
This used to be my umbrella….now sacrificial appeasement to the Nordic winds gods. “Mary Poppins!”, a friend said. I guess, Mary Poppins doesn’t buy her umbrellas at discount stores.

This used to be my umbrella….now sacrificial appeasement to the Nordic winds gods. “Mary Poppins!”, a friend said. I guess, Mary Poppins doesn’t buy her umbrellas at discount stores.
“We upgraded you to a superior suite”, the best welcome to a hotel ever! The hotel thoughtfully threw in a complimentary mini-bar stocked with plenty of champagne. And so began our weekend girls trip to Berlin. I travelled with an engineer who can read maps, and a cardiac technician just in case. Best travel-mates ever! No worries about getting lost or dying of a heart attack.

Of course, it is impossible not to meet at least one weirdo. A very enthusiastic man came up to us at the Copenhagen airport, asked us where we were going and also if we have ever been to Europe. Oh well, -Sweet guy but lacking in geography-, is what his class reports must have read like.
This was my first time in Berlin, I didn’t know much about the city and the only German I know is Liebfraumilch. I found out that Germans demonstrate in cars. We got caught in a huge demonstration against racism. It involved a long line of cars with posters on the windows and a honking every now and then. We get it dear Germans, you invented the car. Now can you get back to demonstrating on feet like the rest of us?
Our first view of the city was of bright and cosy christmas markets at various city squares during our ride from the airport to the hotel. It was only 4th is December, and yet not a single tree was spared the angel lights treatment. And aren’t we glad they take Christmas so seriously. SO PRETTY!

A bad picture of a typical christmas market where we warmed ourselves with glühwein.
I love all girls trips, especially with those that agree food and shopping tourism are *sometimes* more important than culture tourism. And sorry Germany, you are a great country, but I would be lying if I said that we went in search of german food.

Our hunt led us here. A hole in the wall that serves furious Korean fried chicken. Their chicken is so angry, it burns on the way in, and out. It is a must visit!

We were surprised by just how many asian restuarants are there in Berlin and their authentic offerings. No whitewashing of menus to please a European clientele and yet these restaurants were crowded! We ate very well at places like Transit, YamYam, and Monsieur Vuong. The last is possibly the most concieted chef in the world. His cafe has a HUGE picture of him, the staff wear t-shirts with his face on them and one can buy those t shirts off the menu! Sounds like a tourist trap, but he serves great Vietnamese food.
We did fit in some history and culture. Look what I spotted at the Berlin wall! The Indian tricolour!

When not walking and working up an appetite, we hung out at absinth bars and took pictures even though photography is forbidden. This absinth bar is the perfect place if you get a kick out of doing things that feel illegal. (Operative word feel )

We did encounter the green fairy. We left feeling very envious of Berliners; that they get to live there and not us. I love Copenhagen, but I often wish it was a bit more vibrant and more affordable. I think I have been in Denmark too long, I couldn’t stop exclaiming over how less things cost in Berlin. Berlin, I am not done with you yet, I am coming back again, and again.
Some more pictures.

See what I said about Berlin being serious about Christmas? Only the 4th of December a bored looking Santa was already hanging out at the mall.

Grim art on the Berlin wall.
What I said about demonstrating in cars.
So my dear mother came to visit. A lovely time was had by all once initial doubts were cleared. Doubts such as…(on Istegade, Copenhagen’s sex district)- My mum pointing at every girl showing more than an inch of cleavage and thighs, “Is that a prostitute?” NO MOTHER! It is summer. Those are summer clothes!
“No mother, that is not in fact the most generous block of chocolate cake you have ever seen. It is rugbrød. Oprah said it tastes like earth and we all know Oprah never lies. What else do you expect from bread that has ‘rug’ as a part of its name?”
“No Mummyjaan, that is not in fact a big bowl of chocolate mousse. It is pureed pig liver, Danish food at its most elegant.”
“Yes mummyjaan, the tourist brochures lied about English being widely used inDenmark. Sorry, there are hardly any public signs in English even at tourist spots.”
Usually the ‘outsider’, it was so much fun to show off beautiful Copenhagen to someone as an ‘insider’. Have I ever told you how much I love Copenhagen? What I love most about this city is the absence of skyscrapers. None of the humans getting drowned and dwarfed by concrete business here. I like that one can get fresh air and a clear view of the blue skies from almost any part of CPH.

I played tourist guide to my mum on my trusted Nihola cargo bike. She graciously didn’t show any signs of disappointment. And well, why should she? That tricycle is the culmination of years of her hard work to make sure we lacked for nothing; of keeping us like little princesses surrounded by a battery of maids and chauffeurs. Doesn’t EVERY Indian mother dream of her daughter someday becoming a rickshaw driver?
I probably won’t find employment as a tourist guide though. I am all, “That is a castle of some king. Let us assume he was Danish. That is yet another castle, also probably of a Danish king because it is inDenmark, yes, that is in fact yet ANOTHER castle”. I cheated her out of few castles tours by telling her that once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.
The husband and my mum became football buddies. My mum, like most people fromNE India, knows ALL the rules of football and surprised the husband by knowing the rules for ‘offside’ in detail. She is every guys dream mother in law. Of course we HAD TO take her to watch a football match at Parken, the national stadium. Every tourist must make it a point to watch a football match during their visit to Copenhagen.
One evening the discussion for some reason came around to how my husband never gets angry with me. Annoyed-yes, frustrated-yes. Angry- never. To which my husband said that there is no point it getting angry with someone who has a worse temper. WTF! Kya logic hai yaar? Now I don’t know whether to get angry to say awww. It made my mum very happy though.