Berlin and I have an interesting history. Five years ago, one April, I travelled there on my own to end a relationship – a ‘schluss’, as the Germans say. At the same time, I was falling in love more deeply than ever before. Wandering the streets and feeling sad for the loss of one thing, yet hopeful for another, has cast Berlin in a bittersweet memory: the friction of anguish pushing up close to ecstasy. Now, again in April, I made the trip again hoping for a much more normal type of visit, where I could simply enjoy the city.
And it was perfect. Berlin in spring is finer by far than Paris, and on this particular weekend the sun got to 24 degrees! Also: everywhere I looked, I found something orange. (In fact I’ve been going through a bit of an orange phase – a phone cover, a Bauhaus pencil, one of those gorgeous melamine Margrethe bowls… It’s such a happy colour, don’t you think?)
We went to some markets… these pepper and salt grinders were stunning. I wanted all of them.
Stayed in Kreuzberg, in a stunning wood-floored flat that was easily THREE times the size of my London pad.
Went to Tempelhof, the abandoned airport built by the Nazis. The architecture is formidable, but they did have quite a nice line in gold mosaic light fittings! The Tempelhof airfield itself is this wonderful huge park – such big skies and drifting smell of barbecues.