We thought Berlin would be easy because we had been there before – but that was a year and a half before and we hadn’t expected to be returning so didn’t really commit any of it to memory. We were also really tired. Eventually we worked out which station we needed to head to and how to get there. Then we had to deal with the ticketing system which not only serves the local S-Bahn and U-Bahn networks but also the wider German train network. Eventually we deciphered how to get a day pass for the local network. The kicker was that the machine wasn’t accepting cash and didn’t except credit cards which made my travel card kind of useless. The maestro network saved the day and I used my savings withdrawal card.

The next dilemma was remembering the right station to get off at (and how to get there). We vaguely remembered we had to change trains somewhere – probably between the S-Bahn and U-Bahn networks. In most parts of Germany, the S-Bahn is the train network and the U-Bahn is the tram or light rail system. In Berlin these are called trams. The S-Bahn network is an electrified third rail network that in the central part of the city runs through the same stations inter-city trains stop at. The U-Bahn is the underground/ above ground network that transitions from underground tracks to a kind of high line. While both networks existed during the cold war, more of the U-Bahn stations were in the West and several in the East were closed down. Where the Western trains travelled through the east, the stations remained closed and well-guarded and became known as ghost stations. In the early years after the division, the GDR used to sell duty free items to West Berliners at a number of stations situated under East Berlin. Given some of the U-Bahn stations had been repurposed and routes altered, it took a little while to put the system back together after reunification.

Eventually after surveying the station map, (and the GPS) we remembered Ebswalder Strasse station on the U-Bahn and then traced the nearest S-Bahn station as Alexanderplatz. We got to the U-Bahn station at Alexanderplatz after an epic journey up and down stairs between the two stations. The night before Dan had mentioned that he was wary of one of us missing a train when we did our dice with the schedule at München Ost. Several years ago we had found ourselves in an interesting position when Dan had got off the train we just boarded at the Gold Coast in order to take a phone call, leaving me on board with all our luggage as the train pulled away. Two hours later I waited about half an hour in Brisbane after struggling to offload the luggage with some assistance from some very helpful fellow passengers. This morning, because he was tired Dan rushed to catch the train, forgetting that my strapped foot preclude me from moving fast, especially while towing my luggage. He got off at the next station and waited for my train. He found me again but not until after I had a run in with a ticket inspector who harangued me for not validating my ticket on the platform. She subsequently signed the ticket and outlined to me several times that her signature was in place of a validation. The funniest part – the trains were less than five minutes apart. (Woman in Chains – Tears for Fears one of their lesser known numbers, but one of my faves. The Hurting was one of my first three band albums (along with Adam and the Ants’ Prince Charming and Madness’ One Step Beyond). Their new wave appearance and love of synthesisers belied lyrics as dark and miserable as any written by Morrissey and The Cure.)

When we got off at Ebswalderstrasse everything was familiar, yet different. Last time we were in Berlin, it was the middle of winter – we arrived two days before Christmas in fact. There was no snow but the streets were cold and dark and there were carry few people milling about. The only place we found them in Prenzlauerberg was in the restaurants and bars and even those were closed from midday Christmas Day. On this visit mid-summer, the street was alive with people, there was outdoor seating everywhere with patrons enjoying brunch, and there was lush foliage on the trees that framed the streets of vintage and indy stores that are Prenzlauerberg’s hallmark. These hadn’t opened yet as it was still only 9am. Given the timing of our last visit, we hadn’t actually met our hosts. We retrieved our keys from the lock box when we arrived and deposited them on our departure.

This time we were warmly greeted and shown to our apartment, just as we had expected it to be – A simple old school East Berlin bedsit apartment with a few modern touches – a great kitchen, plenty of space to sprawl and a quiet homey feel. The apartment on the first floor, like many similar apartments in the area had windows that opened into the central courtyard – while the view below was to the garbage collection area, the windows and the slightly more reasonable temperatures allowed us to sleep with fresh air and birdsong through the open windows. The windows themselves were similar to those a friend has installed in his beautifully renovated terrace in Sydney – double glazed and opening in two directions on a 10 degree plane to the window with the opening to the top to allow airflow in but maintain security and wide open on a hinge like a door.

Dan had a bit of a snooze while I did some essential washing to keep us going. I remembered where the waschsalon was and indeed how the system there worked. Of course it was complicated by the assistant who didn’t seem to understand that I would prefer to lose a Euro in the machine that didn’t return money than use a dryer with only a hot setting to dry my bras, shirred back sundresses and quick dry travel gear. Eventually I came to an arrangement with an older kiwi lady (who didn’t seem to care if her clothes shrank if it would get her out of the laundromat quicker. Clothes done I headed back to the apartment to get Dan up so he didn’t end up sleeping the whole day away. (What’s the matter with parents today – NOFX – a song that reminds me of what I fear most… that young folks at the shows I go to will look at me and think what the hell is that sad old person doing here? Wrinkles don’t worry me (too much) and I found my first grey hair at 16. It is the expectation that I am required to be an adult when I get old and stop doing the things I love that scares me. For the wreck chord, Fat Mike is older than me)