Reaching the height of anxiety, this couple of days has brought me down to hospital. Flashback 7days ago when I missed my flight to Amsterdam, a 10 hours waiting in the world’s worst airport: Paris Charles de Gaulle.
Waiting with the "climatic conditions" other victim, we succeeded to get sandwiches for free and went to the lounge. We started a short but intense friendship. The conversation’s tune shift immediately when she told me she was thirty years old and was a notary (I thought she was nearly 18) and from a “I-was-smoking-my-1st-cigarette-when-you-where-suckling-your-mum-boobs” position I adopt a more concerned attitude. Then we enrolled into a 9 hours conversation in which she counted me the Tunisian revolution from the inside with all this juicy details we are really keen about. Of course I’ve forced her to tell me few stories of her trips to Saudi Arabia and to Syria as I developed a weird obsession with dangerous Middle East countries… At 7pm we boarded, I was seated between her and a wonderful Canadian musician I instantly fell in love with. A 1hour and a half direct flight to Berlin where I oscillated between my new best friend and my new love story.
When I arrived in Berlin I was completely taken over by these two who drop me off at Warschauer Street where the jewels of my life where waiting for me. We were staying in a youth hostel named :
The Sunflower
Sunflower hostel was located on the same wasteland as the coolest club on earth: the Berghain. Even if this club is mentioned on all these stupid city tours books (the 30 years notary I met in the plane convinced me to buy one), the bouncer at the entrance knows perfectly who you are and where you’re coming from.
Let's remind my first encounter with bouncer beast 3 years ago : 1m80, black bombers on shoulders, silver tarry hair and a big spider tattooed on the half of his face. I was wearing a blue dress, with big rangers and tights with holes but all I could get with my friends was a “NEIN RAUS” after 2 hours waiting in the queue. So I had three years to question myself why I could not enter in what looks like the most underground and stylish club ever. Was I to young ? Was I too clean ? Too brunet ? too ugly ? too pretty ? too fat ?Time for revenge : arrived in front of the club, it was not a 2 hours queue but a 4 or 5 in the best case so thanks to my nerving friends we dodged literally the tail with 2 or 3 remarks from embittered French people but only wait for 30 minutes instead.
I formatted everybody “ Adopt a detached attitude at 10 meters of the door, look bored and don’t pronounce any French words, when spider man will gaze you just say "5 people" with your fingers. It worked out. And we got in.
The security staff checked your bag, your clothes, you feel like you’re an item at the beginning of its production cycle. In this factory, people are a lot taller than you and “nice” is not the word that best define them when they shout “Can I see your ID/ it’s not you in the picture/don’t make any pictures inside/leave your camera at the cloakroom/Go head !
Finally here we are. Few metallic stairs to climb and you arrive in a big hall with a ceiling height of 6 meters. A minimal electro with countless decibels and a crow moving in slow motion following the rhythm of flashing lights.
Well, to get into this vampire frenzy I need a little lift…and it’s when I went to the bar that I had a look around me: everyone was drinking water. This a totally a WTF situation but I found It kind of beautiful like if I was partying with thirsty Zombies. In hidden toilets, drugs are on free service and a woman shows off on demand a complete collection of the worst psychotropic. The Berghain is open 24/7 so If you stay until late you’ll se the the rays of the rising sun piercing the stained glass as sharp knives holding by christic forces. I feel blessed.
On the morning I went to the hostel and sleep a couple of hours before the housekeeper went in the room to say that we had to get out immediately and that our next room will only be available at 5pm. What a nightmare when I’ve realized that we were only two in a room of 8 that was A room that vomited clothes in a total mess. No choices,it took one hour to put everything in the luggage room. The complete team was reunited at 1pm and most of them did not sleep even a minute so we choose to enjoy the day.
You’ve probably heard about the East Side Gallery, the world biggest outdoor gallery made on the last piece of the wall of Berlin. An amazing stroll to take along hundred pieces of art of famous artists like Dimitri Vrubel, Thierry Noir, Indiano or Birgit Kinder.
What I liked the most was the reverse side of the wall. A white page where all the vandals could express themselves. It so representative of the street art situation.
Ps: The tittle is inspired by a piece made by Jean-Guillaume Robert when we were studying together at The Villa Arson. On a naked wall he laminated twenty vinyl lulled in a dark noise.
