "bridge," and refers to when we get a few days off in a week, with one day in-between the days off, and"make the bridge" by taking off a day hence getting more vacation time. It's a pretty common thing to do here in Spain, believe it or not (Wait... Spaniards putting vacation above work? What!).

We arrived at the airport, breathed in the crisp (no, freezing) German air, and made our way to the Circus Hostel. Mind you, this was not a normal, run-of-the-mill hostel. Nay, I will attest to the Circus Hostel, located at Rosenthaler Platz not far from Alexander Platz, as sitting at the top of an impressive list of Berlin hostels. Neat decor, helpful and friendly staff, new and clean bathrooms with plenty of showers, comfortable bedding, bike rentals, and a bar downstairs complete with a shrine to "The Hoff" (he's a pretty big deal over there), a sarcastic but adorable bartender, Mario Kart, and most importantly boots of beer. Beyond all of that, I'd say Eddie and I were luckiest when it came to our roommates.

It's sort of a funny story, but maybe it's one of those "ya had to be there for." Room 213 had ten beds. Eddie and I were on a bunk- which managed to get us labeled as a couple pretty early on. Anyway, one of the nights when Eddie and I were taking it easy- probably because we had a city tour in the morning- two very large Dutchmen wander in at around one in the morning and make all sorts of ruckus. They're obviously plastered, and proceed to talk loudly about who knows what. The funny thing about Dutch is that, to me, it sounds like drunken English. So, the combination of them actually being drunk and fumbling around while speaking gobbly-gook English got me to thinking they were completely wasted. Well that, and the fact that the one on the top bunk started vomiting in his bed.

The whole room proceeded to wake up, the nice girls that were sleeping there requested to move rooms, and the rest of us just started giggling when we realized that the dude was not in fact, though it might have sounded like it, dying. His friend made sure of that- by standing up and shouting, "Dude! Get it together! Dude!," and quickly proceeding to fall back to sleep. Pretty effective, I'd say. He's alive.

I guess this isn't the best way to back up my claim that we had great roommates, but it's true. Despite... that "incident"... those two- now I'll refer to them by their names, Roderick and Joost (pronounced like "toast" with a "Y")- turned out to be pretty cool guys just looking to have fun like the rest of us. Berlin got the better of them that night, as it did to everyone at one point or another. For me it was the "das boot" night. C'est la vie.

Before we get to the juicy details of Berlin's nightlife, which is most notably known for its exclusive underground techno scene, Eddie and I partook in our fair share of honest day-time activities. To begin our trip, Eddie and I went on a walking tour of the city in which our energetic German-Australian guide took us to the obligatory tourist attractions. This includes but isn't limited to (being that a good chunk of time has passed since early December) the Brandenburg Gate, Potzdamer Platz, "Museum Island," part of the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, and Hitler's former hideout-turned-parking-lot (fitting).

For me one of the most impressive stops on the tour was the Holocaust Memorial. Architect Peter Eisenman's design for the monument takes up an entire city block in coveted land just near the Brandenburg Gate. An entire block full of cement rectangular blocks of varying heights and spacing. Sounds unimpressive, but the design is such that as you walk towards the center of the memorial the blocks gradually become higher and closer together, evoking an overwhelming sense of disorientation and confusion- which, I would assume, was the point. A really neat memorial to check out- and for me one of the most unique in its ability to evoke such strong emotions in an interactive setup. I got this feeling more than once, though, the second being actually visiting the Sachsenhausen concentration camp later in the week. Eerie stuff, people. Reminders of a grisly past.

We didn't see the Reichstag Building on the tour, but Eddie's dad set us up with an exclusive tour of the building later in the week.

Our tour guide was actually from Bonn, where my dad went to high school, and knew the "Crusaders" (the school's mascot). I would like to say we really hit it off after finding that connection, but no we aren't bff's.

If you're planning on going to Berlin in December, know this: It's more or less consistently freezing and gets dark before 4p.m. While this has the potential to be overwhelmingly depressing, Berlin has a pretty great remedy: Christmas markets with an endless supply of glühwein, pretzels and bratwurst. Glühwein, or spiced hot wine (sometimes with a dash of rum), is unbeatable in its ability to warm you up. Just thinking about wrapping my glove-covered hands over a little clay mug of glühwein; the steam thawing my nose and chin, makes me warm inside. All the twinkly lights, christmas trees and vendors selling all sorts of things- from traditional German wooden trinkets to candied nuts and licorice- put you right in that Christmas spirit.

You would think that a bike-ride, with the brisk Berlin air flowing in your face, wouldn't be a great idea in Winter. However, it was the best idea of the trip. In fact, I want to ride bikes in every city I visit from now on (as Michelle can testify in our planning for Portugal this month-- The hostel must rent bikes!). One day, Eddie and I rented two bikes from the front desk and were on our way to discover the hidden gems of Berlin. Well, after a quick pit-stop to our favorite bagel shop down the street. Okay, now we're on our way. First, we rode to the Brandenburg gate, Eddie stopped to take a picture with a "German soldier" (an Italian actor), and then rode on to frolic in Berlin's "Central Park," the Tiergarten. Unfortunately, coming back through the park in the dark (if you recall, this wouldn't have been that late) was reminiscent of a scene from a slasher film. Spooky lanterns line the gravel walkway through dark, indistinguishable expanses. Was that a man? I hope not. We rode fast.

By day we rode to Opa's old stomping grounds. My dad's family lived in Berlin for ten years, and I would have loved to explore the city with them. But, Eddie sufficed ;). In Opa's e-mail, he writes:

"My office was in Fasanenstrasse (#61), not far from the Kurfürstendamm, which was ideal. I hope you'll spend a lot of time on the Kurfürstendamm and in the general area. That's where the great shops are as well as good restaurants. (Want a REAL German meal? Try Hardke's on Meinekestrasse just off the Kurfürstendamm.) That was where we journalists used to meet a couple of times a week. In the same area try Die Schildkröte and the Paris Bar. I miss those places."

We went to #61 Fasanenstrasse, now home to a jewelry store, and explored the surrounding area. Unfortunately, Hardtke's doesn't exist anymore. Less

unfortunate was that a "Currywurst" restaurant was in it's stead. I myself had never heard of currywurst, which was all the rage in Berlin. I of course come home to find that Derick, my dad and Opa are all currywurst fiends. Why was I not informed? In any event, bratwurst with ketchup and curry sprinkled on top is pretty great. You should try it.

To wrap up our night (well, still technically day), Eddie and I attempted to have a night of artistic reflection and appreciation. Naturally, this led us to "Museum Island."

Out of the nearly 200 museums and galleries in Berlin, we figured the oldest museum- the Altes- was a safe bet. However, this only got us stuck viewing room after room of ancient Greek and Roman statues. After being in Italy, I've had my fair share of limestone, armless busts of ancient Romans, and wasn't particularly eager to see more in Berlin, Germany. However, there's something to be said about the room chock-full of artifacts with phallic imagery. Those Romans were... to put it concisely, perverted. Made for more than a few inappropriate giggles, though.

Continuing our artistic journey, the following day we went to a more vibrant artistic scene more reflective of Berlin's rich culture. Kunsthaus Tacheles is an art center in a run-down, grafitti-covered building that at first... breath... smells strongly of human urine. Sounds intriguing, no?

However, walk past the odor upstairs and you'll find a number of art studios with artists working and selling their art. Some of it completely went past my head, but others I found really impressive. For example, there was one young man that had a room-full of various collages for purchase. His collages usually had some sort of reference Berlin and its distinct culture, often with something a little shocking to capture the viewer's attention (points to the title of this post). It's that art, the art that isn't your ordinary "museum" art, that I really loved seeing.

Berlin's Graffiti is endless, and good: "Movement for Hope"

That's about it for the day-time festivities. Let's move on to night. The first night Eddie and I arrived, we were rearing to try some German food.

That led us on a wild goose-chase to find a restaurant that was recommended to us. It was worth the hassle for the delicious, traditional German meal: Bratwurst, sauerkraut with mashed potatoes, blaukraut (red cabbage). Oh, and don't forget the beer. A big, cold Dunkel beer (Dark beer). Heaven! Then we went to a German beer-hall and drank a few while watching older German couples dance and be merry. Is this real life?

Fast forward to a few nights later, and I was onto more advanced stuff. Two words: Das Boot. Let this go on the record that not only did I finish that sucker, but I beat Eddie. We had the only two glass boots left unbroken in the Circus Hostel bar, and were determined to do them justice. I can say now that I wasn't expecting... that. much. beer. But perseverance overcame fear, and I finished the boot. Because of said perseverance, however, I really couldn't tell you much more about that night other than that we went to a bar called "White Trash" which, to me, rather resemble the Shire (*inside joke meant for... anyone who was there that night).

The next night, Eddie and I graduated from "White Trash" to "Suicide Circus." This is not a joke. Suicide Circus is the name of an underground techno club in Berlin, and only now am I suspicious that Berlin has a thing for circuses. Word from the wise: Finding underground clubs in Berlin ain't easy, oh- and don't dress too nicely. Eddie, Roderick, Joost, Keiran two Irish people (Names, anyone? Wait! Connor?), and I scoured the streets of Berlin for anything resembling an industrial building that could be a club. We were turned away (thank God) from one such club because it was "goth" night. Then we found ourselves in what I'm pretty sure was a gay bar. And only after wandering around what looked like an abandoned industrial park did we make it to... dun dun dunnn... Suicide Circus (which I'm told is the most famous underground club in Berlin?). Fog machines (wait, or was that just smoke), strobe lights, hardcore techno beats and just about everyone looking like they're on... something... and Suicide Circus lived up to it's name.

A few nights before, Eddie and I had asked the girl at the front desk what time clubs in Berlin closed. Her response: 8am. Okay, we think, not bad... 8am on Sunday. But no, she meant 8am Monday. Berlin clubs stay open all weekend long. I mean, you can go to a club at 12pm on Sunday if you wanted. Eddie and I were like fish-outta-water.

Well, Eddie and I didn't really have the option of dancing all day, all night (song reference). Did I mention that we had to catch a bus to the airport at 6am? And that we were at Suicide Circus until... say, 5am, until we realized we should probably scoot out of there? Well, we might not have been super intelligent travelers that night- but we were determined to make the most of our last night in the greatest city ever. And I stand by our decision!

You'll have to ask Eddie if he does, though, because he fell asleep and missed the flight from Berlin to Frankfurt. And, wait for it... he was sleeping at the gate when he missed it. Now, I realize this can easily reflect poorly on me as the traveling companion, but cut me some slack- I was completely out of it, and woke that kid up twice before boarding and immediately conking out.

A good story to end a trip full of great ones. Room 213 for life!

Sail away, sail away sail away...