Berlin...again by bellmusker

This is my sixth time in Berlin and believe me, it won’t be my last. This is also my third Berlin journal over the years, and the happiest one yet, given that three of my favourite people skipped along the cobblestones with me – a Red Bubble reunion of the best kind.

Holls and I in front of the Berlin Wall

This time I had three weeks to set up camp, renting a beautiful apartment with a balcony to write on. I did just that for several days, enjoying my solitude and wandering around my favourite city. However, I did have one hellish day that drained the ink from my pen: I got lost, a waiter yelled at me, I spent my whole internet booking trying in vain to remember my email password, bees ate my salad, and then on the U-Bahn coming home, I felt a brushing against my leg and thought “God, these German bees are pretty full on…this one’s almost stroking me.” No, that would be the dirty old man next to me, his hand up my dress. It was nothing a long bath and a glass of Rottkäppchen champagne couldn’t wash away though, and when I realised I’d landed on the 50th anniversary of the building of the Berlin Wall, my mind was soon on the important things.

I stood at the airport gate the next morning with a big sign proclaiming ‘Fräulein Fainting Goat!’ and waited for Holly to appear. Her little goat legs almost gave out from under her when she saw me, so fierce was her laughter, and suddenly we were wiping away each other’s tears and covering our cheeks and foreheads with red lipstick kisses.

And so it began.

East Side Gallery

East Side Gallery

Some of the murals were a touch…perplexing

We started a tradition of a huge Frühstück (breakfast) in my favourite cafe, Godot – a platter of berries, cheeses and bread – before walking to the Berlin Wall. Behind this section of the wall is a ‘beach’ on the banks of the river Spree, and here we stretched out in deck chairs, bare feet digging into sand as sunshine sparkled on the water, Chris Isaak crooned and our champagne glasses clinked.

There was a four hour walking tour of Berlin with an extraordinary guide, taking us from Bebelplatz, where the book burnings took place, to the site of Hitler’s bunker, and everywhere in between – such an intense afternoon.

Holocaust Memorial

Beautiful medieval ruin in the middle of Berlin

Poster art

Amazing huge Milchkaffees and Apfeltorte

Gorgeous ivy everywhere

And then Hilde arrived! My Dutch soul sister, penpal of mine for over ten years, and companion every single time I head to Europe, who was squeezed so hard I’m sure she returned with bruises. She and I had hit Berlin together years before for a feminist punk festival, and took great delight in retracing our steps, right down to more huge Frühstücks with litres of Irish coffee.

Hilde, Holls and I basked in the hot sunshine, hit flea markets galore, counted butterflies, watched German policemen parachute into Pariser Platz in front of the Brandenburg Gate, spent an incredible afternoon in a beer garden on the edges of a lake, braided each others’ hair, grooved to the ‘True Blood’ soundtrack, frocked up for cocktails in the Red Harp, and had an indulgent, blissful picnic in the Tiergarten with dates, blueberries and Rottkäppchen (Red Riding Hood) champagne as we opened our notebooks and scribbled, dozed in the sun, snacked and smiled so damn much our cheeks hurt.

My girls in front of the Brandenburg Gate

Dates, blueberries and Red Riding Hood champagne…a true picnic!

Picnic in the Tiergarten

The wonderful Tiergarten, right in the heart of the city

Blissful bubblers indeed…joy fatigue

I don’t want to write about the goodbyes, if that’s ok with you.

And then I was standing on my balcony, watching the storm brewing that announced one Gretchen Cello.

To have this woman with me was a delight beyond measure – from Alexanderplatz to Kreuzberg, photobooths to vintage shopping, and even a side trip to Poland. We had our German firing on all cyclinders and ate so much goat’s cheese we almost grew horns, but every moment was something to write about, right down to cruising through the night-time streets of Berlin in the back of a speeding cab, swilling Jägermeister from the bottle.

Frühstück at Godot

Frühstück makes me happy

East German propaganda in the Stasi Museum

Fascinating Stasi (East German Secret Police) spy disguises

‘Smell samples’ in jars used to track suspects

And then there was me, on my balcony, spilling as much ink as I could into my red notebook and trying to capture all the magic of the city I love most, and the people I adore.

Berlin.

Auf wiedersehen, Liebchen.