If Paris was the woman who woke up early to shop for fresh baguettes with creme fraiche and sipped wine by noon, Berlin is the war-ravaged man clutching a paint brush and a guitar with curly hair and a past as colorful as the city's history.
I woke up early on a Monday and jumped out of bed to head out to Berlin. I don't know a lot of people who are as enthralled as me with Berlin so I don't know where the fascination really started. Maybe because of the Berlin Wall, maybe it was the Top Gun song, or the Snow Patrol one. Maybe because a former boss told me to go. Maybe because of this Thrillist article. All I knew was that I had to go to Berlin.
My first impression of Berlin was like of any city that had a thriving art culture: a little rugged and dirty than its neighboring cities. I was on my fifth Berlin street when I saw graffiti is nearly everywhere. There was so much graffiti that graffiti had graffiti on top of it.
Despite the dirt, the rather interesting smells and the remnants of a past so harsh and gritty, Berlin demands a kind of respect with its crazy, ghetto art threwn all over it. A first timer would chalk it up to being mainly a liberal schtick. But when you've suffered through a socialist terror, have had 11 million people die, suffer through hiding and being gassed up, you'd probably want to celebrate every single day.
For Berliners, that is through art.
The Kiss | East Side Gallery | The longest piece of the Berlin Wall alive. Also, this is the story behind this.
The Holocaust Memorial | Berlin
Like a wounded puppy, there's something about Berlin. I love you, Berlin. You're so beautiful.
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