Ich Bin Ein Doughnut* (Berlin, 16-19 June 2009)

Seven years of living in Europe and I’d not once made it to Germany.  And I had concluded that for all intents and purposes, I probably never would, unless an occasion demanded it.

“But you can’t leave Europe without seeing Berlin,” a friend exclaimed, aghast.  “Berlin is awesome.”

I was unconvinced.  Germanic food had never really appealed.  During visits to Vienna and Salzburg, I had initially attacked the gulasch, sachertorte, sauerkraut and apfelstrudel with gusto.  But prolonged consumption of dumplings, stew and offal had left me nauseous, plump and err… longing for a Marks & Spencer salad.  And a country known for punctual trains, dour burly, efficient folk (permit me the stereotypes, please!) and the shrill synthesized electronic beats and heart pounding bass of techno was quite the antithesis of my ideal café (con leche/au lait/latte)-quaffing people-watching foodie-fuelled break in one of the laidback, emotionally volatile Continental nations.

Still, there was that undeniable slice of history that Berlin inhabited.  I’d been fortunate enough to visit Moscow, St Petersburg, Vienna, Paris, Versailles, Rome, Budapest, Prague, Amsterdam and London, of course.  It was time to venture to the Bundesrepublik Deutschland.