Berlin: out of the bombed, into the avant garde

So Ive been in Berlin for a couple days now, and Im trying to think of what to write about it. (First let me explain that I cant find the apostrophe on this keyboard and Im tired of trying, so youll just have to read the contractions without it. Youll be ok.)

Berlin feels very different from the last two cities Ive been in. Paris was larger than life. It was beautiful and dripping with detail and meaning and history. Walking around Paris, you really feel like youre in the center of the world; as though civilization itself begins and ends in Notre Dame square. Amsterdam is a very strange hybrid of Las Vegas and . . . I dont know. . . some quaint little town. Its canals and perfectly manicured lawns and tall, skinny, brightly-colored houses all give the impression that the Dutch dont ever leave a speck of dust on their furniture. But walking around the center of the city, one can also easily get the feeling that the entire town was built here for tourists. Like a hippie Vegas, with ample opportunity for making bad decisions and acting in a way that you never would in the light of day in your hometown.

That brings me to Berlin. I havent taken many pictures here, because whats meaningful about this city doesnt really have anything to do with the way it looks. Its the way it feels in your gut to be here. Berlins history is all so recent, you kind of get the feeling that youre walking through a history book as the story is being put down on paper, kind of like in that movie Stranger Than Fiction (great flick - check it out if you havent). The emotionally-charged graffitti on every wall combined with the bombed out remains of god knows what building make you sort of feel like you should be quiet when walking around here. Well Berliners are many things, but they are certainly not quiet! Its as though theyve taken all their Nazi, Communist history and turned it on its head in the fastest, most dramatic way they could think of. Everyone is accepted here. Its a huge gay-friendly city. People are not necessarily beautiful, and they dont necessarily wear the latest fashions, but they are unique and proud and strong. They dress like art. It feels like everything happens here about 5 minutes before it happens in the rest of the world. They know whats going on here.

The best way I can think to describe the feel here is to tell you about the bars and clubs I visited on the pub crawl a couple nights ago. The first bar was a kitchy Communist bar. The walls were red, the bartenders were stoic and bearded, and the whole place was filled with pictures of Marx and other red paraphanalia. I know they were trying to be ironic, but one cant help but wonder. . . are they really? The second bar was like a 60s lounge. There were several rooms, all set up like living rooms, complete with shag carpet, couches, and strange trippy lighting schemes. There were djs stationed in random corners of the bar spinning stuff. (It might interest a few of you to know that I twisted my ankle here trying to show off my extremely lame Vanilla Ice dance. Serves me right. The swelling is starting to go down, so dont worry too much Ma.) The third bar was outside, and meant to simulate a beach. We found lounge chairs and put our feet in the giant sand pit while they brought our drinks. It was pretty lame actually. At the end of the night, we ended up at one of the most hoppin clubs in Berlin, called Matrix. Its located under a bridge covered in graffitti, and theres always a waiting line to get in. It was, you guessed it, a techno club. Damn they love that silly booming music here! It was fun after I just gave in to the spectacle of the whole thing. I wish I had some glow sticks and a pacifier though. . .

Today I plan to do some cultural things like go on a tour about the third reich and possibly go see an opera. Oh, and purchase a pair of Birkenstocks. Peace out. God save Berlin.