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.