loquitohermoso

And so it was time for another jaunt across the water. No particular detailed thought process here, just another very decent BA deal from Heathrow to Berlin, sensible flight times and a couple of nights in a nice hotel for a smidge over £200 each. See a new city, browse the Christmas markets, scarf a bit of bratwurst, what’s not to like?

Since the flight out was a pretty early one, we’d booked a hotel and parking deal at Heathrow for the night before… 60 quid each at the Courtyard Marriott. Train prices continue to be ludicrous, even if booked months in advance, and this cuts down the faff a lot.

It had been a busy few weeks at work, and I was very much ‘off’ people, so a quick pitstop at the local BP station turned into a bit of a “Falling Down” moment. A man had put £20.01 of fuel into his car, but rather than be the decent type and approach the matter apologetically with his £20 note, he was immediately arsey and defensive.

I get quite protective of young retail staff now- We’ve all probably had those kinds of jobs, and as a young teenager having grown adults be aggressive and nasty towards you is horrible. A penny is no big deal, but it means the staff member’s till will be down. Ultimately it didn’t win the battle, but I made to sure to explain to the man in slightly louder tones than him all about how he was a cheapskate and should sort his life out. I think he took the point, and the staff appreciated it at least. And I didn’t get filled in, bonus

Onwards and along the depressing monotonous slab that is the M4, a particular hotspot for people who, it seems, gained their driving licences from some form of cereal packet, and who fail to understand the basic tenet of “keep left”. Why can’t we have motorway snipers for this kind of thing? 

In any case, the Courtyard was surprisingly nice- A brand-new shiny hotel. Just a shame we didn’t have long to appreciate it before a stupidly early start. We did manage a reassuringly expensive couple of beers- Although no more pricey than getting them thrown at you in the zoo which is the Bristol Airport waiting area.

Mark was quite keen to get an Uber to the airport, I was rather less so, given that it was literally half a mile and a bus went direct from outside the airport for the princely sum of £1.75 rather than, er, £38.97. It’s, like, 5 minutes away.

I do like T5, it’s a bit more civilised than other parts of Heathrow but was seriously busy in the morning rush, just managing to secure a Pret standing at their weird bar slab. Not an ideal brekkie, but we move on. We had the slight misfortune to be directly behind the somewhat laughable “business class” section, therefore able to study the poverty curtain in some detail. For once I had the last laugh in the middle seat- Nothing in front of me, unlike the lady in front of Mark who was trying her best to achieve lying flat. Only a short flight though, so…manageable.

 

Once checked into the hotel, we set off for a wander- landing first at the huge KaDeWe department store, and our first taste of the German carnivore diet in their food hall. Delightful to be also able to introduce Mark to sauerkraut. We started overdoing it somewhat here- Berlin is a very spread-out city, and this turned into one of several epic wanders, a total of about 20 miles walked over the weekend.

It’s difficult not to get into a tickbox mentality on short city breaks, when actually the best thing is normally to wander and to see where you end up. This served us pretty well, as we came across the sombre Holocaust memorial, the grey concrete combined with a drab day setting the appropriate mood. The rest of our wander became somewhat unrewarding. You have to have a bit of a plan.

 

Later, we moved on and found an excellent Tapas place followed by a nice little bar under the railway arches… first choice of a jazz club next door kyboshed for being packed. Lotte am Zoo was also a designated smoking bar, which made me briefly nostalgic to a good old smokey pub. The bar lady seemed stern but, actually was a pretty good sort and appreciated my schoolboy German.

Encounters with stern Germans turned into somewhat of a theme this weekend…our next one being with the breakfast guard at the hotel. When presented with the merest hint of hesitation regarding our room number (This is yet another thing, like names, which simply won’t stick in my head), she eyed us suspiciously and lifted her list out of view

This became however a day of pleasant wanderings, starting at Checkpoint Charlie. Quite apart from the historical significance, I was more fascinated by the amorphous gang running the good old “cups” hustle on the pavement. The “casts” for these things are staggering- I counted at least 8 co-ordinators and stooges and every time I thought someone was being taken in…no, another stooge. We continued onto the “Museuminsel” and up the TV tower, for a fantastic view of all sides of the city. Worthwhile things to do. The cluster of identikit tacky souvenir shops around Checkpoint Charlie less so… complete with “authentic” bits of Wall for sale- But really, this far on, who can tell?!

We had intended to come over for the Christmas markets, but they weren’t in full swing yet and, quite frankly, were a bit crap. There’s only so much gluhwein you can handle. So instead we headed to the Stasi museum over in the East of the city- A fascinating but chilling insight into the apparatus maintaining order and control on the former Soviet side of the city.

Final visit of the day was to the Reichstag building. This is probably better seen during daylight, but due to a slight lack of planning the only available tour was at 5.45pm on our Sunday here. Very well worth doing, but book a bit further in advance. It’s free!

Suitably educated, we headed back to near the hotel, and a homely restaurant for some wonderful goulash.

The next day was fine and dry, so we made the most of our free morning to wander around the East Side Gallery on one of the last remaining sections of Wall, and then the monumental Soviet park commemorating war dead.

My autistic brain by now was firmly in waiting mode for our 7pm flight home, so we made our way back over town towards the hotel. I was very insistent on needing a kebab, therefore we dined alfresco at the local kebab hut. Filled the gap admirably. Just time to pop back to KaDeWe for some presents to take home, and again across the city airport-wards.

Google Maps really wasn’t helping us this weekend with regards to train routes, frequently changing its mind and sending us on strange wild goose chases, when there were easy direct lines to where we needed to get to. This did result in hurriedly jumping off trains a couple of times, whereupon it would again change its mind and confirm that yes, that definitely was the train you wanted. We popped to the East’s equivalent to KaDeWe, interesting to see the contrast between the West’s ornate department store and this rather more austere concrete building.

Yet another bollocking from the stern lady on the train, this time for allowing baggage to stray into the aisle, and we arrived back at Brandenburg.

I was briefly heartened to receive positive feedback at airport security for possibly the first time in my life, having nailed arranging my tray exactly as requested and receiving an appreciative nod of “sehr gut” from the security officer. This is what makes the dull man’s heart sing.

Sadly, this warm fuzzy feeling was not to last for long, with a further bollocking from passport control for him failing to find the entry stamp in my passport, and then a couple of other minor bollockings at the gate for simply existing. Germany is a country of strong feedback. But at least you know where you stand.

 

The flight home was uneventful. On our journey down the motorway and into my old “patch” Mark was driving and I’d joked to him about getting him TPAC’d as a training exercise. Therefore I was somewhat amused to see an unmarked car fly past us, following a new Mercedes very closely. The next thing I knew a traffic jam had magically appeared and the driver of said Mercedes was being dragged out at Taser point three cars ahead of us.

He still doesn’t believe that it wasn’t my doing.