Berlin, Germany

Ich bin Berliner - no, really

It must have rained last night. The streets are wet and barren, though the latter could have something to do with the fact that it's 9 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

Usually, when I travel, I get mistaken for Japanese or American. But something weird is happening here, people are mistaking me for a local. Three times in the last two days, I've been stopped for directions.

I've been working on my scowl here - you know, the one you get on your face when you're commuting to work or school. I am doing this mainly because I don't want people talking to me (since I don't speak the language). Ironically, it's having the opposite effect. Apparently, the best way to blend in anywhere, is to look like you don't want to be there.

Shit-kickers

After consulting with Chris, at reception (who has become my all-knowing oracle for Berlin) about where I could buy a pair of boots, I found myself again on Tor Strasse, at a place called Trash.

In case you are wondering, German army surplus stores look exactly like Canadian ones. Rag-tag, olive-coloured clothing and bags jammed onto the shelves and hanging from the walls/ceiling. Old military paraphenalia like gas masks, pilot goggles and grenade shells litter the front.

Display cases in the front house all manner of steel weaponry and of course, there is the psycho who works behind the counter, who looks like he is one step away from gutting you in your sleep, then having sex with your goldfish.

Actually, the guy behind the counter was pretty cool. Must've been the pyscho's day off.

In halting English, the clerk told me not to buy German boots (WTF? If there's one thing I'd think the Germans knew how to make, it'd be boots). Instead, he suggested that I buy a British brand.

I took one look at the soles and was convinced. Any shoe that has to be held together with screws is ok in my book. Besides, they had a good heft to them and the leather was pretty nice.

As I was trying on the boots, the counter clerk got to talking with me (probably just wanted to practice his English). He asked where I was from, then told me about how it was imperative that we (not we two specifically, but the world as a whole) find a way to kill Bush. Then he went on to convey his dislike for Americans and the French in general.

Looks like I was mistaken about the psycho. He's definitely here today. I just couldn't see him amongst all the other personalities that occupied his one body.

I paid for my purchase and asked what I should do with my old boots. The clerk took them, went outside and stuffed them into the public trash can.

With my new boots, I felt whole once again.

Absolut trash

Prenzlauer Berg was a little disappointing the last time I went, but I thought I'd give it another try, since I had a whole lot of time to kill before I had to meet Ted's cousin and it was just up the street from where I was.

As I was walking, I peered into a hof and saw this. It's a garbage incinerator or something. Very clever.

Les Galeries LaFayette

Ted wanted me to get some sort of a gift basket for his cousin, and this place was recommended by Chris from the hostel, so I knew it had to be good. The Galeries LaFayette is an upper-class shopping complex that sells imported French goods. Bottom floor: foodstuffs.

The basement was full of gourmet food stands and eating areas. I easily found the store that sold the gift baskets (why wine, cheese, crackers and pate cost 90 euros is beyond me). I made a mental note of what I wanted to get, then walked around for a bit, so that I wouldn't be stuck carrying a 15lbs basket for 3 hours.

Outside the Galeries were tons of other high-end stores and malls. LV, Gucci, Prada, Fendi and a host of other shit I could never hope to afford. One of the malls even had its own pianist and cascading, marble stairway!

Endlessly

I found this company name quite fitting and witty, considering its business.

Got bored really quickly of being in that area, so I began wandering off in one direction. Found myself in Gendarmenmarkt again. As I walked closer, I heard "There are places I'll remember..." (from In My Life by the Beatles) floating through the air. There was a guy sitting on an amp, playing guitar in the center of the square. I climbed the steps of the opera house, sat at the top and listened.

After a while, I went back to get the gift basket and headed off toward Zoo. Also picked up a small gift for the kid.

DoCoMo

Wow. They have i-mode here.

Ready for the laughing gas

I showed up an hour early. Noting the Germans for their general efficiency, I hoped that she would be there already. Didn't see anyone waiting for me at the theatre, so I walked around the area for a bit.

Olgica was a little late showing up. I was getting kind of worried because I didn't have a mobile and didn't think to ask her if she had one. It would be my last chance to get to see her and I really didn't want to be stuck with this over-priced gift basket of stuff I'm too uncultured to appreciate. But 15 minutes after the scheduled time, a car pulled up to the curb and a woman in white stepped out, waving me near.

I walked over to the car and got in (still not 100% sure that this was whom I was supposed to be meeting, but even if it wasn't the right person, a pretty blonde lady just beckoned me into her car. I can think of worse ways to be kidnapped). Olgica apologized for her tardiness, and explained that she had been circling for the past 20 minutes, looking for parking.

In retrospect, picking a Saturday afternoon, right beside the busiest station in Berlin to meet was probably not the best idea. Ah well.

Olgica didn't have much time, so we just double parked and chatted for about a half hour. I gave her the basket and the scarf/mitten/doll that I bought for her daughter. She gave me some chocolates (some for me, some to bring back to Ted and his family).

Very sweet person. It was unfortunate that I didn't get to meet her earlier on in the trip, as we didn't even really get a chance to talk much beyond introductions. Will have to get on Ted about bringing her to Toronto for a visit.

You are what you eat

Found myself in Prenzlauer Berg, yet again tonight. There's a cool Indian joint called der Imbiss W, on Kastanienalle (#49, near Tor Strasse) that I'd heard about. I'd seen it a few days earlier, when I was walking around here, but because the "W" was an inverted-McDonald's "M" I paid it no attention. Funny how we learn to block stuff out.

Went in and got a veggie and rice dish with a mango lassie. The best of both I've ever had.

Last night

I can't believe this is my last night here. I want to do something. But what? It's late and it's not like I know anyone here. I have a metropass (that I rented from the hostel), so I just took the train out to a random stop and walked until I got tired. Then went home.

I may not be an exciting person, but I sleep well every night.