Thursday, 24 April 2014
A trip to Alexanderplatz was in order on Wednesday, as a) none of us have done much of the tourist-y Berlin shit yet and b) my ragged old jeans finally said sayonara on Tuesday evening. We'd only made a flying visit to the central shopping hub on our first week to pick up German SIM cards and new phones, so Diana, Oli and I decided to have a proper wander and see what all the fuss was about.
Truth be told, Alexanderplatz isn't my kind of place. The behemoth shopping centres with their seeimngly endless corridors of fast fashion and frozen yoghurt may hold different, alien brands, but they're still the same old soulless fast fashion outlets with the same poor quality, mass produced schlock we have at home. Visiting the Alexa Centre didn't feel like an adventure. It felt like a Saturday shopping trip in Cardiff, right down to the empty smiles on the shop assistants faces and oblivious yummy mummies with oversize prams (a personal pet hate of mine). The market stalls/overpriced tourist traps outside aren't much better, and sell approximately 40% neon 'I Heart Berlin' hoodies, 50% novelty ginger bread and 10% faux-vintage pocket watches.
We were bored and exhausted in equal measures after only an hour, and retreated to Gauloises bar for a much-needed Weissbier. Alexanderplatz, thanks but no thanks. I'll take the graffitied streets of Friedrichshain or the second hand meccas of Mehringdamm over you any day of the week.
Betti Baudelaire xxx