wankers

Not only is Berlin a fantastic place to live and be a drunken yob (see the start of this post), it's also really easy to be a self-righteous wanker. I've already recounted our regular trips to Vego Foodworld --- a vegan fast-food paradise where even the potatoes come from "happy farms" --- but check out some of our other grocery-shopping purchases:

Face/off

There is an awful lot to love about Berlin. 

It's the seat of the country's right-wing government, which is refreshingly liberal and thankfully not batshit crazy. Booze is plentiful and affordable and publicly drunk---and the public drunks bother nobody but themselves. I'm pleasantly amazed that in this multicultural international capital city, where unemployment is high and alcohol is cheap and consumed everywhere, children fearlessly walk the streets unaccompanied at 9pm. Unhindered access to grog has not created a den of vice and sin with weekly bashings and race riots. I've never felt safer. City of Perth, please take note.

Vicky and I have taken to strolling the streets with a couple of beers and cigars, plonking down on park benches when we need a rest. People don't look down their noses at us. They ask for directions or advice. 

People do as they like and nobody is unintentionally offended or telephones the fun police.

Similarly, graffiti is everywhere. It must not be illegal or, if it is, it must be on par with jaywalking. If you've followed the blog for a bit, you'll know that often this is really lovely or cute or interesting, and a great sight to liven an otherwise ordinary day.

Sure, a lot of it is also hideous scribbles and tags but there are surprisingly few swears and I have seen only one racist sentiment, and even then it was small (almost ashamed of itself) and written in liquid paper. 

But more than the scrawls or the lone emasculated racist, there's one graffiti gimp that's really shitting me. 

Vego Foodworld

I feel a bit guilty for my post slagging off Germany for doing spicy food so poorly. I stand by it, proudly pointing at its impressive accuracy, but I still feel a bit bad. This may be due to the next post I'll write about Asian food in Berlin in general - hoo boy will that be a corker! - and the potential overall impression that food in Germany sucks noodles (which is what they call pasta, but that's another rant). 

Please allow me to rectify.

Viva la revolucion! (of the Earth around the Sun)

This weekend in Berlin the weather was eerily similar to a Perth winter. The temperature hovered around 20˚C and Berliners flocked to the sunny parts of the streets. However, as chuffed as Vicky and I were to get out in the sunshine and get some (much needed) Vitamin D, we also didn't fancy cramming ourselves alongside hundreds of Germans on popular outdoor seating, nor wait in the mind-boggling-ly long line for ice-cream (out of season!). How could we, too, enjoy this wonderful turn in the season?

Luckily, Maria Bonita came to our rescue. She sells take-away margaritas. We were able to get a couple and stroll around P-Berg in shirtsleeves and comfort. 

salt-encrusted rim and all

It was spectacular.  Saturday was the warmest day in Berlin for over one hundred years. I enjoyed my first iced-drink on the streets. Thank you, global warming conspiracy!

HEAD SHOP

Head Shop

Unfortunately, I think it's just a low budget or lazy hairdressers'. They'll probably be a bit miffed if you just walk in and ask for head, shrunken or otherwise. 

Mia Morr is Funkyrotic

No idea who she is but I'd like to meet her.

East Berlin fashion outlet

Where it's hip to be poor:

Mmm... sacrilicious

yes, "Christburger Street"

This street sign made me smile but I didn't think to photograph it until Vicky called it sacrilicious. Christ, I love her.

Children's booze!

These Germans have a range of beers for children:

Berliner Child-le White Beer

And it's alcoholic:

Only lightly alcoholic at 3.0%, sure, but that's fair enough. They're only small.

I bought a sixpack of the stuff in Prenzlauer Berg, which is the awesome suburb in which we live. It's also referred to as "pregnancy hill" due to the high proportion of little-uns waddling around everywhere. Truly, it is a parents' paradise.

In case you're wondering: it tastes rubbish. Of course.

POMERANZA.

Both Matt and I love Mr Sparrow in Subiaco (but I think I love it just a little bit more). For several months, it was part of our Saturday morning routine to finish a trip to the Subi Farmers’ Market with a visit to our favourite little shop. Despite regular visits, during which we would touch everything on display and spend about 15 minutes staring longingly at all the stock, we really only ever bought greeting cards.


The owner is probably quite glad we’re gone.


Luckily, a few days after moving to our new flat in Prenzlauer Berg, we found our replacement for Mr Sparrow. It’s called POMERANZA design ranch.