Off to Berlin. Again.

Yes, Berlin has a hold on me. I’m going to be spending 2 1/2 weeks in the city. Why so long, and why only Berlin?

One of my biggest regrets is I never moved there in my 20s. I feel like I’m past my so-called prime becoming an immigrant in my mid-40s. I’m a lot more inflexible in my needs and wants now than I was a couple of decades ago, so the thought of picking up and leaving where uncertainty teems doesn’t quite have the appeal now. But to give myself a taste of what could have been, I decided to rent an apartment for a couple of weeks to give me a sort of immersive experience. (Actually because of my indecision, I decided to rent a different apartment for each week and cap the last few days with a hotel stay.)

The less said about the flights in, the better. One of the irritating things about Berlin (of which there are many) is that there are no direct flights from the west coast of the US to this capital city. I opted again for Aer Lingus because it’s cheaper, their long-haul flights have 2-4-2 seating and it connects in Dublin which is one of the few airports that has US immigration in its airport. But unless you’re flying in business class or better, discomfort is the name of the game no matter which carrier you choose.

In the nine hours from LA to Dublin, I got almost no sleep. However, I did watch The Craft, Horrible Bosses and 2001: A Space Odyssey. On the flight to Berlin, I was blessed with no one in the middle seat – a free Euro-style business class for two hours! I knocked out for most of the flight, feeling more comfortable here than in the prior 9 hours.

When I landed in Berlin, the immigration agent asked me how many times I had been in Berlin. “Around three times,” I responded. She smiled. “Oh?” “I really do love Berlin.” I don’t know if I really love Berlin, but there is a magnetism I feel to this city. Maybe it’s knowing about everything created in this city from Christopher Isherwood to David Bowie to Iggy Pop, the mythology of a city that resurrects itself over and over again. Or knowing that a lot of artists from the late 90s to early 00s fled NY and LA for the cheaper living here in Berlin.

Sitting in the S9 going to my first apartment, I realized that being in Berlin allows me to be a different version of myself. I’m not in the familiar rut of life at home were I to have just taken 2 1/2 weeks of staycation. I’m interacting more with the world and trying to discover things. Whereas in LA, I’ve been there done that. New things might pop up in the city, but there are no real mysteries to the city. So I just stay in a constant state of dazed apathy hardly able to do anything above subsisting.

One thing that did greet me upon stepping inside the S-bahn train: a homeless guy passed out in the seats and the car reeking of stale alcohol. I’m glad to know that I can never fully escape the problems of LA. But I was never under the impression that Berlin was a pristine, glitzy nirvana, and I sure as hell to hope that I don’t give off that impression to people when I describe the city.

So here’s to the next two weeks and change.