Tarantino Pub Crawl

17:18 Paul Robinson 0 Comments

April 2nd, 1pm, Cafe on Oderberger Strasse, Prenzlauer Berg

I'm feeling very tired and hungover today. Last night was a lot of fun but now the alcohol is having it's revenge. I saw an advert for a party on the couch-surfing website and as I didn't have a plan for the evening, I decided to go on the spur of the moment.
The party was in fact a fancy dress pub crawl. The theme was Tarantino characters because it was his birthday that week. Most of the guys dressed as a Reservoir Dog and the girls mainly dressed as Mia Wallace. As I generally travel without fancy dress constumes, I just threw on a pink(ish) polo shirt and et voila, I was Mr Pink.
We started off in a bar called Leydicke in Kreuzberg. The bar was decorated as a 1930's wine cellar and the barman/owner reminded me of a German version of Eddie from Bottom.

picture from here

The tour then moved north to a German themed football bar, which was rubbish. We moved all over the city via the S/U Bahn and the party continued on the trains because you are allowed to drink where you like in Germany. Eventually, we ended up in a great little bar in Neukolln. Amir, the owner sat with us all, shared his shisha and danced more than anyone else in the room.
Over the course of the night I met loads of people and most of their names escaped me! I did get to know a Finnish girl called Johanna and a girl from Leipzig called Paula. Of the 40 or so people that turned up to the party, there were still a few I didn't even get a chance to speak to over the night. The night was great, more than I could have hoped for. I met some great people, got drunk and had a bit of a dance. It'll go down as a proper success.



At 3am, I left the party to try and get into the infamous club, called Berghain. It's a world renowned techno club in a power station. It's mystique has been built upon it's exclusivety. It's actually really difficult to get into and photography is strictly forbidden inside.
I joined the back of the queue which stretch straight out in front of the building. As you looked up you could see the lights reflecting against the windows and you could feel the base through the floor.
Everyone was tense in the queue. The doormen turned away half the people queuing up - boys, girls, attractive, unattractive, tourists and locals - there didn't seem to be any pattern. Every English conversation I heard was groups discussing tactics about how to get in. As you got close to the door, the conversation dimmed and people began to preen and pout. At the front of the queue are the doormen. The look like well built, cinematic bad-guys, but cool as hell. It was my turn to be judged from head to toe. The bouncer asked me something I didn't understand in German. Scheiße!! I asked him if he spoke English, he paused and said I wouldn't fit in. I was so close to seeing this mysterious club and I missed my chance. Thinking about though, inside it's probably just like any other club and wouldn't live up to these mythical expectations. So for now, Berghain remains an untainted den of hedonism playing out in my imagination.

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