Go Your Own Way | Berlin

Hint! If you'd rather not bother reading the entire thing, use ctrl+f to find what you're looking for. I've broken this down into restaurants, cafés, bars, and things to do.


Berlin was city I visited the first time I ever went to Germany, aged 14. No city has ever captured my imagination in the same way - even though I was still pretty much a little girl on holiday with her parents, and therefore not yet not into clubbing, bar-hopping, or other more hedonistic, "grown-up" activities, there was something about it that struck me, even if all of it I knew were the more touristy and staid parts now so often sniffed at by the cool folk of Kreuzkölln and Friedrichshain. It felt exceedingly energetic and exciting, maybe only because I was fourteen and the biggest most bustling metropolis I knew was Dublin (where it takes twenty minutes, tops, to walk the city centre end-to-end.) Nevertheless, I ended up returning to Berlin again and again, sometimes with my parents (who were also besotted with its history and its "trendiness") for a weekend or for a few weeks in the summer, sometimes on field trips with university, and sometimes with friends. Each time I learned something new about the place, saw it in a new light, and - barf bags at the ready! - fell in love with it even more. I always hoped that one day I could move over for good, and in 2014 I got the chance to spend a year there studying at the Humboldt-Universität on Erasmus. It was an incredible year, but it just wasn't long enough! I felt so at home, and sometimes I really resented that my days were numbered and eventually I'd have to come back home to finish my degree.


Berlin is a fantastic place to be yourself and do your own thing. It's a tremendously diverse city where people from all over the world and from all walks of life live together in acceptance of each other. It's also massive, and with 3.5 million other people around you it's likely you'll just blend in anyway, no matter how self-conscious or "different" you might feel. With this in mind, I thought I'd have a go at compiling my own little guide to Berlin, aimed at the solo traveller. I know there are lots of people who would balk at the idea of visiting such a big city in what is perhaps an unfamiliar country with an unfamiliar language and culture all by themselves, but trust me - if you're already comfortable with the idea of your own company for a couple of days, you couldn't pick a better destination than Berlin! It's safe (I've encountered more street harassment and have always felt, in general, much less safe in Dublin), it's interesting, it's affordable, and it's beautiful. Jaw-achingly beautiful.


So here we go! These are my recommendations, and are places I often would have visited alone or activities I would have undertaken solo over the course of my year living there. Keep reading for as many of Berlin's best (in my humble opinion) restaurants, bars, cafés, cinemas and attractions you could shake a stick at!

Grub's Up - Restaurants

Nil

Forget everything you know about falafel - Nil does it so much better. It's Sudanese (that'd be "Nil" as in the German word for the River Nile) and it's absolutely delicious and completely unpretentious. Its three restaurants are small, typically only with seating for five people, but you can get your grub to go and enjoy it one of the many parks or squares nearby instead (I like Boxhagenerplatz and along the Landwehrkanal in Friedrichshain and Kreuzberg respectively) or in the summer sit outside on one of their picnic tables. Everything comes with a special recipe peanut sauce, and I haven't come across anything similar elsewhere in Berlin. It's a steal too, at about €4 for a generously-sized falafel sandwich that will keep you full for ages. I couldn't recommend Nil more if you want something quick, unfussy, and delicious. (Also great for vegans and vegetarians!)

Grünberger Str. 52, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain with locations at Boxhagener Str. 27, 10245 Berlin and Oppelner Str. 4, 10997 Berlin-Kreuzberg also

http://www.nil-imbiss.de/en/index.html

Photo credit: facesofberlin.org

Schiller Burger

Burgers are a big deal in Berlin, and while I've never found them to be as good as they can be at home (that'd be the 100% Irish beef) there are some pretty good options. Having tried quite a few of Berlin's most popular burger joints (The Bird, Burgermeister and White Trash Fast Food deserve honourable mentions!) I think Schiller Burger is by far my favourite. They're so popular, they've opened up all over the city so you're never too far away from one. Each burger and side dish is named after a famous work by the German poet and playwright Friedrich Schiller, and the burgers are always juicy and fresh. There's also good veggie options, and the sweet potato fries in particular are excellent. Like Nil, Schiller Burger is a casual and very relaxed affair and you won't feel at all out of place rocking up on your Todd. The staff are friendly, and if you really feel like a bit of a pariah dining solo, you can get your grub to go.

Wülischstr. 41/42, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain (this was my local Schiller Burger, but they also have restaurants in Neukölln, Kreuzberg, Prenzlauer Berg, Pankow, Schöneberg, Marzahn, and Weissensee - phew!)

http://www.schillerburger.com/#anchorIntro

Photo credit: kiezkind.myentdecker.de

Datscha

Datscha, while still pretty casual and low-key, involves pushing the boat out a bit further than Nil or Schiller Burger. It's a bit pricier, at about €10.50 for a main, but it's well worth it. Datscha takes its name from the Russian word for the summer houses to which many families in the former Eastern Bloc would retire for a bit of rural rest and relaxation. That alone was enough to pique my interest! They blend the "historically country nature of traditional Russian cuisine with the culinary innovations of today" and the result is lots of hearty, tasty and wholesome dishes. I'd recommend the wareniki with hummus filling and herbal yoghurt, and to sit outside in sunny weather to people watch, or get cosy inside and admire the kitschy Russian knick-knacks on darker, colder days.

Gabriel-Max-Str. 1, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain (a lot of these places are in Friedrichshain as I used to live there, so it's where I would have hung out the most!)

http://cafe-datscha.de/en/

Photo credit: cafe-datscha.de

Pizza Vira

Pizza Vira was a staple of my time living in Berlin-Friedrichshain. It's quick, it's filling, it's friendly, and it's as good as they come outside Italy. Great selection of delicious pizzas and pastas for a very reasonable price in a bustling self-service (you order and collect your food from a counter and organise your own cutlery, but the staff are really great and always on hand if you need them) restaurant which is great for the solo diner as you won't feel out of place in the melee, with outdoor seating for when the sun is shining. Myself and my flatmate Sofia essentially lived off their food as was just up the street. The guys working in there even began to recognise us.

Warschauer Str. 63, 10243 Berlin-Friedrichshain

http://www.pizza-vira.de/

Photo credit: ausfremdenbloggen.com

Café Morgenland

Last of the restaurants I'll be talking about, but certainly not least. It's probably the closest you'll get to the a la carte menus we have in Ireland, at least in the sense that the menu is big and there's plenty of selection. Massive portions and my vegetarian pals were always well catered for. It's on Skalitzerstraße in Kreuzberg, which is one of the most interesting streets - and indeed areas - in Berlin, making it idea for people watching and rather than standard windows, the walls facing onto the street are made up of glass panels which are opened wide in the summer. It's also a very popular spot for weekend brunch, so much so that it's wise to book in advance. It's said to be one of the best brunch buffets in Berlin, where you can get all the usual staples with a Turkish twist.

Skalitzer Str. 35, 10999 Berlin-Kreuzberg

No website, but here's their Yelp: http://www.yelp.de/biz/caf%C3%A9-morgenland-berlin-2

Photo credit: likealocalguide.com

Time for Tea - Cafés

Café Krone

My all-time favourite-ever place to go with either my iPad or a good book in Berlin, if not the entire world. It has mismatched chintzy old furniture, a mixture of big dining tables for larger groups and pairs of squishy armchairs for those by themselves or pairs of friends, and they have lovely teapots with a rose motif. Not only can you get mouthwatering homemade cakes and scones to wash down with a tea, coffee, or fresh juice, they also have a mean selection of sandwiches, soups, salads, and other light bites. If you want something more substantial than a sweet treat, get the Krone sandwich - a double decker of chicken, bacon and avocado. I sometimes even catch myself daydreaming about it. It's close to Mauerpark (more about that further down) which makes it a great place to pop into after a Sunday morning's scouring the flea market for bargains.

Oderberger Str, 38, 10435 Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg

http://www.krone-berlin.com/

Photo credit: berlininterior.com

Kiezeklein

They say good things come in small packages, and they were certainly right about Kiezeklein. It's positively tiny, but the friendly-faced staff, fast WiFi, laid-back vibe and delicious homemade cookies more than make up for that. You'll encounter all sorts in here - young couples and pairs of friends, middle-aged family reunions (yes really, albeit on a smaller scale), men in suits, and hippie chick mothers popping in with their kids. It's right in the middle of the grittier side of Kreuzberg so it's grand and handy.

Mariannenstr. 7, 10997 Berlin-Kreuzberg

http://kiezeklein.com/en/

Photo credit: workfrom.com

Salon Schmück

Similar ambience to Café Krone, but dingier. I think it'd be the epitome of what's known as "shabby chic"- bockety old (yet somehow still comfy) sofas and chairs, low tables, and a separate (indoor) smoking area. (Ireland in 2004 it ain't.) I don't drink coffee so I can't comment on that but they have a nice selection of teas and cakes and the girls who served me were very helpful. Nice place to while away some time catching up on emails and keeping up with world back home.

Skalitzer Str. 80, 10999 Berlin-Kreuzberg

http://www.salon-schmueck.de/

Photo credit: landmeedchen.com

Louise Chérie

It's French-owned (a lot of the clientele seem to be French, too) and describes itself as a little piece of France in the heart of Berlin-Friedrichshain, and it's ideal if you have a hankering for a nice piece of quiche, which is how I first came across this place. It's got the charm of a rustic French farmhouse and you're guaranteed to get service with a smile and a merci.

Grünbergerstr. 9, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain

http://louisecheriecafe.de/

Photo credit: notquiteberlin.com

Dresden in Kreuzberg

Café serving lovely cakes and sweets as well as small dishes made with organic ingredients by day, cosy and familiar neighbourhood bar by night. It's lit primarily by candlelight, so maybe not the best place to come if you want to get some serious reading done without doing your eyes damage, but the atmosphere is lovely all the same.

Dresdener Str. 19, 10999 Berlin-Kreuzberg

No website, so here's their Yelp: http://www.yelp.de/biz/dresden-in-kreuzberg-berlin

Photo credit: stilinberlin.com

It's 5 O'Clock Somewhere - Bars

Dachkammer

Slap bang in the middle of Friedrichshain's bar scene, Dachkammer is pretty much guaranteed to draw a crowd. It's fine to go in groups but equally nice to sit and enjoy a drink there by yourself. It does get pretty loud though, so if you're a bit of a shrinking violet I'd stick to going earlier before it really gets going, around 8pm or so. Kitted out with that shabby, chintzy decor (chintz is a bit of a running theme in Berlin) it has a retro vibe and the seating on the street is especially nice for catching the last few rays of sun in the evening and watching the world go by.

Simon-Dach-Str. 39, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain

http://www.dachkammer.com/

Photo credit: designntrend.com

Mano

I loved this place, mostly because the loft bunk they'd turned into a seating area really captured my imagination. I never got to sit up there myself, but maybe you'll brave it? They do all the usual stuff - beers, wine, and a great albeit slightly pricey selection of cocktails. Dimly-lit and cosy, and a very comfy spot to unwind after a long day of sightseeing.

Skalitzer Str, 46a, 10997 Berlin-Kreuzberg

https://www.facebook.com/mano.cafe/

Photo credit: suitesculturelles.wordpress.com

Filmkunstbar Fitzcarraldo

A firm favourite of mine and my group of Berlin friends for dancing on a Saturday night - the best of the 70s and the 80s in a small little dive bar that always seemed to exude joy and happiness. As is made clear from the number of tatty old film posters to be spotted everywhere, it's actually also a video rental store and you can even pop down to the basement to peruse their sizable collection. While a noisy spot where throwing a few shapes is pretty much encouraged may not be every solo visitor to Berlin's cup of tea, hear me out. It's usually pleasantly quiet and calm enough for a drink during the week, and even if you did rock up by yourself late at the weekend nobody would bat an eyelid and you'd likely make a few friends to boot. A must-visit, if only because the kind of night out you'll have here is so different to any you'd have at home in Ireland.

Reichenberger Str. 133, 10999 Berlin-Kreuzberg

Photo credit: yelp.com

Photo credit: thomas-kaffeeklatsch.sellymedia.de

Klunkerkranich

You should really go to Klunkerkranich - nay, you must go to Klunkerkranich! - if you find yourself in Berlin in the summertime. It's a rooftop bar and garden on top of a shopping centre's multi-storey car park. Come on a sunny afternoon to enjoy spectacular views across the city in a really unique and cool setting. Come in the evening for live music or a DJ set and equally stunning views as the city below is bathed in darkness and lit up by street- and headlights.

Karl-Marx-Str. 66, 12043 Berlin-Neukölln

http://www.klunkerkranich.de/

Photo credit: awesomeberlin.de

Soulcat

Also in Neukölln, Soulcat is a nice wee bar that prides itself on its great taste in music (retro hits of the 50s and 60s) and also shows football live on a big screen, which is interesting as I didn't come across too many "funky" bars in Berlin that did this. Nice place to go with a group of friends for a few drinks, but you won't feel out of place by yourself, particular if you come to cheer on one of those, er, sports teams.

Pannierstr. 53, 12047 Berlin-Neukölln

http://soulcat-berlin.com/

Photo credit: jessieonajourney.com

All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy - Things To Do

Tempelhofer Feld

Without a doubt, the coolest public park in the entire city - and there are many. It used to be Berlin's third airport, but shut in 2007 and now the runways are open to the public to walk, jog, skateboard, cycle, scoot, rollerblade, and fly kites on. There's huge expanses of green to sunbathe on or sit and read a book and have a picnic, and there are special designated areas where you can set up a barbeque. It's definitely the place to come to stroll off those kebabs and currywursts you've been enjoying maybe just a little too liberally.

Tempelhofer Damm 90, 12101 Berlin-Tempelhof (easiest to reach from U- and S-Bahn Tempelhof on the Ringbahn - follow the crowds!)

Photo credit: tempelhoferfeld.info

Flohmarkt Mauerpark

The Sunday flea market in Prenzlauer Berg's Mauerpark (literally "wall park", and one of the places you can see remnants of the Berlin Wall) is a Berlin institution. It's massive and you can find pretty much everything under the sun here - organic products, designer sunglasses, second-hand Uzbekistani-language novels, posters, furniture, vintage clothing, handbags, bicycles, tools and hardware, records, CDs and cassettes, children's toys, jewellery made out of Lego bricks, and a big variety of ethnic food (if it's still there, the Ghanaian food truck is not to be missed. The fried banana and the "Accra Jumping" plates are especially good.) When you've finished scouring the jumble for bargains, grab yourself a cold bottle of beer or the Berlin student population's staple, Club Mate, and head for Bearpit Karaoke - it's exactly what it sounds like. You'll get the young and the old, the seriously talented and the tone deaf, and the stage-frightened and the overly-confident up to belt out their favourite tune and - put it this way - audience input and participation is encouraged. 

Gleimstr. 55, 10437 Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg

Photo credit: berlin.enjoy.com

Zukunft am Ostkreuz

This is a bar on the fringes of Friedrichshain (it takes a bit of work to get to) that hosts an open-air cinema showing a mix of new releases and old favourites during the summer months. The films are projected onto a courtyard wall and you can sink into a deckchair with a warm blanket and a beer to enjoy them. If the film is in English it'll be shown in English with German subtitles, but it probably pays to check ahead on their website before you trek out. (If you see OmU next to the film title, it means it's shown in the original language with (German) subtitles.) You never know what they could be showing - I ended up going to see Calvary starring Brendan Gleeson set in the west of Ireland with a bunch of Dutch friends once. It's a lovely way to spend an evening.

Laskerstr. 5, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain

http://zukunft-ostkreuz.de/

Photo credit: zukunft-ostkreuz.de

b:ware!ladenkino

So you read all about the open-air cinema at Zukunft am Ostkreuz and got really excited to go and check it out, but when you arrive in Berlin it's pelting rain or simply too chilly to be sitting out on a deckchair once the sun's gone down. Fear not, for there is an alternative - B:Ware Ladenkino. This is a small little cinema that sells tickets far cheaper than any of the large cinema chains, and also has a pretty good offering of the latest releases from both Germany and abroad. (The OmU rule mentioned above applies again here.) Best of all, there are no massive impersonal cinema theatres here - you'll enjoy your chosen film from the comfort of an armchair or couch in what feels like someone's big living room. They also serve teas, coffees, soft drinks and cinema snacks (and probably also beer).

Gärtnerstr. 19, 10245 Berlin-Friedrichshain

http://ladenkino.de/

Photo credit: mietrebellen.de

Garage

No doubt your stay in trendy Berlin will have a bit of an effect on you and you'll want to update your wardrobe accordingly. Garage can help you with that! It's a massive vintage and second-hand warehouse filled with the weird and the wonderful, and you can pay by weight (there are scales dotted throughout the store) or if you're short on luggage space, you can pay by the individual item. If, like me, no trip to a new city is complete without a bit of retail therapy, Garage is the place to go without feeling like you could be looking at the exact same clothes in any city in the world (I'm looking sternly at you, H&M). 

Ahornstr. 2, 10787 Berlin-Schöneberg

http://kleidermarkt-vintage.de/

Photo credit: stilinberlin.com

Krumme Lanke

It can reach up to 40 degrees celcius in Berlin during the summer months, and you're going to want to cool off sooner or later. The outskirts of Berlin are dotted with many lovely lakes that are safe to swim in and extremely refreshing in the blistering heat, and my personal favourite was always Krumme Lanke. It's not privately owned or managed like Wannsee or Müggelsee, so there are no lifeguards, lockers, cafeterias, or entrance fees. You just show up, find a spot, lay out your towel and soak up the sun. Obviously if you're going by yourself it would make sense to take as few valuables as possible, and if you do decide to leave anything valuable behind when you go for a dip, keep a close eye on it. That said, I've gone before in groups when nobody was willing to stay and mind the stuff, and it all remained intact. Folk are generally very sound like that, but you just never know. Minor personal safety and security concerns aside, Krumme Lanke is beautiful. Bring a picnic and your sunglasses.

No address per se, but my best advice is to take the U3 to Krumme Lanke and walk down Fischerhüttenstr. for about ten minutes until you reach the lake

Photo credit: schoenes-berlin.de

So that's it! Those are my top recommendations, whether you're arriving in Berlin not knowing a soul or rocking up with a group of nine of your closest friends. I've done my best to make sure everything is up to date and accurate, but if you spot a mistake let me know. Also, it has to be said that Berlin is a massive city and there are hundreds of so many other great places to go it'd be impossible to compile an exhaustive list - and I'm sure I've never even heard of lots of them! Honourable mentions, however, must go to Monbijoupark in Mitte, Boxhagener Platz flea market in Friedrichshain, Teufelsberg in Grünewald, and the Turkish Wochenmarkt in Kreuzberg, as well as the many other hundreds of events that happen throughout the year. I'd recommend keeping an eye on Time Out Berlin (timeout.com/Berlin), EXBERLINER (exberliner.com) and The Needle (needleberlin.com) to stay up to date.

If you happen to try any of these places, I'd love to hear how you get on! Other suggestions and recommendations are also very much welcomed in the comments below!

The Archives

I'm currently in the process of going through all of the blogs I've had in the past (there have been many - Wordpress, Blogger, Tumblr, LiveJournal - remember LiveJournal?! Fan-fiction-tastic) and winding them down. I'm not a fan of loose ends and generally like to tie them up, even if it takes me absolutely ages to get around to it. I hope to start maintaining this particular corner of the World Wide Web more regularly once my finals are done and dusted, so I wanted to wipe the slate clean.

Most of the old content that I unearthed was excruciatingly embarrassing, but there were one or two posts that I read back on and was amazed that I had written them at just seventeen or eighteen years of age. It would've be a shame to delete them (I'm hopelessly sentimental) so I thought I might throw one or two of the better ones up here, for old times' sake.

The following is a piece I wrote at the very beginning of Sixth Year. I'd been self-conscious about my weight for years and at the ripe old age of seventeen, decided to join my local Slimming World club and start dieting. My younger self's take on weight loss is surprisingly shrewd, but I can't help but feel quite sad reading what I'd written about myself at such a tender age. I was still only a baby, and really believed I was overweight and hideous. (I was probably slightly overweight, but it couldn't have been more than puppy fat. I also had this immense fear of looking as heavy as I felt so tended to wear big baggy clothes in big sizes which only really made me look even bigger. I was probably never bigger than a ladies' UK size 12, but dressed in size 14 and 16 jeans, shorts, skirts and tops. Present-day me is shaking her head.)

Five or so years on and I'm still locked in battle with that pesky number on the weighing scales and the reflection in the mirror, although I've come on in leaps and bounds in terms of both my weight and my self-confidence. I can also finally dress myself in clothes that flatter my figure. I reckon this old blog post could be a poignant reminder of just how vulnerable and insecure young girls (and guys!) can be at a time that should be happy and carefree and one of self-discovery. I've figured out over the last few years that there is so much more to me than units of measurement or what the labels on clothing say, even if some days I really have to work hard to remind myself of that. There's more to you, too.

Enjoy!

Fat Fighters

Losing weight should seriously be made easier. There should be some sort of miracle solution out there that isn't expensive, gimmicky or doesn't involve flying to Hungary for a cut-price gastric band.

Losing weight is bloody challenging when you have an addictive personality, a serious diet-impairing crisp habit and a loathing of good old-fashioned exercise. It's a constant uphill battle; a battle which entails hunger pangs, an ominous, booming voice in your head telling you to put the Maltesers down, litres of water to stave off aforementioned hunger pangs, guilt and crying when you've caved in at one the morning and you can't open the childproof lock you installed on the biscuit tin as a deterrent.

It entails becoming a slave to magazines with articles about every diet under the sun; and cutting out recipes which call for brown rice and mung beans, ingredients I will more than likely never use. I even stuck a "fat photo" of myself on the fridge.

I may as well be honest. I absolutely loathe the way I look, and feel like a disgusting whale in every single solitary item of clothing I own. It has gotten to the point where I can't go anywhere with out worrying what I look like, and whether this shirt/pair of jeans/skirt/cardigan is flattering or not. I will not reveal my upper arms or chest area, and tights are my saving Grace when it comes to the leg department. I guess I've always felt a bit hefty, at least since the age of twelve or thirteen, but it has only been since Christmas '10 that my weight has shot to the top of my hypothetical list of worries. (I say "hypothetical" because having an actual list of worries strikes me as a rather depressing thing to have lying around.)

Around April this year, I had a bit of a shock. I was bored one evening, and decided to Google a BMI (body mass index) calculator, as BMI had been mentioned by Dr Christian on Embarrassing Bodies (big EmBods and Dr Christian fan - if only he had a practice in my area) and I was curious to find out what mine was. BMI works by taking your height and your weight and multiplying them against each other or something like that; I'm not much for the technical side of things, but that's the general gist of BMI anyway. My BMI was 26, one outside the healthy range of 20-25. OVERWEIGHT screamed out at me in giant red font. It wasn't hugely surprising, I suppose, but seeing written there so crudely in black and white (or red and white, rather) still managed to take the wind out of my sails.

Come summer, I was sick and tired of not only feeling circus fat, but also feeling like I couldn't change how I felt. I decided to carpe diem, take the bull by the horns and join WeightWatchers, and ultimately commit myself to a healthy new lifestyle of veggies, jogging and calorie-counting (calorie counting was something I did anyway, though) and never look back. Ha.

My mum, ever supportive and wonderful, decided she could do with shifting a few pounds too and promised to sign up with me. She had previously been a WeightWatchers member and it had worked really well for her, so I had high hopes. We even drew up the "declaration of a healthy new lifestyle", signed it and stuck it to the microwave. Unfortunately, other commitments got in our way. First it was that we had to go to Germany in June, and then it was me heading off to Irish college in July. We figured there was no point in joining up if we were going to be away or without one another, as you have to pay for the weeks you miss and possible endure a scolding from the club leader, and anyway, what use would we be without each other for moral support? Now it's August and we've both resolved to join the minute I go back to school in September. Famous last words, the sceptic within me chuckles.

I'm a crap dieter. I have absolutely no willpower, but I'm determined to see this one out. My original target was to have lost a stone over summer - that obviously didn't happen - but I really don't know what weight-related goals are attainable to me yet. I need some ever-cheerful, authoritative WeightWatchers leader to tell me. The idea of standing on a scales in front of a perfect stranger fills me with dread, the kind of dread that makes me want to burrow away in my room and live off meals on wheels for the housebound for the rest of my life.

I'm going to go very corny on you all now and quote something inspirational: if the journey is easy, the destination is worthless. This journey of mine is surely going to be anything but simple, so I'm sure it will be worth it. Even though there will be no Maltesers allowed.

Originally published August 11, 2011 at https://aislingwrites.wordpress.com/

"Every Woman Needs a Man" and Other Stories

It was about midday on a Tuesday. Today, in fact. A completely run-of-the-mill day - I was on the number 40 bus on my way back to the house having ran a few errands and attended an appointment in town, and I was looking forward to inhaling a second bowl of Coco Pops and a big mug of milky tea when I got home. I pressed the stop button, and wondered if I was at the right stop - the 40 is not a route I'd often take - so asked the driver if it was the closest stop to the North Circular Road, because it wasn't busy and my asking wouldn't have been too much of a distraction.



"Nah love, the next stop would be closer, so it would!"


"Fair enough, cheers!" and I stepped back from the driver's cabin.Traffic was calm and the bus was quiet, so the driver had time to go out of his way to point me in the right direction. 


"That's the North Circular there, and the stop is just here past the traffic lights", he told me. The lights turned green, and we slid forward and up to the stop, neat as a pin. "There you go, love! Every woman needs a man, eh?" 


Eh, pardon? My tone changed. Up until now, I'd been my usual cheerful self as I spoke to him, but that comment had irked me into uncharacteristic curtness. 


"Thanks", I muttered monotonously, as I got off. Standing on the footpath, I chastised myself for being rude. After about two seconds of self-criticism, I decided my less-than-jolly response to an unnecessary and patronising comment was perfectly measured. Every woman needs a man? What clap trap! Every person who needs a straightforward question answered needs someone who can answer that question, more like.


The further I walked up the North Circular Road towards home, the more indignant I became. Stupid bastard, I thought. What would he know? I'm fucking independent. Look at me! I'm the embodiment of an independent, twenty-first-century, no-make-up-wearing, pro-choice, LGBT-allied, size-12-on-the-bottom-and-ain't-nothing-wrong-with-that feminist. I need a man to help me go about the daily routine I've been handling by myself for years? Ridiculous. But then I got down off my cross and realised that maybe, just maybe I was overreacting a smidge.


Not because women don't have the right to go about their mundane day-to-day business without having to listen to stupid comments about their being female, and by extension, apparently helpless and/or incompetent. Not because anyone actually deserves to have to listen to such idiocy on the daily - of course we all have the right not to have to our afternoons slightly marred by that. But because the bus driver probably didn't know any better. Because he probably only said it because in his day, that kind of comment wouldn't have even been considered questionable, never mind offensive. Because he was just trying to be helpful, in his own old-fashioned way. And that's the thing, isn't it? How many allowances are we prepared to make for people of an older demographic just not knowing any better? I'm still seriously miffed about the comment, and miffed that it feeds into a deeper structure of bias, misogyny, and harassment. Miffed that I can't just brush it off as that bus driver being just a bit of an old chauvinist, an exception to the rule, a bad egg; but that I have to put it in the context of chauvinism being so ingrained in some of us that we just don't realise comments like that could actually be offensive. All that said, it probably isn't legitimate for me to channel all of my annoyance about said comment towards that bus driver. 


But who should know better? Who can we absolutely not excuse on the assumption that they may not have known any better? Take, for example, the run-in I had with my ENT surgeon back in October. I was referred to him by my GP as I have problems with my sinuses, adenoids, and "excess nasal tissue". (Sexy.) Naturally enough, the ENT specialist - let's call him ENT Eddie - went through a number of routine questions about my general state of health at my first consultation. The usual craic - weight, height, whether I have any other chronic illnesses, blood pressure, and the like. He asked me what medications I was taking.


"Leonore, the oral contraceptive pill", I told him. Duly noted on my file. Any allergies? Penicillen.
"And you're certainly not allergic to men, are you?"


Excuse me? PARDON? I opened and closed my mouth a few times, like a little goldfish. I was, as you can imagine, more than just a little taken aback. Yes, Leonore is a contraceptive, and yes contraceptives stop you from getting pregnant when you have sex, with men, but I could be taking it to regulate my periods or manage my PMT or acne for all he knew. For all you know. But, as per usual, I chickened out of pointing out how disrespectful, unprofessional, sleazy, arrogant, and misogynistic that question was. Partly because I was so taken aback, and primarily because ENT Eddie was wielding a tiny camera on a big long stick he was about to stick up my nose. 


"I'm only teasing", he chuckled. I chuckled weakly, too. Why are you chuckling, you moron? I scolded myself. You absolute prat!


Now, here's an example of someone who absolutely should know better. Practising medical professionals in Ireland are held to a set of strict ethical and professional standards, something I found out later that day as I scoured the internet, trying to figure out how to report ENT Eddie. (I didn't report him. I thought it might make my future appointments with him "awkward" - ENT Eddie is the only ENT surgeon in the area.) I can only assume that it's spelled out exactly to them what makes for appropriate in-consultation chit-chat, and what doesn't. Here's a man so cock-sure of himself, so arrogant and so disrespectful, that these sorts of professional ethics don't really mean a whole lot to him. 


Then there's the other bus driver who once told me I look about twelve years old (I was twenty at the time) and that I would one day "make some man very happy". What about him? What about the man who once pointed at me on the way out of a nightclub and said "wouldn't ride her"? Oh, or the guy who decided once when I was out having fun with some friends that I was "ugly, but he'd still ride me"? Let us not forget the man in Germany who pointed at me as I walked down the street on a hot summer's day in a pair of shorts and said "süße Beine" (nice legs), either. (In fairness, hats off here to Berlin's wino community for their sense of irony - my legs are in no way nice, by any standard.) Or the guy who told me I had a nice body but a fat face? What about them? Are they excused? Absolved from all wrongdoing, because horrible and misogynistic comments like that are apparently so rampant they have no counter-example of non-asshole behaviour to work with? 


I'm not convinced they should be. So maybe I should have shared my feelings with that bus driver about his silly comment after all, old fogey or not. 

Pay Attention

I sat tersely cramming the law of succession at my desk the other day and my mind began to wander to more pleasurable thoughts, as it often does. As I mused idly, a vivid, years-old memory popped into my mind. I remembered the first time I was ever told to pay attention.

It was at playschool, and I was about three or four years old. The playschool I attended was about a ten-minute walk from my house, housed in a separate wing of a big family home with a wonderful leafy garden surrounding it. The children were confined to one part of the lovely garden when we went outside to play, and I remember looking wistfully over at the far corner in the part of the garden that we weren't allowed in. There was a bench, and the beginning of a path, but you couldn't see where it led because of the bushes and trees blocking the view. It piqued my curiosity and imagination, and I always wished I could go over and explore. Despite the somewhat defiant streak in little me, I always knew better than to try to make a run for it. I'd only get put sitting on the "bold chair", and that was boring. I knew, I'd sat on it once or twice.

My favourite things to do in playschool were sitting cross legged in the library corner, where there was a book I particularly liked about a boy who broke his arm. I'm sure to an extent I felt that this boy and I were kindred spirits, as I'd also broken my arm around that time, but I think the real reason that this book took my fancy was because it involved a hospital and I had developed this somewhat morbid fascination with hospitals and doctors and nurses. I used to make my mum tape "Children's Hospital" because it was on at 10.10pm on BBC2 and that was long past my bedtime. I also liked painting and drawing, and I remember being absolutely enthralled when someone showed me how to make pink-coloured paint by mixing red and white paint together. We also used to leap around and dance to classic ditties such as "If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands" and "Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and my best friend Nicole and I would join in with gusto. Fairly standard playschool stuff.

Sometimes though, we'd be roped into doing activities in small groups of four or five with one of the teachers. I hated getting involved, preferring instead to potter around doing my own thing and choosing my own activities as I happened upon them. Once we did a worksheet with a picture of a balloon on it, and the instructions read, "Here is a picture of balloon. Colour in the balloon. Count the balloon". I was having none of it. It's a balloon, I thought. One balloon. It doesn't need to be counted. There's only one balloon there.

One day, I'd been cajoled into doing a jigsaw puzzle with a teacher called Suzanne who had fuzzy dark hair and always wore jumpers, and another little girl. The jigsaw was terribly boring and I looked from the group of little boys playing over at the nature table to the clock, wondering how long it was until Mammy came to collect me.

Suddenly, a voice filtered through my thoughts. "Aisling!", it said. "Aisling! Pay attention!" Four year old me must have been tuned out for a while, because the teacher's brow was furrowed and she looked irked and the other little girl was muttering something about she how she was going to get to take all the turns I'd missed.

I remember feeling startled. Attention, I'd never heard that word before. It sounded kind of ominous. I'd never heard it said before, but its meaning was implicit. Attention. I repeated it to myself. I had to pay attention. When Mum finally came to collect me, I told her I'd learned this new word and of how I'd come to learn it. For some reason, the incident had really struck me as something significant.

Maybe because, I thought as I drew spirals up and down the margins of my land law notes, the phrase was to become a regular fixture during the next sixteen years of my life and four year old me was somehow subconsciously aware of this. Pay attention, Aisling; you're drifting off into space again. Aisling, you're daydreaming. Aisling, wake up and concentrate! Penny for your thoughts, Aisling! (My nana used to often say this to me, and I'd sometimes take her up on her offer of the penny.) Most authority figures, including teachers, parents, grandparents, and even a priest, have told me to pay attention or some variant thereof throughout the course of my school days.

Sometimes, a bit of extra attention paid would have seriously benefited me, such as during every school biology experiment gone wrong or any time I've gotten the wrong end of the stick ever. But mostly I'm glad that while my playschool teacher's words resonated with me, they didn't spook me into becoming a conscientious listener/attention payer. All those wonderful daydreams I've had instead that I would've missed out on.

Hallowe'en dress up day in playschool. Most of the other girls went as witches but I thought it was the ideal occasion to debut the nurse's costume I'd gotten for my fourth birthday a few weeks beforehand. Happy as Larry, so I was.

Women's Parking

Last year in Germany, I took a lift with a friend. She drove up and down the car park, desperately hunting for a parking space.

"Hmm, are there any Frauenparkplätze (women's parking spaces) here?", she wondered aloud.

"Excuse me? Frauenparkplätze? What, because they think women can't park very well and need a special space to enable them to do so?", I enquired, baffled that such lazy sexism could exist so institutionally in such a progressive modern nation. 

My friend chuckled.

"Nein nein", she replied. "They're the closest spaces to the building; it's safer for women."

Oh, that's okay! I thought, for a split second. Nobody's needlessly reinforcing stupid gender stereotypes, it's just a safety thing!

Then the bleak fact that it had been deemed necessary to install especially-for-women car parking spaces closer to whatever the carpark was there to facilitate (in this instance, a train station) to help prevent them from falling victim to a mugging, an assault, or rape, dawned on me.

How naïve I was for that split second. 

Photo credit: Wikimedia

My Lucky Trousers

I lack poise, grace and allure. I'm not the kind of person who turns heads in the street, with possible exception for when I'm tussling with a suitcase and a load of bags and fighting my way across College Green on a Friday morning, and only then because I'm getting in everyone's way and making a bit of a nuisance of myself. I'm a clumsy and nondescript person, and the best I hope for is that this will occasionally manifest itself in a sort of awkward charm. I assume that most of the time I go unnoticed in a crowd unless I've tripped over my own feet and fallen down or dropped something or whatever which is fine because I also assume being very striking and Vogue model-esque would be both time consuming and burdensome. Last Wednesday though, as I battled my way towards college hoping the five-minute walk would today go minor incident-free, someone actually noticed me when I wasn't embroiled in some sort of awkward scene. Like, I was just standing there. Waiting for the lights to change. Unprecedented. 

This well-dressed man standing beside me at the crossing turns to me and says, "I love your trousers, they are very chic" and I was all like, "oh, why thank you! That's so nice of you!" I was genuinely flattered. I do actually really like the trousers I was wearing that day, they're my third favourite pair. They've got a kind of ombré effect going on, brown turning into blue down the calf, and they cinch in at the waist and widen at the hips. They were also only a tenner and have not yet fallen apart. 

He continued, "can you tell me how to get to Ballsbridge?"

"Yes, of course! Take the 4 or the 7 bus from that stop over there, it takes about ten minutes."

"Are you studying in Trinity?"

"Yes, I am indeed! Law and German!"

"Ah! Beauty and brains!" (I thought I'd reached my maximum capacity of flatteredness when he complimented my trousers but now I was positively beaming) 

"Oh stop, you're far too kind!" 

By now, we'd crossed the street and were waiting for the second set of lights to change. I was running quite late for my lecture so this charming stranger's timing was a little inconvenient and also I was kind of sweaty and some of my hair was stuck to my face so I had to question his genuineness but was thoroughly enjoying this unexpected onslaught of compliments so I resisted the urge to run into traffic and away from him. 

"Where are you from?", he asked.

"I'm from Louth, it's about an hour north of Dublin." (It's not that I'm patronising, he was foreign and obviously here on business)

"You're kidding! You're Irish? Irish people are never usually so stylish or beautiful!"

"Oh hahaha!" (My actual reaction, very high pitched and embarrassing)

"Listen, take care of yourself, won't you? You're all you have. Have a good day!"

And so the kind stranger ran off to catch the 4 or the 7 bus to Ballsbridge, as per my instruction. I made my way to my lecture, feeling extremely taken aback but also very pleased with myself. The kind stranger is right, I thought to myself. I am beautiful! I am all I have, and need, in this dog eat dog world! I will look after myself! I'm every woman, it's all in me! Anything you want done baby, I'll do it naturally! Maybe I'll wear these trousers more often!

The next time I wore these trousers, which was yesterday, a woman at the bus stop told me she thought they were "just gawwjusss!" (I live in Inchicore) and asked where they were from. I was just AMAZED. Who knew a pair of ten euro H&M trousers could inspire such great vibes, and good feeling? My mood was buoyed by her kind words for the rest of the day and I feel all happy and fuzzy just now as I type about it.

I always notice things I like about people as I'm pottering about Dublin, but I so rarely tell them unless I actually know them. I always thought they'd find it creepy or think I was distracting them as my accomplice went through their pockets or handbag. In light of my two recent experiences with compliments from total strangers (after which I'm still in possession of my both wallet and phone) however, I've decided to start complimenting others more often. I mean, my day was absolutely made by what those two people said to me about what I now consider my lucky trousers, and if I could make someone else feel even half as touched and made up as I did I think that'd be really nice. I don't mean to get all soppy, but lately especially I've really learned that almost everyone you meet is going through something or other, big or small. A nicely thought-out and genuine compliment could go a long way. 

That said, me being plagued with social awkwardness and discomfort has thwarted my half-hearted attempts to live up to my new resolution thus far. Yesterday evening, there was a couple sitting at the table next to us in the café I was in with a beautiful newborn baby. She really was a dote, sleeping peacefully on her dad's shoulder with little tufts of dark hair on her tiny head. When I was getting my coat and bag together on my way out, I caught the dad's eye and smiled and my brain was egging me on to ask "how old is she?" and tell them how sweet she was. Alas, the "complimenting strangers is possibly a bit creepy never mind complimenting strangers' babies" worry started to creep in so I left without saying anything. I'll try again another time, honestly. Compliments are excellent. And I'm kind of convinced my trousers actually hold magical lucky powers. 

I'm going to Berlin on Erasmus in September

On Thursday, a very exciting email landed in my inbox.

"Dear Aisling", it said. "We are pleased to officially offer you a place in Berlin for the Erasmus programme 2014-2015".

A wide grin crept across my face, which did not falter for the next four hours. A place at the Humboldt University of Berlin for the coming year was mine, and once I replied to confirm the offer (which I did almost immediately, the Enlightenment essay I'd been working on abandoned) nobody was taking it away from me. 

Spending third year studying German law at a German university is a compulsory part of the degree for which I'm studying so although I knew I'd definitely be spending next year somewhere in Deutschland, the exact city in which I'd spend the year was not yet definite. We have ten universities across the country to choose from. Having spent three months in Wiesbaden, a small city of about 280,000 people, I ruled out the possibility of going somewhere similar like Marburg or Erlangen. The application process is far less formal than it is for other courses, and done primarily through our course coordinator, whom we all know very well. In general, we're free to choose where we go ourselves. Our course coordinator offers her opinion and makes suggestions but the decision is ours for the most part and she does work hard to ensure everyone is happy with where they end up (and who they end up going with - some of us go alone and others in pairs). However, she tends to be tougher on who goes to Berlin, Hamburg and Munich, and it took some convincing before she agreed to me going to Berlin. She suggested Hamburg, which I considered, but I couldn't let go of Berlin. Berlin was the first place in Germany I ever visited, aged thirteen, and I've always loved it. In transition year, we had to research college courses and universities, and even then I knew I'd love to go to Berlin to study for a year.  The fact that Berlin was a study abroad option for Law and German was a major factor in my decision to include Law and German in second place on my CAO form. When I narrowly missed out on my first choice of European Studies back in August 2012 and was offered Law and German instead, it was with the possibility of a Berlin Erasmus that I consoled myself. Berlin was always something I'd wanted. 

Now I have it. My course coordinator can't change her mind and strongly suggest I go to Hamburg instead. It can't be taken away from me if I don't get a certain grade in a certain module (although I obviously still have to pass my exams in May). I'm going to Berlin in September, to study German law through German in quite possibly the most exciting city in the world. Although I've been to Berlin seven times before, I see it in a new light each time and there's always something to be discovered there. Sometimes I think I might be better off somewhere smaller and friendlier, a place where I might find it easier to make friends and get to know people. Sometimes I think I'm not cool enough for Berlin and its reputation as a city of hipsters and trendsetters. Despite these niggling doubts, I know Berlin was the right choice. Berlin is amazing, and despite my awkwardness, uncoolness and occasional reluctance to step outside my comfort zone socially-speaking, I know I'm going to make the most of it. 

Funnily enough, the day I officially accepted my place in Berlin turned out to be very Berlin-themed in general. Each February reading week, the junior freshman Law and German students go to Berlin on a study trip with our German law lecturer. Last year, our lecturer was accompanied by a teaching assistant, but this year there's no such assistant. To my surprise, I received a phonecall that same morning from the course coordinator asking if I'd be interested in going along to help out - all expenses paid, except for the flights. Because she openly refers to me as ditsy and thinks I'm a bit of an airhead and I wouldn't have thought she'd have considered me for any task requiring any degree of responsibility or competency, I was taken aback. Nevertheless, I jumped at the chance to go and although I've yet to book my flights I'm very much looking forward to it. It's not going to be a week of lounging about Kreuzberg or Prenzlauer Berg people watching and mooching about quirky shops and cafes, but a week filled with visits to houses of parliament and official buildings, however Berlin is Berlin and a week spent there is never a week wasted. Fortunately, my lovely classmate Karen (has her shit together a whole lot more than I do) was also asked to go so I won't have to spend the week making tedious conversation in German with my German civil law lecturer. 

This year is looking promising, and I'm very excited. Sixteen year old me, to whom Erasmus seemed a very distant concept, wouldn't know what to make of all this. September still seems ages away, and the whole thing is still extremely surreal. But brng it onnn guna b class xxxxx

 This was just another landmark to me when I took this photo back in June 2011. Now I'm off to study there! Yippee!