returning the favour / let's go clubbing

No, I haven't joined an arty indie band and this isn't our promotional photo. Rather, it is Andrew, his British cousin Dan and myself being successfully snapped in a dark bar by Dan's flatmate Jed, who is more capable with my digital camera than I am.

Upon our departure from London, Andrew and I had heartily invited all associated parties to visit us in Berlin. They happily took us up on our offer, joining us for a Berlin-style Schönes Wochenende in late Feb. We took them to Tacheles (formerly a 1990s artists' squat and place of general bohemia) for a taste of Berlin grit, although the place has since become somewhat of a backpacker attraction, thus negating much of it's earlier edginess.

Above: Tacheles from behind (oooo errr). There's an open-air bar at the very top, with great views of the video art that is projected onto the back wall of the 5-story building opposite the Tacheles complex.

Later that night we ended up at Rodina, located underneath the Janowitzbrüke S-Bahn station, directly on the river Spree. Inside were two large dance rooms, one with electro, the other with Russian-born Berlin novelist Wladimir Kaminer cutting up the decks with his trademark Russen Disko. Such high-tempo, relentless Russian folk rock makes for some hilarious shouting-and-clapping-inspired improvised dance-moves, but dehydration and fatigue quickly take their toll. Although satisfied and sweat-drenched as we left to head home, I was disappointed not to have heard that stereotypical Russian call to arms, 'Moscow', which Kaminer always plays, and which Google tells me was penned by someone called Genghis Khan (although my search engine skills are notoriously bad).

You'll know it, it's the one that goes:

Moscow, Moscow, throwing glasses at the wall
And good fortune to us all, Hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh, Hey!
Moscow, Moscow, join us for a Cossack Show
We'll go dancing 'round the clock

Which in the club is sung thus:

Moscow, Moscow, laa-la-la-la laa laa laa
Laa-la-la-la-laa laa laa, Hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh, Hey!
Moscow, Moscow, laa-la-la-la laa laa laa
Laa-la-la-la-laa laa laa, Hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh, Hey!

The following night, after a few looseners at a red-lit bar near Boxhagener Platz (see photos), we all headed to the infamous Panorama Bar / Berghain. After a nail-biting wait in the Schlange, fretting over the club's irrational iron-fist door policy, we entered the monolithic ex-factory and had our digital cameras confiscated. As such, I have no images of this notoriously salacious club to post online. Well known for it's 60-40 gay/straight mix, Panorama/Bergain's 'we never close' weekend policy encourages drug-addled benders and there were still many revellers rocking up on Sunday morning as we were leaving. As a straight woman, I found the abundance of topless gay muscle men a bit intimidating, but the insane sound system and other-worldliness of the place was pretty awesome.

Above: Tom, Joss and Katie going red at a bar near Boxhagener Platz, Friedrichshain.


Above: The whole crew gets in on the act.

east7

In other Back to Berlin news, I have finally scored a regular job which isn't bizarre or involve mopping floors with a rag! I applied to an ad I saw in Zitty (city mag full of listings), for a receptionist at a 'relaxed' hostel in Prenzlauer Berg. I managed to get an interview, and was completely bamboozled to discover I'd applied to the same hostel where I'd stayed when I first arrived in Berlin. Moreover, this is the hostel where my sister and her boyfriend had stayed in 2005 and befriended the Polish receptionist!

So I had my training at East7 Berlin Hostel in early Feb, which consisted of Nik (said Pole) showing myself and the other two new receptionists, Paula (German) and Bart (Dutch) how to use the Dorm software, make cappuccinos and engage in off-the-cuff witty banter with the guests. The pay is paltry (6,50€ / $10.95 per hour), but Berlin is cheap and at least I know where next month's rent is coming from. I have two bosses; Jörg, the wacky, easy-going German, and Pierre, a business-focussed, straight-laced South African.

My first shift at East7 was a struggle. I was ill (and had had a roaring fever a few days prior) and as nervous as hell. I foolishly accepted 3 different 'walk-ins', which were inevitably complicated bookings, involving Room Changes and mixed payments. Particularly tricky was a group of 4 Italian men, who spoke neither German nor English. The language difficulties inflamed my nerves and I accidentally took the wrong set of keys when I showed them up to their rooms...

The nightshift goes from 6pm until 9am, but the reception is closed between midnight and 7am so there is some scope for sleep. This scope is, however, somewhat hindered as the nightshift bedroom is also the noisiest in the building. Being woken up by the front door closing, or the sound of a drunken backpacker as they stomp awkwardly upstairs, is not unusual. Oh and on my first shift I accidentally left a sign out at reception reading 'If you need the receptionist, ring the doorbell', so that I was rudely woken at 6am by drunks wanting coffee. (Admittedly, I've become used to East7's night-time soundscape, but simply find it easier and more enjoyable to write whingey, cynical prose. Hoho.)

Soooo a month has passed and I'm feeling much more confident about my work at East7. I'm getting to know the rhythm of the place, making far fewer mistakes and really starting to enjoy myself. It's great being able to help guests with information, coffee, internet and the like. (Plus responding to emails and making complicated bookings appeals to my anal streak.)

Below: I don't have any photos of the hostel, but I thought it was time I posted new shots of my room, as I've accumulated quite a bit of 'stuff' in the last few months, and it's feeling much more homely.

the day to day

Back in Berlin, and back to day-to-day life; U-bahns and S-bahns, English conversation lessons and stressful episodes at discount supermarket chain Plus. And of course, enjoying nights-in with my WG. Such evenings are usually composed of drinking Becks or Sternburg half litres, talking quatsch and playing UNO. If a bigger group of people are involved, my flatmate Samuel inevitably instigates a game of Murder in the Dark. Unlike the version I used to play as a child, which involved running around in the dark and loudly screaming victims, Samuel's version is a much more sedate game of words and shutting one's eyes at specific intervals. He takes great delight in narrating the grand tales of murder and deceit, laboriously describing the gruesome details of each crime. It's actually a great game to play with a group of semi-drunk friends, as it requires a lot of unsubstantiated finger-pointing and lying, which is often highly entertaining.

Above: Samuel does his best That's Life cover pose.


Above: My French flatmate Marie relaxes WG-style, after a hard day at the gallery.


Above: Marie demonstrates a Punjabi dance move, whilst Andrew eagerly anticipates the next round of UNO.

london pictorial

Here now is a highlights package of snaps from my London visit - then I promise my blog shall return to Berlin; the Wall, Currywurst, and all things Kraut.

Above: I somehow managed to score 6 iconic red buses in one shot.


Above: Doing the Tourist Thang; Andrew consulting the Lonely Planet outside 'Bucks'.


Above: Ooohhhh Britain! Britain, Britain, Britain.


Above: ABC's London Correspondent Andrew Cook reporting live outside parliament.


Above: Me and Aslan in Trafalgar Square.


Above: The main hall of the Natural History Museum; wonderfully 'oldskool', complete with Brontosaurus skeleton and Gothic architecture. (NB I am still mildly disgruntled about the decision to shift our museum out of the State Library Building and into that minimalist, cavernous, charmless blob on Nicholson St...)


Above: Suspended T-Rex skeleton reminiscent of either Jurassic Park or Ben Stiller's Night at the Museum, depending on your age.


Above: Hamstead Heath in the north of London, with a rare burst of winter sunshine.


Above: The Manor House in Hamstead Heath, and potentially also (the set of) Mr Darcy's summer retreat.


Above: The Millennium Bridge linking the new with the old; St Pauls Cathedral and the Tate Modern. (Note also how the ominous purple sky is reminiscent of Ghostbusters II, after Vigo's evil spirit had been awakened and the National Gallery was coated in slime. )



Above: The Palace Theatre in Spamalot Mode.