I took two steps down the road towards 5am when I had a change of heart and took the other road, so to speak. I met up with Dominike and her friends Tim, a hilarious guy who knew only a little English but was quite happy to teach me some great German slang and his girlfriend Jana at Alexanderplatz.
After taking the U8 to Voltastrasse and getting some directions to the tunnel from a man on a bike we arrived to see a small crowd stood on one side of the tunnel. There was a DJ and a couple of stands serving drinks but not a whole lot was really happening. I was starting to think I'd chosen wrong.
An hour later, the beer was flowing, the crowd was dancing and the music was playing loudly. We'd managed to meet up with the Couch Surfers, some of which thought I was Scottish (bah) and everything was great. Then the cameras were brought out and embarrassing photos were taken. I think I'll try and hold on to some dignity by not posting them here, I'll just Facebook them.
As things started to wind down around 11:30 Guarani, one of the Couch Surfers told us about a 'secret party' that we could go to. Secret was definitely the right word. To get there, we had to walk up a street, across a small park, into an industrial looking area, around some fences and up to a large gate, which the muffled sound of music told us was the right place.
The entry price was literally a roll of the dice, so it could cost between 1 and 6 Euros. Most people rolled 1-3 (I rolled a 3) but inevitably one unlucky person rolled a 6 and had to pay the full amount.
The club itself was just a small room for the bar, and a small room with the DJ and a dancefloor. Surprisingly it wasn't shit, the music was excellent and everyone had a good boogie. Now, I would say something less daft than 'boogie' but I just can't stomach talking about dancing in a club in a serious way. It's just one of those things that never looks good and we all accept this truth apart from the odd few who put way to much effort into it and just end up coming off looking ridiculous.
Anyway, around blur am (I can't honestly say what time it was) we decided to run the gauntlet back to the nearest station. I insisted on taking a couple of photos of a bridge that ended up looking terrible. On the plus side, the bridge led us to a large station where I was able to get a direct train back to Moritzplatz. I also snapped a photo of Dominike, Jana and Tim. In Tim's defence he'd had at least twice as much to drink as I had so it's fair enough that he's looking a bit tiddly.
Somehow I woke up this morning and was able to get up to have breakfast with Michael, Sven and Janine in the flat downstairs at 10am, feeling no ill effects from last night.
I definitely went down the right road.
2 comments:
And of course you were secretly thrilled that people thought you might be Scottish, but disappointed not to be Irish.
Says the Irish man living in Scotland. Clearly no bias there.
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