NO MORE PARTIES IN BERLIN
Oberbaumbrücke
TWO SIDES ONE COIN!
In Germany for the first time, I was filled with excitement. The thought of stepping into one of the world’s major art capitals and experiencing the pulse of its renowned EDM scene had me stoked. However, uncertainty lingered—how would COVID affect the city? By this point, Marrakech had completely shut down, while Paris seemed untouched, carrying on as usual. Berlin, with its complex history of turmoil and resilience, felt unpredictable.
Traveling to all these places without knowing the languages was an adventure in itself. Upon landing, the sound of German announcements over the intercom was unfamiliar yet exciting. Sitting by the window, I took in the layout of the city from above—a bird’s-eye glimpse of a world I was just beginning to explore.
As this leg of the journey began, I noticed I was taking fewer photos. Maybe it was a sign of being more present in the moment, or perhaps it was the storm cloud I mentioned in my last post—one that was now starting to pour, weighing me down.
Leaving CDG to Berlin
MITTE
I landed, grabbed my bags, and hopped on the train to the downtown area of Mitte. Usually, after traveling, I’d skip eating out of sheer exhaustion, but this time, it wasn’t an option. Once I arrived in the heart of Berlin, the harsh, bitter cold greeted me like an extension of my inner state. This wasn’t a beach getaway or a serene escape to find peace—this city felt as brash and unyielding as I did inside. Berlin had a darkness hanging over it, an unspoken weight in the air that mirrored my own.
Stepping off the train, I made my way to find Currywurst, something I’d researched online and seen highly recommended. It wasn’t something I was familiar with, but the reviews convinced me it was worth trying. As I headed toward the food stand, I noticed an artist playing music in the freezing cold—a raw and striking image of the city itself. It felt symbolic: artists, undeterred by external conditions, driven by an inner need to express themselves, no matter how harsh the weather or life’s challenges. That moment captured the essence of Berlin—gritty, resilient, and unapologetically creative.
Musician In Berlin
Now, look—I’m not about to sugarcoat things or tell you what most travel blogs might say to rack up likes and clicks. This is about my travels, and I’m here to keep it real! So, Currywurst…….? Honestly, it’s not life-changing, but I get it—after a night of partying hard, something greasy like that could hit the spot. That said, try it for yourself when you visit! What did impress me, though, was the German beer. Now that I can vouch for all day, every day—it was the perfect remedy for the biting cold.
As night fell within the hour, both my phone battery and I were running on empty. I called an Uber to take me to my Airbnb, but, of course, my phone died mid-chaos. Panicked, I sprinted across the street to a coffee shop to charge it just enough to run back out and catch my ride. It felt like sliding into home plate just in time. Once I was in the Uber, though, everything finally eased up—it was smooth sailing from there. The calm before that night’s storm.
Konnopke's Imbiss Currywurst Berlin
HURRICANE AMANO
Pulling up to my Airbnb was like stepping into a fleeting sanctuary. The place carried a luxurious vibe, a stark contrast to how I felt inside. Even when your world is unraveling, sometimes small comforts can feel like a lifeline, however fragile. I wanted to hold onto that, even if just for a moment.
Once inside, I stood under the hot shower, letting the warmth try to thaw the cold that had settled deep within. It was a temporary reprieve, a quiet moment to breathe before everything came undone.
When I lay down, the storm I’d been building finally dropped like a hurricane predicted but felt once touching land. At first, it was a few tears, a quiet release—but soon it erupted, a flood of emotions I couldn’t control. I curled into a ball, clutching a pillow as if it could offer some kind of comfort. The emptiness I felt was overwhelming, like a void where my heart should have been.
I cried until I couldn’t anymore, my body trembling with the weight of it all. There, in the dark, I screamed into the silence, my voice breaking against the walls that offered no answers. I didn’t understand why. I thought of the good I’d tried to put into the world, the love I’d given, only to find myself here, alone and broken.
When it was over, the quiet that followed was now a void. I was hollow a shell. The storm had passed, but now my soul felt as though it had been scraped bare. I didn’t know what was to come of my life, but I knew this wasn’t something that would fade quickly. The damage and gapping hole was now here and was going to take some time to heal and rebuild.
THE MORNING AFTER
A new day
As I awoke the next day, I felt… better. The storm had passed, but like any storm, it left its damage behind—a quiet aftermath that lingered in the air. The weight in my chest wasn’t gone; it had simply settled in. Like I said before, this wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Still, I reminded myself: I’m in Berlin. I hadn’t ventured into the city’s famous club scene yet, nor had I even seen the Berlin Wall. You might be thinking, Shouldn’t you just stay in the room and rest? And maybe you’d be right. But resting has never been my style. By this point, walking had become its own kind of therapy—a ritual of sorts. Plus, I had one other ritual to fulfill: cookies. My favorite dessert always brings out the inner child a part of me forgotten but became the very source of my healing later in this story.
A quick Google search showed the Berlin Wall was much closer than I expected—right outside my hotel, in fact. All I had to do was start walking. But first, food. I needed something to eat before my exploration, and my search led me to Markthalle Neun, a vibrant market and food court known for its incredible eats.
So, with a sense of determination and a growing appetite, off I went.
Though I didn’t capture any photos of myself at the market, I did manage to snag some delicious food and, most importantly, my cookies! Before I hit the proverbial wall of exhaustion, I decided to explore a bit more. One of my favorite things to do when traveling is to visit music stores and see what collections other cities have to offer. I stumbled across a spot called Groove, which, as I’m writing this now, no longer exists cool place tho.
With a full belly, cookies in hand, and a good beer to cap it off, I felt ready to take on the next part of my journey. It was time to visit a global historical landmark—a place with a dark story that once symbolized division and conflict, yet now stands as a testament to resilience and change.
EastSide Gallery
MY BERLIN CLUBBING ATTEMPT
What could possibly move me to go out and party after the way I’d been feeling earlier in this trip? Well, I was in Berlin—a city synonymous with nightlife and electronic music—and with only one night left before heading to Prague to meet my younger brother, I figured, why not?
Berlin is famous for its techno scene, and clubs like Berghain are almost mythical in their reputation. After binging countless videos and Reddit posts about the city’s nightlife, I learned all about the dress codes and the infamous door policies. From everything I had researched it was something straight out of The Matrix, which sounded incredibly cool. While Berghain was tempting, I decided to aim for another spot, Tresor, known for its deep house.
The city was freezing, and snow had started falling, but the chill only added to the thrill. Armed with my winter layers and my COVID card, I headed into Berlin’s nightlife. By the time I arrived at Tresor, there was already a decent line outside, the pounding bass from inside teasing us all. I waited for about 45 minutes, both excited and nervous. Every now and then, someone got turned away at the door, making me wonder: Am I cool enough to get in? (Side note: I swear some clubs turn people away just to add to the hype—it’s a psychological game.)
Finally, it was my turn. The bouncer took one look at my COVID card and said, “NO.” Upset yes but. Apparently, my card wasn’t the EU version. He told me I’d need to get a proper EU COVID card from a nearby 24-hour clinic. Standing in what felt like sub-zero temperatures, I realized this was a sign. Maybe tonight wasn’t meant to be.
Disappointed but oddly relieved, I made my way back to the hotel. A hot shower again, some Uber Eats, and a night of YouTube comedy became my unexpected consolation prize. Watching Tim Heidecker’s spot-on Joe Rogan parody had me laughing harder than I had in weeks.
Looking back, skipping the club was probably for the best. I got some much-needed rest before the next leg of my journey: my first-ever country-to-country train ride in Europe. Tomorrow, it was off to Prague to explore castles and a page of this new adventure.
