Burrrrr, it’s Berlin

Stepping out of the airport, I am hit with a blast of freezing artic air. Berlin is definitely in the throws of winter and noticeably colder than Barcelona. We head to a bed and breakfast located in the heart of the gay part of town. It is run by a gay couple who rent out one floor of a typical apartment and is only 35 euro a night. Tall coffered ceilings, shuttered windows and radiator heat make me feel more like a Berliner than a tourist. Nightlife here is frothy and wild. Most bars have a dark room in the back. There are naked parties and underwear night almost every night. It makes the Castro seem pretty vanilla. I met a guy from Atlanta who is in the military over here. Yeah he had a beautiful ripped 20 something body that you just want to start licking. Fortunately I kept my tongue in my mouth. Wait a minute. . .are there gay guys in the military??? He assured me he was not alone, and then started rambling something about being a mindset, and he has learned to hide quite well. Quite frankly it would be hard to follow any of his conversation even if it was interesting, with that body he was showing off. I guess the fact that he was rubbing his knee into my crotch didn’t help much either.

The streets of the city are in full season festivity. Beautiful Christmas trees decked out in hand-blown glass ornaments and colorful twinkling lights fill the windows of all the stores. Christmas villages are set up along the wide sidewalks selling things you would only buy during this season. Candy canes, hot roasted chestnuts, and of course, plenty of presents. It is a modern city with reminders of the past strewed throughout the city. I walk by a huge stone cathedral that looks like it was bombed out, just a shell of its original self, too historic to tear down and too much of a rubble to restore. East and West Berlin seems to be seamlessly melted together from what I could tell. I never saw any remnants of a city torn in half by cold war politics. It’s Thanksgiving Day, and no turkey in sight. The Europeans are aware of this unique American holiday but take little notice of it. We find a nondescript corner Asian restaurant. I settle for pressed duck. The next day I find a coffee shop selling slices of apple pie. Half way through the slice I am thinking of family, friends and being thankful to be able to have this little adventure with so many of you. The next day it is back on Clickair and the flying bus. taking us back to Barcelona.

We touch down late in the evening, and decide we just have not partied enough. So I get my first dose of Barcelona night life. Being a bar tender, Alex knows half the town. We spend a couple of hours at the bar he works at hanging out with his friends. They are all nice to me, but I feel a little on the fringes. I can understand about every 10th word. It motivates me to keep working on my Spanish. At about 1:00am, we head to the dance clubs. Packed with hot guys all bouncing to the beat of mostly American music. I had to laugh to myself when they all started singing along with a Madonna standard. Ah just a bunch of gay guys doing what gay boys do best who could be anywhere in the world. I had a lot of fun.