I left Berlin thinking how everything was physically larger. Perhaps the city architects mistook their metric scales for imperial ones. The repeated pattern which cover the major central train stations went on forever and they make St Pancras feel more like Covent Garden. The behemoth of trains which pass through were like one of those in an Elliot Erwitt photograph. Throbbing engines, brushed metal armoured hulls complete, smelly leather seats so large it made me feel like a midget. And that is after negotiated a gap large enough for me to fall through. As I made my way around the city, I couldn’t help but remind myself of Berlin’s history. It was a strange feeling, as if the city had absorbed the decades past into it’s character, especially at Checkpoint Charlie. Once the border security which moderated human traffic in and out of East and West Berlin. Yet at the same time, the city felt young, in that the glass encrusted urban jungle of new Berlin was visibly building itself on top of the auld one
I moan about the speed of my broadband alot. It’s one of these do everything type packages where by the phone line that permits me to connect to the world wide web also serves as a carrier for the TV signal. It’s an incessant system. It gets clogged up very easily during peak hours and hardly ever reaches it’s advertised potential of 8MB, it’s more like 3; 4 when it’s really sunny outside. In this age of want on demand, life could not be slower. Ironic then, I think of my endearing Tiscali box as I sit here in sunny Brunei, in a vain attempt to write an update to this blog by working with a relic from an age long since passed : the 56k modem. I’m not entirely sure of the model, since it’s an internal PCI (are they even called that?) card which is installed on my dad’s machine, which is also an item lined up to be a future artifact in an Electronics museum (if such a place exists). I remember the day when I first introduced myself to the internet. Oh man it was hard. I held my breath every time I dialed up, hoping for a ringing tone, as if I was calling a potential love interest, but more often than not, I was to be disappointed on many occasions with the familiar engaged
Bavarian Beerhouse Official Site 190 City Road EC1V 2QH Food £10pp £7.80 for a Stein, YEAH. I can explain. I ordered a half pint and not the full 1.8 pint glory that is the ‘Stein’ because it is technically breakfast. The beerhouse is barely just open at 1pm on a Saturday, somehow I showed up too early. I can still smell the cleaning liquids on the floor. A bit of a break from the usual restaurant hopping as I enter the subterranean HQ of London’s most authentic German beerhouse
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