Tuesday

Oh gawd, it’s so fricking early! And cold! And I feel that I am late already which is bullshit but I have a little paranoia of missing my flight. And Esther just got up and went into the bathroom.

Said my goodbye to Esther who was more or less sleeping, packed my bags and still have that easy feeling of being certain that I hadn’d forgotten some stuff there. I left around 7:30 and saw the sun low on the horizon casting long friendly shadows among the commuting crowds.

At Schlesisches Tor station I got breakfast, a salami “schrippe” and ice tea. The people populating the subway trains around this time of day are a wholly different crowd that the ones I’m used to.

At Hallesches Tor I changed into the U6 I am sitting in right now and again feel again proud for gotten everything right so far. Still got 50 minutes to check-in at Tegel airport.

Yes, in the right bus, 128, as well. I can see the airfield from here, planes descending and rising. I am close to my Terminal C to check in. 28 min left. Easy-peasy. The roads are wider here and the sun is making its way again through hazy clouds. To my right sits an older man who explains the world to his wife: “We’re not going so fast anymore because the bus lane ends here”, “A nice car, the Alfa”, etc. We are close to the airport but the streets are clogged and this really is getting a bit annoying.

Why does it always feel like such an effort to travel by plane?

Once the bus arrived on the airport it had literally to plow through masses of people in black suits with black expensive looking baggies. And once I got out, I had to plow through them. And the new terminal C is really quite a walk, it looked to close by on the airport’s pictogram.

I checked in my bag and on my way to the security gate I already had a slight panic that I had forgotten it. I felt so light. As I was waiting in line to said security gate I heard a Spanish woman shouting very angrily with a poor airline employee. I moved on and heard bottles rattle and begin thrown about violently. Obviously the woman didn’t know about the guidelines concerning liquids aboard — thank you nine-eleven. The same woman was on the shortest line through a security gate and I dared not to queue behind her and her furiously swinging her little bag.

In the airplane now. Incredible how stupid people in crowds are: “We ask passengers in rows 15 to 30 to use the aft entrance of the aircraft, thank you” they said. Twice. Since I once again got seat 15a I boarded the plane through the aft access with another single person. Now guess what: It took me almost 5 minutes to get to my seat because stupid people were clogging the aisle beyond row 15 and causing a traffic-infarct in the plane. Luckily I did get to my seat. At least this time it was not already occupied by another Stupid Person like last week. Can’t wait for those dipshits go freak when I use my camera during take-off because it might crash the plane.

The aircraft is said to take off in 10 minutes but it’s a busy day at Tegel so I already expect it being late. The gangways are still attached for people who’re late. During the 10 minutes I was waiting in front of the gate, there were constantly last and final calls for people about to miss their flight.

The sun already is in Salzburg, clouds obstruct its rays here in Berlin. We started moving, I see three other planes waiting in line on the taxi way. The most joy so far is watching the choreographed ballet of the flight attendants perform their safety measures demonstration with all the props (belt, mask, safety card) in two languages. In my opinion this is the last crippled remnant of the once great way of traveling where you really had the notion of being in a top notch hotel. Or so I have heard. Nowadays it has become as mundane as bringing out the garbage.

welcome wishes aboard 737-700 by the captain. “We have to wait for six aircraft to cross before us then it’s our turn,” just as I had expected. Salzburg is said to be sunny, the smell of burnt fuel is making me nauseated and I can’t wait to see Conny again.

Landed. Back home.

Waiting for my luggage, had again some coffee and a buttered pretzel for breakfast today. I’m really happy to be back home and not so happy to clean up my room I left ten days ago. Can’t wait to see Conny, Lisa wrote & Tina called. Alright, the conveyor started moving, gotta go!

Tina, surprise, unpacking, bed, sleeping

MET CONNY! CAN’T STOP SMILING. AM VERY HAPPY. THE END.

Monday

1:11 am

Had way too much tea last night: First I couldn’t quite sleep and now that I finally fell asleep, I had to run for the toilet. I better get back to dehydrating coffee.

10:30 am

The weather is not as nice as yesterday and I do not feel well rested. In fact I really long for some coffee and doing nothing. Somebody’s making quite a racket, I suspect Esther or Mel leaving with their bike. And I should move my stuff once more because Jenny will be back soon and I still occupy her room.

I just got an email from airberlin, an “Invitation to the Web check-in”. I guess everybody really takes it for granted that you have access to a printer at all time. And it would only be comfortable to me, if I could upload my luggage as well. No, I think I’ll check in traditionally: At the counter with the help of a fake-smiling airfleet employee with a scarf.

11:33 am

Sitting now in the Café Marx for a latte macchiato and a brownie for breakfast.

First thing I did after leaving the flat was enter the bio-shop directly below the flat to get some tea for Conny and me. Upon entering I was overwhelmed with the humid warmth of the place. It was not that warm but in comparison to what I’ve grown used to in the last days it was almost uncomfortably warm. I paid 6.25 € for the tea and continued my walk down the Skalitzer Strasse in search for a breakfast.

For some reason I feel today so much like a tourist. And the whole city feels different today as well. Leaves began to fall and an increasing pile of foliage formed on the rims of every boardwalk. Groups of teenagers passed me on my stroll down the road, some of them looking really wild. “Hey let’s go to the playground, folks!” a big guy shouted to his friends.

I passed the only McDonald’s in Kreuzberg. It was like a hive, a constant fluctuation of arriving, eating, leaving and chatting. There were at least 100 people around. Too much for me. I felt another time the aching in my lower legs, as always after mere 200 meters when I had no breakfast. I made it to Lausitzer Platz somehow and continued south of the Görlitzer Park for the first time. I really was looking for a new café to waste the day. So I entered the first one to my right — the Café Marx I am sitting in right now.

As I was waiting for my order and listening to the bar playing “Bongo Bong” by Manu Chao and other songs from that album (how imaginative), I realized that I landed in a tourist guide’s insider tip once more. People with maps, guides, backpacks, iPhones and chewy American accents were populating the place. At least the breakfasts look inviting and fresh.

But there is no WiFi, no power outlets and the coffee tastes thin. The bar woman had to ask me for my order again and spent 12 minutes completing it. As soon as I’m done I need to get going. I hate it here!

12:55 pm

Having a tasty chai latte in the Café Nest. I really tried to find a new café south of the Görlitzer Park, but failed. I only encountered depressing apartment buildings and occasionally a bar with tables outside that engulfed unemployed men, smelling of cheap beer and tobacco. Another time I walked along the Görlitzer Strasse in desperate search for a new café — in vain, as it seems.

Now I am sitting on the same large table as on Saturday, this time sharing the table with two more people: A slender bald guy around 40, with glasses in big frames and white shirt, a designer of some sorts and his friend, a self-employed artist or something, strongly resembling Denise Crosby as Lt. Tasha Yar. For some reason both of them seem friendly to me. I think I will like it here better as in the Café Marx, whose bar woman even needed four minutes to hand me my change. I paid for my brownie and latte 4.10 €.

From what I can hear in the conversation of my two fellow table guests the bald guy worked for Stefan Sagmeister in New York until early this year and talked about his creative workflow:
“Sagmeister is square like all of us, goes to bed early and works a lot. The funny thing is, that after he designed that cover for the Stones he really started to produce himself like a rock star: He took photos of himself naked, very artsy of course, a little blood, a little disgusting, a hot girlfriend, and so on. Cigarettes and drugs, that’s the image of a rock star but in the end the least of those considered “rock stars” really pursue such a lifestyle. Like Mick Jagger: He lives healthy, goes to bed early, just like Sagmeister, and really works hard. In the eye of the public he’s an ex-drug-addicted wreck who is so magnificent that he still got it. But in the end everything comes down to hard work and creating a glamorous public persona. And Sagmeister really does work hard, he has a scrapbook he writes every idea into and so he always has a lot to choose from when he needs to get some work done. But in the end he’s just as boring as all of us are.”

7:02 pm

I’m still in the Café Nest, the sun is now hiding behind deep-blue clouds and there’s a new batch of waitresses, nicer ones. And for some reason both of them look familiar.

This afternoon I met here with Georg who picked up the menu-card upon arrival: “Did they misspell ‘Cappuccino’?” he showed it to me. Cappucino, one c missing. “They did.” — “Can’t be good if they misspell it. Screw them! I’ll have wine instead!”

We joked for a couple of hours, I showed him some of my photos, also of him at work. “Do I really look that young?” — “Well, yes. You look like a boozy 18-year-old.” I replied. That’s how we taunted each other the rest of the day until Georg had to leave for work.

I stumbled across my IMDb profile and saw that my coloring work for “On The Loose” had already been added. And that they made some changes to the IMDb resume service as well. For instance, I could upload a photo without paying for it — and 99 more. One is plenty.

Then I went back to geo-tagging, naming, describing, organizing and tagging the photos up to today and lost myself on Google Earth’s flight simulator where I attempted my flight home from Berlin Tegel. I crashed in Charlottenburg. At least I found out where to conduct my check-in tomorrow at the airport. My flight leaves at 9:20 and lands at 10:20 in Salzburg.

I was cold again, so I ordered another chai latte which put me back on track. I guess the only two recipes I bring back from Berlin are heavy on chai: Chai latte and Oriental Coffee, chai with an espresso shot.

8:06 pm

Just paid 2.5 € with tip for my chai latte and another 2 € for sweets for Conny & myself.

8:42 pm

Back in the flat. Esther isn’t home yet from her yoga class, only Mel is loudly talking with some American acquaintance of hers. As I started to organize my bag (since I didn’t fully unpack it in the first place) and crinkled with various plastic bags, Mel slammed her door but I can still hear her talking.

On my way back I walked up the Skalitzer Strasse and took some really awesome photos of Berlin at night. I wish I’ve had someone with me because then people wouldn’t look that stupid at you when you suddenly jump into some flowers, twist your body in some odd angle and take several exposures (so the chance of having one usable one is higher).

Now I am sitting on my makeshift bed on the floor in Esther’s room again and am more or less ready for leaving tomorrow … and I’m hungry. Damn!

11:57 pm

Esther came around 10 pm when I was almost finished tagging the pictures I took on my way back. And in my hunger I ate a whole pack of JellyBelly beans and now feel a little sick but also anything but sleepy. Crap. I gave Esther her present, a leather-clad notebook with thick handmade paper pages inside and she was truly grateful or a darn good liar. Either way, I’m also happy that I could stay at her place also this time.

I incidentally mentioned that I also started to miss my guitars a bit, and in the end I forced Esther to listen to some of my songs and she suggested that I should pursue scoring movies. And she fell almost asleep when I was playing to her solo of my song “The Strangest Places Call My Name”. It wasn’t the first time for her today, the same happened in her yoga class before. Now she’s lying on her back in her bed and brushing her teeth with an electric toothbrush. “What you’re doing is reckless!” I said, picturing the toothbrush in her throat already. “What can I say — I love danger! That’s my answer to bungee jumping.” she replied.

12:20 am

Stupid jellybeans — the sugar made me tingly. Stupid tea — tea leaves made me restless! Stupid cake — more sugar! Stupid NichtLustig — funniness made me laugh and less sleepy. Well, at leas I am done with organizing my photos. In total I kept 546 pictures of the about 1200 exposures I took. Now I don’t dare to think what I would do, if data loss would occur on my flight home… Better backup the 17 gigs onto the CF-card as well…

Good night, Berlin — one last time! See you in six hours … oh dear.

Sunday

10:18 am

Good morning! I slept rather well in my strange bedroom, I only woke up around 4 to have some water and listen to somebody above me prepare a snack. Judging from the noises, I am pretty sure that the room above me is a kitchen, not a bathroom. I finished reading Lovecraft’s “The Dunwitch Horror” on my phone in the night and had a strange dream of being trampled down by a moose until I grabbed it by its antlers and threw it high into the air. Weird.
It’s so quiet here at night, at least when nobody’s in the kitchen above that I slept like a baby until now and somehow the smell of warm waffles from somewhere got caught over my bed on this beautiful autumn morning. I will brush my teeth now, get ready for the day and visit the big Mauerpark flea market to get my dear ones some presents.
Hold on, I hear Mel walking about and lock herself in the bathroom. That’s one thing I don’t like about shared flats: You really got to time everything. So I’ll wait.

11:44 am

Took the subway to Kottbusser Tor, the subway train to Rosenthaler Platz, then the M1 to Schwedter Strasse and walked up to the Mauerpark through the Oderberger Strasse, ignoring the Kauf Dich Glücklich: At this time of day I expected it to be buzzing with more tourists than wasps. And I was right. The closer I got to the Mauerpark the more people mingled with me and as the street widened there was also the smell of the barbecue and lots of stands and colors even outside the park.
As always I accessed the market via a small and rather unknown entrance park-side and went straight to the little bar that sold beverages and snacks.

I am sitting on a windy table in the Mauerpark, eating a salami roll and a large milk coffee for 3.7 € and listen to the speakers playing “Where is my mind” by the Pixies. The park increasingly fills with people as I type and once more I rest my aching calves from the walk. I should’ve had at least some breakfast. I check the list of who I want to bring gifts and prepare for massively being ripped off. I spent about 140 € so far and estimate now another 100 € to vanish. I just hope I get real cool stuff for everybody.

2:21 pm

Oh my god, I’m so exhausted. Just found a very suboptimal seat in the Café St. Oberholz again after spending the last two hours walking around the vast and busy flea market in search of presents and gifts for so many people. I didn’t find cool stuff for all of them but definitely something nice for everybody. I was constantly comparing the items of every stand against my list of gift recipients, carried my camera & notebook bag and pushed through the crowd, which I all found exhausting. To keep myself powered for the quest I ate some corn on the cob for 1.5 € and took a break a little aside from the busiest pathways, next to a stand selling old records which played Sonic Youth’s “Mildred Pierce”. I was finished and left before the crazy part in that song came.

Between the usual junk there were more Nintendo cartridges as I remember from my last year’s visit. There even was an Atari 2600 for sale, in total I counted about ten SNES sets on the market, a Sega Genesis, somewhere else a dozen Atari cartridges and a handful of old Game Boys. Don’t buy from the first stand fully devoted to games near the main entrance because there you truly get ripped off, even in eBay terms. I mean 23 € for a 15-year-old and dirty yellowed cartridge is just too much. I found it much better to approach the stands that sold anything and just a few games. So I got “Illusion of Time” for the SNES, “Lylat Wars” and “Super Mario 64″ for 5 € each. Neat! And guess what: I even got my hands on the original Tunnel B1 soundtrack CD by Chris Hülsbeck. For a single Euro! I didn’t feel the need to bargain even once today — everything seemed to be priced reasonably to me.

I left around 2 pm and was happy to breathe fresh air for once but did not leave without a snack on the way: I had a “steak roll”, a roll with a cutlet in it, something my body obviously really needed and I more or less inhaled it out of hunger. As I strolled down Schwedter Strasse towards Zionskirchplatz the groups of people scattered again into small groups before disappearing completely and the liveliness of the Mauerpark was swept away by a quiet, calming breeze. And I saw also this year a car with a very very weird Austrian numberplate of my hometown of Graz: “G – AA 1″ — very peculiar. I took a picture of it, just in case, and continued south. Then I was aching for some waffles; I’m so driven by my sudden needs, it’s a real surprise I reason occasionally. I went to the Glücklich am Park but didn’t get even past the door for crowds of hungry tourists wanted their personal slice of the insider’s tip in every tourist guide. This circumstance forced me into the Café St. Oberholz once more.

3:32 pm

I got a nice seat, calculated my expenses on the market and now I watch two girls who look like twin sisters take pictures of themselves with their MacBook webcam. I can’t decide whether I find that cute or stupid but I am inclined to lean towards the latter. And an elderly guy with leather jacket, round glasses and shiny white MacBook takes turns in sitting in every comfy chair in the seating-group in front of me. From what I can see he’s watching music videos of questionable quality and keeps sending links of fashion websites via email around. His Google account is cpfashionphotographer and obviously he doesn’t give a shit about his online privacy. I could have easily known his password if I wanted to as well.

I was surprised that I only blew about 63 € on my shopping spree but got presents for everybody and especially myself. And something really stinks here and I have the gloomy feeling that it is me. I sweat like a pig today. Eew!

I just read the comments my lovely Conny left on this very blog and was very happy about every single of them. Can’t wait to see her again, did I already mention this? Only two more days….

Now cpfashionphotographer threw his MacBook violently on the table without even pausing the video it was playing and left for the restrooms in his oh-so-cool stonewashed jeans. Age with dignity, man! You ain’t 30 no more!

A woman with incredibly loud shoes comes up the stairs. It turned out to be the bar woman, also leaving for the restrooms. Everybody on the floor at least took a brief glimpse. The magic of loud shoes…

cpfashionphotographer came back with a wet face, looked at his computer and left again, this time to get something from the bar I assume; the two girls now click themselves through websites of various musicians.

4:17 pm

cpfashionphotographer didn’t return yet. Somebody should dump his MacBook for him.

4:20 pm

cpfashionphotographer did return and on his way back he spotted the girls. “Are you two twins?” he shouted with a strong Berlin accent. They nodded. “Everybody says that, right?” and then he picked up on looking at fashion websites. And the desktop of the twins’ computer is so cluttered and looks so unorganized that I feel the urge to select all icons on it, right click and hit “Auto arrange icons”. Or “Delete”.

4:38 pm

I just counted at least 32 notebooks in the house. Paid about 13 € here for a Bionade, 2 latte macchiati and one slice of pie.

A guy with a ponytail, now sitting where the twins had been, just tried clicking some porn images but his request got bounced by a pop-up of the café’s web-service telling him that he’d better cut the smut. Now he’s checking his Yahoo!-mailbox while cpfashionphotographer is drumming the beat to the music he is listening to on his table for all of us to enjoy. What a jerk.

5:39 pm

Finally ponytail-guy found access to some porn. He tries to be discreet about it. He is constantly switching between Facebook, Blur music-videos on YouTube, Shemale Plus and Wild Shemale Orgies, but in order to save the pictures, well, you gotta right click them, no matter how fast you are. I guess he’s over quota at home. Oh, Berlin…

Two women now took the seat of cpfashionphotographer whose departure behind ponytail-guy only inclined him to look for porn harder (pun intended). Now this is going to be interesting….

5:55 pm

Awww, ponytail-guy got shy and only watches YouTube and updates constantly his Facebook status. Presumably with “Want to look for hot shemales but can’t *sadface*”.

4:04 pm

Ponytail-guy left and now there’s a woman sitting in his place, also with a white MacBook, also updating her Facebook status. In front of her another woman just got seated. She looks a lot like a shemale. Poor ponytail-guy!

8:03 pm

Holy crap, I’ve been sitting here really long and I can’t stand it any minute longer: There’s a guy sitting behind my back for many hours fueling my paranoia. And he started to coughing occasionally for an hour now which drives me close to strangle him. Adobe Lightroom caused a blue screen on Ophelia while I was tagging and organizing my photos but after a reboot I kept going until now, and I’m done — FINALLY! What’s really cute: There’s a young gay couple where cpfashionphotographer had been sitting and you can tell that they’re just in love. But I gotta get going. I even put some loose change in my pocked in case I encounter some punks in the subway station again. Alright then, I’m off!

10:22 pm

I am sitting in the flat’s kitchen right now on Ophelia, behind me is Mel cooking herself dinner. I smell fresh onions and tomatoes, I’m almost hungry. The last thing I ate was that dreadful steak roll and I want it to be the last thing today. This flat share community is totally odd to me: People cook. Regularly! And when I write ‘cook’ I really mean the whole nine yards with washing the ingredients, cutting, frying, boiling and everything, not what I consider as cooking: Pouring hot water on some instant-noodles.

On my way from the café to the subway station I really encountered some punks this time and was really happy to drop them my change into an empty paper cup, I decided I give the girl with the lone pink tress on her shaven head and with the friendly looking dog my coins, meager 70 cents. But she was really nice.
Getting home was not a big deal today, I’m getting used to Berlin once again and feel safer each day. I don’t know if I really am but I better not think about that anyway.

First thing I did after arriving in the flat was drop my heavy backpack with Ophelia and all the presents in it and head for the bathroom to take a shower. Now that I know about its quirks it wasn’t a big deal either and almost relaxing. In Jenny’s room I took photos of the presents I got today and tried to make them as studio-like as possible, despite the low ceiling and the lack of proper lighting. I employed mostly my leather jacket (inside and out) as a backdrop for most of photos and also used some of the many cloths in Jenny’s room. I had to promise Esther to restore it exactly the way it was before moving in, so I really tried not to disturb it too much.

Now Esther is back, she had forgotten her key and brought lots of mostly vegan pastry that had been left over from her work today. In a grand moment of selflessness I took care of the un-vegan one, despite my vow not to eat anything more today. I’m weak.

It’s getting cold again, but now I’m sitting with my warm Hugo Boss sweater in the kitchen and feel a little guilty for wearing it in this all-vegan-all-greenie household. Even the Dove soap I donated to the three doesn’t seem to get used at all apart from myself. It sits on the limey wash basin amidst the gooey fragments of various curd soaps and gets looked over and probably will freeze to death there.

Esther said that it gets really cold in the winter here, in fact so cold that you not only wear pajamas at night but “go arctic” with donning woolen hats and thick gloves before saying good-night; or that you don’t do the dishes in the evening but in the morning to warm your frozen hands — it’s terrible!

11:26 pm

Still in the cool kitchen below a lone energy-saving light, proof-reading today’s blog entry and mooching some more of Esther’s incredible Mexican-spice-chocolate-yogi-tea. I have spilled water into every possible direction from this hellish spout, a small miracle that neither Ophelia nor my cell phone got drown by hot fragrant water. I’m getting drowsy and should clean up teapot and cup. Maybe in the morning….

Saturday

9:40 am

I didn’t hear Esther come nor leave this night, I only know that she sent me an email of Hovercraft Cat on 3:40 am. I can’t imagine how she’s performing at work. Mel & her boyfriend had been quiet or at least discrete enough that they didn’t wake me. Still heard them giggling behind the closed door when I went to brush my teeth.

10:30 am

Want to have a nice breakfast somewhere but not too far away from Kreuzberg. In the end I spent now half an hour floating over the district in Google Earth to find a new cozy café that has good breakfast. Looks like I’ll end up in the Café Granell once more.

11 am

In the Café Granell. Since it’s Saturday and before noon most of the other cafés are closed, such as the Café Mano, which had been my first choice. And since I didn’t anticipate it being closed, I walked way too fast again from Görlitzer Bahnhof station and had aching calves again when I stood before the Mano’s closed doors. I am terrible! So I continued to the Café Granell that just had opened. In Berlin Kreuzberg nobody gets up early on the weekends it seems to be.

11:11 am

The coffee tastes not so bedazzling but the radio plays Bob Dylan and my sandwich is fresh and warm. This will become a really nice day today, despite the wind.

11:17 am

Fighting the urge to drop an assload of sugar in my coffee. Withdrawal is a terrible thing.

12:54 pm

Paid 9 € and left to meet with Julez. Haven’t seen him since my last year’s visit to Berlin and I am already a bit late.

2:12 pm

Sitting in the café with Julez & David, a coworker of Julez at rise fx.

After I met with Julez at the Schlesische Strasse we went for a slice of pizza (for him, I was too full from the Granell’s cheese cake, which should better be named sweet-butter-cake — it was awesome and tasted like sin!). David joined as and Julez got himself some ice cream at Aldebar ice cream shop across the pizzeria on the Falckensteinstrasse.

I led them to the Café Nest, another cozy little café along the Görlitzer Strasse I passed just before. We took a seat on the outside in the wind and enjoyed the shy sunshine and I felt the urge to have a blueberry smoothie.

Julez slapped the approaching wasps with the menu card and half-killed one. Somehow this made me a little sad somehow.

3:42 pm

Paid 6.5 € + 50 ct. tip for a blueberry smoothie and a latte macchiato. Still sitting in the Café Nest. They have free WiFi and I am sitting near a power outlet. Rejoice!

4:20 pm

A cheerful blue kite can be seen across the street behind the graffiti-clad yellow brick wall of the Görlitzer Park, the same kite I saw 15 minutes ago in the hand of a stressed father with a little girl passing by the window of the café.

Jules is quite fond of children at the moment. “Being a father and raising a child is probably the greatest joy there is” Jules said as an escaped toddler crawled past our table, eying the three of us with big blue eyes. It wasn’t the first utterance of this desire of Julez today. “I bet that’s just your hormones speaking” I concluded. “Don’t you wanna have kids?” He turned to me. I shortly thought about it and answered half jokingly “Maybe having a cat would be just rad. Or a unicorn…”

Jules and David left and I wanted to get back to working on my photos, but Ophelia crashed and every attempt to reboot her ended in an infinite loop of boot > blue screen > repair console > reboot. Luckily I brought the last image of her memory and boot-CD with me to Berlin.

The café is becoming increasingly busy now; more and more families with their kids enter and a thick layer of grey clouds replaced the occasional sunshine. Outside the smokers meet, the radio plays an arranged version of Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas” and the restoration of my notebook is 45% complete.

For the first time in the last two days I can pick up on reading Lovecraft again.

5:15 pm

A woman stepped into the café, walked up to another very indie MacBook guy who happens to sit on the same big table as I, and spoke: “Hello! I am looking for some telephone number and since I reckon that you’re online I thought that…” — “Sure thing!”. That’s how it can be sometimes around here. And Ophelia’s back online again and I ordered some green tea for once — 1.5 €.

Now Indie-MacBook-Guy turned to me:
“Do you know a word for when somebody really breaks off all social contacts? Like when having a severe illness?”
“You mean misanthropy?”
“No, not that wacky.”
“Hmmm…. reclusive? No?”
In the end he told me that he wrote “social withdrawal” but didn’t seem happy with it.

6:20 pm

The toddler and baby density has grown increasingly and I have been deported to another table without power outlets, so I’ll be leaving soon for dinner. I don’t know what I want to eat, I only know that I don’t like it here anymore; I don’t care how clean and friendly their toilets are!

6:52 pm

At the Kattelbacher restaurant, to the right of the Emmauskirche. After all that sweet pastry and rather vegetable-heavy meals of the last days I urge for a rump steak!

7:20pm

Taking my usual photo of my dish before starting to eat, earned me the mistrust of the waitress and other guests around. But they didn’t say anything and just whispered and I picked up the word “critic”. Oh, they thought I was a food critic! I really match the concept: Single traveler, foreign dialect, in the hours before the big customer run, black attire, black paper notebook and constantly typing away on a black cell phone.

I decided to roll with it and deliberately and demonstratively tasted everything on my dish and took cryptic little handwritten notes in my book after every 15 or so bites.

All joking aside I have to admit that everything was really good: The service, the bread, the pepper, the steak itself, the music and even there’s free WiFi! I was so happy that I had apple-pie for dessert. Very good as well! I come to think: I’ve never had a bad or even mediocre cake or pie in Berlin — ever!

Rump steak with croquettes, a small Fanta and a piece of apple pie: 15 € incl. tip.

9:29 pm

Walked up the Skalitzer Strasse that was wet after a short rain shower while I was enjoying my dinner. In the flat I met with Esther who was almost in her bed and sleeping after a hard day of work, while I was excessively relaxing as best as I could. She came home from the café at around 3 in the morning, slept not more than two hours and went to work, she told me.

We talked a while about this and that, society, economics, the concept of trust and sharing and in the end she asked me whether I wanted to prepare and bring her her toothbrush. As the good guest that I am, I couldn’t turn down her plea. Then I moved my mattress and stuff in Jenny’s room, where I am currently residing.

In fact I placed my mattress on top of Jenny’s and am now sitting in the bed in Jenny’s room who is gone for the weekend. And that room is one of it’s kind: It’s about 2m in width, 5m in length and, that’s the catch, is like a staircase in a room, which essentially means the further you step into the room, the higher you get and the more you have to crouch: At the door step you have the normal headroom, but on the other side you can only crouch. That’s where the mattress is located. But it gets worse: a meter above your head is the floor of the 2nd floor, obviously a bathroom, and every heavy steps the unknown dwellers above take, manifests itself in an uncomfortable air-pressure change in my ears. On the room’s right wall is directly the apartment building’s staircase and you can clearly hear people ascending & descending.
There are two power outlets, one at the door and one near the bed. The one at the bed powered the reading lamp which I unplugged for my notebook, because the outlet at the door was too far for the power cord. The location of the only light switch at the door forced me into lighting the room only with my mobile phone and notebook screen.
And it’s cold.

In short it’s a terrible room. But I still like it for the excitement of its novelty. Ask me tomorrow how I slept and I will probably tell you that I hate that friggin’ room! Luckily I’m really sleepy.

Conny and I exchanged a couple of text messages. We miss each other really much; so much that I don’t know what will happen when I return and we see each other…

Friday

Esther left for her work, 12 hours of selling bread and pie on the Arkona Platz. I should visit her. Today is a busy day for me: When Esther’s roomie Jenny returns, I’ll take pictures of her because she’s an actress and asked me to; then I’ll pay Usch a visit, one of my mom’s old time acquaintances who runs a goldsmith shop in Charlottenburg; and in the evening I’ll make a surprise visit to Georg, a former fellow student, who will be working in the evening in the Café Goldberg waiting tables in Neukölln.

I’m waiting for Jenny to finish her lunch to take the photos of her so I can get going. I’m cold. Today it’s most likely to rain again and when I sit very still I can hear the wind shaking the trees outside and piping through the cracks in the walls and poorly isolated windows.

Took about 200 photos of Jenny Schwender, the aspiring actress. Staging-wise I settled for something Berlin-artist-standard: Portraits against a mostly white wall, white painted floor boards and lighting mostly from the window, a bit from Esther’s floor lamp. I asked Jenny to improvise with ad-hoc props such as a purple umbrella and Esther’s worn old chair which turned out rather nicely. After we were done copying them, I left for Prenzlauer Berg once again and had troubles walking up the Weinbergsweg. Interestingly my stamina decreased over my vacation, despite the lengths I walk.

As I had taken a seat in the Indian restaurant Aapka, Julez called. We’ll meet tomorrow at 1 p.m. in front of the Rebellion des Zimtsterns for old time’s sake — again.

I ordered some shrimp jalfrezi I apparently pronounced totally wrong. After years the folks at Aapka they finally were in the middle of constructing a porch with wooden boards to have the tables outside on a flat level. It was about time! The years before sitting on the outside meant that a dropped chunk of rice would keep rolling down to Rosenthaler Platz and remaining seated on your chair was a matter of exercise and focus over the course of a meal.

Ding! My food’s here. I’ll take a photo (don’t rally care anymore for the puzzled look on peoples’ faces around me) and dig in! The servings have gotten smaller. Just like the dishes.

Paid 14.5 € for my jalfrezi, pineapple juice and mango lassi plus tip.

Visiting Esther at her bio bread & cake stand on the Arkonaplatz. I got a very healthy tasting cherry pie called “Cinderella Cake”. Now I watch Esther’s stand as she is taking a leak somewhere. And I didn’t think that I could be any fuller after the Indian food but the cake did its deeds.

There are so many wasps encircling the cakes here. Esther told me that they are supposed to be flesh-eaters so now I question the vegan-aspect of her pies. It’s really sad what she gets in an hour: 7,5 € before deductions.

On the Alexanderplatz about to board the U8 to Schönleinstraße. Just came from Charlottenburg where mom’s old time acquaintance had her jewelery shop. I was greeted with an awkward but dear hug and offered some juice. We talked about Berlin, what I am doing here and I took photos of her shop, inside and out and she even melted some silver for show so that I could take some photos.
As I was covering the front of the shop, Usch’s son Paul called and wanted to speak with me as well — “What’s up, man?”! In the 40 seconds we talked we set up a meeting somewhere someplace and I should give Usch my phone number for him. He sounded a lot like Zoltan. “Don’t take this too seriously. He’ll probably forget. Apart from that I bet you won’t recognize each other anyway…” Usch smiled and had to I agree so she showed me two rather artistic photos of Paul. He also looks like Zoltan a bit.
Also Usch urged me to visit the ruins of some old eavesdropping facility on the Teufelsberg and showed me the route on the map. My sense for adventure is tickling and I might really go there on Sunday or Monday despite the lack of trespassing rights for the ruin.

I boarded the city train again on Savigny Platz. I get better with walking. Now four blocks really feel like “just around the corner” as the Berlin folks call long distances.

Walked down Kottbusser Damm and entered Pflügerstrasse to find the Café Goldberg and surprise Georg. Just as I wanted to open the brown door, it got opened from the inside and a beaming Georg stood there shouting a friendly “Herr Strahl!” in my face with a broad smile. He knew from my tweets that I planned to surprise him, so the surprise was in fact on me. I ordered a latte macchiato and an English Breakfast, that was really tasty and left my poor tummy at the size of a small moon or asteroid.
When Georg saw me photographing my coffee from above he freaked a bit, “I know you, you’ll put this up on some blog!”, and added a big helping of milk foam on top. “NOW take a picture!”.
I have now photos of the breakfast before, during Georg’s improvement activity and after it.

I’ve been collecting WLAN names for quite a while now and around here is a funny one as well “Gruene Sosse” — green goo.

The guy on the single table next to me had ordered a beer at Georg. As soon as he got it, he took it and left with it to the toilet, returned after 7 minutes with half of it gone. Looks like someone has a REALLY nervous bladder.

At the Kottbusser Tor station waiting for my train to arrive.

In the café I had started copying today’s heap of photos until Esther arrived from her underpaid work. She brought some vegan cake for Georg and he brought her that mysterious Berliner Weisse he had been promising her all week which turned out to be a foamy light beer with woodruff syrup — odd! Later Georg introduced us to regulars at the bar once they arrived and the whole café had a very domestic feel, even when Esther and I were moved to sit in the window so that “people would see that we’re still hip and open”. It’s nice being in a café when you know the waiter.

I played backgammon with Esther and I lost to her one move short. Considering that it’s been years since I last played it and forgot all about rules and strategy I consider this as a victory. When I looked at my watch it was already five to midnight and so I decided that I was tired. Esther and Georg tried a little to convince me to join them for the “second biggest party in Europe”, a lavish orgy with live acts running for 50 hours straight. Considering that I am not so much on the queer side, my overall exhaustion and the indescribable luck of having an awesome girlfriend back home I declined politely and payed the check: Instead of billing me the breakfast and the two latte macchiati, Georg only wanted from me the 6.50 € for the breakfast. Since I learned before that his only payment were tips I added a good two euros.

I left the cafe shortly after midnight and started walking pretty fast thanks to my emerging paranoia — I’m such a girl! I even managed to stuff my big bad-ass camera into my notebook backpack to draw less attention to myself.

When Georg had moved to Neukölln he was told that he should always have at least 20 euro in his pocket in case he got robbed. “If they realize that you don’t have anything, they really get crazy!” he was told, he said. “The first two days I really believed this bullshit!” he continued. That set me at ease a bit. The whole very comfortable evening in the Café Goldberg was somehow foreshadowed by my growing concerns of walking home alone in the night. But then Esther and Georg continued exchanging stories of friends who got beaten up without reason and I contemplated the shortest route home, through the Görlitzer Park. “I ride my bike through the park at night but never walk there” Esther added and so I settled for the safest route and left.

Right now I’m sitting on a bench and rest my calves, since they hurt like hell from walking. Initially I wanted to walk all the way home from the Café Goldberg but even before reaching Kottbusser Damm I had a stinging pain emerging in my calves that was uncomfortable when I reached the big street at first, and grew unbearable at the access to Schönleinstrasse station. I was happy for every red-light in my way that promised valuable seconds of rest for my feet, yet it seems as traffic lights never please you with the color you wish for — ether way. I continued walking above ground towards Kottbusser Tor ignoring the pains. I really should work on my stamina. Even the comparably light weight of my camera and notebook in my backpack inevitably slow me down. And now I’m waiting for my train to arrive so I don’t have to walk another two stations.

It’s nice to see Berlin buzzing at night like a busy place: Restaurants and bars are crammed with people, couples and groups of people with bottles of beer in their hands walk the streets and if I hadn’t knows the time, I would have guessed that it was only 8 pm.

Finally, I’m at home unharmed and unmolested, just as I wished it. I unlocked the door to the flat and it was dark. “Great. I’m alone” I thought to myself and looked forward to falling asleep undisturbed. When I entered the bathroom I could hear Melanie and her boyfriend chat and giggle in her unlit room. I know that this is a solid indication of later solid humping. I just hope they’re not too loud. I sleep next to the wall still for this night. From tomorrow on I’ll sleep in Jenny’s peculiar little room, I was promised.

The train ride from Kottbusser Tor to Schlesisches Tor was almost relaxing. After I had boarded the train and stood in the back of the car, a short old man in a sleazy brown wool suit holding a shabby accordion jumped on. With a loud voice he asked his unassuming audience “Tango? Lambada? Merengue?” After a second one guy uttered “Tango!” and the old man with with white hair, yellow moustache, dark brown skin and black teddy-bear eyes repeated explosively “TANGO!” and hit his accordion with the first chord hard. He turned around as he played, looked at me with a broad smile while playing tango. Masterly. I couldn’t help smiling back and he had found his audience and started to sing along, also in key. After a minute he was finished, mumbled “DankeschönLAMBADA!!” and hit it again. And after that a short cue of chopsticks before pulling out a worn little paper cup half-full with coins. I drew my wallet and donated the last change I had: 1 €. Then the train arrived at Schlesisches Tor and I got off.

And now I’m sitting on my mattress, half dozing away and already regretting the very late English Breakfast I had. Good night. You too, tummy!

Went to bed yesterday at 12:41 am. Slept like a baby.

Got up and was surprised by a dog with two differently colored eyes as I left for the bathroom — Luna, the dog of Melanie’s boyfriend. The two of them were off to gather mushrooms and Luna left with them.

Had breakfast with Esther before leaving for “a stroll around Görlitzer Park” by which I meant “guzzling coffee at the Café Granell”. It still existed and it got bigger: Now the counter fully occupies the 1st room while there are two rooms for guests.

Found a cozy seat in the last room and am waiting for my café latte plus cheese cake, my second breakfast today. Here it is comfortably warm and quiet. A black furnace in one corner in the room radiates coziness and from an old-time radio from around 1940 trickles a steady current of real good blues music into the room. Everything seems to be telling me to enjoy my stay and read some Lovecraft.

After about 10 minutes I finally got my coffee and pie and the waiter threw another log into the furnace. Next to me sits a guy in black, around 35, who wears glasses and types away on his MacBook that’s hidden in a carrying case that resembles from the outside a worn scrapbook – probably some bargain from Etsy. He just got a call, “I’ll be there in ten minutes!”, and leaves. I think I saw him here in my last year’s visit. He’s gone now and I have the flames and the blues all for myself.

I am about to leave Granell. I took a bunch of photos inside, even when the MacBook guy returned after another 15 minutes. I tagged and partly developed all my photos. The owner arrived and I could tell that MacBook-guy really was into her: She was tall and slim, had long black hair, almond eyes and wore a bright summer dress that all catered to MacBook-guy’s complete distraction from his MacBook.

After being forced to listen to a live recording of some Bavarian reggae concert I decided to leave. I paid at the MacBook-guy’s desire: Two Latte Macchiati & one slice of yummy cheese cake: 8 € plus tip.

Went to the post office, Esther didn’t have the time yesterday. I tried to post 8 postcards and the woman at the counter handed me 8 barely sticking stamps – I hope all of the cards arrive! Luckily I had such a strong tourist-behavior that nobody wanted me to get a bank account or insurance from them. That’s what I truly hate about the German postal system: They aren’t flexible enough to accept creative parcels as Esther told me, and they always want to sell you something and won’t leave you alone.
8 stamps: 5.60 €

Now I am at the Rebellion des Zimtsterns for some filled red peppers and plinsen once again also this year. Did I mention I’m all about habit?

I can’t eat another bite. Except for some plinsen and maybe a latte macchiato or two. Until 15 minutes ago I was the only guest and the two executive women walk around to clean the whole restaurant. Annoying: Both of them wear heeled shoes and the wooden floor amplifies every step they make.

Why clean so much anyway? This restaurant is too clean, almost too spacious and way too well in shape for being a Berlin locality. There’s no paint peeling off, no smudges on the walls, no cracks in the ceiling, no aggressively experimental music, no pre-owned furniture from the 1960′s and almost no stickers on the façade. At least they keep you waiting really long for your orders.

Am totally full but the faint scent of coffee makes me want some. But I don’t know where to put it, I can’t even take on a single espresso right now. I’ll better continue my lecture of Lovecraft’s “Haunter of the Dark” before eating anything more.

Daily menu, Lemonaid & Plinsen with cinnamon & sugar: 11 €, 12 = with tip.

In the café Mano after a long walk in Kreuzberg. Made small videos for a new AEtuts+ tutorial of the Oberbaum bridge, the Lido and the canal, then went on to walk on the other side of the canal and entered the Görlitzer Park over the bridge on the East.

Went on through the park but the thick trees and brambles around the hidden lakes were a little too inviting for clandestine criminal behavior as that some guy with a huge camera can walk unmolested for long. So I exited the park and went back inside a few hundred meters further west. It smells so much of fall already.
A guy asked me whether I was looking for weed.

I exited on the West after steady walking for 40 minutes and headed for the Café Mano. I ordered a latte macchiato and took a seat on a couch in the room to the left. As I arrived there were only three other guests: Two students of philosophy arguing Montesquieu, Macchiavelli and Hobbes and an elderly chunky women staring into the void. All left shortly after and now I sit alone in the darkened room that is immersed into a warm yellow every time a subway train passes by on the overpass an reflects the low sun’s rays. I feel fine. I’m not even in the mood to read.

Now I watch the Spanish speaking owners introduce some gentle remodeling in my room as I’m typing these lines. The music they play is Heroes in the Kruder & Dorfmeister mix. It’s so old that even I know it.

It’s the whole “K&D sessions” album. And now it’s three people moving furniture around the room and talking loudly in Spanish. It’s on the brink of being annoying.

Spent the last 40 minutes looking into the void and listening to K&D. Shouldn’t be to hard make this kind of music yourself, it’s all percussion, a steady sinuous bass and ostinati in the chords. Throw in some samples & filters and you’re done. But doing exactly nothing was refreshing for a change. The sun has vanished and I’m cold again. And fat. I better eat one last thing for today and that’s it. And I’m thinking of a currywurst with fries.

Got my currywurst at Curry 7 and paid 3 € for it. The latte macchiato at the café Mano was 2.4 € plus 10 cents tip. I’m a very generous guest! Trotted up the Skalitzer Strasse before turning right at Schlesisches Tor to get to Curry 7. Conny wrote me again, made me so happy that I dribbled ketchup on my pants.

After a paranoid intermezzo at the ATM to get some more cash I went back to the flat for today and was the first one to arrive back. I seized the moment and decided to take a shower. Mistake. Usually before taking a shower in some foreign flat one should ask as many questions about warm-water supply, possible malfunctions and other local traditions associated with spilling water over one’s naked body.

I locked the door, nudged the drying rack with the laundry out of the bathtub and undressed. Then I noticed the stark absence of curtains. What I thought to be frosted glass at first was just the bumpy texture of the opposing wall. So I stepped in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. When I wanted to enclose the tub in the curtain I realized that it was supported by a threat that had been nailed to the ceiling. So it essentially only covered one side of the bathtub. I took the shower head and looked for a mounting on the wall for it. There was one but it didn’t fit. Obviously the head had been in dire shape often times before and had been meagerly repaired which essentially crippled its ability to remain fixed in the mounting, so I had to keep it in my hand. Then I turned on the water. It was too cold at first, then too hot, then about right. After a minute of steady water out of the makeshift head I realized that I was standing in the soapy water up to my ankles. The drainage was insufficient, most likely clogged with kilometers of female hairs. There was a sign on the wall reading “Roomies! Remove your hair after taking a shower!” and a hair sieve in the tub but both seemed as if they were installed after the clogging in a meager and impossible attempt to revert to an unclogged past.

Spilled a good deal of water accidentally while I was trying to hold the shower head, not slip in the rising soapy water in the tub and to keep my bare ass away from the window.

Somehow I managed to get myself clean and the soap out and everything shortly before Esther turned up the warm water in the kitchen. She made tea and knitted her sleeve. We discussed art and society in general while we drank chocolate-chai tea and listened to an old Josef Hader cabaret session.

Jenny joined us but had a hard time understanding Hader’s Austrian tongue and humor.

Either someone here has a terrible kind of diarrhea or Esther dumped the tea leaves from the pot in the toilet. Good night, either way.