Readers' Remedies

My previous post was all about a little writing adventure, so this one takes a look at some of what Berlin has to offer for the reader.   It’s a great city to be in for lovers of the written word, with literary events of one kind or another being held practically every week.

On Wednesday 2^nd July, I made the short trip over to the Vagabund Brauerei in Wedding for the launch of the third Readux Books series http://www.readux.net/.  Readux is a small Berlin-based publisher specialising in mainly translated literature in pocket-sized books with beautiful cover designs.  There are four books in each series, at least one of which focuses on Berlin. 

The first part of the evening featured readings from Brittani Sonnenberg and Amanda Svensson, whilst the second was devoted specifically to Berlin-focussed literature.  A discussion with Isabel Cole about the works of Arthur Eloesser, whose ‘Cities and City People’ is one of the titles in the series, was followed by Katy Derbyshire and David Wagner reading from Wagner’s ‘Berlin Triptych’.  Having been at the Series 2 launch in March, I had looked forward to this one and I wasn’t disappointed – the readings and discussions were entertaining and Vagabund’s fine craft beers provided a fitting accompaniment.

I have particularly enjoyed the Literary Lounges hosted by Sharmaine Lovegrove of Dialogue Books http://www.dialoguebooks.org/ in Soho House’s Red Room – a suitably atmospheric basement space, part Victorian gentleman’s study, part Hogwarts’ library with plenty of red velvet, gothic light fittings, and baggy leather sofas.

Now that Sharmaine is returning to London, the lounges will become less frequent (they have been held roughly once a month up to now), although she has vowed to return to host more. 

The latest guest (and presumably last for a while) was Rory MacLean, who, on a sultry evening in June, came to discuss his book ‘Berlin: Imagine a City’, and to recount episodes from his forty year association with the city.  The book’s publication coincided with my arrival in Berlin so I was delighted to be able to buy it after the reading and have it signed by the author. 

I do hope the literary lounges continue and shall look out for Dialogue’s newsletter for details of any upcoming events.

In the meantime, there is plenty to keep bookworms happy in the city.  There are frequent literature and poetry festivals, and bookshops, bars and cafes regularly hold readings, author events or open mic evenings for writers to come along and share their work.

The Brecht Haus in Chausseestrasse http://www.lfbrecht.de/content/ is the last home and workplace of Bertolt Brecht and his wife Helene Weigel (their graves are both in the adjacent Dorotheenstädtischen Friedhof).  I have fond memories of studying ‘Mother Courage and her Children’ at university, so I had to check this out.  The ‘Literaturforum’ has a programme of seminars and events, all in German.

Not far from here, on Schiffbauerdamm, the Berliner Ensemble theatre http://www.berliner-ensemble.de/ naturally features plenty of Brecht in its programme besides recitals, readings and book premieres.

                                                                               ***

Bookshops in Berlin are wonderful havens, whether quirky enclaves with chaotically-stocked shelves, shabby furniture and eccentric owners or sleek streamlined spaces with on-site cafes.  German book price regulations mean that supermarkets and big chains aren’t able to undercut, so independent bookstores thrive.

Some of my favourites are:

Another Country, http://www.anothercountry.de/index.htm Riemannstrasse – an absolute delight.  Operates a bit like a lending library – take your book back and receive a refund, minus €1.50.  Regular events include Friday evening dinners cooked by the shop’s owner, Sophie Raphaeline. 

Autorenbuchhandlung, http://www.autorenbuchhandlung.com/ Else-Ury-Bogen – under the S-Bahn tracks at Savignyplatz.  English-language section and pleasant café.

Curious Fox, http://curiousfoxbooks.com/ Flughafenstrasse – A cosy, neatly arranged shop with a reasonable selection of new and used titles and a section devoted to Berlin-based writers.  Regular readings and quiz nights.

Dussmann, http://www.kulturkaufhaus.de/de/das-kulturkaufhaus/buecher/english-bookshop/  Friedrichstrasse – comprehensive collection of titles in the ‘English Bookshop’ in the city’s ‘KulturKaufhaus’.

Hundt-Hammer-Stein, http://www.hundthammerstein.de/ Alte Schonhauser Strasse – in a basement on this Mitte shopping street.  Small but decent English language section.

Literaturhaus, Fasanenstrasse – a gorgeous villa in a tranquil garden on this well-heeled shopping street just off the Kurfurstendamm.  There’s a lovely café upstairs and on sunny days it’s a treat to sit in the garden but difficult to find a space.  There is a bookshop on the ground floor with a small English-language section.  The café holds regular readings and events but my German isn’t up to appreciating them yet.

Marga Schoeller, Knesebeckstrasse – long-standing Charlottenburg bookshop with good-sized English-language section.

Marga Schoeller

Ocelot Books, http://www.ocelot.de/ Brunnenstrasse – bright, modern space with a small café.
Shakespeare & Sons, Raumer Strasse and also now at Warschauer Strasse.  Large stock of new and used English language texts. Bagels from ‘Fine Bagels’ are available at both branches.

St George’s, http://www.saintgeorgesbookshop.com/ Worther Strasse – English language literature of all kinds.  I’ve spent many a Friday afternoon browsing the shelves in here, rarely leaving empty-handed.  Books can be returned for a 50% refund; a good incentive for further purchasing.

Practically every bookstore includes a section dedicated to German writers and/or Berlin-centred literature.  Non-fiction covering Nazism, both World Wars, the Cold War etc. naturally abounds.  But Berlin has also inspired and influenced generations of fiction writers, and continues to do so. 

Alfred Döblin’s ‘Berlin Alexanderplatz’ was a masterpiece in the 1920s, banned by the Nazis and later deservedly resurrected. 

It may be clichéd, but it’s still almost impossible to mention ‘Berlin’ literature without referring to Isherwood (who is also the subject of a chapter in Maclean’s book).  ‘Goodbye to Berlin’ was another text I'd read at university, and on my very first visit to the city, I made the inevitable pilgrimage to his former address in Nollendorfstrasse where I recalled some earnest undergraduate discussions of the book.  Nowadays it is a thoroughly ordinary and respectable street – nothing like the louche, down-at-heel environs of Isherwood’s world.

Cold War Berlin was a natural focus for espionage novels; providing the twin temptations of the mystery and intrigue of the divided city, and the opportunities for political propagandising. 

Since the Wall’s demise and subsequent German ‘reunification’, writers have sought to understand and explain the ‘new’ city as characters attempt to negotiate their place within it in works ranging from the highbrow to the hilarious.  Inevitably history looms large in many of these narratives, as though acknowledging the past is a necessary part of the process when writing about Berlin.

                                                                                    ***

A selection of my favourite Berlin books, not exhaustive and in no particular order:

‘Berlin Blues’ (2001) Sven Regener (also known by the title ‘Herr Lehmann’): set in Kreuzberg in 1989, the narrative concludes with the fall of the Wall.

‘Alone in Berlin’ (1947) Hans Fallada:  Based on a true story, captures the claustrophobic atmosphere of paranoia and persecution in pre-war Berlin.

‘The Blind Side of the Heart’ (2009) Julia Franck:  German Book Prize winner, haunting narrative with a complex central character.  Some evocative depictions of Weimar-era Berlin (Franck was the guest at the first literary lounge I attended, discussing her latest translated novel ‘Back to Back’ which unforgivably I’ve yet to read).

‘The History of History’ (2011) Ida Hattemer-Higgins:  A heartbreaking novel, very loosely autobiographical. A woman stumbles out of a forest on the outskirts of the city, having no memory of the previous six months. The account of her subsequent mental disintegration, interwoven with episodes from the city’s past, culminates in a devastating denouement.

‘The Book of Clouds’ (2009) Chloe Aridjis: Account of a young South American woman’s solitary, alienated existence in the city.

‘Berlin’ (2005) Pierre Frei:  Crime novel about a deranged sex killer, which unusually provides warmly-written back stories of his victims.

‘Cold Angel’ (2002) Horst Bosetzky:  Fictionalised account of a true murder story from 1949.

‘This Must Be the Place’ (2008) Anna Winger:  An American woman in Berlin because of her husband’s job, coming to terms with a miscarriage, and finding her way in a new city, befriends a washed-up actor.

‘Rosa’ (2006) Jonathan Rabb:  First of a trilogy (I’ve only read the first two so far) featuring detective Nicolai Hoffner.  The ‘Rosa’ of the title is Rosa Luxemburg whose body was pulled from the Landwehrkanal months after her murder by fascist thugs in 1919. 

‘The Wall Jumper: A Berlin Story’ (1983) Peter Schneider: Excellent short novel about various characters who, for a variety of reasons, traversed the border, often by some very novel means.

‘The Innocent' (1990) Ian McEwan: A post office engineer sent to Berlin in the early days of the Cold War to install equipment for spying on the Russians becomes involved with an older, married woman.

'The Bullet Trick’ (2006) Louise Welsh: Noir-ish thriller partially set in Berlin (also by Welsh, a novella, ‘The Girl on the Stairs’, which is set entirely in the city).

Berlin Books

 

This has been very much a ‘dipping the toe’ approach and there is a lot I’ve left out, but it’s something I might well return to at a later date…

Writer's Bloc

June flew by in a frenzy of writing.  Publishers Jonathan Cape were having an ‘open submissions’ month, inviting new writers to submit fifty pages of prose fiction, so I decided to rise to the challenge. 

When I came to Berlin, I brought with me a bag and a memory stick full of drafts and odd scraps of writing that I’d been working on for years intermittently and without any real sense of direction.  I had begun a number of projects that required further development (plus others for which the bin was the most suitable destination), but work commitments gave me little time or energy for literary activity.  However, in recent months I’ve revisited much of this work, editing it ruthlessly, giving it ‘shape’, and developing characters and storylines.  Not having a demanding full-time job obviously helps but I also find that Berlin itself is a natural and a nurturing environment for would-be writers; in any café at any time of the day people can be seen scratching away in notebooks or tapping on keyboards.  Of course we’re not all going to be the next Isherwood, and in all likelihood, the vast majority of what’s produced will never see the light of day, but for most of the time, simply engaging in the creative process is what drives us.

With the Cape deadline of 30^th June as a further incentive, I selected a piece from my motley collection of scribblings and then I worked flat out, spending up to sixteen hours a day editing and revising.  Sometimes I would force myself to stop and have a wander around the neighbourhood, maybe calling in for a coffee somewhere, just to put a little distance between myself and the piece, so that I might return to it with a sharper eye (there was also the added distraction of the odd World Cup match).  Finally, at eleven p.m. on the last Saturday of the month, I submitted fifty pages (about 22,000 words) of a work in progress. 

Whether I get a response remains to be seen but at least the exercise gave me the discipline and focus I needed.  In terms of creativity, it also proved massively stimulating, as I’ve been writing furiously ever since.  I’ve long been in the habit of taking notebooks and pens wherever I go but now I find I’m constantly putting them to use; one evening last week, I started jotting down ideas in a café, and before I realised it, ninety minutes had disappeared.

So, on Saturday 5^th July, my imagination still firing, I made my way to Kreuzberg where I met up with Victoria Gosling of ‘The Reader Berlin’ and fellow ‘scribblers’ for a creative writing workshop entitled ‘Get Inspired’.  From our meeting place at Südstern, we walked to the nearby cemetery.  It was a sultry afternoon but Victoria found a shady spot for us by a 19^th Century tomb – one of those ornate affairs with neo-classical masonry work and alabaster angel.  We sat on the grass and listened to a reading from Margaret Atwood’s ‘Negotiating with the Dead’ before completing a round of exercises designed to get our creative minds into gear.

We then dispersed, armed with a selection of tasks, to seek inspiration among the statuary.  I hadn’t wandered too far when my attention was caught by a small, plain headstone.  Tantalisingly lacking in information, its simple inscription read ‘Heinrich Nagel, 1893-1966’.  I knew I had found my man.

Sitting on a shady bench, my only companion a red squirrel, I wrote non-stop for the next hour and a half, pondering the question of who Heinrich Nagel could have been, and how he might have lived and died. 

Five o’clock came and we reconvened by the angel to make our way to the delightful ‘Another Country’ bookshop http://www.anothercountry.de/ Here we went down into the basement, to develop the work we’d begun at the cemetery.  Some of us stayed down there among the candles and fairy lights, some took their work outside to make the most of the late afternoon heat, and others browsed the bookshelves or worked on the shop floor.  There were fridges of beer, soft drinks and water to keep us refreshed and we were free to use any books or dictionaries that we might need.

Around 7.30, the shop’s owner Sophie served dinner which we ate around a communal table, as wine and conversation flowed.

Afterwards, it was time to share our work.  Those of us who wished read out the fruits of our afternoon’s industry, which proved incredibly diverse in terms of style, content and narrative viewpoint: a would-be grave robber intent on retrieving a priceless manuscript from a dead writer’s coffin; a young woman seeking inspiration for baby names, before being drawn towards an open crypt; my character’s speculations about Heinrich Nagel, and an older woman’s recollection of a teenage encounter among the gravestones were some of the offerings.  Writing is usually a very solitary activity so it was a joy to meet with other practitioners and to discover something of their imaginative processes.  It had clearly been an inspiring afternoon; each response was unique, attesting to the infinite potential for storytelling within any given scenario. 

When we finally emerged into the steamy Kreuzberg streets just after nine, I was still buzzing with ideas. 

The event had cost 35 Euros which included the workshop, drinks, and dinner with about three glasses of wine each.  It also proved a supportive environment, genuinely inspiring, and lots of fun!

For information about further ‘Reader’ events, check out their website: http://thereaderberlin.com/

 

 

The object of my Saturday afternoon fantasies

 

 

My little woodland companion

 

 

Another Country

 

 

 

Summer in the City

Another month, another milestone.  June had been the only month in which I’d not spent any time in Berlin, so that situation has now been rectified.   I’m now well and truly settled in the new flat.  I had been reluctant to move here initially but we had no choice – our rental contract on the other flat couldn’t be extended as the owner was coming back to Berlin and wanted to move back in.  However, I did quickly grow to prefer this one.  I think my concerns were that it was smaller than the other flat and open-plan.  I don’t have a problem with open-plan – I’m mildly claustrophobic so I like big spaces.  But I was concerned that it wouldn’t be practical if one of us wanted to work.  In the other flat I spent a lot of time in the kitchen where I’d made a desk out of the dining table and could get on with things without disturbing Alan or without him disturbing me.  It’s not been a problem though as we have a desk area and a kitchen dining area to work at, and also the sofa’s quite a useful workspace being large and L-shaped.  My other concern was a purely cosmetic one.  The flat was styled in a very masculine way with lots of black and red.  I looked around after we got the keys and thought we had made a mistake.  We’d rented the flat for nine months, until the end of January 2015, extending the duration of our intended stay by three months.  However, once left on my own – Alan very conveniently had a football match to go to that night – I set about rearranging things to make it more agreeable to me.  I removed the pictures – luridly-coloured photographs of a floodlit Brandenburger Tor and Fernsehturm – and put them in the hall.  Then I got rid of the red.  I removed a red throw, cushions and rug to the bedroom replacing the rug with the bedroom’s more neutral-coloured one.  I then found a couple of oatmeal-coloured throws in a drawer which I used to drape over a red chair.  The final challenge was the bedroom.  The bedding was a garishly-patterned purple, red, yellow and orange.  Luckily we’d bought some plain white bedding at the other flat because the dark brown and navy bedding there was depressing.  I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a German foible to sleep in ghastly-coloured bedding.  I know that all of our tastes are different and the flat is lovely and modern but it was just a bit too sterile and, as I say ‘bachelor-pad’ for me. 

I’ve been making acquaintance with the neighbours here too.  They seem very friendly in this house in comparison to the previous one.  I think the problem there was that a few of the flats were holiday lets so there was a constant turnover of new faces.  However, I think we had lived there long enough to be recognised and acknowledged by the neighbours when we passed them in the hof.  Some people were friendly but by no means all.  A couple of weeks ago I got talking to Franziska, who lives three floors up from us and that weekend she invited us to a barbecue in her garden.  The garden – attached to an old DDR-era datscha – was a ten minute bike ride away in the direction of Pankow.  It was a lovely, serene place to be at the end of a hot and dusty day in the city.  A table was set up under a vine-entangled porch, and beers cooled in a tub of water while Franziska prepared salads and picked strawberries and Tilo, her partner, took charge of the barbecue.  We sat talking until late into the night, Tegel-bound planes gliding overhead, before cycling back through the still hot but by then fairly quiet streets. 

On the subject of new acquaintances, I’ve acquired a tandem-speaking partner and last Thursday I met up with her at Messe Nord ICC.  From there we walked down to the Leitzensee where we had a drink and sat looking over the lake towards the Funkturm until sundown.  We chatted about all sorts of things and I’m not sure we got a lot of tandem-speaking done but I’m preparing some things I’d like to go over at our next meeting.

It’s been a month so far of  baking-hot temperatures and practically non-stop work.  I’ve taken another couple of sessions at the language exchange which I’m really enjoying doing.  I’m also revising hard for my TEFL exam.  I’ve now completed all of the work but, as I’ve got about eight weeks left I’m taking my time to go over the material again and practice getting my lesson plans done within a time frame.  I’ve also landed my first job.  It’s only a few hours here and there of freelance copywriting but It's a real job and I'm so pleased to be doing it.

Right now the city is firmly in the grip of World Cup mania – it seems as though every single bar, restaurant, café and even takeaway has installed screens especially for the matches.  We watched the Spain-Netherlands match at our local amongst a healthy sprinkling of fans from both countries and the atmosphere was fantastic.  Later, we're off to meet a bunch of friends to watch the England match.  I might even do a World Cup post before long. 

I already have a few posts in the pipeline, one on the literary scene in Berlin and a ‘favourite places’ post but finding the time to get them completed is proving to be quite a challenge!

The joys of jumping through German hoops

The last post was about what is really a straightforward bureaucratic procedure - registering with the ‘Burgeramt’.  However, not all of our encounters with German bureaucracy have been as plain-sailing.

In January we went down to the Job Center in Storkower Strasse to register as job seekers.  Things got off to a bad start when a receptionist sent us to the wrong department.  The hostility of the member of staff we spoke to when we got there was so demoralising that we were beginning to wonder what crime we had committed.  It took us two months to gather sufficient strength of will to try again.  When we did eventually make our way to the department that we should have been directed to in the first place, we were helped by a lovely lady who had minimal English but, with our minimal German, a passable conversation took place and we managed to get Alan’s name onto the system (I had to register at the Agentur in Charlottenburg because of my professional qualifications).  We then had to take away paperwork to be completed and returned by a certain date so we could be issued with a social security number each and given appointments for interviews.    

My interview was quite painless; the member of staff I spoke to was very helpful and spoke good English so it wasn’t as terrifying as I had feared.  She told me that I needed to have my qualifications to hand before anyone would employ me (I had left them all in England, not realising that they would be valid in Germany) and that I ought to have a qualification in TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), which I subsequently set about acquiring. 

Alan’s interview was very different and was conducted entirely in German.  He was told that there were plenty of jobs in his field but that without a competent knowledge of the language he could forget it.  She gave him the contact details for a ‘sprachschule’ in Charlottenburg which ran an ‘integration’ course, part of which involved teaching German to the level accepted by employers.  The whole interview lasted no more than ten minutes.

What followed was an epic wild goose chase.  Alan e-mailed the ‘sprachschule’ and received a reply asking him to go down for an initial assessment.  Once there he was asked to pay 900 Euros to register for the course.  A very helpful man said that he should be able to acquire a ‘social ticket’ which meant that, even though he was not claiming benefits, his lack of an income would enable him to have the course fees waived and would also afford him subsidised travel.  This would have been welcome as, with the course running daily for six months, transport costs would take a significant bite out of our budget.  He was told to mention the ‘social ticket’ at the Job Center so they could issue him with the relevant paperwork.  However, no one at the Job Center seemed to be aware of any such ‘ticket’.  The man at the sprachschule e-mailed Frau H who had conducted Alan’s Job Center interview and she sent him an e-mail asking him to call there the following day to sign for a form that would be waiting at the front office.  When we got there though, once again, no one had any idea what we were talking about and no form was waiting.  Our request to see Frau H was rejected.  Instead, we were ushered into a room where a truly horrible goblin of a woman basically coughed her way through telling us that they could not help before waving us away, whilst coughing like a consumptive into her scarf.  For the third time, Alan went back to Charlottenburg and this time, the helpful man wrote to the Job Center, requesting a letter from them to the Burgeramt, where the social tickets are issued.  Back again at the Job Center, we saw a very friendly employee who finally provided the letter.

We took this to the Burgeramt where the member of staff we saw insisted that, to receive a social ticket, you had to be in receipt of benefits and sent us on our way.  We were back at square one so we set off for home but, by sheer chance, we encountered a member of staff who was actually willing to help.  She accompanied us back to the Burgeramt where she went to have a word with the ‘chef’.  At last we managed to find out that, although there used to be a social ticket, it had ceased to exist in 2005.  The helpful lady explained very kindly that a Berlin pass granting subsidised travel was available but only for benefits claimants.  So, although we really were back where we started, at least now we were aware of the exact situation and would not have to waste any more time chasing a non-existent document.

Another process that proved less than straightforward was the sorting out of our health cover.  When we moved here we did some research and discovered that some sort of health insurance is mandatory in Germany.  Rather naively, I had supposed that the German national health system would be the same as that in the UK and that, as EU citizens we would automatically qualify for medical assistance should we require it.  So we went down to the offices of AOK in Schönhauser Allee to begin the process.  We were told there that we needed to acquire an S1 form from the UK which would enable us to receive medical care, the cost of which would be recovered from the UK if our National Insurance contributions had been sufficient to cover it (which they had).

We received the forms from the DWP and went back to AOK where we were issued with temporary health cards and informed that we would now be able to visit a doctor should we need to.

We were given paperwork that we had to attach photos to, sign and return.  We went down to the photo booth on Prenzlauer Allee and, for two Euros, had a strip of grim passport-type photos taken.  We put these in with the forms, corrected the spelling of our surname which AOK had managed to get wrong, and put them in the post.  The next day we were sent identical forms asking us to fill in our birth names and to supply photos.  We filled in the names but ignored the request for photos as we had sent them the day before and it was obvious that the forms had crossed in the post.  We then cycled down to drop them off in person at the AOK office.  When we got back there was another letter from AOK in our ‘briefkasten’ containing yet more of the same forms and another request for photos.  We went back to AOK the following morning, where the member of staff who dealt with ‘ausländer’ claimed not to have received the photos we’d sent.  I couldn’t see how this was possible as she did have the forms that we’d sent with them.  She also told us that as there was a problem with the spelling of our name, a problem which even production of our passports wasn’t sufficient to resolve, she would have to make some phone calls and would get back to us within two days.  She didn’t.  We waited for a week and then went back, with further sets of photos and were finally told that we could have our health cards.

We have found that, when faced with bureaucratic procedures here, the amount of help you get can often be down to whomever you happen to see on a given day.  Some officials have been inordinately helpful and have gone out of their way to help, whilst others have been as obstructive as it is humanly possible to be.  The amount of time wasted to-ing and fro-ing, and being given the wrong information seems an intrinsic part of the process – I’m just glad that we didn’t have the added bother of needing visas.

Burger - no relish

I have spent most of my time over the last few days concentrating on getting my TEFL course completed as it looks like being my most realistic chance of getting work.  I lost three days last week because of the move, so since Thursday I’ve been working pretty much flat out.  Although I’ve now completed nine of the ten units that comprise the course, I’m only 64% of the way through it.  The remaining 36% is covered by the final unit, which focuses on grammar.  There’s a lot to do, but I’m trying to get it completed by next Wednesday, as I’m flying to England for a few days then. 

On Monday, I worked until just before midday when we set off for the Bürgeramt for the second time since we moved here, to register our new address.  The Bürgeramt is part of a complex of sturdy brick-built, ivy-clad blocks, each dedicated to a particular bureaucratic function.  Wide cobbled pathways dotted with old-fashioned street lamps run between them.  But despite the ‘Victorian’ visage, there is an air of neglect – some of the buildings are in need of re-pointing, and the grounds are choked with weeds.  It makes me think of Satis House – even without the abandoned brewery, I can easily imagine the young Pip playing miserably amongst these sombre edifices.

To get there we had to walk past the old flat and I noticed, as I looked up at the balcony, that since the owner returned she has taken the patio furniture out from wherever it had been hidden.  I'd been very sad to leave that flat – it had, after all, been my first home in Berlin – but I’ve got used to the new one now and I actually prefer it.  We’re very fortunate to have our own terrace as most of the flats in the house don’t even have a balcony.  It’s leafy in the hof and surprisingly quiet considering that it’s right next to the S-Bahn tracks and trains come by every couple of minutes – in fact, the end of the platform at Prenzlauer Allee station is just a few feet away from our door.  In the front of the building there is a Russian shop/café with a lively and very friendly proprietress who gives us chocolates every time we buy something.

Back in the Bürgeramt, we took a ticket, numbered 307, from the machine and found a place on the seats that line the corridor to wait our turn (when your turn arrives, your ticket number appears on a prominently-displayed screen.  The latest ticket number on the screen was 161, so we realised that we had quite a wait ahead of us).  We were among the very last of the day's customers as they stopped issuing tickets just after we got there.  The offices close at 3.00, so it makes sense, otherwise the corridor would be clogged up with people who would have no hope of being seen. 

The waiting was reminiscent of an airport departure lounge but with no shops or bars to distract us.  I thought that maybe they could install a few retail outlets in there to give people something to do to pass the time – create a sort of Bürgeramt shopping mall.  Perhaps I should approach them with a proposal to open a Bürgeramt coffee shop.  The prospect of being able to pick up a cup of coffee or a bite to eat would help enliven a fatiguing three-hour wait, I think. 

The wait, an inherent part of an unavoidable obligation, was endured with patience and a little industry.  Some had brought work with them and sat, highlighters in hand, going over papers.  Some (myself included) had books.  Others were focused on their mobile phones – texting, playing games, or surfing the net.  Mothers wandered up and down the corridor pushing prams, trying to keep babies content.  The tinny buzz of music from half a dozen headphones added its drone to the sounds of tramping feet and the bell that announced the display of each new number on the screen.  That bell had such a melancholy timbre – bi-syllabic with a downward inflection on the second syllable.  It put an image in my mind of an old church in a forlorn village, maybe in Francoist Spain, the mournful clang of its bell reminding the cowed population of the dismal authority it represents. 

I began to mark milestones as the ticket numbers appeared on the screen.  The first one was when number 200 was reached, then 207 because that meant there were a hundred people in front of us.  I looked at the time my ticket was issued: 11.58.  At 12.58, exactly fifty people had been seen, so I calculated that it would be about a quarter to three before 307 would finally flash onto the screen and that doom-laden bell would toll for me.

It was a neutral enough environment – the walls were painted an inoffensive pale yellow with woodwork in light green; the floors a practical, hard-wearing stone.  I wondered whether much thought had been given when deciding on the colour scheme to the best way of ensuring that calm prevailed.  It was a fine day; the windows were opened, and the sound of children’s voices came drifting in from the park outside. 

As the afternoon proceeded, the numbers began to thin out.  After exactly two hours, a hundred people had been seen according to the screen.   I realised that there were only four people behind us in the queue.  By this time I was feeling restless, and started to fantasise about being outside, either in the park or sitting at a pavement café with a nice piece of apple cake in front of me.  I also wanted to get back to my work. 

Finally, at ten to three, our number appeared and we made our way along the corridor to the room number indicated alongside it, to go through what is basically a five-minute process.  When we left, the corridor was deserted and silent.  Business was over for the day.  Still, now that particular bureaucratic commitment has been addressed, we can set about tackling the rest.

Haus 6 - The Burgeramt building

 

Time to move on...

It’s a sad Sunday – our last day in the Prenzlauer Allee flat and the end of the first part of our odyssey.  I will miss this flat – I love the fact that it’s at the front of the house, and I’ve spent many hours either out on the balcony or inside with the doors open, just to feel that connection to the street with its constant procession of people, traffic and swishing trams.  The tree directly outside our window is now finally in leaf – I was beginning to wonder whether it was dead as every other tree along here has been green for weeks.  I’ve not been able to see the Fernsehturm from my balcony since the leaves came out and now this one is beginning to obscure my view of the späti across the road with its abundant display of fruit and vegetables.  When I first got here it was the day before Halloween and the city was decked out in its Autumn finery – our tree still had a few brown leaves clinging tenaciously on, but they soon succumbed as the winter unfolded.  Actually, winter was fairly innocuous by Berlin standards – there were a couple of weeks of minus thirteen-fifteen temperatures at the end of January, but apart from that it was nowhere near as murderous as it could have been.  The snow arrived and disappeared, and now it’s beautiful spring.

 

View from the balcony one January morning 

Tomorrow we’ll be moving to Kanzowstrasse which is literally just across the road so at least we’ll be staying in the neighbourhood that has become so familiar to us.  I wouldn’t have minded living in a different area of the city but finding a flat anywhere proved next to impossible.  We found the new one almost by accident – a good job really or we might have been sleeping on the street tomorrow. 

Although I’m sad about leaving here (it was inevitable that I’d feel that way – it’s in my nature to do so), I’m looking forward to the move, and there have been one or two things in the Prenzlauer Allee flat that I’ve had to accept rather than enjoy.  We all have different tastes and living with someone else’s furnishings and gew-gaws has made me very aware of what I like and what I don’t like.  Two of the walls in the bedroom, for example, are painted a claustrophobic shade that I can only describe as dark teal.  The depressing ambience created by such an unpleasant colour was not helped by the fact that the duvet covers were all brown and black, so one of the first things we did after settling in was go out and buy some white bedding which at least helped lift the gloom.  Also - and I find this both baffling and disturbing - there are no curtains or blinds in the flat.  That’s not a problem at the front as I always like to see outside – back home in the UK, I only pulled down the blinds last thing at night, even in the depths of winter.  However, the bedroom is overlooked by about twelve other flats around the hof and as I’m not an exhibitionist, a solution had to be found.  This came in the form of several metres of fabric from the Turkish Market which I inexpertly fashioned into a blind and stuck up with double-sided tape.  It proved a rather inelegant expedient and a bit of an irritation as it falls down on a regular basis but at least it enabled us to preserve our modesty.

Secondly, for a small flat, it has a staggering amount of bric-a-brac including a practically museum-sized inventory of coloured glassware: a collection of bottles in blue glass, four or five vases in brown glass, assorted tealight holders in purple glass, plus odd bits and pieces in red, green and more purple.  I consigned all but the tealight holders to a cupboard in the kitchen.  For me, unnecessary ornamentation is just clutter – I’m not given to adorning every shelf, windowsill or nook and cranny with pots and vases. 

Much more of a concern than all the nick-nacks though has been the fact that we have no internet here and have had to rent a surfstick for the last six months.  This, at times, has been a real nuisance as the connection is very sporadic – on countless occasions, one of us has been in the middle of an online task and the service has been lost.  When we’ve had to do anything for which a reliable connection is essential, we’ve taken the laptop to a bar or café and worked there. 

Still, internet problems and glassware aside, it’s a lovely little flat – an Altbau with high ceilings and polished wooden floors – and it’s in a fantastic location at the less gentrified end of Prenzlauer Berg (if such a thing is possible).

I'm relieved that the new flat has wi-fi, so we won’t have to trundle off to a cafe every time we need to do something important.  It’s on the ground floor but it has its own little terrace so we’ll still have an outdoor space – a very important consideration for me.  It doesn’t overlook the street but is next to the S-Bahn tracks.  I don’t think proximity to the trains will be a problem as I grew up in a house that had a railway line practically at the bottom of the garden.  As the flat is only a few hundred yards from where we live now, we will be able to move quite easily – I think three or four trips on foot with our cases should do it.

So, as the second part of our Berlin adventure is about to begin, it’s time to take stock and look at what I’ve achieved so far:

Even though I’ve not been able to find a job, I’ve completed the first level of a German language course and embarked on a TEFL course for which I’ve now submitted and passed three projects (it’s ironic that I’m now a distance learner as, before the move, I spent eight years facilitating distance learning opportunities for prisoners).  I’ve also taken two sessions at the language exchange we’ve been regulars at since we arrived, and Darren, the regular teacher, has asked me if I would take the session once a month.   This has been hugely enjoyable.  The participants – in normal circumstances my fellow tandem speakers – have been very supportive and it’s helped keep my teaching skills from getting rusty.

I’ve become a convert to social media, having opened a Twitter account and started a blog.  This might sound like it’s all a bit late to the party but working in the prison, my colleagues and I were always warned about the security implications of social media, so I just didn’t bother.  That’s all changed now and I’ve even had an article published on a football website.  I’ve also begun to concentrate in earnest on getting some writing done.  I’ve had four partially completed novels on the back-burner for about ten years and never really had the time to get any of them anywhere near acceptable.   

I’ve been to a few literary events, including a couple of Dialogue Books’ literary lounges at Soho House and the launch of the second series of tiny publications from Readux Books.  Meeting other writers has been an absolute delight and has also given me the confidence to apply myself in greater earnest to my own writing projects.  I’m now busily trying to get one particular piece completed, but I’ve a long way to go yet, especially with so much else to concentrate on. 

But Berlin cannot help but inspire creativity – it is a constant shot in the arm and living here has made me realise how badly I want to stay.  Our initial plan was to live here for a year.  We managed to extend this by three months, so our contract for the new flat runs until the end of January rather than the end of October.  I always loved Berlin as a visitor and was prepared for the possibility that its appeal might wear off if I came to live here full time.  In fact the opposite has happened – to have to move back to the UK would seem almost like a death sentence now.  We have started to build a life for ourselves here; we have met some wonderful people – Germans and ex-pats alike – and need only to find some form of employment that will enable us to stay here permanently.

A Good Vintage...

Of the (admittedly few) things I had to sacrifice on moving to Berlin, I’m happy to say that my penchant for vintage shopping wasn’t one.   Most weekends in England, I would devote some time to exploring the vintage shops either in Digbeth in Birmingham, Hockley in Nottingham or further afield, and much pricier, Brick Lane in London.  I also spent many a Friday afternoon rummaging in the charity shops of my native Burton with my mum.  Berlin, to my great delight, has its share of vintage and second-hand stores, often concentrated in particular areas; Friedrichsain, Kreuzberg and Neukölln all have vintage enclaves.  The concept of recycling and reusing is ingrained in the city’s psyche – the many bars where the furniture looks as though it came from skips, and the custom of leaving no longer needed goods out on the street for passers-by to give new homes to are just two examples – so it’s the perfect environment for the cultivation of a thriving vintage scene.  As with everywhere else though, quality and value can vary enormously. 

The Kleidermarkt group has four vintage shops – ‘Garage’ in Schoeneberg, ‘Colours’ in Kreuzberg and two branches of ‘Made in Berlin’ in Mitte.  The Made in Berlin shops carry some appealing and good quality stock but it is a little pricy (a similar item can be much cheaper in Garage or Colours) and it’s a long time since I did anything but browse in them – I think the last thing I bought was a black trilby about three years ago during the Tuesday afternoon ‘happy hour’.  Garage, opposite the Croatian embassy in a cul-de-sac near Nollendorfplatz, is a real destination shop.  It is huge and a visit here can take up hours, but there are some great finds if you have the time to root them out.  All sorts of people shop in here; I once saw a girl jumping up and down and going into raptures over an old wedding dress, and on another occasion I spotted a bearded man disappearing into the fitting room with an armful of dresses.  On my last trip here I tried on about twenty leather jackets before buying a white pleated midi skirt, a black 80s-style top and a red belt, spending a total of €11.  The belt came from the ‘kilo’ section which is always worth a look; the clothes here are priced according to weight at €19.99 a kilo.  Whatever your purchases weigh, you pay the relevant amount.  It’s best to be cautious though because, although there are bargains, there is also some tat, and a lot of heavier items – bulky tweed skirts, leather etc. are on the kilo section’s rails.  Every time I’ve been in Garage, they’ve had a particular item on offer.  For example, one week all skirts will be a certain price, another week all blouses will be half the ticket price and so on.  They also have tubs full of hats and scarves, handbags, belts and other accessories.

Colours, in the corner of a hof just off Bergmannstrasse (they certainly make finding these shops a challenge, although there are signs on the street pointing the way), is similar in kind to Garage with a kilo section and item-specific special offers.  The prices are also reasonable.  If I had a favourite I would have to say Garage, with Colours an extremely close second.  Each of the stores has a weekly ‘happy hour’ with generous discounts, details of which can be found on the Kleidermarkt website: http://kleidermarkt.de 

 

The entrance to Garage

In general the second hand shops around Prenzlauer Berg are off-limits because the prices are in the extortion bracket, but I usually pop into ReSales http://www.secondhandandmore.com/  – a chain of second hand stores – at least once a week.  There is a branch on Prenzlauer Allee, and another on Shönhauser Allee which  I’ve bought a few things from  – a black tube skirt, an oversized black T-shirt, belts and scarves, but I think my favourite buy was a floaty green and blue dress for €4 which looks like the kind of thing you’d wear at a 1930s garden party. 

One place I always like to visit if I’m down that way is Paul’s Boutique in Oderberger Strasse http://www.paulsboutiqueberlin.de/  There are always plenty of trainers here – I picked up an Adidas pair for €10 – and brands such as Fred Perry and Ben Sherman are well-represented.  They also have lots of T-shirts and sensibly-priced vintage dresses.  It’s suitably cramped inside as there’s a lot of stock for the amount of space, and there are more rails sprawling out onto the street.  It’s always fun delving around in here; good music, friendly staff and lots to investigate. 

 

Paul's Boutique

 

Recent years have seen the emergence of a more ‘upmarket’ version of the vintage/second-hand store – light, bright interiors, often with in-house coffee shops, and carefully selected and neatly-displayed stock which eliminates the need for rummaging.  Such places are havens of tranquillity and very pleasant shopping experiences but for me all of this departs from the ethos of vintage shopping.  I love walking into a shop that looks like a jumble sale, where stock is piled chaotically, the fitting room is an insufficiently curtained-off corner, and DIY fashionistas explore in earnest.  There are still plenty of shops like this but thrift-store prices are becoming a thing of the past.   It’s one thing paying a sizeable sum for a genuine vintage gem but too often I’ve seen chain store cast-offs that were probably cheaper when new. 

It’s a similar story at the weekend flea markets with which Berlin abounds.  They are great for atmosphere and people-watching, as well as general browsing, particularly the ones at the Mauerpark and Boxhagener Platz, but bargains are scarce and they can get crowded.  I often visit the one at Arkonaplatz (Sunday 10.00 – 6.00) not far from the Mauerpark.  It’s smaller and less commercial than its neighbour and the range of wares covers the spectrum from abject tat to covetable vintage.  There were some beautiful kimonos last time I was there but not in my price bracket I’m afraid.  There is also a nice little market on the third Sunday of the month along the Maybachufer in Kreuzberg.

O.F.T. www.ohnefragetoll.de/  in Chausseestrasse is a shop with the feel of a flea market.  It’s a lovely, ramshackle shop selling not only vintage clothes but furniture, lighting and all sorts of wares from days gone by.  It’s worth a visit just for the atmosphere – the staff are friendly too.

 

O.F.T. 

Charity shops tend to be thin on the ground in Berlin, the ‘Humana’ shops and a couple of branches of Oxfam being rare exceptions.  Humana http://www.humana-second-hand.de has thirteen shops around the city, some of which are huge, practically warranting a day out.  At the Frankfurter Tor branch, the accent is on vintage.  Spread over three floors, the store is a mecca for Friedrichshain hipsters and bargain-hunters alike.  I bought a black dress from here which can be worn by itself or over a T-shirt as a pinafore, in perfect condition, for €9.  The branch in Eberswalder Strasse is much smaller, so far more manageable but likewise focused on vintage.  I often pop in here if I’m in the area.  There is a daily happy hour between 11.00 and 12.00 when a 20% discount applies across the board.  Items I’ve picked up here include a couple of ‘granny’ dresses, a sparkly 80s-style batwing-sleeved jumper and a pair of vintage ski pants.  I ended up cutting the stirrups off the ski pants and turning them into trousers but I like the high-waisted style of them.

 

Humana - Eberswalder Strasse

The two Humana stores along Karl Marx Strasse in Neukölln are also worth checking out, and the almost warehouse-sized branch at Alexanderplatz is fun to while away an hour or so in – much more so than the monstrous ‘Alexa’ mall nearby.
Although I’m not a fan of vast, impersonal malls, I do shop in high-street chains – shopping for ‘new’ is unavoidable – but it is so much more fun when you can put together an original outfit or ‘look’ or when you unearth a special item that remains a beloved staple for years.  There are also ethical and environmental benefits in buying re-cycled clothing and, if using charity shops, an obvious philanthropic aspect.  I have my favourites – there are many more besides those I’ve mentioned here – and although good, affordable vintage becomes increasingly harder to find, Berlin remains a great place for shoppers from the ‘create-your-own’ mould.

Some not-very-professionally-styled pictures of some of the things I've bought from vintage and charity shops in Berlin:

 

Sparkly black jumper, skirt with 'Staffordshire knot' pattern

and Converse boots all from Humana, belt fromReSales

 

 

Skirt and belt from Garage, T-Shirt and trainers from Paul's Boutique

(I think the T-Shirt was a sample as it was brand new and still had the tags attached)