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”.