I miss the sea

Places I would like to be, when I get a bit sick of this city:

(Smiles to anyone who can say where these photos are from)

Trespassing

We're going on a bear hunt.

We're going to catch a big one.

What a beautiful day!

We're not scared.

What is it about abandoned buildings that make them so addictive?

Why are smashed in windows, derelict stairs, and peeling wallpaper so magical?

Part of it is that child-like feeling of discovery, like you're going on an adventure. There's nothing better than seeing a sunny sky on a lazy Saturday, and deciding to spend it climbing over walls and sitting on rooftops. I love the Spytowers of Teufelsberg and the ghostly Spreepark. Kreuzberg is full of crumbling walls and empty factories. But Bärenquell Brauerei (Bären=bears, quell=source and Brauerei=brewery) has quite a magic of its own.

For a start, its huge. I've been there twice now, and haven't even begun on the cellars. You can get lost in this place. The rooms range from giant warehouses cut through with slanting sunlight, to tiny bedrooms complete with gold posted beds. There are ladders and spiral staircases. There are engine rooms, laboratories, a mill, a giant swing, a princess tower with panoramic views of Berlin. Rooms carpeted with the old labels of beers from another age. Brewing secrets locked in dusty bottles with faded labels.

I don't really like taking photographs (though I do like having them) and I'm not very good at it either but here are a few:

As a further note, I found this video that has been made of the place. Much better photography.

S(trick)-Bahn

Some videos, some photos, some articles...

Photos and film, all credit to brilliant Mira, Johannes and Lukas.

Furios - student magazine at the FU

Bild Zeitung. Words cannot express.

A standard u-bahn carriage, without wool.

Measuring

Serious business.

Caught on CCTV

Post-Aktion breakfast, admiring our handiwork.

Das Ende!

Stricken, Scrabble und Sonnenschein

As a few people have pointed out, I haven't written an update since January. I'm just a bit crap really, but with 16000 words of essay to write before April this is kind of justifiable procrastination. My most recent tales of Berlin generally sound like this: library, library, library, cook food, talk tangentially about anything and everything, sleep then library library...

So my life otherwise. The sun has appeared (!). Temperatures are now holding a steady 10 grad, and this city's monotone grey has turned a flawless blue. March has been particularly beautiful. One afternoon a few weeks ago, in the -6° but brilliant sunshine, I met a friend in the park and decided winter was finished. Equipped with hot water bottles under jumpers, blankets to get lost in, tea and chocolate to survive a winter, we set out the board and played scrabble (auf Deutsch, natürlich). You could almost kid yourself it was summer. It was quite, quite perfect.

Other significant news is that of the S(trick)-Bahn. Armed with crochet needles, a woolly bearded team of 15 gathered in a Monday morning's half light to stitch up the train. A complete carriage, every pole, stitched with its own cosy. A multi coloured, squishy explosion of wool.

It was ridiculously good fun. Mira, Mara and I had knitted 41 metres of long thin scarves since November (you have probably seen me somewhere, everywhere, knitting obsessively) in all sorts of colours and patterns. Why? Why not. We had all sorts of vaguely pretentious reasons - feminising guerrilla art, turning street art into slow art, making some sort of statement or another. But I think the most important reason is to make commuters smile in the morning and look a little differently at what's around them. Because it is ridiculous really. It's decadent, that we live in world that allows us to spend months knitting for a project that lasts half a day. But that's kind of what makes it brilliant, it's no more insane than all the absurdity in this world, so we might as well laugh at it.

It lasted till around 4pm. But afterwards we would find photos of our project posted by strangers on the internet, overheard other commuters talking about it on the train. A student journalist talked to the BVG official who took it down. Was it art? He asked. No of course not, it was vandalism, it was dangerous. Woolly pole cosys were dangerous. I'm not sure he really got it.

Right. That's part one of my update. I'll put some more stuff up in a tic.

Some Guerrilla knitting links, for Stitchers and Bitchers in:

Berlin

France

Everywhere

Some Faces and Abandoned Places

A few from last August/September, 2010. They have finally made it onto a computer, and now to the internet.

Bleurgh

Propped up on pillows in an ocean of tissues, I have spent this Sunday in bed with a shitty cold. What better place to write from.

2011 is already old, but I hope you all had wonderful Christmasses etc. My week in Exeter was buried in silent snow, bliss in contrast to the brash honking of sleepless Hermannstr.

On returning to Berlin I have been inundated with visitors. 10 divided between my cupboard of a room and my housemate's was entertaining in this heatless house. There were more than I or these four walls expected but I cannot adequately describe how wonderful it is to sit down to dinner with 15 of the most brilliant people. We may not have had enough seats, or plates, and only four forks...but these are trivial matters when there are pots of hot soup and a crate of beers.

New Year's Eve itself was an epic night of mayhem. We slipped down the streets and fell up the icy Kreuzberg to see in the New Year and - what I supposed - Brandenburg Gate's official Firework spectacular.

Oh how wrong I was.

The Berg was no outlook post to see distant colours. We were the display. Armed with giant sparklers, Feuerwerk stuffed into emptying champagne bottles, the air thick with burning smoke, a sky crackling with colour, we duck under flying explosions and shouted over the roar of the fireworked sky. After surviving, limbs intact, sliding down the hill, jumping out of the way of explosions at all sides, we danced the morning through an Electro Houseparty. Perfekt.

The following week was full of Museums, Bars, Beers and uBahns. Classic Berlin. We returned to Tempelhofs Flughafen - now a white, frozen wasteland. We wandered through melancholy Treptow park. We captured smiles in the ever brilliant Photoautomats.

I miss the collage of voices, laughs and musics. A massive thankyou to everyone for being generally wonderful. You're welcome whenever. : )

And so. I keep dreaming about long days and warm nights. I've started planning disjointed adventures...this summer is going to be very, very good.

I hope you all have a brilliant year full of interesting people, stories to tell, and maybe a bit of Berlin on the side...

It's good to be home.

Love,

Nikki

xx

Photos are of Tempelhof, taken by Michael Tomkins

AND...

I forgot to say...

If you're coming to Berlin for New Year's, (YES YOU!) Then please please let us know, and when exactly. Because space is finite. Floorspace, that is.

Um yes.

That is all.

So excited for January, Fireworks, and Visitors! :)

Wool, Wine and Fairylights.

Ach yet another late update! I'm rubbish. Anyway.

Quiet Sunday. Outside a grey expanse of snow swirling. Inside the steady warmth of the stove. Feeling fragile after people filled parties, I've baked banana bread and drank enough tea to turn me into a teapot. Later on we'll make Glühwein, watch something christmassy, eat cake and KNIT.

Knitting is probably one of my more exciting stories to tell. Believe it. Our guerilla knitting group has grown to four people, and we are well on our way to completing project 1. Probably one of the most ridiculous moments of my life was having my photograph taken for the Bild Zeitung. We knitted beards, (yes - as in facial WOOL) and invented Pseudonyms in order to remain partially anonymous. I mean, this is the BILD. We also refused to discuss our street art. It is, of course, Top Secret.
We've found sponsors for our idea, and have bags of beautiful, free, wool! Amazing.

Other wintery tales…you may have heard already about our various WG Catastrophes. They make quite a collection. Our roof decided to leak the day prospective new housemates came to our door. A kitchen that rains inside like outside is a pretty big disaster, it is distressing to watch a roof so epically fail in its responsibility. However, our Kitchen is now beautifully dry and it looks like the ceiling won't collapse - though it does have a huge ominous stain. After this, a series of minor dramas took place. Our bathroom window is broken. The piece of wood nailed to the gap seemed to keep the worst of the elements out…until heavy snow. I've never had a shower until now where the shampoo was buried in snow. We tried to light a fire in the Kitchen stove in order to ward off damp…and successfully smoked out the entire flat. That chimney is definitely not clean. 2 hours of messy ashiness later (thanks to Joseph) and we now have warmth in our kitchen! Exciting. Our latest hazard involved hot ashes and a plastic bin…words cannot adequately describe the extent of the ugly, ugly smell. Just don't do it.

However, I can say with confidence that all is now ok, life moves on and I am very certain of this flats general safety : )

University is great. I feel much more relaxed and stress free. The classes are so much more flexible than at Leeds, really allowing you to decide your direction of focus. Dahlem is a picture book place of snow, trees and houses with a golden glow. The Caféte is full of beautiful people, music, and Glühwein to ward off the viscous cold.

The legendary Berlin Weihnachtsmärkte do not disappoint. Stalls laden with beautiful handcrafted gifts, woollen wonders, biscuits and Stollen breads alongside (yet more!) delicious Glühwein...

Thanks to Hannah Clarke, I found this beautiful video. Green grass! It feels like a long time ago, in this monotone world.


Little Big Berlin from pilpop on Vimeo.


Snowy love.
N xx