The straps of my backpack dug in my shoulders as the weight of my situation bore down on me. Action needed to be taken. It was getting on to midnight, i was in a new city, the temperature was dropping, and i had nowhere to go. With a little over twenty four hours before my flight left, decisions had to be made. If i could find a hostel, that'd be amazing, but at this hour i was likely to have missed most curfews. It was time to consult my friend David's "Bible." The book's nickname well deserved, the massive loaned “Shoestring Budget” Guide to Europe had been an absolute godsend thus far. Fortunately for me, my ride had dropped me off in a central-ish area of the city, and orienting myself with the Bible's maps was quick and painless. i sat on the curb and gave myself a quick run down of my options.
Berlin's intercity railway, the S-Bahn, ran to the airport until two in the morning. That gave me plenty of time to explore the city. According to the map, one of the connecting stations to the airport was South of me, over the Spree river. i could either go in the opposite direction and try my hand at finding a hostel and bed for the evening, or wander through the museum district, as well as a few other sights to the station, and secure my ticket for the next day. If i was exhausted i could also try to sleep at the airport, and come back to town in the morning, or i’d have to roll the dice and explore the night away. Maybe take a nap in a safe dark corner like i had a few weeks back in Transylvania. It was getting colder, but i could keep myself warm with a brisk walk, and a couple coffees.
Thus far, that Easter Sunday had been a rebirth. A dash of bravado, a touch of recklessness had served me well, so off i went. With unwavering faith in my choice, i marvelled at the capital. i paused to watch the city's lights dance across the Spree's chop as i crossed the bridge to the tiny island of museums. In my headphones the sound of Monk in conversation with his piano binded the night's spell. The jazz great continued to score my adventure as i wandered around the Museumsinsel and prayed my batteries last the night. It wasn't a clubbing experience in Berlin that enchanted me, it was its shimmering quiet.
The night got colder and colder. A small group of friends passed me leaving a pub, and i slowed my pace. The temperature was beginning to bite, and i was having doubts about being able to walk until the Sun rose. While i watched the small party say their goodbyes, and debated my decision for the evening in silence, a woman in her late-thirties or early-forties wearing a windbreaker, gloves, and thick scarf watched me from the corner. Using a large umbrella as a walking stick she approached me with somewhat shy steps. Her quiet German words were lost on me. Apologetic, i answered in English, explaining i was a tourist exploring.
It was clear by the look in her eyes, that she didn't quite understand me either. Attempting again, this time in broken English, she asked if i wanted to join her for 'a warming up.' Perplexed, i tried to make sense of what she was saying. This was amazing, was she offering me shelter? Another profound encounter of kindness after hitchhiking?
She made a lewd gesture, and asked for fifty euros. At first i was stunned, and confused by what she meant. Then i realized that the woman was a prostitute, and so i kindly declined and continued on my cold way.
As i left i couldn't help but feel a little regret walking from somewhere warm to sleep, but in no way did i want any sex. i wondered how much it would cost for me to go inside to play board games, or cards. Perhaps have a nice conversation, at least get out of the freezing cold, and maybe have a human experience with a stranger.
The night progressed and i found the metro station leading to the airport faster than i estimated. The final train left at two am, and the station closing shortly after. Still time to explore. Next door the lights of a small kebab shop beckoned. Angry i'd eaten so little in Dresden, my stomach audibly voiced its opinion. With an hour to kill, and money saved from avoiding train fare and hostel fees, i went in to warm myself while i had the opportunity.
Never have i eaten so slow in my life. i savoured each tiny bite, every morsel and crumb of my cheap falafel kebab, and delayed my inevitable exit for as long as possible. My backpack sat in the chair across from me for company while i chewed and chewed. The restaurant was empty aside from two German men drinking pitchers of beer and having a loud, joyous, animated conversation. With the ‘Bible’ retrieved from my bag, i mapped out what i wanted to see in Berlin. An overwhelming amount of avenues and sites lay before me, and i still hadn't decided on whether i wanted to crash in the airport, or try to wander through the night.
The staff began mopping the floor and my presence felt a bit rude. A quick look to a clock behind the counter let me know there was only ten minutes left to make my decision anyways. i picked up my bag, cleared the table, called a gracious 'danke' and went to the metro station. Indecision tormented me with each step as i ascended up the stairs to tracks above the street. At the very least i'd find out exactly how much it would cost to get me to the airport the following day. Three Euros, not bad at all. i found the coins and slipped them safe in my travel belt beside my passport to eliminate the chance of getting stranded if i overspent on accident somewhere.
Numbers ran through my head, with those coins removed i now had around twenty four Euro's left. Another six Euros was cheap to go to the airport for a safe snooze, and return again in the morning for adventure. Or i could still walk as planned, make the most of my time by sight seeing under the cover of dark. Grab coffees and teas along the way to keep warm and enjoy the solitude in the streets and their lights.
i turned to look at the arrival time of the last train for the evening and was a little startled to find the two men from the falafel place walking towards me. One lanky, taller than me by a few inches- not including his wiry afro curls, wore thin rimmed glasses, and a black turtleneck. The other shorter, well groomed, fashionable, and closer to my age.
They spoken German to me and again that evening i apologized and explained i was a Canadian tourist. Both quite drunk, the taller of the two tried to ask me what i was doing, and if i was planning to sleep in the metro station. Taken aback, i told him no, i had only just arrived from hitchhiking and was planning on exploring their beautiful city all night before i flew to London the following evening. "Hitchhiking!" he exclaimed. "Perfect, you come with me."
"What?" i asked, a little nervous.
The little one spoke up in perfect English. "Sorry, sorry, listen we are a bit drunk. We been at a big work party, then had more beers in the falafel shop where we saw you and your bag. My friend is inviting you to stay at his house for the evening, he has a couch, it is good."
Enthusiastic nods had the tall one's springy fro bouncing, and he spun on his heels and waved me to follow. Reading my face, the shorter one leaned in, "My friend, he is a really great guy. He's drunk, but i assure you, you're safe, you should take this opportunity."
My eyebrows raised in doubt as i watched the other man stumble to the stairs. i could definitely overtake him in a fight if something weird happened, and i had already slept in some stranger's car this evening, why not continue trusting in the goodness of others? "The choice is yours, no one is forcing you," the younger called over his shoulder as he left to follow his friend.
Forgoing my train to the airport i took a chance and scrambled after them. At the bottom of the staircase the tall one was putting on a helmet when i arrived. "Good, my name it Ditmir," his hand extended and we exchanged pleasantries. "i live ten minutes bicycle from here," i interrupted saying it was no problem for me to walk and he shook the thought off with a hand. "No, no, don't worry, there is a taxi there for you," he pointed to the curb, then looked back at my face, and smiled. "It's ok, you don't have to pay, i've already paid the driver and told him where to go. You only need to get in, and get out when he says to, then wait for me to arrive."
At first i resisted, saying the kindness was too much and the two calmed my guilt, again the younger encouraging me to trust. None of my alarm bells were going off, their energy was right, the kindness in their eyes sincere. After a moment of mental math recalculating the risk ratio, i agreed. As long as the cab was legit, and i wasn't locked in i should be ok. If i felt uncomfortable, or Ditmir didn't show up to receive me, i'd simple walk Berlin as planned from a new vantage point in the city. If anything weird happened beyond that, i would fight.
Another adventure, another free ride into the unknown. The cab door shut and i watched the city roll from the window. Almost immediately massive, beautiful snowflakes began to fall, the first snow i'd seen since i'd left Canada. Berlin was breathtaking. The moment i began to get comfortable in the cozy heat of the cab the driver pulled over. My stop had arrived.
The turn of weather had me torn between feeling either very lucky or very screwed. i got out in the strange district with no idea where i was, no orientation, presumably now miles from the city centre. Seconds fell in a race with snow, minutes piling around me like the sand of an hourglass as i waited, my bones aching from the cold. After fifteen minutes i was ready to accept defeat, and continue my walk when i saw a big goofy figure teetering on his bicycle as he waved. "Hello, hello, hello!" Ditmir's giant frizzy hair silhouetted in the lamplight as he called.
He jumped from his bicycle, looked to the sky and snow in wonder then embraced me. "This way, this way!" His words robust and encouraging as he led me to his home with his helmet still on.
As we got closer to an old four story communist era apartment building Ditmir explained that the lighting had gone out in the staircase, it would be a bit dark, but not to be alarmed. In the darkness we summited four stories, and our ominous entrance had me doubt my choices. By the time we reached the top of the pitch black staircase i was both winded, and anxious. Ditmir struggled to get his keys into the lock, and began flicking a lighter to help his vision. With a satisfying click the key caught, and his giant door swung open.
Inside was a gorgeous bohemian Berlin apartment, with vaulted ceilings and three or four rooms. Books, records, and framed pieces of art cluttered the halls. Ditmir gave a needless apology for the mess and disarray. In a state of disbelief i was led to a giant living room wrapped in towering bookcase's teeming with more books. He pointed to a large chic leather couch and asked if i had or needed any blankets. i assured him my sleeping bag would be more than enough. Outside the window, less than a hundred metres away, was the Berliner Fernsehturm, the famed TV tower in East Berlin. i couldn't believe it, his home was gorgeous, central, with a view that would rival most hotels.
"Right, tea! Lets have a snack and a conversation!" i dropped my bag and let myself be whisked to the kitchen. "i will make us some, how do you say, nice water."
Nice water? Ditmir moved to the sink and i watched him fill a small bottle from the tap, then proceeded to bubble it in a plastic machine on the counter and handed me a glass. i'd never seen anything like it. With the kettle on he pulled some crackers, biscuits, and cheeses together and assembled us a small plate to share. He gave a quick run down of the house, and apologized that i'd have to leave somewhat early in the morning as he was meeting his girlfriend at the train station to leave town for a vacation. The mention of his romantic partner immediately took the weight off my shoulders that there might be some unwanted sexual motivation behind Ditmir's generosity. There was not, he was simply, a wonderful, kind man. i squashed the apology, let him know how grateful i was and that getting up early wouldn’t be a problem at all for me. If anything it made sure i maximized my time to explore.
And then the conversation began. To date, Ditmir is still one of the most fascinating people i've ever had the pleasure of speaking with. He was thrilled to hear that i had hitchhiked to his city, criticizing, not only the youth of the day, but people in general for not being more adventurous, kind, and open to one and other. Glad to see that the spirit still existed. i told him this was my first time and he was even more pleased, and began sharing his stories on the road across Europe in the eighties, and nineties, up to the Arctic circle in Scandinavia, with great adventures across Finland. He gushed reliving the kindnesses he'd experienced. How kind strangers had taken him in too, and how much it meant to him that he was able to perpetuate this kindness to someone else. Reassuring me that i was in no way a burden, or charity case. He'd seen me, my bag, and how slow i was eating in the falafel place pieced it all together and made sure to catch me, after i left. i was genuinely touched, and felt looked after by the curious man.
After a sip of his tea he asked how long it had taken me to catch my ride. Somewhat embarrassed, i told him a little over two hours, to which he only lit up. "Two hours for a ride!? Why this is a great success!" his enthusiasm fashioned the benchmark for how i'd measure the time it took to hitch rides to date. The measure providing me a tremendous amount of patience when i returned to the highways.
Ditmir had me tell him more of my life, and i explained how i'd ditched university, jumped on a plane at random, and was now working in a record store in London. It was difficult for him to contain his ebullience, and i felt proud, for what seemed like quite an insignificant life choice. We shared a passion for music, and bonded over the importance of punk rock in our lives. In a pause i mentioned that i had recently taken over the hip-hop section at work. Lost in the fervour of his eclectic taste Ditmir immediately interrupted me, "Do you know the Wu-Tang Clan??!"
"Of course!"
i had lost my place in our chat, and couldn't get a word in as Ditmir monologued about the genius of the RZA, Ghostface Killa, Old Dirty Bastard, and the rest of the mighty clan. He paused to sip his tea, and i took my opportunity to shift the conversation, and field curiosities of my own. Fascinated by the now reunited city, an anomaly in our history, i asked if Ditmir had grown up in Berlin, and if he'd been around for the fall of the wall.
"Ah," his mug went down. "Yes, yes i grew up in the West side of the city. i was out every night documenting the collapse and reunification of the city."
My questions poured in torrents. What each night felt like, before and after the wall, what it meant for his friends, for his family, for the city. When i'd romanticized university as a teenager, i dreamed of studying history. i was quick to realize that learning of historical places only made me want to visit them, and that i could cut corners by going directly to these great cities, and learn of their rich past from the people that lived there. Here i was, receiving not only a first hand account, but one with a unique, sharp perspective.
As was Ditmirs fascination with my life, i quickly became that of him and his. It turned out the eccentric German was much more of a punk than i could imagine. He'd started writing his own small 'zine before the fall of the wall, and wrote articles that circulated around the city, and continent. "And what, what do you do now?" i queried my astounding host. Where had his life led? What had become of the young rebellious idealist?
Ditmir was now an editor at Vogue Berlin, and his younger friend was one of his favourite photographers. To say i was stunned was an understatement.
Eventually we realized the time, and reluctantly retired to our rooms to scrape a few hours of rest for our upcoming next day of travel. He apologized again for the early wake up time, again i assured him it was no problem, and thanked him for the generous hospitality. Laying on his lumpy couch, i watched the snowflakes fall against the infamous skyline of the historic city. It was difficult to sleep, recounting the day, reliving streets i'd walked and the people i'd met. The couple at the bus station, the two students that took me to the autobahn, the people that had driven me to Berlin, Ditmir and his friend. The long road had been paying dividends.
In the morning, i woke to the sound of dishes, Ditmir had wandered into my room with a tray full of breakfast. Horrified i was being served, i insisted i join him in the kitchen. i took a moment to tidy my space, before we breakfasted on eggs, cheese, hot tea, and toasted black grain bread. As we ate he poured over my travel book's maps, and circled the must see spots to explore. Our morning was short, but wonderful. After i helped clean up, we exchanged emails, said our reluctant goodbyes and wished each other safe journeys ahead.
The rest of the day was spent in a daze, with a full heart. My hours littered with awe and wonder. As much as i loved the city, nothing compared to the people i met. A trope that would continue to ring true and echo across the rest of my travels.
Thanks for reading,
Wazoo!
-Mr. Write