The ponderings of an 18 year old ponderer.
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Tuesday 27 August 2013

Interrailing (Day 2)



Apart from being woken up at 5am when the two English girls came back steaming drunk fairly quietly, Em and I slept soundly until the morning. We said goodbye to the two Israeli guys who were moving along to their next destination but not before having a heated discussion about the best starter Pokemon. (bulbasaur obviously.) Then we went out to explore the area around our hostel and to find the nearest shop. The nearest shop turned out to be a Netto...

..After fleeing from the nearby Netto, it was time for sightseeing. Optimistically, we decided on walking to Berlin's city centre. Although strenuous, the walk turned out to be fruitful as we meandered through the Tiergarten and technology area whilst also seeing the Reichstag and Brandenberg Gate. At the Brandenberg Gate upon recommendation from Em's dad we bought a currywurst each and this powderful deliciousness definitely replenished our energy.

Currywursts devoured, we queued in an irritatingly short line for an irritatingly long time to book a free visit to the top of the Reichstag, only to found out that it was just the terrace open as the famous dome was being cleaned for A WHOLE WEEK. (Honestly, I could have done the job with some Dettol wipes in a day.) But anyway, we booked to go later that day so set off on our favourite method of transport across the city to see the last remains of the Berlin Wall.

The contrast between the two areas of Berlin was immediately noticeable as we left the gleaming office buildings and bustle behind. I'm not suggesting that the eastern bit was the slums or anything, it just felt different. We sat down on some grass next to the wall and river and enjoyed being serenaded by a horse-headed guitarist playing ACDC (yes this did happen, no we weren't stoned). But speaking of stoned, our neighbours on the patch of grass were a bunch of teenage boys who we watched try and roll a joint for a good half an hour. We then stumbled across a sign for a beach bar called Yaam and thought we'd have a look. Feeling sand under our feet, listening to some reggae and smelling A LOT of weed, we wandered through the open-air bar reflecting on the pleasantry of this drug-themed hour of our day.

We passed the time waiting for our Reichstag visit by getting utterly lost back at our hostel (an old nunnery) and marvelling at the stamina of German nuns. Realising we had no food for the next day, Em and I begrudgingly dragged our feet to Netto with the self-justification that carrying the shopping back in M&S bags meant that it didn't really count. For dinner that night, we somehow managed to find a kitchen we'd barged into earlier and microwaved our Uncle Ben's rice. Much to the confusion and disgust of two German girls who were cooking fresh pasta and sauce, we ate straight out of the bags. But their looks of pity soon turned to envy as we threw away our packets and left, leaving them to wash up their pans and plates.

We took a train (surprising I know) back to the Reichstag and since we were early, settled down on a bench in a square by the Brandenburg Gate and some fountains. It was early evening by then and much of the bustle of the day had ended as we soaked up the warm evening and mellow tunes of a nearby saxophonist. This probably doesn't sound special but for me it was pretty darn BOSS, just lying there people-watching. NB: when Em and I say people-watching, we mean people-judging.

The Reichstag itself had full on airport security and we made it through, chatting to a nice guy from Orlando. Up on the terrace, we looked at the beautiful panoramic views of Berlin and the horrible view of bad German male haircuts. The leafy Tiergarten looked out of place in the concrete landscape, much like the teenager's quiff looked out of place on his shaved head. (You can't even comprehend how proud I am of that simile.)

Back in our hostel room, we chatted to the two English girls and said hello to three new Asian girls. The Asians really didn't help the stereotype, keeping to themselves and packing and repacking their stuff numerous times in between checking their iPads. The last bed in our room was claimed by a quiet guy from Cape Cod who said about five words before we all went to bed. Understandably so, I think he must have been overwhelmed by the overpowering stench of feet and oestrogen in our room.