One day in Neukölln

Jeez, how weird it is to suddenly take off for holidays. Even though it is not any lusciously long leisure stay at Yukatan, just a two-day staycation in Berlin. You meticulously make plans where to go, what to do and – most importantly what to wear on that holiday body – to then find yourself on that very day frantically browsing through the work email inbox. So my self-advice:

Put your tired ass in the middle of the room, take a deep breath, take that 10 AM tequilla shot, take another one, calm down and make a trip to Neukölln!

So i charged my iPhone and took some pictures alongside Maybachufer and Graefekiez. It’s beautiful (and filtered, because it is a tad dirty, too. Besides, get a grip, everyone filters).

What I find really captivating about Berlin, is that every district feels like a different planet. Here, at Neukölln (oh did I already mention I am here?!), I am getting a party-Middle East kind of vibe, cool just-left-Berghain kind of people invariably with their septum pierced, everyone looking like they just finished a salutation of the Sun yoga routine spontaneously heading for a gluten-free matcha bio salmon bagel with a chia salad (but totally not in a pretentious Prenzlauer Berg way). Time passes slowly, but it is intense and vibrant at the Wochenmarkt at Landwehrskanal. It is friendlier than Mauerpark, where everyone seems chilled but somewhat tense. The fruitstalls are filled with mangos  this time of the year:

Mango for a beautiful girl, it will keep you young and skinny!

screams the oriental trader. Hipsters are chilling down around the water, listening to some live music, smoking weed and just being über-cool. I have been forever wondering what they do for a living?! Like how do you get around doing nothing, looking like you just had your hair styled in some expensive ass salon, being all calm and not worried about life! Anyone?! There are blocks of fabric everywhere and yet again I am regretting not being a seamstress. How cool would that be to knit this black tank top, cut a trouser and make a woolen black beannie and just proudly judge Zara! Reality check though.

Next, I am headed to the retro-vintage almost gluten-free boutiques, I was recommended by Hoping for some true style-katharsis moment, I am forever lost in the cement jungle, persistent, unfaltered, invincible (Google Maps). OK-so finally I am facing a tiny retro store, I come in.

The idyllic feeling of coolness rapidly takes a twist. Awkwardly squeezed in a 2 square meters space with an attentive owner thinking “I am so uncomfortable right now”, I turn to the clothes rack, to touch just a grey boring sweater. It is grey and boring. Like all the other sweaters on the rack. So I look up the price. 100 euros, straight up. Bye vintage store, i am off to Zara, black section. 

Vintage stores fail. But I like Neukölln anyway!

(And yes, I am planning that New York trip, in case you haven’t noticed. Gasp!)


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