Week 2: Berlin Beats

Looking up from the dance floor of Berlin’s Kit Kat Club, I stood staring up at one of the few sources of light in the dark, smoky room. It was decorated in silver chains, crystals and leather. Not a chandelier, but a naked woman suspended in the air that night. She had just spent the last ten minutes having her arms and legs tied up and then bound to each other until the only thing she was able to move was her face. Now hanging, she swung from side to side using the only accessible part of her body to produce a devilish grin and tease the audience as she bit her lips.

On the other side of the room, an elderly man in his 70s or 80s sat at the bar. Shirt? Yes. Shoes? Yes. Pants? No. It was quite traumatic watching him slowly walk around, back hunched as his member violated the eyes of any that came in contact with it. This Wednesday night scene was much different from when I arrived to the same club two days prior for an electric themed night. Walking in Monday evening, I saw people dressed in jeans and t-shirts as they danced the night away to upbeat techno music. Now, I saw the same familiar faces dressed, if not at all, in leather, lingerie, latex and the like. This isn’t unusual for a city like Berlin. The clubs here are not just known for techno, but for the freedom that comes with these club experiences. Anything goes in this city and that means nudity, sex and drugs.

As I wake up in the morning, or I should say afternoon, after my night of club hopping, I found myself delivered back to a different Berlin. A now familiar one, filled with beer-drinking, art-making, dog-obsessed Germans. Berlin has a way of making you feel like anything is possible. I have never come across so many seemingly successful artists, or so many different people doing so many different things in the same place. When I’m back home in Florida, I feel like my aspirations of being a successful photographer can be far-fetched, but when I’m here, I feel like I can accomplish so much. No one looks down at you for not pursing the typical nine-to-five. In fact, I’m not sure if the majority of Berlin’s population even works a regular nine-to-five. Visting Christoph Niemann’s studio here also proved to be inspiring. Born in Germany, with an 11 year stint in the states, Niemann now lives in Berlin where he maintains a successful career as an illustrator for several well-known publications, such as The New Yorker and The New York Times Magazine.

Berlin: Week 1

Mural in former East Berlin

Three days. That is how long I have been in Berlin. But the spicy sausages of Prater Garten I ate upon arrival three days ago are now a distant memory away. My thoughts are currently occupied with this unique city’s history. Berlin is a very east meets west sort of place. And not in that traditional, obvious east communistic Russia verse the capitalistic west sort of way, because that is just an understatement. Walking down the cobblestone of Berlin’s streets, smelling cigarette smoke in the air and walking past doner kebab restaurant after doner kebab restaurant, with some falafel joints sprinkled in between, I find that Berlin reminds me of my time in the Middle East. That is if the Middle East ran away from home, got a tattoo and had a love child with a techno artist. You will find that taking a stroll about anywhere in this city, you will see people of all shades and often hear Turkish, Arabic and Farsi regularly spoken. This is normal, a result of mass immigration from the Middle East. This is Berlin.

Getting into the historic east versus west deal of Berlin is another story entirely, one I’m not sure I’m qualified to explain. But what I can tell you about is how the vibrant, graffitied streets that are lined with flower shops, advertisements, and Berlin’s finest hipsters, slowly disintegrate the more east of the city you go, until you find yourself like me: on the wrong M tram, lost in a neighborhood of white, concrete cube apartments, a remnant of east Berlin’s communistic architecture.

Berliner Dom

Memorial to the Murdered Jews in Europe

Circle back around and you find yourself in Mitte, Berlin’s central district and a place filled with seemingly antique buildings and museums, beautifully decorated with statues and intricate stonework. What one may think is part of this city’s far past are fairly new structures, built in the early 20th century. Then there is Berlin Fernsehtrum, an iconic TV tower and essentially the city’s middle finger, originally constructed to symbolize communist power. And among it all, a grid of stone prisms in the Memorial to the Murdered Jews in Europe. Berlin, and the rest of Germany, is well aware of its past and according to our tour guide, is adamant about not trying to cover it up. And while the memorial, placed in the center of the city for all to see, is a symbol for lost lives of the Holocaust, this was my strangest experience while I have been here. For me, a memorial is somewhere you quietly reflect and while I understand we all reflect differently, I don’t seem to understand why some choose to “reflect” by jumping from prism to prism, selfie-sticks in hand. But more on that later.

Berlin is still throwing me for a loop, but for now I am taking a break from the its deeply rooted history. Instead, I will be exploring its techno scene. As for tonight, I’ll see you at the Kit Kat Club.