Per usual international travel, I got sick on the way over, and our first few days, in Berlin especially, were full of fevers and constantly watering eyes and a raw, red nose. Unfortunately, we kind of missed out on Berlin. We were there for Sunday and Monday nights, the two nights that Berlin, the city that doesn't sleep, slept. We found no dancing, no clubs, and empty bars. We did see all of the historical sights we could, go to an outdoor flea market, see the Lars Van Trier movie Melancholia in a fabulous old theatre, and become proficient in the Berlin train system.
We did, however, catch the tail end of Oktoberfest, and found Berlin's little celebration of it, where we drank beer, ate pretzels and danced some polka. It felt like our time in Berlin was a huge history and cultural lesson, as we experienced the city torn in two, and full of a tortured and horrific past, coming to flourish in art, fashion, and culture. It was also the birthplace of my love of mulled wine, or there called: hot wine.
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