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| Generic "I'm in Berlin" profile photo |
No, it isn't your drunk uncle in the chippie - it's Berlin. The living, breathing utopia of liberation and legal drinking on the streets. A gin on the commute to work you say? Good show, sir!
The temperature however, was a pessimistic bastard who didn't dare peep his head into the positive digits. Everyone suddenly turned into a drunken European Bambi, with fingers as numb as Kristin Stewart's facial expression. But in all honesty, the chill only added to the metro-chic the city seemed to ooze from every tastefully graffitied street corner. A lifetime away from the penis infected "street art" of Belfast. Not that I'm saying penis's can't be beautiful, but it's hard to appreciate something that often looks like it's from the reduced section of Tesco's deli.
50p? I think I'll give it a miss, thanks.
The few days in the captivating capital also gave me a free pass to embrace my crippling hipster urges. Drink this non-commercial beer while listening to electro music in and old power factory. While wearing a beanie. Well, if I must! And yes, even as I'm writing this I'm contemplating throwing a sharpened vinyl at myself. #youdontmakefriendswithhashtags
I've now come back down to earth with an almighty thud, thrown back into the depths of uni and work. An amalgamation of early starts, shit hair days and attempting to serve the general public without using the phrase, 'No I don't work here, I'm just wearing this libido killing uniform for the bant'.
Ahhh, La vie est belle.
*Bullshit.
I'm also trying to come to terms with once again being submerged in a city where culture is having a croissant with your copy of The Belfast Telegraph in the morning. Unless it's made with the blood, sweat and red wine induced tears of a baker named Pierre, I don't want to touch that flaky imposter. Which is coincidently my nickname when I don't use Head&Shoulders.
And with this short insight into my fleeting euro adventure I bid thee Auf Wiedersehen. And goodbye. And bonjour. xo
50p? I think I'll give it a miss, thanks.
The few days in the captivating capital also gave me a free pass to embrace my crippling hipster urges. Drink this non-commercial beer while listening to electro music in and old power factory. While wearing a beanie. Well, if I must! And yes, even as I'm writing this I'm contemplating throwing a sharpened vinyl at myself. #youdontmakefriendswithhashtags
I've now come back down to earth with an almighty thud, thrown back into the depths of uni and work. An amalgamation of early starts, shit hair days and attempting to serve the general public without using the phrase, 'No I don't work here, I'm just wearing this libido killing uniform for the bant'.
Ahhh, La vie est belle.
*Bullshit.
I'm also trying to come to terms with once again being submerged in a city where culture is having a croissant with your copy of The Belfast Telegraph in the morning. Unless it's made with the blood, sweat and red wine induced tears of a baker named Pierre, I don't want to touch that flaky imposter. Which is coincidently my nickname when I don't use Head&Shoulders.
And with this short insight into my fleeting euro adventure I bid thee Auf Wiedersehen. And goodbye. And bonjour. xo
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