Unscene Berlin

The venue: an uncomplicated, abandoned-rail-arch-style club space with patio dance floor @ Jannowitzbrucke  The music: thumping, upbeat techno & spacey, breaky house.  The crowd: crammed but accommodating & dressed to cut loose. Mainly young and bright eyed, but mixed in with enough seasoned party faces to keep a 'college party' vibe at bay.  50/50 mix of guys and girls.  Few voyeurs. The crew: were like part of the crowd - unrepressive and enjoying the high spirits in the air The atmosphere: energetic, friendly and uninhibited, especially after the patio started to empty out around 6:00 p.m. and there was more space to move. Indoors was more club than open air, dark and striving for an industrial feel.  The time: started at 3 p.m. and it was still going strong at 10 p.m when we left. The cost: 5 Euros was a bit high for an open air party but not bad value for the size and indoor space. The sound: a bit blurry at times,

For people who come from anywhere other than Spain, waiting for clubs to open on a Friday or Saturday night in the winter can feel like Chinese water torture.  Things start late .  How late, you ask?  Imagine the time when you'd go home from a typical club back home and well, that's the time when you'll be expected to arrive at a club in Berlin.  And if you want to be there when the party is full-on, in some clubs it's better to arrive around the same time that you'd normally be waking up .   In the summer, there are glorious tree-filled green spaces to while away the endless pre-club hours by basking in the sun, drinking Sekt, flying kites, riding unicorns (at least, I thought it was a unicorn), but in the winter, there is nothing but bitter cold and bitter, bitter Berliners to fill the vacuum between dinner and dancing.  It's like waiting for Godot: an existential exercise in riding out an alien & arbitrary nightlife rhythm that refuses to adapt.

This post isn't named after a stylish techno night founded by Sven Väth; it's a description of the way I feel after spending an entire week wrapped up in bedding with reading materials pressed to my face. I feel coccooned. My wings were clipped a few days ago because I had to have a bit of surgery to repair a tear in them. It wasn't major but almost overnight, I have been transformed from a nimble social butterfly to a lumpy caterpillar, too sluggish to even hump over to the next twig and sample a new leaf. What with it being spring now, there are new leaves in abundance too, budding all over the metaphorical party tree. I'm regretting the loss of my wings... whenever I can see anything beyond the hazy hull of sleep and painkillers, that is! As the weekend approaches I feel the usual metamophosis happening. The wings might not be fluttering but the senses still are.  If excitement is blossoming on your branch of Berlin I'd like to hear about it. I wanna know what