Berlin Prenzlauer Berg is not my regular place to be. Not that I don’t like it over there but my lifestyle is more Kotti D’Azurright now. There is just this one day of the week I somehow feel very connected to this perfect little world. It’s the Sunday. When I’m not in a club, I love to sneak arround the streets of P’Berg.
On a Sunday I become that classical flâneur. When I think about flâneurs I always have this 1920s picture in my mind. People walking through the streets in their finest clothes, have a coffee here, soak up the lates gossip there and discover the new developments in the city. Yeah! That’s my Sunday Alter Ego.
Maybe it’s because Prenzlauer Berg with all it’s nice facades, cafés and playing children is my substitude for the warm apple pie my mum always made for us on Sundays. It’s like I’m getting wrapped up in a warm blanket while lying down on the couch sipping on a cup of hot chocolate.
Beyond this relaxed street athmosphere Mauerpark became the Berlin Disneyland. Next to the big fleamarket (I think this will take a different post) all kind of self-exposers, artists, musicians and street kitchens developed itself arround it’s epicentre bearpit karaoke and it’s courageous singers.
Sitting there in the sun with a couple of friends and watch the people passing by is my kind of trip to the countryside and so Prenzlauer Berg got somehow my “sunday kind of love”.