Firstly, a shoutout to my newest subscriber the Evan Karas to whom this blog post is dedicated and primarily about.
Exactly a week ago, Evan and I mulled about the Berlin streets in an exhaustive daze. It was a surprisingly warm, foggy morning, a slight drizzle forcing my gaze down towards my Converse-clad, shuffling feet.
The döner (German version of NYC Halal) we had acquired and wolfed down late the night before was not sitting right with me. This physical turmoil only intensified my feelings of disassociation. I had precisely 36 hours to spend in Berlin, and all of it would end up feeling like a dream that, to be frank, I still haven’t woken up from.
That’s kind of how the whole city seems to operate. The greyish-purple haze cast over the industrial buildings scrawled with Graffiti like something out of an apocalyptic movie. The fashion sense blurs all gender lines, men and women conjoining wardrobes to create a look Brooklyn hipster only wishes it could be.
Then there’s me. Fresh off the 11:15 pm arrival from Paris, dressed in my navy suit pants and a pinstripe button-down - topped off with an “it’s cold in church” sweater. Directly from Brandenberg airport, Evan chariots me over to probably the coolest bar in Berlin right now.
Named Kwia, this queer bar was started during the pandemic and required a donation to the night’s sound artist as a cover fee. It’s very “if you know, you know,” reinforced by the tinyness of the place itself. All the drinks are infused with, like, teas and herbs - which you drink on the floor. The best part? You can’t wear your dirty outside world shoes, replacing them with a pair of house slippers.
Long story short, Friday night, my first night, turned into a “night” by accident. Evan and I, being Evan and I, promised ourselves a chill bar moment to save up all necessary energy for the BERLIN CLUB EXPERIENCE on Saturday night. But we ended up spending nearly all of our euros on gin & tonics and walking home at 4:30 am; earbuds split between the two of us to listen to this song:
Even when screaming Italian lyrics we don’t understand and crazily dancing down the street, none of the Berliners batted an eye. Even at these gallery exhibitions, NONE of them bat an eye…
Yet, these brooding, dreadlocked Drum & Bass heads, rolling their cigarettes in the vibrant yellow metro cars, are somehow counteracted by the cuisine I experienced in my short time there.
The döner tried to transmit some of these gritty street vibes, but even the wrap was chock-full of lettuce, fresh tomatoes, and sliced cabbage. The charred bits of spit-roasted lamb blended well with this punch of veg, and it was all lathered in some special secret sauce.
However, our next meal at Annelies gave good-ole-fashioned basic city brunch. Oatmilk cappuccinos, a hefty breakfast sandwich (the proportions were a little off for me, sausage too thick, biscuits too dense), the fluffiest Japanese-style pancakes adorned with creme fraiche, butter, and blueberries, and the heavenliest roasted carrots in a tangy, pistachio sauce. Safe to say, we needed it.
Dinner was a little more rogue. Stumbling through vintage shops in a boujeeier area, we were shell-shocked by the high prices of the nearby cafes. With the desperation of faime creeping in, we found ourselves in a trendy Asian restaurant, Royals and Rice. I ordered the chicken soup with a side of sushi rice which soothed my soul in every necessary way preceding a long night of debauchery.
Continuing the series, “Quirky Berlin Bars,” we pregamed Saturday at multilayerladen, a tree-house-themed (?) establishment. Much of Berlin, in summation, feels like an adultified playground - even the club was carnival themed and felt like a page out of Peter Pan.
Looking like a Lost Boy myself, I ended up crawling out of Sysiphyus at 8:30 am for my 11 am flight … barely making it due to an unforeseen Berlin Sunday-morning marathon.
As an aside, the people in Berlin were INCREDIBLY KIND (my Uber driver included). Their hospitality and general good vibes = unparalleled. I found myself saying “Danke” (the only word in my German vocabulary) more times than I could count.
And just like that, I was back on the plane again, as if I had never left. Having a seemingly-neverending layover in Vienna, I was able to check Austria off my travel list.
I used this layover lull time to check a mirror finally. I was covered in dirt and glitter and had a glint of satisfaction in my eyes. Berlin has been through so many lifetimes, and I felt like I had too just by spending the weekend there.
The last food review I’ll do from this trip is the Austrian Airlines chocolate.
After consuming a total of 4 pieces throughout the weekend, I can say that it gives that chocolate coin nostalgia that overly sweet milk chocolate never fails to evoke. A tender memory of a time before, and people went berserk over the stuff (I’m tellin’ you, man, traveling really does something to a person).
On my flight back, the two women seated beside me together reached the consensus that, yes, this girl with last night’s makeup and a Sisyphus stamp on her wrist, drooling all over the window seat, needs to be awoken from her slumber for her obligatory medallion of Austria’s finest.
Berlin was a movie. Thank you for having me Evan <3 C’est tout for now.
xoxo, Chloé
Chloe....world traveler. I am enjoying,the experience through you. Miss you❣️