Note to self: If it isn't blogged, it didn't really happen.

I had got so good at updating this thing? What happened?! A whole month... all completely undocumented. I'm home from Berlin now and eeeeverything.

Hey ho. I am shit at blogging... what can you do?

Maybe now I'm home for the festive season, I'll become awesome at blogging. In fact, it could be my new year's resolution... yes, yes. I have just now decided. In 2010, I resolve to blog.

In a bid to get in touch with my narcissistic 'this is my point of view - you should read it - it is important' side, I think I am going to work on a Top 10 things to do/places to go in Berlin. That should be documented right? Guide books are just so.... blah.

This is a booty call, my boot my boot my boot up your arsehole...

Wild Beasts. As bands go, I am continuously hearing their praises sung and yet they still seem to pass me by. It's another testament to my laziness what with how the old world wide web has rendered the search for music almost as effortless as breathing. Just a little search in google, that's all it would've taken. Shameful. Anyway, before laziness engulfed my ability to actually breathe, I found out they were playing in Mitte and shock of all horrors, made the effort and went. Efforts rewarded. I've learnt my lesson. They were amazing.

Skip this entry? I learnt about stuff, i.e. I WILL bore the shit out of you.

I am such a moron. Yesterday I went to the memorial for the German Resistance Memorial Centre and I finally went inside the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. Both of these things were most, most excellent and yet, all I do is rabbit on about some tosser with folder. He was an absolute twat though...

Fuckwits with folders aside, yesterday was a good, good day. I woke up and decided I needed to start ticking things off the ol' tourist list.

So, The German Resistance Memorial. I was pretty excited about it... I love reading stuff about the German resistance. I find it all incredible, and if I am honest, I don't think it is considered enough when the subject of the Nazi dictatorship is broached.

The location of the memorial is in the Benderblock, a building that was originally an Imperial Navy Office and the same building that Hitler gave his Lebensraum speech in... a speech where he declared that Germany needs to become bigger and better by taking land etc from the east, predominately meaning, let's fucking take over Russia, that's ever so nice and big.

It is also site of the failed plot to assassinate Hitler in July 1944, and attempt where Claus Schnek Graf von Stauffenberg put a briefcase, complete with bomb inside under Hitler's desk. After the plot failed, the men involved were all killed, many of them the following day and in the courtyard of the Benderblock, and so now, the courtyard holds a memorial to their bravery.

With that kind of history, it is pretty amazing to walk around a building like that, particularly as so much of it is as it was (the tiles that border the floor of each room still have a swastika in and amongst the pattern) and you are standing literally in the same space and on the same floor that Hitler stood to give his speech.

There was a slight problem with the memorial though... well at least for me as everything in the exhibition was written in German. Well, I say everything, there was actually English translations in the room about the White Rose Movement. This is probably one of the only areas of German resistance I know anything about, so that wasn't ideal. Still, I picked up a pretty awesome book on the way out that I am working my little way through.

After the memorial, I paid a man 3 euros to abuse me, but enough about that, I also then went to the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, something I have walked past countless times, marvelled at, and never actually gone in.

It's fucking amazing. So bloody, ruddy well beautiful inside. Seriously... I nearly put pay to my agnostic ways and slipped over to the other side, it is that lovely. I didn't... instead I remembered it was built by dear mankind, so then I just marvelled in how awesome those guys are and all was well. It's not the first time I have been inside a church and felt moved either. I totally understand how easy it is to get swept up in religion... just sitting there, in this amazing looking room, candles all around and someone gently played an organ behind... just lovely.

I kind of promised myself I would only upload my Holga pictures to this blog, but fuck it; I'm scannerless and this warrants picture time:

I love how the remains of the original sire juxtapose with the modern buildings that surround it... and all of the tiny, beautiful stainless steel windows lit up... awesome, awesome building.

Go on! Abuse me! I'll give you 3 euros if you do...

I met the most disagreeable man today. I was outside Potsdamer Platz, heading onto the u-bahn and within 2 seconds of speaking to him, I wanted to punch myself in the face for stopping. Punch myself hard.

It was one of those cases of He wants money. I don't have any. How long do I carry out this charade for? Oh dear God this is going to be awkward?

Anyway, to cut a long story short, he gave me a long spiel, said he was raising money for people in Iran that have been subjected to torture under Ahmadinejad. I listened to him and found most of what he had to say interesting so figured I'd give the guy whatever change I had. Afterwards he asks me for a donation, showing me "receipts" of other donations, all in the region of 300 euros. So I politely explained to the man that I really don't have much money and although I am happy to give a small donation, I am not in a position to be giving large amounts of money. This is obviously when he turns nasty. He told me I could donate next month if I really wanted to by giving him my bank details. My bank details? He must have thought I was completely stupid. Anyway, he was so fucking rude to me. Apparently "I am not honest" and "I do not care". He abused me for a bit, made me feel like utter crap and, all in a fluster I gave him three euros and ran off as quickly as I could.

That guy was clearly a lying prick. That money was not going to help anyone. I hate myself for a) giving him any time, b) any money at all and c) not telling him what a twat he was. He wasn't raising money for anyone... all in his own back pocket. And even if it wasn't, fuck him for talking like shit to me when I didn't thrust a fifty in his face. I gave him my time and what money I had to spare and suffered abuse for it. Next time I'll just walk by... so if he was genuine, or if the next person that tries to stop me in the street is, and I just walk on, that's fucking shit. People like him turn people away from charity and how fucked up is that? This got me thinking about a conversation I recently had with a friend about street fundraisers making people avoid charity, and I think there is a lot of truth in it. I know a couple of people who have had fundraisers make them feel like shit when they say they can't sign up. Now they cross the street or pretend they are on their phone. So people are actively avoiding charity. How fucked.

Anyway... rant over. Y'know, I think that is the first time I have been angry about anything in... well, weeks.

Sunday, Sunday here again, a walk in the park.

Sundays are without any shadow of doubt my favourite days now.

Maybe I see it all through my rose-tinted tourist glasses, but everything about Sundays, I just fucking love.

Well, I say everything... I mean how all the shops are shut. That is pretty much the cusp of it.

Today, when I left my flat, I realised that the street was the busiest I had ever seen it. Everyone was walking alongside the river, in the park over the road, or sitting and having a drink outside the cafes and bars that line my street. I like that mentality; this is what Sundays are for... spending time with people, relaxing, enjoying yourself. This obviously stems from a deep rooted resentment I formed when working in retail in London for two years before I came here. Fuck day of rest. God got it all wrong. What he really meant to say was "Consume, consume, consume. Only between the hours of 12 and 6 mind. So get up, go to church and remember how awesome I am and then go to your nearest department store and buy shit that you don't really need."

I'm paraphrasing obviously...

ich bin faul

I was going to do an entry today where I make up for the complete lack of previous entries, but then I decided that it would be long and I am way too lazy. Plus, I want to go to a flohmarket in Schoneberg and considering that it is half fucking two already, I should probably stop being such a lazy twat and leave the flat.

So updating the fuck out of this thing hasn't panned out. i am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Maybe I could do a short hand version of the last month... First day here: Got up. Looked at stuff. Went to bar. Drank. Went home. Repeat with different stuff/bar every day since. Insert a few sleepy days, various different visitors and some self-analysing in that and you are pretty much there. Oh and I have made a couple of friends my venturing into expat land... and my German has gone from utterly terrible to just terrible. Bonus!

monthiversary

Just realised. One month today since I arrived in Berlin. One month. Four entries. Fucking hell. I am so, so bad at this blogging milarkies. Maybe it is a good thing... an indication that I am actually out and enjoying myself and am not sitting in my computer all day? No. That isn't the case. I keep remembering when I had a blog back in the good old days. I was 18, had just moved to London and was quite the irritating little scenester. You couldn't stop me updating that thing. Once a day at least. Often more. I can't decide if I was waaaay more interesting then... or did I just think I was more interesting then? I need to find that blog, reread it and find out. I think it is the latter... at least it better be.

Still. I am a blogging-retard. Must try harder. Tomorrow I am going to update the shit out of this thing.

Sachsenhausen

Yesterday I went to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Obviously it was horrific. Such a bleak, bleak day. Even the journey to it was horrible. I felt myself battling this feeling of guilt at even going there; Am I completely sick and morbid for even wanting to see it? Why do I even want to see it?

Being there was like nothing I can really explain. It's beyond a feeling of sadness. I felt uncomfortable with each and every step I took around the place... like it was still way too far beyond my comprehension and I shouldn't really be here. You go with the same intention you have when going to any kind of memorial or exhibition and that is a desire for knowledge, but no matter how intensely you listen to the audioguide, there is still this constant haze around everything you are being taught.

It upset me, but then, I knew it was going to. But what I didn't expect was how the behaviour of other people there would bother me. I find the desire to take pictures of certain things really, really unnerving. Walking around a place like that, snapping away... it just feels odd. Are people sitting around, showing off their holiday snaps and saying things like "This is where they dug the mass graves... oh, and this is where the carried out the executions." I just don't get it. Honestly, when it comes to remembering such things, no photo is necessary. And taking pictures of what you see is one thing, but when we were making our way out, I was totally dumbfounded . You leave the way you came in, walking through the main entrance that separates the prisoners camp from the command headquarters. As we were walking through, three people were taking pictures of themselves in front of the watch tower that surrounded the entrance gate. I just can't fathom it. Pictures of themselves smiling (smiling?) in front of a tower that enabled SS guards to keep watch and ultimately shoot the prisoners they deemed worthy of such a fate. I posed in a similar fashion with Goofy and Pluto at Disneyworld. Am I wrong to think that is the most insane thing in the world to want to do? I mean honestly... what are you going to do with those pictures? Pop them in a little frame from Ikea and stick it on your bedside table?

Anyway. Dark, dark day. You have no idea how much Jedward I had to watch on youtube last night to direct my mind elsewhere and actually get too sleep. I don't care if it is wrong, Jedward are funny.

This one goes out to the man who minds the miracles...

The wall celebrations were wet and cold. I didn't understand much of what was going on. Thankfully Jon Bon Jovi managed to transcend the language barriers and I was thoroughly moved.

All we wanna know is where the party at...

Registering as a resident at the Burgerampt was a daunting experience. As previously stated, I felt like an ignorant cunt, "I am English. I would like to live here now... no real reason, it'd just be nice thanks. Speak your language? Oh no... you'll have to speak mine." Well that whole scenario - a complete fucking walk in the park now that I have been into Berghain. The two minute process of walking past security at the door, getting searched inside, to paying my entrance fee were hor-rif-ic. Those three exchanges were like entering into an interrogation zone. I am pretty sure that going trhough security at JFK, screaming "I am a fucking terrorist!" would have been an easier process. Perhaps it was the general tourist hostility, maybe it was the patronising smirks at your failure to understand anything that was being said, but mostly, it was the looks of absolute contempt. I felt so fucking stupid.

Thankfully, it was worth it.

Berghain was amazing. I cannot remember the last time that I danced so hard. Fun, fun, fun FUN! At 10am, when getting a round of beers in for the last standing, I had entered into the realm of total Berghain enthusiast.

Blogs are for updating.

Last entry October 13th...

I. am. slack. 10 days I have been in Berlin and not one fucking entry. Shameful.

Buuut, in my defence, I have been fucking busy... and my apartment is internetless. I had forgotten what an internetless world was like. Conclusion? I am way too dependent on the old world wide web. How on earth did people stay in contact before? How the fuck did we know what was going on in the world? Where to go? What to see? I just don't know anymore...

Anyway, let us not get bogged down in the fact that I can't refresh twitter every seven and a half minutes, because I am in Berlin. Being here makes up for the fact that I am not instantly updated every time that Stephen Fry inhales or David Attenborough has a headache.

Here is a quick run-down of the highs and lows of the big move:

Let's get the LOWS out of the way first:

- The actual process of moving. I wish I could go back in time, speak to my former-self who decided on packing so many books and stab that former me in the heart. That suitcase nearly killed me. I keep having flashbacks to when I was dragging that mother-fucker around whilst looking for my apartment and failing to even read a map properly. And you just know that I am never going to read any of those fucking books...

- A minor near death experience. Cars drive on the other side of the road. I am not bright enough to get out of that UK roads mentality. When walking out of my apartment one morning, a little tired, a lot worse for wear from the previous night, I stepped out and very nearly died at the hands of a motorbike. I genuinely let out a little scream. My whole life flashed before my eyes. It was distressing. Whilst I'm thinking of time travel in order to rectify any moronic decisions, it is only right that I let my much former former-self know that dressing exclusively from Camden Market doesn't make you appear interesting. You, unquestionably, look like an absolute twat.

- Registering as a resident at the Burgerampt. Okay, okay, it wasn't that bad and it was over pretty quick. But, when a terrifyingly stern man with an overwhelming moustache looks you up and down, examines your passport and scribbles something down on a form that you can't possible read you feel like an absolute English, ignorant cunt. Well... at least I did. "Ich spreche keine Deutsche" didn't seem to quite cut it. I threw in the, "I am here as I want to learn German" line as often as I could. But, still... afterwards I was so excited about being a resident and spent so long admiring my little certificate that I forgot about all that. This must be what having a baby is like.. the end result makes you forget the previous pain.

Now for the HIGHS:

- I am in Berlin! I fucking love Berlin. Without boring the shit out of anyone and everyone by rabbiting on about going to this bar and that place, I will simply summarise by declaring my absolute love for this city. Sure, I knew I loved it - it is why I came here. But it is totally different than when I've been here on holiday; I already feel like I know the city better and I love the fact that I have time to really discover it. I feel all settled and comfortable, kind of like this is home...

- Seeing Sonic Youth. They are more than a bit good.

- The apartment I am staying in, despite being internetless, is fucking amazing.

- I have eaten a pork based product and drunk beer on a daily basis since I have been here.

- Friends visiting. First was the turn of Hannah and Joe. Sure, I got them lost and took them to the worst club in Berlin (rock karaoke anyone?) but serious fun was had by all. I am soooo excited about all my upcoming visitors! People I love in Berlin equates to awesome times.

- Finding new places that I love, making a couple of friends and finally getting out of "This is a holiday" mode.

I am going to be good from now on and update this bloody thing on a regular basis, I promise. I might even get round to uploading my Holga pictures, what with that being the whole point of the fucking thing...

x

I live to serve.

In exactly one week I am moving Berlin. This is a pretty pivotal time for me, so being quite the narcissist, I assume that this is interesting for… well, everyone right? As the giving sort, I have ensured no one has to miss a thing by starting this blog. My expectations are nothing short of internet phenomenon. Perez Hilton is probably shitting himself. Most popular blog on the net? Not for much longer my friend.

Step one of the big move = unemployment. For the first time in my adult life, I am facing a lengthy period jobless. But hey! Don't panic! Sure, we are in a recession and yes, I am moving to an unemployment haven where the chances of me finding an actual job are slim to none. But it's okay. I've saved. I'm prepared... well, I've saved at least. This is a good thing I swear.

If nothing else, unemployment means a temporary (and I'm not kidding myself, very temporary) hiatus from the service industry. For the past seven years I have pulled pints for wankers at shit club nights, waited on tables of yummy fucking mummies in a local pub or served rich bitches in a fancypants department store.

I'll be honest with you, such jobs have had their ups and downs, but in a bid to give back to the industry, I have a compiled my top 5 tips for those who can’t quite grasp the simple etiquette involved when using said industry.

This is me making everyone’s life better. Those who it is directed at will hopefully learn and change their moronic ways, eventually allowing those it speaks for to let a little bit of that hatred they now have for mankind go. As I said, I am the giving sort.

1. Whatever the scenario, clicking your fingers won't get you served any quicker. Whosever attention you are trying to attract will just think you are an absolute cunt and will make you wait as long as possible. There are a number of reasons for this:

• Firstly, you ARE an absolute cunt.
• Secondly, overtime, all of that extra waiting will allow you to reflect on this, enabling you to hopefully realise just what a twat you are. Of course, this assumes that you have any level of intelligence to generate such self awareness. That may be a long shot, but heck, we’re optimists.
• Finally (and perhaps most importantly), those who do simply wait their turn without clicking their fingers deserve to get served before you. This is because, as far as we’re concerned, they are better people than you. They might not be. They could be genuinely evil, sadistic bastards, capable of some truly fucked up, David Cronenberg style shit. Perhaps they’re on their way home from a killing spree and they are waiting patiently to get their hands on that post psychopathic episode beer. But that is it. They are waiting patiently. That’s all we have to go on, so sod's law dictates it that in our eyes at least, they are better people than you. I'm not saying it is fair that you have to wait behind remorseless murderers to get a drink, but, as we've established you are a cunt, so you really don't deserve fairness do you? Plus, what if those patient punters aren't psychopaths? Just on the off chance that they are decent people, they can get their drink before you and you can just fuck off and die of thirst. If we give it enough time, natural selection should take care of it and the likes of you will die out, giving way to a better world where finger clickers are part of our ancestral past. We’re ignoring you yes, because we hate you, but also because we care about the human race.

TIP 2. We've established that clicking your fingers is a no no, but the detriment your hands can cause to you getting served does not end there. Add to this the tapping on counters, pointing and waving. Perhaps I seem a little harsh with the waving; on the surface it can seem relatively innocent and polite... sweet even. I can assure you, it is none of these things. If you are waiting at a bar, smile, look attentive and wait your fucking turn. If you are in a shop, beckoning someone across the shop floor with a 'sweet little wave' is rude, not to mention lazy. Walk over to them, open your mouth and politely ask them for their help like they are a fucking human being.

Also, whilst on the subject of waving - if you wave money around then you really are the lowest level of scum. Seriously, you should really think about killing yourself. Do you think by waving a twenty in someone's face they’ll think you’re special? Do you think they've never seen a fifty pound note before? Do you honestly think that you suddenly seem important? It won't, they have and you don't. No one gives a fuck how much money you have so you can stop acting like you're Bill fucking Gates because you happen to have some cash on you and WAIT YOUR TURN like everybody else.

TIP 3. When it comes to the service industry, there is a common mistake that so many make; the simple distinction between… say, waitressing and prostitution. Now in the instance of a waitress, her breasts aren’t up for sale, so there really is no reason for you to bring them up. I know that menu can be tricky, but, if in doubt ask a friend (you have a friend right?), and hopefully they can explain to you what a marinated chicken breast is. Also, you’ve just fucking met her… she’s not your sweetheart, your honey, your darling or any of the other ‘choocey coo’ names you’ve got. She’s a grown-up. Talk to her like one you patronising fuckwit.

It’s not just women either. Talking to guys that work in the service industry like they are a piece of meat isn’t okay. Shocking I know. Nor is it okay to talk down to them. It may come as a massive surprise, but serving you isn’t their sole purpose in life. They are doing a job; outside of this they have lives, undoubtedly more thrilling than your own. Just because they pour you a drink for a living, it doesn’t mean you fucking own them, so no, you really can't talk down to them.

TIP 4. Know what it is that you want. This isn't a free therapy session - we are not here to help you weigh up the pros and cons of every stupid fucking little thing. And believe me, I'm doing you a favour. If it takes you twenty minutes to decide between a Smirnoff ice and a blue WKD then what the fuck happens when you have to make a decision that might actually hold some gravitas. So, I'll help you. Neither. They are both disgusting. Have a proper drink you fucking pussy.

And this rule doesn't just apply to bars: When eating out, don't tell the waiting staff that you’re ready to order and then have them stand and watch you spend twenty minutes pondering the menu like it is more complex than quantum fucking physics. Menus are quite simple; it is just food put together with other food to form a meal. These are then listed and you pick the one that you most want to eat. A Brief History of Time it is not. If someone has to explain that to you then you should not be allowed out to eat in public... at least not without adequate supervision.

Finally don't walk into a shop with some vague idea of what it is that you want to buy and expect whoever works there to miraculously go and get it for you; saying something like "I want to buy some jeans" as you walk into Levis will ensure that whoever is serving you hates you and believe me, they will sell you whatever it is that will make you most look like a dickhead. Plus, if you are buying a gift for someone and you don't know what it is they would like or what size they are, then neither do we as WE HAVE NEVER MET THEM YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.

TIP 5. Finally, let us get back to the basics. Please. Thank you. So simple, my two-year-old nephew has had it covered for a good year now. Yet, it seems to be lost on so many. For the sake of argument, I am going to assume that you are smarter than a two-year-old so I won't spend too long outlining the concept. This is just the basic premise; When asking someone for something that you want, follow that request with a "please". Then, when they give it to you, respond by saying "thank you". That is it. It really is that easy. So why act like it is so fucking difficult?

Don't just walk up to a shop counter, throw whatever useless shit you' happen to be buying down, follow it with some money then watch whilst the shop assistant bags it up and hands it to you, only for you to walk away without even acknowledging them. Equally, don't walk up to a bar and point at what you want, throw your money down and walk away, beer in hand without even uttering so much as an "hello". Look at who is serving you, acknowledge them… go mental and throw in a smile. If you happen to be on your mobile, unless you're a member of MI5 and that call is a matter of national security, hang up the fucking phone. This is all common courtesy. As I said, a two-year-old can grasp it so it really shouldn't stretch your capabilities.