One Year In Berlin

Tuesday, 01 December 2009 09:05

It's been precisely one year since we moved to racy Berlin from somnolent Koeln. When we told folk we were moving in the middle of winter there was a collective shudder and a lot of wide eyed looks that suggested we were either mental, brave or both.

In my experience, the mythology surrounding the Berlin Winter is greatly exaggerated. To hear people talk you'd think it resembled Siberia. Of course it's grey and rainy. And windy. And yes, cold - a good four degrees colder than Koeln on average. But hey, this is Central Europe. It was never gonna be all beachside barbecues and bamboo-themed rum shacks. Put your designer thermal underwear on and shut the fuck up.

Besides, winter suits Berlin. It might be an exquisitely naughty playground during summer but that's just a front, a fig leaf for its inherent bleakness. Berlin is historically turbulent, with all the requisite ruptures, dramas and surly tantrums the adjective suggests.

The grey months bring out Berlin's autochthonous qualities. The etymology of Berlin is literally "swamp"  -- the folk myth that has it descending from the old word for "bear" is false -- and as the ancient silvery rains waterlog the lovely green parks and batter the denuded, pencil-sketch trees you can easily imagine Germanic and Slavic tribes sploshing about irascibly about with their crude iron weaponry and woolen pantaloons. Or whatever.

In any case our first winter passed by without any Gulag-style frostbite or Ark-esque evacuations. And the moodiness of those months only served to make the spring and summer more inspiring. Prenzlauer Berg -- or Pramzlauer Berg as I like to call it, given the abundance of families that dwell here -- is a borough much derided for being "overly gentrified", "overrun by families" and "mono-cultural".

I can see what people mean, but it really is an over-simplification. In the year I've lived here I've personally witnessed at least two black people, several childless couples and at least five elderly and/or overweight people, and that's just in my little kiez (hood). There are probably lesbians and all sorts in other nearby areas. Pberg is practically the LA of Berlin.

My German hasn't improved overly much. This is nothing, repeat nothing to do with any laziness or crass stupidity on my part. The fault lies squarely at the feet of the Germans for inventing a language that is by turns farcical and infuriating. Any language that includes words like Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen, Unabhaengigkeitserklaerungen and Waffenstillstandsunterhandlungen is not the kind you're likely to master overnight. As Mark Twain sagely noted, these are not words - they're alphabetical processions.

He also said, much to my delight: "I don't believe there is anything in the whole earth that you can't learn in Berlin - except the German language."

Thanks Mark.

The city's notoriously hedonistic nightlife has continued to impress, but seems vaguely under threat due to continued gentrification. Legendary venues like SO36 and Knaack have already been beaten into submission by resident complaints. Since both these spots have been running for many years (over three decades in SO36's case) and thereby represent a genuine part of the city's cultural heritage, you have to wonder how it is that folk are allowed to move in and then ask them to, um, 'turn the music down'. Here's a thought for you new residents: the venues were here first - why don't you adjust your own volume control. Or even better, move to Charlottenberg.

Combine this with the ongoing MediaSpree development, which is threatening many riverside venues, and you have a situation - local media hysteria aside - that's potentially very damaging to Berlin's party-hearty rep. Not that there are any shortage of heady underground parties right now, but it'll be interesting to see if officials listen to public protests and step in to save at least some venues, or whether they'll maintain their current laissez-faire stance (the filthy Philistines).

Admittedly partying hasn't been at the top of my agenda this last year, given the rapid development of my son, Luka Tyler. While he pretty much chewed, snoozed, mewed and pooed his way through the first year, leaving plenty of room for other pursuits, this last year he has moved swiftly from 1 towards 2 - from crawling to walking, and from gurgling gently to impudently demanding things at knee-quivering volumes. On the plus side, the increased interaction has resulted in a much greater bonding experience: a good deal more laughing, wrestling and chasing him with around the house with eerily grinning puppets.

Then there's the endless stream of baby-babble, a curious mix of D/English that -- call me paranoid -- is showing a bias towards German. The notion that he might be able to pronounce Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen before me is pretty perturbing. And did I mention the awesome, almost supernatural growth of his power-mullet, something clearly inherited from his German side?

Despite the fact his "business-at-the-front-party-at-the-back" look is reminiscent of Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler (mini version, obv.), we just can't bring ourselves to cut it off. Some kind of Samson-esque fear that he might lose his strength - or worse, his 'purity', or innocence. Pathetic I know, but then parents are.

And on that note I'm off to change another nappy or something. Yeah - happy Berlin anniversary to us. Despite it being a strange and difficult year in many ways, the mere fact of living in Europe's finest city makes (almost) every day an adventure full of potential and possibility. For that, and for the humbling presence of Luka Tyler, we are eternally grateful.

Danke (I think that's how you say it).