I was doing some cleaning and listening to German music, humming along and singing when I knew the words. I found one particular song particularly catchy and kept playing it. I could only understand a few words here and there but I eventually learned the sound of the words enough to sing the chorus (although I didn't know what I was singing).
I was still bopping around the apartment, singing "Ich geh dir fremd, ich geh dir fremd, du gehst mir fremd, du gehst mir fremd," when Mario came home from work.
He started to give me a hello kiss, then heard what I was singing and stopped in his tracks.
"Ehhmm...Do you know what that means?" he asked.
"Nope, I just like the song," I replied.
"It means, 'I cheat on you, you cheat on me.'"
Oh.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
"I just farted"
Originally this was supposed to be a quick post about a silly situation. I mean, when are farts not amusingly silly? But fart-related situations keep happening and it would be a shame to let them fade away into oblivion instead of sharing them with the world in all their glory... I'll keep updating this as they happen. If only for my own personal amusement.
---------------------
I was really sick for a week and a half. Not flu-like, thank goodness. No achy pains, no fevers, excessive snot -- just a persistent cough. Cough didn't really describe it. It was like smoking-for-60-years-and-I'm-trying-to-cough-up-my-lungs coughing.
It got worse at night, so Mario and I were sleeping in different rooms. Whoever went to sleep first got to the bedroom, and the other watched tv and slept on a temporary mattress in the living room.
On this particular occasion, Mario was in the living room. I walked in the next morning to say hello and get some morning cuddle time, which I'd been missing for the past 10 days.
"Good morning, baby!" I said.
"I just farted," he responded.
What a nice way to start the day.
---------------------------------------------------
Him: I just farted
Me: You did?
Him: You didn't hear "pfffftttttttttt"?
Me: No. I didn't hear anything
Him: Oh, ok, then I didn't just fart
Smooth.
---------------------------------------------------
---------------------
I was really sick for a week and a half. Not flu-like, thank goodness. No achy pains, no fevers, excessive snot -- just a persistent cough. Cough didn't really describe it. It was like smoking-for-60-years-and-I'm-trying-to-cough-up-my-lungs coughing.
It got worse at night, so Mario and I were sleeping in different rooms. Whoever went to sleep first got to the bedroom, and the other watched tv and slept on a temporary mattress in the living room.
On this particular occasion, Mario was in the living room. I walked in the next morning to say hello and get some morning cuddle time, which I'd been missing for the past 10 days.
"Good morning, baby!" I said.
"I just farted," he responded.
What a nice way to start the day.
---------------------------------------------------
Him: I just farted
Me: You did?
Him: You didn't hear "pfffftttttttttt"?
Me: No. I didn't hear anything
Him: Oh, ok, then I didn't just fart
Smooth.
---------------------------------------------------
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Stupid things I've said in German
I've been here for a year but didn't actually start to speak German until about 5 months ago, when I met my boyfriend. He barely speaks English and since I'm not planning on leaving the country anytime soon, it was more practical for me to start learning German instead of forcing him to learn English. Easier said than done...
I asked today if I have an accent with everything I say, or if I actually sound German sometimes. Mario didn't even need a second to consider his answer. "You have an accent all the time. Except when you say 'nichts.'"
What the hell. "Nichts," German for "nothing," is actually a pretty hard word to say. You've got that soft ch sound, followed by the hard t, followed by the soft s. What about the easy stuff, like ja or nein? Is it even possible to say those words any other way than the German way?
I don't believe it. I'm going to ask "Did I have an accent?" after every single sentence I utter tonight. Just to be sure. There has to be some other word I can say correctly. Has to be.
At least my accent can be understood, and maybe even charming to some. But what's really funny -- and sometimes embarrassing -- is when I screw up the words entirely.
Here are the translations of the stupid things I've said (offending words in red), along with what I should have said (in green).
When asked if I want more to eat at dinner:
No thanks, I don't want any more. My tree is full.
tree = Baum
stomach = Bauch
When looking for my toothbrush:
Where is my toothbreast?
breast = Bruste
toothbrush = Zahnbürste
When talking about someone with acne on his scalp:
He has to pee in his hair.
to pee = pinkeln
pimple = Pickel
When asked about what I'm giving my boyfriend for his birthday:
I don't know yet.. I must buy him a poison.
poison = Gift
gift = Geschenk
When buying paper for rolling cigarettes:
Can I have the blue documents?
documents = Papiere
cigarette paper = Paper
I did this one for months and never understood why I got such strange looks until my boyfriend was kind enough to explain to me that I was actually asking for something like immigration papers, not rolling papers
Talking about breakfast, and not realizing that a slang term for testicles is "eggs":
Yeah, I love balls. I could eat balls every single day. They are so tasty and you can do so much with them.
balls = Eier
eggs = Eier
So, in my defense -- that one was actually correct vocabulary, but my boyfriend's brain is in the gutter. He got a big kick out of that one.
Yeahhh, don't bring me home to meet the family just yet.. Or, at the very least, keep me away from Grandma until I can get my sexual slang under control. I'm sure the list will grow more in the future.. Stay tuned.
I asked today if I have an accent with everything I say, or if I actually sound German sometimes. Mario didn't even need a second to consider his answer. "You have an accent all the time. Except when you say 'nichts.'"
What the hell. "Nichts," German for "nothing," is actually a pretty hard word to say. You've got that soft ch sound, followed by the hard t, followed by the soft s. What about the easy stuff, like ja or nein? Is it even possible to say those words any other way than the German way?
I don't believe it. I'm going to ask "Did I have an accent?" after every single sentence I utter tonight. Just to be sure. There has to be some other word I can say correctly. Has to be.
At least my accent can be understood, and maybe even charming to some. But what's really funny -- and sometimes embarrassing -- is when I screw up the words entirely.
Here are the translations of the stupid things I've said (offending words in red), along with what I should have said (in green).
When asked if I want more to eat at dinner:
No thanks, I don't want any more. My tree is full.
tree = Baum
stomach = Bauch
When looking for my toothbrush:
Where is my toothbreast?
breast = Bruste
toothbrush = Zahnbürste
When talking about someone with acne on his scalp:
He has to pee in his hair.
to pee = pinkeln
pimple = Pickel
When asked about what I'm giving my boyfriend for his birthday:
I don't know yet.. I must buy him a poison.
poison = Gift
gift = Geschenk
When buying paper for rolling cigarettes:
Can I have the blue documents?
documents = Papiere
cigarette paper = Paper
I did this one for months and never understood why I got such strange looks until my boyfriend was kind enough to explain to me that I was actually asking for something like immigration papers, not rolling papers
Talking about breakfast, and not realizing that a slang term for testicles is "eggs":
Yeah, I love balls. I could eat balls every single day. They are so tasty and you can do so much with them.
balls = Eier
eggs = Eier
So, in my defense -- that one was actually correct vocabulary, but my boyfriend's brain is in the gutter. He got a big kick out of that one.
Yeahhh, don't bring me home to meet the family just yet.. Or, at the very least, keep me away from Grandma until I can get my sexual slang under control. I'm sure the list will grow more in the future.. Stay tuned.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Pinkie Promises and Penis Fights
I don’t know how it happens, but my friends always attract the most colorful characters in Berlin. There was that one old Italian guy who, while my boyfriend and I were waiting for the Ubahn, wanted to come over to chat with us. My boyfriend gave him an “Eat shit and die” look before the guy could get within speaking distance, and the man wisely took the hint and started talking to a trash can instead about how unfriendly we are.
Then there was that middle-aged couple who bought just two cigarettes from us. They were drunk and on their way to a concert at 7:30am (just as we were coming back from a club). The music they were going to hear? Indian-influenced techno, at a ridiculous 170 beats per minute. They invited us to come, but we politely declined. For your reference, here's a 160bpm track. I can only imagine what Indian-flavored techno at 170 bpm would sound like...
Oh, and then there was that drunk person who tripped UP the stairs at the Frankfurter Tor Ubahn station, recovered slightly, and then strolled away. Pretty normal, actually… Until we noticed he had a huge unopened can of soup in his hoodie pocket. Literally, the can could have fed four people. It was a Costco, Sams Club sized can of soup. The strangest part is that it was very early on a Sunday morning, and it is pretty much impossible to go to a grocery store so early on a Sunday, meaning he must have been carrying around with him for who knows how long.
BUT -- the more I think about it, the more that it makes sense. Birds of a feather flock together, and as the German saying goes, my boyfriend and his friends haben ein Vogel -- literally, have a bird. Figuratively, they are a bit off their rocker. Combine that with very friendly and talkative personalites -- especially when combined with copious amounts of beer and Havana rum -- and actually I am not surprised at all that we stumble into hilariously strange situations.
Take this past weekend for example. Sergio’s birthday night, Saturday. It was a boy’s night, and my boyfriend and his BBF (Best Bro Friend) Olli were in attendance at the party. No worries -- rocker chick Jenny (Olli’s girlfriend) and I had a girls’ night and met the extremely drunk boys much later at a club.
Around 11 pm we got a Whatsapp picture from my boyfriend, Mario. He and Olli were holding their shirts up and pushing their crotches together. It looked almost like they were comparing belt buckles. The text read “Pinkie Promise!” Earlier I'd taught him what a pinkie promise is, and he pinkie promised me that “Tonight I will be really really drunk.”
Jenny stared at the picture, then at me. I explained to her the pinkie promise thing, and we wrote back “Congratulations.”
We didn’t think any more about it until we were heading home around 7:30 that morning. The sun was just starting to come up and Jenny and I were the only sober ones.
We were standing on a street corner near the Eberswalder stop on Schoenhauser Allee. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a fairly busy intersection. This morning the traffic was more of the drunken pedestrian sort and less of the auto sort, but it was busy nonetheless.
Suddenly, Mario stopped and yelled “PINKIE PROMISE!” Olli’s face lit up and both boys started undoing their flys, leaving their belts and top buttons alone. Jenny and I looked at each other, thinking “Oh God, what are they doing now?”
The boys shoved their hands inside their jeans, struggling around, and finally poked their little fingers out of their unzipped pants. It really looked like baby penises wagging around. “PINKIE PROMISE!!” they both yelled, then pushed their hips together and started playing a weird game of fencing with their digits. Suddenly the picture we’d received earlier made a lot more sense.
A drunk guy walking by saw the fencing match and wanted in on it, too. “Hey, ja!” he said, unzipping his pants. Except he also undid his belt and the top button. When we realized what was happening, it was too late. We all screamed “NOOOOOOOO!!” It was like everything was happening in slow motion -- you want to stop it, but you can’t. He was barreling ahead like a locomotive, unstoppable in his drunken stupor.
“PINKIE PROMISE!” he yelled, whipping out his penis and ready to join in on the fun.
I was hysterical, laughing so hard I was about to cry. Jenny was screaming about how disgusting it looked. And the boys were all yelling “Dude!! It’s just our fingers!!”
He stood there for a few seconds, then put the pieces together. “Oh…” He shoved the penis back into his pants. “You could have told me sooner that it was just your fingers, you assholes,” he mumbled, complete embarrassment breaking through the alcohol haze. But it was all good. We had a good laugh together, Olli gave him a high-five (Jenny sighed and told me, “Now I have to burn his hands. That penis was disgusting looking.”) and he took a group photo of us.
Indeed, upon retrospection.. It’s not a surprise at all that we attract such characters. What would you expect when having a “penis fight” at 7:30am on a weekend near Kulturbrauerei?
Let’s see what fun the next weekend brings..
Then there was that middle-aged couple who bought just two cigarettes from us. They were drunk and on their way to a concert at 7:30am (just as we were coming back from a club). The music they were going to hear? Indian-influenced techno, at a ridiculous 170 beats per minute. They invited us to come, but we politely declined. For your reference, here's a 160bpm track. I can only imagine what Indian-flavored techno at 170 bpm would sound like...
Oh, and then there was that drunk person who tripped UP the stairs at the Frankfurter Tor Ubahn station, recovered slightly, and then strolled away. Pretty normal, actually… Until we noticed he had a huge unopened can of soup in his hoodie pocket. Literally, the can could have fed four people. It was a Costco, Sams Club sized can of soup. The strangest part is that it was very early on a Sunday morning, and it is pretty much impossible to go to a grocery store so early on a Sunday, meaning he must have been carrying around with him for who knows how long.
BUT -- the more I think about it, the more that it makes sense. Birds of a feather flock together, and as the German saying goes, my boyfriend and his friends haben ein Vogel -- literally, have a bird. Figuratively, they are a bit off their rocker. Combine that with very friendly and talkative personalites -- especially when combined with copious amounts of beer and Havana rum -- and actually I am not surprised at all that we stumble into hilariously strange situations.
Take this past weekend for example. Sergio’s birthday night, Saturday. It was a boy’s night, and my boyfriend and his BBF (Best Bro Friend) Olli were in attendance at the party. No worries -- rocker chick Jenny (Olli’s girlfriend) and I had a girls’ night and met the extremely drunk boys much later at a club.
Around 11 pm we got a Whatsapp picture from my boyfriend, Mario. He and Olli were holding their shirts up and pushing their crotches together. It looked almost like they were comparing belt buckles. The text read “Pinkie Promise!” Earlier I'd taught him what a pinkie promise is, and he pinkie promised me that “Tonight I will be really really drunk.”
Jenny stared at the picture, then at me. I explained to her the pinkie promise thing, and we wrote back “Congratulations.”
We didn’t think any more about it until we were heading home around 7:30 that morning. The sun was just starting to come up and Jenny and I were the only sober ones.
We were standing on a street corner near the Eberswalder stop on Schoenhauser Allee. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a fairly busy intersection. This morning the traffic was more of the drunken pedestrian sort and less of the auto sort, but it was busy nonetheless.
Suddenly, Mario stopped and yelled “PINKIE PROMISE!” Olli’s face lit up and both boys started undoing their flys, leaving their belts and top buttons alone. Jenny and I looked at each other, thinking “Oh God, what are they doing now?”
The boys shoved their hands inside their jeans, struggling around, and finally poked their little fingers out of their unzipped pants. It really looked like baby penises wagging around. “PINKIE PROMISE!!” they both yelled, then pushed their hips together and started playing a weird game of fencing with their digits. Suddenly the picture we’d received earlier made a lot more sense.
A drunk guy walking by saw the fencing match and wanted in on it, too. “Hey, ja!” he said, unzipping his pants. Except he also undid his belt and the top button. When we realized what was happening, it was too late. We all screamed “NOOOOOOOO!!” It was like everything was happening in slow motion -- you want to stop it, but you can’t. He was barreling ahead like a locomotive, unstoppable in his drunken stupor.
“PINKIE PROMISE!” he yelled, whipping out his penis and ready to join in on the fun.
I was hysterical, laughing so hard I was about to cry. Jenny was screaming about how disgusting it looked. And the boys were all yelling “Dude!! It’s just our fingers!!”
He stood there for a few seconds, then put the pieces together. “Oh…” He shoved the penis back into his pants. “You could have told me sooner that it was just your fingers, you assholes,” he mumbled, complete embarrassment breaking through the alcohol haze. But it was all good. We had a good laugh together, Olli gave him a high-five (Jenny sighed and told me, “Now I have to burn his hands. That penis was disgusting looking.”) and he took a group photo of us.
Indeed, upon retrospection.. It’s not a surprise at all that we attract such characters. What would you expect when having a “penis fight” at 7:30am on a weekend near Kulturbrauerei?
Let’s see what fun the next weekend brings..
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Karnaval der Kulturen!
Last weekend Berlin had a huge street party called the Karnaval der Kulturen (Carnival of Cultures..see, German isn't always SO hard).
While the Karnaval lasted all weekend, I heard that Sunday was the best day because of the parade finale. An ex coworker and a current coworker met up to see the event. Words can't express how much I love these two.. They are my favorite people in Berlin. We had so many late Friday nights drinking at the office until 2 am, talking about life and work and everything in between. They both have very different views, but we made a perfect mix. The Three Musketeers, Berlin melting-pot style. So naturally it was an amazing afternoon.
We started with coffee around 1pm. Then the girlfrend of Jamin, my ex-coworker, joined. She is so chill and laid back and made the perfect addition to our trio. As a happy foursome we left our quiet side street cafe and headed toward the parade. We arrived in time to see the last few floats and found ourselves stuck next to a Brazilian float absolutely blasting samba music, drowning out the poor Southeast Asian group behind it. They had about 8 Berghain-sized speakers on the float, and the little Asian flutes the musicians were playing had no chance. I have a suspicion that it was a sneaky techinque to undermine the competition, since there was a contest for the best float. Who wouldn't win with huge speakers, samba music, and nearly naked dancers parading around in feathers and sequins?
Along the way we stopped to sample (several) capirinhas and daiquiris. It was 95 degrees outside, and there were so many people crowding the streets, blocking any wind. I was practically forced to buy the overpriced delicious cups of ice-filled coldness, I promise.
Bombarded by samba music, we made our way to Jamin and Lil's friends' restaurant -- a tiny foccacia place, more like fast food than a classic Italian restaurant. In the spirit of the party weekend, they had huge speakers and a DJ set up just outside the restaurant. A dull orange carpet covered the entire sidewalk and a hand written sign on cardboard declared the area as a "Dance Floor." Berliners bobbed around in the sun, floating between their tables filled with delicious focaccia/beer and the Dance Floor carpet. A guy randomly wandered over with a hammock, strung it up between two skinny sidewalk trees, and fell asleep listening to the house music. Seriously, I freaking love this city. You can't make this shit up.
After eating and drinking the rest of the caipirinhas, we headed to a spaeti to buy some beer and then went to Viktoriapark across from the foccacia place. It's gorgeous. I was there the weekend before with my friend from Hamburg. The park rises above the street on one of Berlin's only hills, imposing and yet insanely beautiful thanks to the man-made creek and waterfalls that pour down its slopes, topped by a gothic tower. Everytime I see it, I feel like I could be in a Disney movie. Seriously.
We hiked to the top and sat in the grass, enjoying the breeze and talking about the company we work[ed] for. The conversation changed to families and babies, as we were surrounded by them. I guess the festival was a bit too much for the kiddies, and parents preferred a quiet park to the insane streets. Around 6 the lovebirds had to leave. Barbie was long gone, but I wasn't ready to go home just yet. If you've read my other posts, you know that I have no problem with floating around solo. I'm a firm believer that you are your own best friend, and I absolutely hold Charles Bukowski quotes close to my heart (in this particular case, "I had always been good company for myself.") I jumped on the Ubahn and headed back to Mehringdamm, then wandered around the street festival. My plan was to check out the scene solo, hang around until I got bored, then go back to my apt for dinner.
People had set up huge speakers here and there with mini dance parties sprouting around them. I stopped for another caipirinha and found a promising mini party. House music streamed from the big speakers, and a decent crowd of about 100 people bobbed in time to the music under the late afternoon summer sun.
A party was underway in the 5th floor apartment above the sidewalk and they were filling buckets with water and pouring them on the crowd. The people loved it and screamed for more, dancing soaking wet and not giving a care in the world. I really felt like I was back in San Francisco, albeit a less-costumed version.. But SF vibes were there nonetheless.
A few guys gave me the German "come hither" stare but I was feeling Meh. A few were promising looking, especially the guy in front of me. Small gauges in his ears, aviators, a wifebeater and tight shorts rolled up to the knees. Blond, fit. Typical chill Berlin guy. I checked my watch -- 8pm. I wanted to have a nice relaxing quiet night, so I told myself "5 more minutes, then you'll go." And then one of the guys who had given me the stare did something amazing - he Prosted me. And then, the adventure started.
Coming soon: Part 2
While the Karnaval lasted all weekend, I heard that Sunday was the best day because of the parade finale. An ex coworker and a current coworker met up to see the event. Words can't express how much I love these two.. They are my favorite people in Berlin. We had so many late Friday nights drinking at the office until 2 am, talking about life and work and everything in between. They both have very different views, but we made a perfect mix. The Three Musketeers, Berlin melting-pot style. So naturally it was an amazing afternoon.
We started with coffee around 1pm. Then the girlfrend of Jamin, my ex-coworker, joined. She is so chill and laid back and made the perfect addition to our trio. As a happy foursome we left our quiet side street cafe and headed toward the parade. We arrived in time to see the last few floats and found ourselves stuck next to a Brazilian float absolutely blasting samba music, drowning out the poor Southeast Asian group behind it. They had about 8 Berghain-sized speakers on the float, and the little Asian flutes the musicians were playing had no chance. I have a suspicion that it was a sneaky techinque to undermine the competition, since there was a contest for the best float. Who wouldn't win with huge speakers, samba music, and nearly naked dancers parading around in feathers and sequins?
 |
| dressed appropriately for the weather |
Bombarded by samba music, we made our way to Jamin and Lil's friends' restaurant -- a tiny foccacia place, more like fast food than a classic Italian restaurant. In the spirit of the party weekend, they had huge speakers and a DJ set up just outside the restaurant. A dull orange carpet covered the entire sidewalk and a hand written sign on cardboard declared the area as a "Dance Floor." Berliners bobbed around in the sun, floating between their tables filled with delicious focaccia/beer and the Dance Floor carpet. A guy randomly wandered over with a hammock, strung it up between two skinny sidewalk trees, and fell asleep listening to the house music. Seriously, I freaking love this city. You can't make this shit up.
After eating and drinking the rest of the caipirinhas, we headed to a spaeti to buy some beer and then went to Viktoriapark across from the foccacia place. It's gorgeous. I was there the weekend before with my friend from Hamburg. The park rises above the street on one of Berlin's only hills, imposing and yet insanely beautiful thanks to the man-made creek and waterfalls that pour down its slopes, topped by a gothic tower. Everytime I see it, I feel like I could be in a Disney movie. Seriously.
 |
| goodhardworkingpeople.blogspot.com |
We hiked to the top and sat in the grass, enjoying the breeze and talking about the company we work[ed] for. The conversation changed to families and babies, as we were surrounded by them. I guess the festival was a bit too much for the kiddies, and parents preferred a quiet park to the insane streets. Around 6 the lovebirds had to leave. Barbie was long gone, but I wasn't ready to go home just yet. If you've read my other posts, you know that I have no problem with floating around solo. I'm a firm believer that you are your own best friend, and I absolutely hold Charles Bukowski quotes close to my heart (in this particular case, "I had always been good company for myself.") I jumped on the Ubahn and headed back to Mehringdamm, then wandered around the street festival. My plan was to check out the scene solo, hang around until I got bored, then go back to my apt for dinner.
People had set up huge speakers here and there with mini dance parties sprouting around them. I stopped for another caipirinha and found a promising mini party. House music streamed from the big speakers, and a decent crowd of about 100 people bobbed in time to the music under the late afternoon summer sun.
 |
| SF or Berlin? You be the judge. Only the buildings might give it away |
A party was underway in the 5th floor apartment above the sidewalk and they were filling buckets with water and pouring them on the crowd. The people loved it and screamed for more, dancing soaking wet and not giving a care in the world. I really felt like I was back in San Francisco, albeit a less-costumed version.. But SF vibes were there nonetheless.
A few guys gave me the German "come hither" stare but I was feeling Meh. A few were promising looking, especially the guy in front of me. Small gauges in his ears, aviators, a wifebeater and tight shorts rolled up to the knees. Blond, fit. Typical chill Berlin guy. I checked my watch -- 8pm. I wanted to have a nice relaxing quiet night, so I told myself "5 more minutes, then you'll go." And then one of the guys who had given me the stare did something amazing - he Prosted me. And then, the adventure started.
Coming soon: Part 2
Monday, June 2, 2014
The park that never ends - Tempelhofer Feld
This weekend my friend Jan was visiting from Hamburg. Because the weather had finally taken a turn for the better, we ventured out to a new part of the city for me: Tempelhofer Feld.
As I mentioned before, Berlin is 44% park. After going to Tempelhof, I can see where 43% of that green space comes from. If you've flown into Berlin before 2008, you might have a different view of Tempelhof -- the view from inside the terminal. Yes, that's right -- the park is an AIRPORT.
It officially opened its doors in 1923, and was named Tempelhof after the Knights Templar who made it their stomping grounds waaaay back in the day. It was busiest from 1938-1939. Not surprising.
Tempelhof was closed in 2008 in an attempt to centralize air traffic in Berlin and make Schönefeld the main airport. At the time, there were 3 airports in opposite corners of the city -- not good for noise pollution, and probably making air traffic controlling a nightmare.
The airport remained unused except for the occasional tradeshow or fair, which were held inside the hangar. The rest of the time, the huge space was left untouched. So, instead of expensive development projects, in 2010 Berlin decided "What the hell, let's just make it a park." In true lazy Berlin fashion, everything was left exactly the same -- they took down the barbed wire on the fence around the airport and put up a sign saying that it's a park, and that's about it. The airport itself remains, and the hangar continues to be used for trade shows and raves. There was actually a rave that day, and the thumping bass of the techno rolled over the park from the hangar. Nevermind that it was 4pm -- when Berlin parties, it's a weekend-long affair, sunlight be damned.
In addition to the ravers in the cavernous hangar, day-living Berliners were rollerblading, kiteboarding, and biking on the runways and picnicking on the grass. Tons of people lugged little portable grills out with them and were roasting various kinds of meat and sausages à la Germany.
There are some important lessons I learned about visiting Templehof, which I will share with you in case you ever get the chance to visit it in the hopes that you will learn from my mistakes:
 |
| bz-berlin |
As I mentioned before, Berlin is 44% park. After going to Tempelhof, I can see where 43% of that green space comes from. If you've flown into Berlin before 2008, you might have a different view of Tempelhof -- the view from inside the terminal. Yes, that's right -- the park is an AIRPORT.
It officially opened its doors in 1923, and was named Tempelhof after the Knights Templar who made it their stomping grounds waaaay back in the day. It was busiest from 1938-1939. Not surprising.
 |
| wikipedia |
 |
| pressechronik |
Tempelhof was closed in 2008 in an attempt to centralize air traffic in Berlin and make Schönefeld the main airport. At the time, there were 3 airports in opposite corners of the city -- not good for noise pollution, and probably making air traffic controlling a nightmare.
The airport remained unused except for the occasional tradeshow or fair, which were held inside the hangar. The rest of the time, the huge space was left untouched. So, instead of expensive development projects, in 2010 Berlin decided "What the hell, let's just make it a park." In true lazy Berlin fashion, everything was left exactly the same -- they took down the barbed wire on the fence around the airport and put up a sign saying that it's a park, and that's about it. The airport itself remains, and the hangar continues to be used for trade shows and raves. There was actually a rave that day, and the thumping bass of the techno rolled over the park from the hangar. Nevermind that it was 4pm -- when Berlin parties, it's a weekend-long affair, sunlight be damned.
 |
| bz-berlin |
In addition to the ravers in the cavernous hangar, day-living Berliners were rollerblading, kiteboarding, and biking on the runways and picnicking on the grass. Tons of people lugged little portable grills out with them and were roasting various kinds of meat and sausages à la Germany.
 |
| pollimagazin |
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| tempelhoferfeld.info |
- We were meeting a group of Jan's coworkers who also happened to be in Berlin this weekend. They arrived before us, and we mistakenly thought we could just give them a call and meet up. No way, Jose. We forgot to take into account one very important factor: the park is a freaking airport. After walking all over Berlin earlier that day, we were looking forward to sitting down and resting our tired feet. We arrived at the park..and had to walk almost the entire length of the thing just to get inside the nearest entrance. And THEN, once inside we were confronted with the massive airfield. We wandered around for a while, moving from one picnicking group to another and finally realized that we could do this all day and never find them. Using Whatsapp, his friends showed us their location in the field. And we realized that they were clear on the other side of the park, a good 40 mn walk away. I actually stopped to sit and eat an apple for some quick energy. According to runningmap.com, we walked 2.36 miles -- just to get to where his friends were. Lesson learned: plan where to meet and enter the park through the closest gate.
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| Our journey to find Jan's friends |
- The weather was super nice and sunny, so we dressed accordingly -- short sleeves, etc. Years of living in San Francisco taught me to be prepared for everything, since going from one neighborhood to the next block often meant a drop of 10+ degrees and a wall of fog. I quickly learned to always bring a light jacket with me. Inside Berlin the buildings block most of the wind, but the huge expanse of Templehof is devoid of buildings. Chilly winds constantly swept across the field (probably why it's so popular with kite skaters) and I was constantly pulling on my jacket and taking it off -- even sometimes wishing I had brought a heavier one with me. Lesson learned: wear layers, regardless of how warm it is in your neighborhood.
- The bathrooms are real bathrooms - full plumbing, stocked with paper, and even a cleaning lady. It's a nice change from the bushes that most European parks provide. HOWEVER.. I may have mentioned earlier that the park is huge. This therefore means that bathrooms are about a mile away from each other. How do you find one? Look for where lots of people are camped out with their little portable bbqs, and then hike for half an hour. Lesson learned: park your picnic close to the bathroom, or go when you see one -- you never know when the next one will come around.
- One of Jan's friends brought his dog along. The dog was some kind of hound mix, big but so chill -- off leash he just sniffed around and hung out. And then he got the idea of exploring on his own while the owner was chatting away. No harm done, just some wandering and sniffing. But all of a sudden we heard a yell and a whistle, and two park officials came over wearing bright orange windbreakers. I didn't get everything but it was obvious that the dog was not welcome and should be kept near us at all times. "Clean up all this when you leave, too," they added for good measure, indicating our picnic supplies and beer bottles. Then they stalked off to rain on someone else's parade. Lesson learned: keep your dog nearby, no matter how well behaved. Or else you'll be given a stern scolding from the Park Patrol.
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| tempelhoferfeld.info |
All in all it's a really unique place -- where else can you rave inside an airplane hangar and rollerblade on a tarmac on the same day? The huge, flat expanse of the park ensures that there is more than enough space for everyone, but is not for the mobility-impaired. Unless you are sticking to the tarmac, in which case you are golden. Just be sure to come prepared and park yourself in the right place, with an eye out for the Park Police.
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