Tour de Berlin
My best friend tells a memorable story about living in Berlin on 9/11. At a Radiohead concert that evening, in addition to trying to wrap her mind around the news of the day from so far away, she was forced to imagine that the noise coming from the distant stage was the real, live voice of Thom Yorke. Unable to see the band clearly over the massive crowds, she once told me that it was one of the most surreal days of her life.
Eight years later, we’ve essentially switched places. She just returned from a drive around our homeland, venturing across disputed borders, into smoky souvenir shops, and discovering historic sites marked by nothing more than a chain-link fence. I just returned from a week in her former city, though my trip’s soundtrack was big band instead of Kid A.
Anyone who knows me understand that I increasingly resist my own documentation, though I’m simultaneously thankful for others’ records. Do I really need to report back on photo exhibitions, falafel wraps with cabbage, a concentration camp, or one of the worst migraines of my life – one that literally shook me awake? Does it impact anyone to know that I sleep like a baby with open windows next to city traffic, while Andreas can barely stand my drowsy need to hear the din from our urban hideaway? We saw beautiful art, terrible barren sadness, and ate vegan fast food. Despite arriving after closing time, we were welcomed and ate a late afternoon meal in a macrobiotic restaurant, probably because we seemed to bewildered and tired after wandering to find it without confirming hours of operation. During a freak rain shower, we shared a doorway with a Polish family and their dog. We confuse everyone the moment they ask, “Where are you from?”
Excellent question.
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- Published:
- 07.27.09 / 10am
- Category:
- incredible nonstop party atmosphere