Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
332Trip End Ongoing
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Yet it is so very, very worth it. I won't go into too much detail as this is a travel blog rather than a film review, but it was absolutely incredible. Thank you Christopher Nolan.
I've met a couple of new hostel buddies for this evenings entertainment, an 18 year old stoner Philly kid and a 25 year old New York metal head with a massive beard. Add me to complete the three amigos and you have an eclectic mix to say the least. We've decided...on no wait. This was last night. Sorry. Imagine I'm writing about last night instead. Tonight I take it easy and save myself for tomorrow. So. Last night. We decide to visit a world famous techno club called Tresor. Apparently it's a pretty big deal over here, so off we trot and hope we get in. Nightclubs in Berlin while notoriously good, also have a notoriously strict door policy. Shouting and screaming will get you in the permanent black books.
"I don't have my I.D, but I'm 32" I say.
"You look about 17" he barks, before he lets me in. Thank you Mr psycho bouncer viking.
Tresor is thumping out some hard dirty techno beats and everyone is throwing themselves around with wild abandon. They actually have a club store in the basement, were a he/she is selling limited edition T-shirts and vinyl, among other music-y merchandise. There also one of those large electricity balls in the middle of the dance floor. Space cadets are flocking to it to stroke their hands on the glass and have the electricty jump to them. I'd imagine what this place must look like when the clientele are flying on acid, pressing their faces to the sphere in wide eyed wonder. The owners know exactly what they're doing.
Myself and Metal beard have taken it upon ourselves to guide our young Philly companion in the ways of the world. Not that he needs it, as he's already onto a promise with an Irish girl back at the hostel who he's arranged to meet at 4am. Then he precedes to steal the pretty Swedish girl I'm talking to away from me with such style and finesse, I contemplate asking him for tips. I've turned my back for a second, and he's in the kind of embrace Gable would have been proud of. I turn my back again and they've disappeared. That's my boy. Off to the filthy club toilets for a night of romance.