laugh until we think we’ll die, barefoot on a summer night

berlin.

I have totally fallen in love with this city. four and a half days is so not long enough to fully experience a city, but I feel like I’ve done pretty well. I said that about paris, but I really mean it. even though when people speak german to me I get all flustered, worry about not understanding them, and instead of trying to understand (like I manage to understand when rowdy speaks german to me), I say something like “uh… australian… only english…” and then want to apologise but don’t know how in german so I splutter out “desolée” (clearly french). how embarrassment.
it’s not surprising that I’ve received more than just a few weird looks in four days.

this is another city which I feel I have conquered by foot – and later, by tram. and in staying true to myself, I have sought out so many cafés whilst being here. I’m certainly not coffee-ed out, but I have definitely had my fix. even if most of the beans they use are from kenya, I have a feeling coffee might not quite be the same when I get there.

also, berlin is super weird. there was one point on saturday night when I was walking around aimlessly, that I felt like I was in that scene of mean girls where they point out all the cliques. the main square at alexanderplatz had all these groups just sitting around; pretty obvious to see the emos, the bums, the tattooed and pierced, the school kids, the athletes (they were hardly athletes but were all wearing roller skates).
berlin is full to the brim of absolute loonies, hilarious characters who don’t care what they look like, but they are happy! berlin is full of creativity, musicians and street performers doing what they do best, artists showing off their works – some on planks of wood, others with chalk on the pavement.

and then there’s this guy. the guy who thinks its a good idea to wash his clothes in the grotty fountain in the middle of alexanderplatz. with washing powder. the same fountain where the following day I saw not going, being emptied, scrubbed and refilled. but hey, he was happy.

my favourite experience was going to the sunday flea market at mauer park. it was amazing. full of dirty hippies with dreadlocks, random stalls that sold everything from lampshades to couches to old guitars to half used bottles of shampoo to intricately hand crafted bracelets. it had more than just a couple of beer gardens in it, as well as being able to just wander around with your beer. I spent nearly 4 hours walking around, sitting, drinking, getting my hair almost dread locked (then I chickened out and got one of those hair wrap things), buying anklets from the guys below, drinking more beer, watching karaoke and making it back to my apartment to have a quick power nap after drinking too much beer (code for having an accidental early night).

I want to be them when I grow up.

this city never sleeps at night

tattoos in berlin.

right so I’ve had a pretty decent introduction to berlin thus far, I think. and I didn’t get here until 4pm on Thursday. and I’m counting this as day one.

I’ve seen more bald women than I’ve ever seen, more facial piercings on one person than I were physically possible, so many mohawks, parts of the berlin wall, graffiti on absolutely everything, people in lederhosen just walking down the street, nearly been run over by a few dickheads on their bikes, far too many people that dress like me (I thought dressing like a well-off hippy was my thing, obviously not), people wearing far too little clothes, more buskers/street performers than melbourne on a sunday afternoon, people (men & women) wearing fishnets, a girl with bright red hair but fluoro pink eyebrows, dreadlocks (I’m jealous of these people)… I don’t think I can list anymore things. and I love it. I love diverse cities like this, it reminds me of home – although I don’t think melbourne is as out there as berlin.

something that has become quite clear to me is that in berlin, you have to have a tattoo to be a berliner. and I think I’ve managed to see some of the worst tattoos in the world; seriously, one guy had connected duplo pieces all down one arm. in colour. dude, if you’re gonna commit to getting a sleeve, at least make it worthwhile. all I can tell from that is that you obviously had such a great fucking childhood that you had to get your favourite toy tattooed on your arm… seriously, great decision.

or there was the girl who had an ‘ä’ on the back of her neck, rather large, like the size of an ashtray. but it didn’t have two dots above it, it had three. that’s not even a real letter. I find it pretty funny that I judge people with stupid tattoos when I’m sure people have said mine is, but I feel like its a privilege that only tattooed people have – non tatted up folks don’t have the right to judge (I totally just made that rule up).

then there was the guy who had his entire calf muscle tattooed black, like just the back of his leg was that black ink colour, like he decided on a deign, hated it, asked the next tat artist to cover it but he hated that too so just ended up “colouring in” the entire leg. that might not be the story, actually it’s probably not the story at all.

now I can’t help but think people who get tattooed now (like at my age) with something they believe is a truly meaningful thing, or of something that is a really pivotal moment in their life, something that means something… is that still going to be their main turning point/their main ‘something meaningful’ later on? who’s to say that what you believe now as a twenty-something is what you’ll believe later as a sixty-something? who’s to say that the meaningful event you got tattooed on you is going to be as meaningful as an event that will happen to you later in life?

then there’s obviously the argument that “the body is a canvas, why not decorate the walls?”, which I think is a really cool way to look at it. I love people who get stupid little tattoos everywhere just because they like it. I think that’s brilliant. thus making this entire rant stupid, useless and pointless.

wow, this is a bit of a turn around from the girl who is craving to get a sleeve of her own. I admire people with tattoos – bloody hell I’m attracted to people with tattoos. and I always will be.
but berlin has almost made me start to question if I’ll ever get another tattoo (dad you’ll be stoked to hear that).

aw shit.