In David Bowie’s Neues Ufer café—scene of his famous 30th birthday pictures. Emotional. Really emotional. Literally tears in my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. Customer in front of me with Ziggy red spiky mullet. Sounds like Amy MacDonald on the jukebox. I went to the carpark that marks the modern site of Hitler’s bunker/backgarden of his Chancellery building in Wilhelmstraβe. Underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time—that such a bland, genteel, leafy space marks the centre of somewhere once so powerful and “evil”. The absolute epicentre of the Nazi madness, now just a leafy genteel carpark and backyard of apartment buildings (can you imagine how it feels to LIVE in these modern apartment buildings knowing what stood on this spot not so long ago?). Well, I’ve done the two things I came to Berlin for this time, so now let me indulge my Priapism (though I forgot to go down into Mohrenstraβe U-Bahn station where the red marble from Hitler’s Chancellery has been reused in the U-Bahn walls and seats). The pillars & buttresses of the café are fascinating—like dried blood.
David Bowie’s house, and finally the Hitler bunker this time.
Well done it, booked the June Berlin trip. Kanthotel £103 more expensive in total than Plaza but oh for the joy of always being able to grab a McDonald’s before bed it is worth it. So close to Stutti as well. Max on way back Thursday afternoon then 356pm Eurostar home Friday. Time for a last Cine Paris —- or even 5th Avenue beer before taxi back to Midi. Going out my old faithful 0855 Eurostar arriving 12 midday, then the 235pm ICE to Berlin. So time to walk up to Cine Paris and back quickly. Arriving Berlin Hbf 6½ hours later, 910pm, in hotel by 10 hopefully. Straight out to BEC, Sissi, Monte Carlo. McDonald’s then bed Monday night. Then all day Tuesday and Wednesday to explore Zahringerstraße, King George, oh and go over to Bowie’s cafe and house finally. BEC so good spend all 3 nights there perhaps.
I at least did visit Hansa Studios, where Bowie recorded Heroes album and finished Low. I stood in the room where Bowie first sang Heroes, Iggy Pop first sang Passenger, and Bono first sang One. “OK” said Thilo our guide as we entered, “Now get down on your knees; this is the Holy Ground”. Not only did I not get to Bowie’s house and café, I still haven’t been to see Anita Berber’s house in Zahringerstraße (it is almost on my way back from Stuttgarter Platz at night but I think it would be a bit creepy to stand taking pictures of someone’s house in the early hours of the morning?), and the site of Hitler’s bunker (I thought I’d found it years ago but turns out I was in the wrong place). So incentives to hang another Berlin visit on. If I could meet a girl (floozie) in Berlin to blow my socks off that would make it easier, but like I say it’s been years. It can happen—Adelina and Jackie in Vienna last year, Lucy in Brussels last year. It can still happen, not as completely as back in 2003 or 4 or 5 of course, BEFORE I met and fell in love with my future wife.
Of course I do regret I did not bother to go see David Bowie’s apartment & café next door; next time! If I’m going to make pilgrimage anywhere it should be to the house where they filmed La Grande Bouffe, because increasingly that is how I live my life. Dedicated to the pleasures of sex, food & drink, like a connoisseur, with no care for the consequences. I did get a proper erection in Sissi Bar and Monte Carlo last night, so maybe worth a return tonight, and at least suffer a handjob to be performed on me. [Alas, my friend Mr Google tells me the La Grande Bouffe mansion was at 68, rue Boileau in the 16th arrondissement of Paris but is now gone, its place taken by the Vietnamese Embassy].