A dear friend of mine's life ended all too early three years ago today. Thinking of her still makes me miss the days we spent together oh so long ago. I really wish there could have been more. Our friend Sarah wrote a sweet story on her blog that made me smile and laugh in my head the way Catie used to.
Why: I was told I would like this place and I finally made it there on my last week here in Berlin. Vintage wallpaper, brick walls, deer antlers, old lady lamps hanging from the ceiling: uh yeah, Renate was made for me. The whole Brooklynesque vibe got me of course, but it was the European touches that truly made it a standout: the old piano, the coal heating, and the castle-like cold wall atmosphere that you just wouldn’t find in Williamsburg.
I would have been happy just sitting in such an environment, but since I was so drawn to the dance floor and spent most of my night there, I suppose I should somewhat wax poetic about that. This was the first club I have been to in a while that I wasn’t disappointed with the monotonous techno that some of these Berliners love (hence me not going to clubs very often) repeating the same beat over and over. If I am going to get into some electro, it’s got to be that house that builds up and climaxes into something so powerful it makes you hit the floor hard with your dance moves dictated for you differently each time—ideally with some melody and lyrics thrown in there too. And well that is what I got and I spent hours on the perfectly intimate but not overly crowded dance floor.
Also, on more low key nights Renate replaces it's dance floor with a pool table which is actually not that easy to find in this fair city.
Why: If I am missing the good ole’ US of A, I can just hop into this jazz bar covered in wall to wall black and whites of the genres’ greats, order myself a gross (big) beer and listen to some live country blues and hometown rock n’ roll. It is like being transported from Berlin to New Orleans for the night, and it is just across the street from my house. The food isn’t so bad either and they have an a garden that I can’t wait to hang out in when I am back in the summer. http://www.yorckschloesschen.de
Although this is certainly not the best photo, it's all I got to show you the fab wallpaper at one of my fave Berlin bars Konrad Tönz. Can I please have a den lined in this tacky goodness? Do people still have dens? I will probably need a taxidermy fox to go in it as well.
Also, I was once told by a German that you can always tell who the Americans are because they know how to pose for a photo. I didn't necessarily believe him, but after thinking about the massive amounts of photos emblazoned with my friends cheesy smiles and my pouty lips, I had a hunch that he may have a point. This photo could be evidence backing his theory: there are three Americans in the pic, can you guess who they are?
Okay so I am a bit out of the loop here in Berlin—hence my blog turning into a family photo album. Not that this city is lacking in the cutting edge cool department, I have just fallen a bit off the radar. When it comes to knowing the new and the in these days, my finger is pretty far from the pulse. I am hoping to get back on my toes when I return to the States next month, but as for now I am going to continue and marinate in my oblivion.
Anyway I am completely rambling, so let me get to the point: a couple weeks ago I was listening to a Berlin radio station who's DJ has a thing for artists from Brooklyn when this ridiculous hip hop song came on that made my insides churn with laughter and my head actually bop to the beat. I assumed that this "Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell" diddy had been up in every bodies ears for some time now, but that was my first listen and let me tell you, I have never loved something so stupid. I think it is genius. And their name is Das Racist, not too bad either. So I did some research after and yes, everyone did fall for it a few months ago but my unoriginal and late self is still happily posting it today.
Every night with our bellies full of delicious meats, pastas and vegetables prepared by my personal favorite chef, my brother Andrew, and our minds intoxicated with the fine (yet still insanely cheap) wine of Umbria, my family gathered around the table to play Liar’s Dice - a game with a perfect mix of luck and skill such that no one gets too mad about losing, well at least not for too long.
And much to the delight and maybe the surprise of most of us, our step mom, who loathes the intensely competitive nature of the Cahn family, ended up taking home the crown.
P.S. I actually ate so much meat (from wild boar to mortadella) on this trip, that I have now cut it out of my diet.