Lovely, weird Berlin. It was a 10 hour bus ride from Amsterdam and the sun came out only once: at the border, entering Germany. Of course I believe in omens and it turned out to be mostly right, except for a few things that I can’t blame on the city, like losing my phone and being too stubborn to catch a taxi anywhere. Berlin is a good-value city and, for the price I paid in Amsterdam for a creaking mattress in a 21-bed dorm, I got a double bed in a private little loft, with curtains and a lamp. There was a market at the end of the street (I was in Kreuzberg) and a döner kebab on every corner. It was warm, then, and one day so stifling and cozy that I fell asleep (in the Stasi museum — unwise).
The trees are numbered because it’s Germany.