Leaving Amsterdam pt.2: Arriving in Berlin

Amazing. Remember my rant a few pages ago on how many things would go wrong when I got to Berlin? Nothing went wrong. I got off my train, took the Berlin metro to the Berlin Zoo, followed the well-written directions and got to my hostel without being lost for even a moment and without being confused for more than a few.

Now if I were me, jaded as I am, reading over this, and I didn’t have the memory of the situation, I’d probably be searching my words for sarcasm, or trying to figure out the joke. No , seriously. It all went fine. I’m as astounded as you are.

By its reputation I expected Germany to be among the harsher countries I would visit. I wouldn’t have visited if I didn’t think I would love it, but I must admit, I attribute at least a slightly angry stereotype to the German people. But the Berlin metro was cleaner than the one at home, the metro seemed nicer and better kept. The people even felt like they were less uptight than the metro at home.

The streets leading up to my hostel are a funny thing. There is graffiti everywhere, and most of the buildings are cheap shops or inexpensive restaurants (as is the case with the place I’m writing this, having finished a lovely chicken-in-peanut sauce salad) or else apartment complexes. These are, under normal circumstances, not the best signs for the surrounding area.

But the streets around here are practically empty, today at least. The people I have seen look more suited to cozy suburbs than these surroundings. Not much in the way of shifty looking characters. The streets just feel tranquil and kind of relaxing. In context, it’s an odd feeling to have, but I’m glad of it.

I’m staying at a hostel that calls itself “David’s Crazy Little Backpacker’s Youth Hostel”. According to the advertisement, David, the owner, hoped to appeal to the travelling counter-cultures in particular. Gay, goth, kids into film or the arts, it wasn’t very specific or discriminating. I really wasn’t sure what to make of this, and as I arrived at the hostel I still had no idea what to expect.

From the outside it didn’t look like anything special, which actually was something special given that every other hostel had. They had all looked rather official in some respect, hotel or inn-like. This one just looked like someone’s house. And when I went inside, the interior seemed pretty consistent with that perception.

I entered to find a room that looked both cozy and lived in , if a tad messy. It reminded me of home. David, as it turned out, is a middle aged man who speaks English quite well, though it is evident that it is not his first language. He gave me what was a very warm and friendly greeting as I walked in.

Every other place I had stayed in up until now, the clerks had greeted me politely and happily answered questions, but they were not particularly personable. It was quite clearly their 9-5 job to give you the key to your room and deal with any other issues you might have, but not to be your friend. The contrast with David was heavy. He didn’t let me do any paperwork or give him any money until I had made a solid introduction and told him some about my travels. He also introduced me to several other people staying at the hostel, who happened to be just littered about what one could describe as a living room. This made the first time in over a week that I had been introduced to one person by another, and I appreciated it.

It quickly became clear to me that the hostel was David’s home, and although I have not yet stayed a night, it is already clearly my favorite among the hostels I’ve stayed in. The bedding isn’t much: David just lined mattresses up on the floor, about 10 to a room. But really, part of the idea behind hostels is that we young ones don’t need much more than a damned mattress and a place to put our stuff, and somehow the atmosphere just felt like crashing at a friends house.

Do to circumstances I don’t really care to put into writing, I had chosen not to shower in my Amsterdam hostel, which left me 4 days sweaty and unshowered, and no one, or few people at any rate, were less happy about it than I was. So the first thing I did after being shown around was to take a nice, sinfully soothing hot shower. It was the best shower I’ve ever taken in my life. Remember folks, you read it here first. 7/11/2004