Memories: Berlin
I am starting a new series called memories. I need to write more. These will be part of a bigger story and book one day.
Berlin. Beautiful Berlin.
Berlin was not beautiful in the way a pretty girl is pretty, but beautiful like one of those women with perfectly disheveled hair, who made smoking a cigarette look good, who was never on time but you didn’t care. Exciting, colourful, young, exquisite Berlin.
I fell in love with the city visiting my brother. We drank flat whites all day, and Club Mate, the cold tea sold in bottles that kept you wired all day, loved by computer programmers and clubbers alike. In the day we visited hip stores, perfect white walls, perfect German salespeople with no makeup and flawless skin. Effortless cool. Every meal we had was just right. Bountiful lunch salads in open spaces, and the best Asian fusion I’ve ever had prepared in a restaurant under the railway, where you had to knock on a hidden door and give a password to get in.
