red, wound 'round a wheel

Ok, folks, here's a long one.

Once upon a time, a girl born in a burrow in North Carolina's deciduous woods bore a great weight in her heart. Bored with her life on a hill, and refusing to bear this great weight no more, she boarded a steel bellowing bird. It hung in the air for six hours and five pence before touching down in Ireland, her new home. The weeks passed quickly, a flurry of singing 'Galway Girl' arm in arm and talking sunrise philosophy in the kitchen over tea and the last bottle of wine. Then came the snow flurries. The Emerald Isle grew cold. Her spirits fell slowly in a town smaller than her burrow, and the rain fell fast, and the rain fell fast. It was time for a new adventure. It was four thirty, and she was going to Berlin.

On Wednesday, 22 November, we sped off to Belfast to spend the night before our flight early the next morning. We rode with Marlene's flat mate, his brother, and a German couchsurfer they were hosting that week. Since it was Marlene's birthday the next day and I had never been out at night in Belfast, it was quickly decided by our Irish counterparts that we would do a pub crawl. Needless to say, I am now quite familiar with the city.

Thursday we ran into a bit of trouble with our plane reservations, and spend a lot of time waiting. Here is an excerpt from my journal at the time,
Inventory of surroundings: -four men in brilliantly neon fluorescent yellow windbreakers -children throwing out the judgemental eye -lady in a wheel chair holding a cane -a fire hose immediately northwest of my left shoulder: red, wound 'round a wheel -3 fire extinguishers -5 signs regarding fire safety (beginning to wonder if they notice how much it rains here) -an orange sign about carry on luggage in Italian: 'bagaglio,' 'passegero,' 'ragionevole' (it could also be about the finery of pasta cooking)

Through a circuitous route involving Bristol, we made it to Berlin. In the airport, we met a young U.S. Army R.O.T.C. guy. He didn't like Obama, and I didn't like him much, but he told us some great ghost stories about a castle in Edinburgh. Marlene's group of six friends greeted us at the U-Bahn stop. Felix played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar, cueing up right as we stepped off the train. I love taking trains! We went to bed early Thrusday evening after a hearty fill of pesto pasta, sweets, and broccoli pumpkin soup brought over by Marlene's father--a Tai-Chi expert, hospital nurse, and very liberal German man. She shares with him an adventurous spirit, and they both speak their minds passionately, which I really enjoy in people. They're truly alive, burning their way throuhg life and warming the hearts of everyone they meet.

Friday we picked up Luke, Marlene's eight year old brother who is perfectly fluent in English. He too has that internal energy that wakes up everyone around him. We took the U-Bahn to the Holocaust memorial near Tiergarten (one of Berlin's myriad parks). The memorial consists of what seems like an acre of dark grey stone boxes of varying heights arranged linearly on a sloping cobblestone plane. Basically, it's a labyrinth of stone walls. Walking in to the construction, the ground slopes downward, and each block is taller than the previous, so it gave me the feeling that I was shrinking. It's eerie. But it was nice to have little Lukie there, lighteneing the mood with games of hide and seek and jump the creek between the stones.

We walked by the American Embassy to the Brandenburg Gate. blah blah, we did a lot of touristy things that day, but there were break dancers outside of the gate, and that was fun to watch. We popped in and out of a few museums, but basically kept moving. On the way to the gate, we came across a memorial with four intact pieces of the Berlin wall. Marlene explained the story of the wall to Luke in German, and I read the plaques that were in EnglishI ate a lot of Turkish food.

Friday night, we ate sushi with Marlene's family. Her mom is Irish and teaches English at three different schools in the city (vocational, business, and a middle school). She has a funky homey apartment on Schonleinstrasse. Both parents have a good taste in music, and we talked about politics, movies, and emo-kids (they kept syaing emu) until it was time to go out. Then we headed out to a house party with her friends/ roommates.

The party was huge, but the hosts had cooked so much food for everyone. After a couple hours, we headed out to an electro club called Mobel Fabrik. Ok, the thing about this club is that to get to it, you have to really know where you're going. It sounds simple, but we took a bus to some strasse or another, walked down an alleyway, through an old rusty wrought iron gate, into a barren courtyard, through a grafitti'd door, down a winding staircase (cue the pulsing beats now), a carpet hanging over a doorway was pulled aside, and boom! There we are being asked for five Euros, and having our coats whisked away to the coat room. We danced all night, and got back Marlene's flat about the time the sun came up.

Saturday, we slept late. I went to some art galleries and record shops on Torstrasse, and then went back to the Marlene's flat to clean up and prepare for her birthday/coming home for a visit party. The party was a lot of fun. The DJ was a friend of Marlene's and her best friend's boyfriend. I helped make the Spanish omelets and some Sangria. They also made pasta, tabouli, pesto pizza, and some sort of vegan cookie balls for the hundred plus crowd that came. I met Germans (of course), Americans, a Turkish girl, a Mexican girl, an Australian guy, and some people from Spain.

Sunday, we cleaned, and then I headed via bike to the Floh-Market (flea market) at Mauer Park. The bicycle chain came off when I was about half way into my thirty minute journey, and I wandered into the S-Bahn station with my hands covered in grease. High point of the trip. I picked up a lot of souvenirs for friends and family back home, and wished I lived in Berlin so I could decorate my chic apartment with all that funky junk. I also sipped gluwein, which made me twinge with nostalgia for last Christmas in Georgia with the whole Brewer side of the family. We stayed up late on Christmas Eve waiting for the little ones to fall asleep, sipping gluwein, and speaking our truths. I ate at Fat-Ass Pizza, which claimed to be authentic New York pizza. When they heard I was American, they gave me an extra piece fo' free!

Monday, I met up with a friend from the party in Kreutzberg. He is a political activist and showed me around some historically important sights like the Green Party's headquarters. He told me the story of the Kreutzberg May Day riots in 1987, and explained how that region of the city has matured since, but kept a firm hold on its revolutionary spirit by demonstrating every year. We parted ways, and I ventured to the East-Side Gallery in the rain. I walked the painted 1.3 km of wall, the longest intact piece of the original divider. Unfortunately the murals have been severely damaged by grafitti and tourists who want to take a little piece home with them.

Tuesday we got chased by the U-Bahn undercover train police, and landed safely in Belfast greeted by a blanket of snow.