There’s a thing about the tram drivers. No one ever saw them pissing. As if they just materialize out of a thin air right there in the drivers’ cabin, and disintegrate back to nothingness at the end of the shift. Unless, that is, if you happened to be leaning on my window sill and staring at the half-ruined ghost building in front of you. Then, and only then, if you just turn your head slightly to the left you might come to realize that tram drivers come equipped with bladder. From time to time you will spot one going in and out of a barrack which says ‘fotostudio’. Pretty flashy place to do your natural duties.
That’s the priviledge of living next to the last tram stop. But there are some others too. For instance, you can miss the tram, and particularly because you need about 35 seconds to reach the station.
Berlin’s treats come in heaps. As I type this, I can see about 15 cms of clear sky with planes landing to Tegel airport. I’m waving the passengers, but no one as of yet rang my doorbell to say thanks. Which brings me to the science of waving.
How it looks like? Simple. You’re standing on the bridge fence on Le pont des arts in Paris, tourists walk next to you and couldn’t give a slightest fuck for your existence. Then you turn your face over the fence and there is a bunch of ecstatic types on a passing vessel, totally into saying ‘hi’ with their limbs. Why do people when they get onto a boat or a bus have this sudden urge to wave around? Once grounded and using their feet they couldn’t care less .
I won’t go further into how they are actually not greeting anyone, but trying to make you notice their exceptional state of being on some transport vehicle. It’s too depressing to be elaborated.
Another treat. In Berlin you can’t find fresh calamari. Although, if you need a 234th version of a sausage they’ll be glad to shove it down your throat. Not such a tragic fact but what do you say on a pre-recorded female voice that will tell you ‘all change please’ as you reach the last stop? Which basically means if you continue walking or just stay sitting around, you’re kind of breaking the rules.
Saying that, I prefer a metaphysical interpretation. Berlin S-bahn company wants you to really change. To become a better person. Arriving to the last stop of your journey is about the most natural moment to do it, wouldn’t you say?
Finally, Berlin has a blissfully melancholic side too. This guy knows better:
Behind all the paintings that hang nailed to walls
Below all the carpets your feet stepped upon
Among the pages of the books that rest closed
In the air of empty rooms and deserted halls
In the moment just ahead and just before your time
Under the veil, in the blind spot of your view behind
In your eyes when you close them in the night
Beneath the words that tell the story of your life
Between the frames of every motion that you redefine
Under the dust on the moon’s darkest side
In your mind when there’s nothing left to be revived
Between your hand and all the things that it touches
Behind all doors before the turning of the latches
In every song just before you press play
You I’m waiting for.