After an exhausting 24 hour train journey north, Berlin greeted us like an ugly drunk. And by that I mean everyone there was either ugly, drunk or both. And it was difficult to tell which was the result of which…

There were large old woman with square heads and hard faces that looked as though they may pull a crow bar from their giant handbags and beat us to death with them at any moment. The men, perhaps to hide from the aforementioned women, wore thick mustaches and high-necked sweaters stretched over round bellies. You can buy beer EVERYWHERE in Berlin. And drink it anywhere without consequence. So of course people do. The other popular purchases include, meat, cheese and bread - with whole supermarkets dedicated to these specific items. 

We met up with two thirds of Kiwi band, The Have, to get the down-low on life in Berlin. They had been living there for 4 months so far and were loving it. They took us to a burger joint called White Trash Fast Food - a multi-leveled restaurant with a bar, a stage and pinball machines as well as dozens of red gingham-covered tables. I had a vege burger with sauerkraut and ‘fuck you fries’ - yes that’s what they were called.. The burger was made of tofu and nuts and tasted like a herby stuffing mix. The sauerkraut was vinegary and fantastic. As we were leaving the restaurant we walked past a group containing vampy girls and a man wearing a short leather jacket and a ridiculous handlebar mustache. Pete caught sight of the group and quietly squealed (in a manly way), “That’s Jessie ‘the Devil’ Hughes!” It turned out we were in the company of a member of The Eagles Of Death Metal. My ego had to be set aside and I begged for a group photo with Jessie ‘the devil’ - to which he kindly obliged.

Pete then led us down the street to his work - a tiny concrete bar called 8mm. The space was so dark and smokey it took a few minutes for our eyes to adjust when we entered. There was a black and white film being projected on one wall and gargoyles poking out from the front of the bar. We were introduced to the American barman and took our places within easy reach of his generous scotch pours. We talked about life in Berlin, European gigs and sex in toilets - following on from an awkward encounter in the women’s bathroom.

My gig in Berlin was the next night. The venue was Madame Claude, a dark, basement bar down several flights of stairs, containing confusing nooks and crannies and furniture stuck to the ceiling - including a noose hanging up from the floor and a ball of wool trailing across the ceiling. 

People were smoking inside here too and my voice started to feel a little unhappy. Before playing, Kiwis kept appearing and introducing themselves. To save my voice, I introduced them to each other and formed a Kiwi corner of the bar. The gig started late and I sounded huskier than a drunk Hasslehoff by the last song. After the show I found the least smoky corner and hid in it with my whiskey and hot water. A Dutchie found me and we discovered that he had found out about the gig while op-shopping in the same store that Liz had been in that day. He has asked the shop assistant if she knew of something to do that night and, like a good tour manager, Liz had told her all about it while buying some boots an hour earlier! 

I retreated back to hotel in the wee hours, stinking of smoke, coughing my lungs out - feeling drunk and ugly.