Berlin was like a foggy, distant dream. The rain and clouds covered the sky, blocking natural light, but the air was filled with the wonderful blues, greens, whites, and reds that signal it’s Christmas time in the wonderful German city. The Christmas markets they have set up all over town make you feel at home while thousands of miles away. I’ll start with what we ate: fire-roasted chestnuts, candied walnuts, pork sandwich with juices dripping out of its bun, crisp and juicy fried apples covered in sugar, raclette oozing over a special German bread, and my favorite the juicy bratwurst with sweet and spicy shredded horseradish, and a delightful mustard. If that’s not enough to fill your stomach (and it should be), there’s alcohol of the holiday variety aplenty. Ones that caught my interest were the Verpoonst punch which is essentially egg nog but the egg overpowers the whole drink, almost like a crème brulee, The Hot Cocoa with Peppermint liquor: warms ya right up on a cold Berlin night.

       They have a Ferris wheel with amazing views, an ice-skating rink, clothing stores, a mini train, a carousel and my personal favorite the Knobelhaus. A Knobelhaus, from what I was told, is a house that sells games and puzzles made out of wood that try to trick your mind. My brother and I spent an alarming amount of time here, but finally solving it made it all worth it.

      The air was becoming colder, our legs started cramping and we were ready for a change of pace. We went back to the hotel for what my brother deemed “Berghein night”. Berghein is supposedly one of the most exclusive clubs in all the world and my brother was set on getting in. He spent 500 dollars at the Nike store on clothes and accessories to make him stand out and be cool enough to be chosen. Turns out, it’s closed. So, we went to another club instead. My personal belief is that clubs kind of suck in Europe. Trance music with huge bass, repeating the same rhythm for hours on hours, weird people in strange clothes, expensive drinks, and a sense of impending doom or that you’re seconds away from being thrown into a Saw movie. But I will admit, I was proven wrong that night. The clubs name was White Rabbit, like a magic trick out of a magician’s hat. The music was what it was, but the people made it fun. We met an Indian man named Navet who continuously handed us these shots called Mexikaner, which is essentially a bloody mary mix—delicious. It’s always been my belief that the best way to meet people is on the cigarette deck. Everyone’s friendly when you hand them cigarettes, and it was no different in Berlin. I met Tom, an aspiring Only Fans mogul, and his nurse friend Nina. I wasn’t sure if Tom was a pimp and Nina was one of his girls or if they were dating or what, but they were good people and welcomed me with open arms. We left the club and finished the night with the Berlin essential must-have food—Doner Kebab (pretty much just halal food). All in all, a great night and one I won’t soon forget.

Berghein