On the bus from the airport into Berlin the first thing I noticed was people’s outfits. I was so pleased to see that, on the whole, Germans are pretty daggy or just normal. I’ve been traumatized by past experiences of turning up in Italy with my Katmandu jumper and jeans and runners on (and I mean running runners not groovy runners) and wanting to die of shame. In Berlin I could proudly descend the steps of the bus and let my Airwalks do the walking and the talking as I moved amongst the people in socks and sandals.
I started enthusiastically explaining my relief to Jack at the traffic lights but soon realized I was being completely ignored. He was in a trance-like state staring at a pole covered in flyers for electronic music nights. I saw a tear come to his eye as his slowly peeled off a poster for a ‘gypsy modern funk mumbo jumbo hip hop slam dancing electronic explosion’ night in a trendy squat near our house. I’ll probably give that a wide berth.
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