Waking every morning with only one question, 'How shall I fill my day today?' is perhaps the biggest gift one can have; so much time! Yet it tempts idleness. I was determined today not to let my waking in the early afternoon prevent me from making full use of the present. I wondered around Savigny Platz (the only area in the West I go by choice...), where later a friend joined me in a vegetarian restaurant - perfect for those with a taste for Indian food, and more time than sense. The service was beyond appalling - which only made it funny, if a little frustrating - as we were to brave the city outskirts this evening...

I had been in contact with a German Gospel Choir (yes, they exist!), and had read about an upcoming concert. After using three new S-Bahn lines, we got to the station - encountering a woman peeing freely in the street and true Berlin-style unemployment culture - and started walking. It was totally dark, and as if in some biblical vision a giant light shone from a school-like building. We walked in as the 20-strong choir sang the classic 'Oh, Happy Day' - and until you've heard this with a strong German accent - you haven't lived.

That was about all we heard, as the concert finished just after that.. We were 45 minutes late - and hey, these guys start on time! The journey home was a delight in itself, as we treated fellow passengers to Christmas Carols (with harmonies) and extended scene re-enactments from Catherine Tate. There was time enough for these as not only did we take the wrong line - we also took it in the wrong direction, leaving us singing Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem to the cleaner who motioned that this was the end of the line.

We arrived safely, nearly two hours later laden with ice-cream and DVDs. And, as it nears my bedtime, which sadly hasn't been before 4am over the last few days, with Little Women's film score still playing from the end of the movie - I brush my teeth watching as the city around me is coated in a deep sleepy snow.

Sleep tight

I'm Gonna Run To You

I was actually smiling the whole time - even when I had a stitch.

I'd bought my first running shoes, and as soon as I got home I was off into the cold Berlin lunchtime. Through the neighbourhood graveyard and into the enormous Friedrichshein People's Park - where mums and babies, teenage stunt-cyclists and fellow runners dotted the open park. I ran up the hill, did squats (yes, in public - i have no shame) and 45 minutes later, I was still loving it. The Team America soundtrack had a lot to do with my smile, I have to admit.

I'd followed videojug's advice on not going too fast - steady burns more calories you know!

I'm moving at Berlin's pace now, and I like it.

SHARK!

Sometimes you've just got to go for it.

In this spirit, my friends and I met at Alexander Platz, the largest, and often-said ugliest square in Germany. Its cold. In fact, its snowing. Someone has just bought a ghetto blaster (to be returned an hour later: hooray for money back guarantees!) and another is filming us.

We get ready, 5, 6, 7, 8, - and we start dancing! In the snow. In public. And I don't know any of the moves. It is hysterically funny - our audience consists of a group of school girls in black hijabs - mobiles at the ready, taking pictures of my friend Jeremy who is doing his 'minimalist dancing'; moving only his index finger to the beat.

After our routine (which ends in us all running around, spinning, shouting 'Fight The Power!'), we pretend to head off in our own directions... But no! We all move to Alexa - the newly opened shopping centre, which looks like a giant red brick. We surreptitiously mill around the entrance, when Tina (the only German in the group) screams at the top of her voice – HAI!!! (SHARK!!!) – and we fall the ground, trying to swim across the floor for safety from this evil menace. Those around us are suddenly standing above 10 people wriggling on the floor, screaming for their lives! Some laugh, some look very confused, annoyed even, and two little boys look very scared, clinging to their bemused father.

Needless to say, It’s been a good day. As I wash up with the apartment all to myself, my housemate being in Brussels this weekend, I sing along loudly to the radio and rejoice in the fact that the traffic announcements are sponsored by Tiffany: the Erotic shop in Kreuzberg.

Only in Berlin.

Drama

I realised that I hadn't actually read the news for a week, so I got myself a copy of the IHT and headed off to try another local Stammtisch in the hope of finding a hidden gem. The bitter lemon was flat, and the cheesy Italian pop did little for me - but, and this is probably worth drinking there the whole night, the urinals were the BEST I have ever seen.

Those gents amongst us who enjoy the 'aiming at the painted fly' game on some urinals, are in for a treat. These loos had small football goals set up - with a dangling ball hanging from the crossbar, and with the power of your urine, and your urine alone, you could push the ball into the net.

Wow.

But it gets better!

This morning, as I cycled through Kreuzberg to meet up with two people from my Hip Hop class (tomorrow again - yay!), we found out that the Gay Museum, where one of them works, was closed. We thought we'd go for a quick coffee anyway - and boy, if I haven't found the gayest cafe in the world...

It is called 'Drama', and is totally pink; the chairs, the walls, the biscuits and the chandelier. The waiters are suitably camp, but the best was the hideous Faux-Chinoise sketches of naked Asian boys on the wall.

And I haven't even started the anecdote of the man setting his trousers alight on the U-Bahn last night...

Candle in a Coffee Pot

At 11am on the eleventh of the eleventh, while the English look sober and respectful, a small, red paper poppy in their lapel (which collapses spectacularly at the first hint of rain - making you feel so guilty, you buy another one - yes, a very clever sales team in The Royal British Legion), the Germans celebrate St. Martin.

St. Martin, (he of cutting-his-cloak-in-half-to-share-with-a-beggar-during-a-snowstorm fame) is the German version of our Bonfire Night; but without the bonfires. Instead, little kids walk around the local square singing songs while holding little paper lanters, and looking generally very cute.

But, as you may have realised by now, Berlin don't follow no rules. Oh no! So, as I made a makeshift lantern by putting my chunky candle in a glass coffee pot, we headed off to Boxhagener Platz as it turned dark. We weren't alone! Getting closer, we could see other studenty types looking slightly embarrassed with their creation of a flashing bike light in a red glove, hanging on a string. Finally, we found a middle-aged man, with an outdoor sound system pumping out Reggae beats, and serving free Glüwein.

Mmmmm!

Snow

On my way up to my apartment on the 4½ floor, I try to trick my brain into not thinking about the walk – meaning that I hardly notice my tired legs and general sweatiness. Having mastered times tables last week (8 is trickier than you think!), and concluded that trying to sing chromatic scales whilst carrying my bags and the post was not going to work, I am now trying to recount countries and capitals. Yemen anyone?

I spent today in the German History Museum (needless to stay, too big to do in one day) with an English friend who was told twice by the same over-attentive museum guard to keep her small bag in front of her, because otherwise she would bump into the various old coins, maps and portraits of Luther (all of which are kept safe in glass cases, away from aggressive tourists). This attitude of the Germans is so hilarious, I struggle to hide my laughter every time, and end up fake coughing to over compensate or something.

We also did some novelty folk dancing when our audio guide played historical music, I couldn’t tell if the same guard was worried, confused or shocked, but amused she definitely wasn’t.

I came outside, found my bike, only to realise the white layer on my saddle was snow! The ride home was freezing and very wet. At least four months of that, I’m told. Suddenly the U-Bahn sounds like a good idea again.

The South

I spent the last few days in the southern German city of Stuttgart, visiting a very dear friend from university. You can’t overstate the difference between Berlin and the south. Traditionally conservative, richer, and with a variety of funny accents – the southern states are the old, kindly aunt in pearls to the rebellious dreadlocked student that is Berlin. I found myself searching for graffitied walls, or a drunk on the street corner, or Russian musicians on the S-Bahn – but to no avail.

But I’m back now, and ready to hit the ground running, or should I say DANCING! It’s hip hop class this evening again, oh yes!

Trains Trump Planes

I've tried to keep my eyes open here in Berlin, on how messages about climate change are being brought to the public, and how they differ to the UK. And I have to say, credit to the Germans - watch this brilliant little ad (in English), and see what I mean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mTLO2F_ERY

Feeling inspired, I bought my sleeper train ticket to London yesterday, meaning that I shall arrive in the brand-spanking new St Pancreas International station in style, rather than prodded like cattle off a cramped EasyJet flight in Essex somewhere.

Trains are the way forward my friends! Because let's face it, as one of my favourite new websites says,

'Planes are for pussies!'

www.loco2.co.uk

Fight the Power - Express Yourself!

Today I had one of my top moments in Berlin so far - seriously, I felt like I'd reached what I've been looking for.

Walking from the U-Bahn station in Kreuzberg I followed the instructions, finding the gate in the wall, going past the bikes on the left and into the courtyard. It was totally dark, except for some lights on the first floor...

I got there, ready for the class to begin - oh yes, this was Hip Hop Dance!

There were six of us, mostly anglophones, and I shaked my groovething!! It felt so good to move, and because the windows were open on to the street, we looked like some kind of class from Fame.

Yippee!