Journey to Berlin + City

Bags furiously packed, tickets tight in fists, two weeks of travel and potential hilarity were underway. Short but typically expensive Taxi to Flitwick, making careful note not to tell the inquisitive driver that our beloved house was now empty for 14 lonely nights. Train to Luton (unfortunately not the airport we were using!!) Blissfully air conditioned Coach to Stansted (save for annoyingly unruly children and passive, poorly organised parenting). Arrive at a disappointingly busy Airport with ample time to spare - Standard Holden travel procedure!! Shop, eat, read and listen to other seemingly innocuous passengers discussing package holiday plans with both relish and disregard for their general health and wellbeing ("I can't wait to drink my weight in Sambucca and Stella…"). These minor observations aside, we were very much looking forward to leaving.

Cracking flight to Berlin, landed on time to be greeted by a hilariously tacky on-board trumpet, celebrating another "On-time Ryanair service…". Possibly a soundtrack they don't play all that often….! Berlin Shonefelde Airport arrivals alarmingly like an internment camp (steady!), my battered and quite dishevelled Passport once again passing the test of immigration control! Train station reassuringly easy to find in the inky black of the evening, though the rather stern attendant was less than appreciative with our over-zealous gesticulating and shouting. Much excitement upon boarding a double-decker train (stop laughing, it was fantastic). Anticipation building to fever pitch and boiling over in our excited chatter, much to the presumed annoyance of the quieter local passengers. Arrive into Berlin in darkness, greeted by the lights and shapes of buildings both unknown and infamous. We were totally bowled over by the sheer size and scale of Berlin central station - A stunning collaboration of glass and steel, dwarfing anything we have in the UK. A short Taxi ride to our hostel was perfectly executed. No black cabs here - Shiny new E class Mercedes. Breakneck speed, slicing through the Berlin traffic with windows down and Europop blasting. I think we might just like Berlin! At the drop off, Joanna handed a crisp €10 to the driver, who promptly assumed a large tip and disappeared as rapidly as we had arrived, leaving Joey's hand open and me laughing hard!!! Squinting down a dark street in the stillness of midnight, we tip toe along trying to make out the hostel door from the grainy pictures emailed to us. Since the owner had long since clocked off, he had kindly left our key outside in a small locker. Problem was, locker was in a large bush. Found locker strapped to post (imagine if you will, me fumbling in the undergrowth like a disgraced MP). Once inside, we found it to be super clean, ordered and swathed in the finest (flat-pack) Swedish metropolitan home furnishing. Bed could not come any sooner. Tired, but we were so pleased to be in Berlin.

First day. Up early. Walk through wide, quiet streets, white stone and imperial-looking, dressed facades. British embassy; a dark, angular fortress laden with the ice-cold rhetoric of an Empire not yet willing to admit its present fate. Brandenburg gate. Standard tourist photos. Guardian of old-Berlin. Its charm, its people and its place. Up to the Reichstag - So much history, so much invested in its future. Visions of the Red Army flag rising high amongst smoky ruins. So far away from that darkest of war-torn chapters. Sir Norman Foster's Dome like structure rising from within. Free, united and perfectly polite.

Central park, surrounded by sharp, glassy art galleries. Peace. Stillness. The churn of an early Sunday morning beginning to hum in the background. History all around - The former opera house, upon whose balcony Hitler proclaimed the Thousand-Year Reich no longer stands. A small, incongruous display tells it's fading story. This was to be a theme amongst Berlin's most recent historical past. The city would rather forget its place in this story and move forwards.

We decided to make the short walk back to the station, across well kept park land and wide, sweeping cycle paths. Coffee. Food. Prepare. Walk along the river, not quite the Thames, but symbolic nonetheless. We found Museum island and the incredible Cathedral. Rich, inspiring architectural legacy with a simple flea market sprawling beneath. We grabbed local hot dogs and beer in the sun, joining children and couples relaxing on the lawns. Up to the tower. Back again. Stop for (another) beer in the winding streets. Hunt for a toilet, nowhere to be found! On the underground - A question that we still have yet to find the answer to - Do we need tickets!!?? Nothing like the rigid obedience of London, Berlin's underground seems to run an 'optional' ticketing system that relies on goodwill and honesty! We of course, paid for tickets and certainly did not travel for free….Back to hostel. Rest, cool off, pay and prepare for the evening.

Back out in the evening heat. Underground was less than empty. We ended up going to the wrong station (my fault) 50 mins walk to the river, streets becoming restless. Difficulty in finding a 'mutually agreeable' restaurant!! Settle under a bustling but intimate parasol, sneaking in front of a soon-to-be scowling French family. Bliss. Cold beer, authentic food and perfect company. Stroll back through streets that are gaining familiarity. Police still abundant. Relaxed, safe and a city at ease with its own identity.

Up early to make a short two block walk to the Holocaust memorial. Past the now destroyed Eagle's Lair - Hitler's bunker and the site of his final demise. Deleted from history by the Soviets. Dark, stone monoliths rise individually from the ground, silently protesting the 20th century's greatest tragedy, the rising sun picking a path for every shadow. Thought provoking and open to personal interpretation. Both moving and representative of Germany's need to face up to the past; with honesty, dignity and sorrow.

Back on the seemingly deserted underground (incredulous for a Monday morning - unimaginable in London!) Return to the 'safety' of Hauptbahnhof station, coffee and pretzels ordered in near perfect Allemande. In our enjoyment, losing track of time and making it to the platform as the train arrived. Busiest moment this side of Stansted security - Stifling heat, packed carriages, not quite as romantic as daydreams of the orient express had promised! Up and down, physically competing from breathing space. Small pull down seats found, refreshing fruit salad consumed, computer un-earthed to record the hilarity! Next stop - Prague and possibly the sweatiest train journey ever recorded!

Andy + Joey xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx