May 1-3
Berlin, Germany’s capital city, is not simply about history.
It is a place where you can have many fantastic, and unfortunately some less
so, experiences. Last time I was here, four years ago, the central reason was to
sample Berlin’s nightlife. This tour has been more gastronomic in nature.
Our authentic Berlin meal came about during a conversation
with two friends living in Prague, Suzanne and Andy, who lived in Berlin before
moving to the Czech Republic. They were also spending their long weekend in the
city and were planning on meeting up with friends at a local German restaurant
they used to frequent when living there. An invitation was sent our way and,
very soon after our epically long walking tour, we found ourselves in a
south-western suburb of the capital, outside a simple-looking restaurant.
Inside was a busy old lady reminiscent of Peggy Mitchell
from Eastenders, chequered tablecloths and beer. Lots of beer, served in stone steins. Exactly what was required after
a long slog around some of Berlin’s monuments.
The reason this place was chosen was because of its haxe. Rather than describe it, I’ll let
you observe the picture below, though I’m sure it won’t do justice to quite how
massive the pig knuckle was. Delicious and unfinishable, even for me. Those who
know me will now be aware of how big it must have been.
Needless to say, breakfast the following day was eaten
simply because it was included in the price, and very little of it was touched.
It was breakfast on the following day, however, when our sour experience of
Berlin occurred.
The previous blog is a more detailed description from one of
Hannah’s sisters of what happened. The very short tale is that we were asked on
the U-bahn to produce our tickets. We did this, only to be told that our
tickets were invalid as they had ran out at 3am the previous night. This didn’t
tally with what we had been told we’d bought, which was a 48-hour pass known as
a ‘Welcome Card’.
A heated argument ensued in which police were called to
mediate, but the ticket checkers (who were very rude and aggressive) refused to
back down. Eventually, to avoid the prospect of being arrested, we had to pay
an extortionate fine: €240. What really got us was the fact that it was obvious
that we weren’t trying to cheat the system, yet were being belligerently told
otherwise. The fact that the very same problem happened to three young Italians
on the very next train we boarded suggested something murky about the system to
us.
Most of the Woodhead family left shortly after this
happened, making their final experience of Berlin a very negative one.
Thankfully for us, our final adventure was very rewarding. Our walking tour
guide had said there was an event in a suburban park every Sunday where Thai
immigrants would take their native foodstuffs and cook it for each man and his
dog to buy. A bit of research located the park for us.
The tastes were certainly authentic. From the heat of
lemongrass in a fish soup to the searing spice of the chillies you could add to
your fried noodles, this was Thai street food at its finest, gently concocted
with the care a family member would take when cooking for their family.
I guess the advice we would have for anyone visiting Berlin
is this: check your transport ticket very carefully before buying it to ensure
you’re getting what you asked for, and then use that ticket to whisk yourself
off to Preussenpark on a Sunday to enjoy some brilliant, not-so-local food. If
you’ve left enough room in your stomach after sampling Berlin’s native
delights…
Love you all
Matt
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