BERLIN

SORRY, EVERYONE! HERE'S BERLIN! Vingettes of passion.

We're riding down the Eastern Gallery at 3 AM after getting booted from a club. Directly ahead of us are two similar dudes also on bikes. They pass a bottle back and forth, trying to stay in the bike lane. I ride up to one of them and put my hand out for the bottle. The dude-man laughs and hands me the bottle, empty. I ride ahead to his comrade, chuck the bottle in his bike basket and speed off. Swedish. The next day I see one of them in a magazine at the art bookstore. 

Our tour guide was extremely emotional all throughout the three hour tour of the Satsi Prison. She was tall and swayed back and forth in the middle of the crowd, violently explaining the violence that took place. She would always end her bits with "but I don't have to tell you what that means" or "you can probably guess what happened", each word slower than the next. She didn't cry, but it felt close. It was a horrifying prison. 

I was getting lost in the east, listening to music. A woman outside a storefront ushered me inside, speaking fast German. I entered and saw two beautiful women, one at a desk and one halfway up a library ladder tending to a huge wall of DVDs. I scanned the titles and didn't recognize any of them. They were all names and little pictures. I bolted back out onto the street and walked past a gothic church. Was that a video dating service? 

I hadn't ordered anything regrettable until last night. I wanted a big plate of donor kebab with salad and bread on the side. What I got was a plate of red peppers, onions, grease, meat cubes and rice.  God damn it! An unwanted ticket to Fart City. 

The head Australian held court outside the hostel. It was the one about the hooker in Amsterdam. It was 50 Euro, "brunette all the way", and strictly business. The rest of the boys asked questions, fascinated. The leader cooly smoked a cigarette and didn't even bother talking about his second hooker- his initiation lady was enough. I learned the phrase "have a go" and the word "dingy" (condom).

I went to the most bar-ish looking of the bars with Dylan. There were obscene posters on the walls, an old street sign standing sideways that said "DIE" and girls everywhere. It was Friday and Berlin was dressed up. I was sick of my only set of clothes- the gray nylon pants, the blue shirt, the chambray button up and the white windbreaker. I was especially sick of my shoes, a pair of Tom's that couldn't handle rain. They smelled awful and looked worse, like two dead rats. I smelled awful. I hadn't worn deodorant in a month. I also hadn't showered that day. It was nice to find out later that German girls don't care much about any of these things. 

We met some German natives on the couch and we got drunk together. One was tall and blonde and a student, one was a tall, skinny psychiatrist and one didn't speak any English but was very jolly. It was like a scene from a German sitcom. We went to a club and we are all still friends to this day. 

The group of French kids were awake early because they hadn't slept for 48 hours. We all went to the subway station together but neither of us Americans had money. When we got the money we didn't have small enough bills to pay for tickets. When we got the small bills and the tickets we were sure we wouldn't make our train to Amsterdam. I was wearing all my layers, sweating in the subway, cursing myself for not biking to the station with a perfectly good bike in fine weather. We made it with little time to spare. I didn't have a ticket for my bike but everything was fine.

We went out to dinner with three beautiful British girls who turned out to be sisters! They said they were leaving Europe (going back to England) after Prague. They only had one more night in Berlin.

I had breakfast in the hostel every morning because I thought it was a good deal.

Rachel hung out with us once even though every night we made some sort of contact, saying we'd meet up later. Eventually I let her have the last word: "let me get in touch wit u lata". She never did but it was a comforting message to leave me with. Something about its optimism or something. The night we did meet up with Rachel we had fun at a dancehall club. I learned how to reggae dance on a weed cruise. Rachel had a friend who was very good looking and we left her at the club with a man and Rachel said something about her being free spirited. 

Berlin was a blast. 

ALONE

The women are beautiful but they're also huge. They aren't huge in a fat way, they're just big and tall. They use more cloth. They're tan and stylish and if Disney animated them they'd be hot bears. 

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