Bar Night

Bar night ... long exploration tours make you thirsty. On Wednesday, I completed my first visit to the 'Strangelove' bar, a wonderful homage to the great Kubrick classic (best Cold War satire alongside Wilder's 'One, Two, Three'). Otherwise, a pub you can also find in Kreuzberg, decorated to the ceiling. The Pixies playing from the speakers and the usual mix of colorful characters at the bar, finally normal people.

Then the rehearsed procedure, showing the vaccination certificate and ID: 'Oh, you're from Germany. What's your team?' Shit, a soccer question! After a little stumbling on my part, the bartender revealed that he was a St. Pauli fan. Once the special offer, beer and tequila shot for $6.

My left neighbor, Dave, engaged me in conversation. He found Germans creepy because they could snap at any moment, from friendly and approachable to the exact opposite. I agreed with him, we got along well. At some point, there was a Nazi remark (at least not about soccer, phew). Dave immediately apologized. Why? Germany has a history, so why should he be sorry for referring to it. Another shared shot, then Dave only had water. It was 9pm.

Finally, a longer conversation followed with my neighbor to the right of the bar, Mary. She had lost her father exactly a year ago and wanted to celebrate the day in a positive way. We talked about her life as a single mother of two almost grown sons, coping with grief, and her dissertation in psychology. We got along well. Another Cream Ale and a tequila.

The journey home took me longer. I'm still struggling with orientation in this big city.