One night in Berlin


An education in Germany, the James Clay way.

Shorts packed. Sunglasses stashed. Sun cream forgotten. Little see-through plastic ASDA sandwich bag filled with toiletries under 100ml prepped. Branded Berliner glassware wrapped in clothing and needlessly hidden in hand-luggage.

In-flight beer badly poured and soaking slowly into my trousers hours before the Berlin sunshine will dry it. Severe customs man with Tekken Jack-like military haircut looking at my face, then my passport, then my face, then my passport, then giving the index-finger beckon.

IMG_1428 Berlin-1 IMG_9327 IMG_9367 IMG_9369

To the hotel. Neon sign, flat-fronted austere fa├žade, hidden by scaffold. Shady lobby to sheltered courtyard, all ambient synth-house, coffee whurr and pot plants. Navigate corridors lit only by The Big Lebowski beaming out from flatscreens four to a floor.