recollections of a weekend

"I'm ninety-five percent sure the lake existed in real life, not just in my head"... and so went the words of a Scottish boy dressed as a clown, as he lead us across Gorlitzer park this morning. As a small group of us wandered deeper into the park, it occurred to me that this is probably what it felt like to stroll into wonderland... or Narnia... or something along those lines...



Before this, the night had begun as a drinking game on the S-Bahn. The rules were simple; no holding on to anything (other than your beer) and every time you lose balance or move your feet, you drink. Repeat until the ride is over or you're out of beer.

Having met with some friends in Gorlitzer park, we consumed more beverages while deciding on the evening's plans. Having had it recentely recommended to me, a few of us decided on a bar in Friedrichshain called 'What You See Is What You Get'.... Despite it being a Saturday night, it was pretty quiet. The crowd was a kind of mixed group; mostly harmless, but I got the feeling the majority were tourists. Our ears were presented with a selection of house grooves; contemporary-sounding, a little cheesy at times, but good fun. I'd happily revisit the place, but maybe for a bigger (& better?) party next time.


Next up was to reconvene with the rest of the group back at The Laden. It was business as usual there, with the booze and tunes in fine form. Again, the sound system at The Laden is pretty incy-wincy. But to make up for this, if you want to get intimate with the music, wireless headphones are on-hand - allowing you to walk outside and catch some sun if you feel the need... Or something similar. While not the same as a Berghain-sized bass bin rearranging your insides, it allows you to get lost in music, and emphasizes the stereo image :)

Sometime after sun-up, one of the group lead us to a strange bar tucked deep into a corner of Kreuzberg. Word on the street - or rather the rumour - is that the owners have lost the key, and so the bar never shuts. Inside was a strange collection of misfits (including ourselves), who also happened to have stumbled into this bar - some clearly having also spent a night on the town, while a few looked well-rested, like they'd climbed out of bed bright and early, to be here by 6am.

Apart from yelling yarns with your fellow boozehounds and being a general menace, the central point of entertainment was a jukebox. A rotation of psychedelic rock, blues and tunes from yesteryear were the flavour of the morning.The other hunk of flashing-lights and metal was a singular poker machine. It was inhabited by one mad old lady the entire time we were there, who seemed to be muttering to herself as she spun her way through the morning. Apparently she is - or was (?) - the owner. Either way, when she blew a fuse over one overtly-boozey patron, he quickly pulled his head in.

To complete a loop, I then wandered back to Gorlitzer park to meet a friend and catch some sunshine. It was here that the Scottish boy in the clown outfit insisted we look for the lake. As it turns out, it existed in his head and in reality.