Ampelmann – Always on The Move I flew to Berlin without anticipating I would plan to leave the last twenty years behind. I have rewritten this piece a dozen times. Initially I wrote about the beer tasting selection at the Lemke Brauhaus; and the all-you-can-eat-breakfast at circus-themed Wild Matilda’s - a dining experience so bizarre I believed I had gate-crashed a private party. Yet, the piece I had written was crap. I was merely describing places I’d visited and whether they were any good - it read like TripAdvisor, with better grammar. I felt readers might prefer a ‘must see’ listicle to reading about my feelings. I sat on it a few days, then tossed it aside. I don’t believe any of us travel merely to see stuff. If viewing the sights were the sole reason to visit places, we’d just Google pictures of destinations and leave it at that. We travel to make ourselves feel something different, if only for a while. I have a distaste for the word ‘wanderlust’ – I find it rather pretentious. My reason for booking a long weekend was simply because I was bored and pissed off. I’d been slogging away in my business for twenty years and had become uninspired and restless. It had been four years since I’d last left the UK. I’ve always acted on impulse without need of much research. I’d heard Berlin was worth a visit, and that was the sole reason for my choice of destination. I nabbed a cheap flight, a rucksack, and a couple of hundred Euros. Arriving at Alexanderplatz - the very centre of Berlin - I immediately felt at ease. I’ve visited many cities and the feeling on arrival is often of claustrophobia and frenzied activity. Berlin was chilled, efficient… restful, even. I watched trams glide smoothly across the vast plaza and was deeply satisfied by it all. The trope about Germans not crossing the road until the light turns green is indisputable fact. Even with no traffic in sight, I too found myself obeying this rule without question. The choice of deploying my own judgement as to whether to cross the road or not had been withdrawn; and you know what? It felt liberating. I warmed to the iconography on Berlin’s crossing lights. In Berlin the ‘green man’ is a rotund gent wearing a large hat. He is the ‘Ampelmann’ and he strides forward – with a sense of purpose. He’s a relic of communist East Germany and following the fall of the Berlin Wall there was a move to standardise and replace him with bland Western crossing lights. He was rescued by local artists and became a cherished mascot for the city. Berlin feels optimistic, a city striding somewhere good. Berlin then threw me a barrage of heavy rain. An all-day downpour soaked through my (supposedly) waterproof coat, then my hoody, and finally my t-shirt. Word to the wise, never leave your passport in a coat pocket! I sheltered in the café of the Circus Hostel - home to the David Hasselhoff Museum. The shrine, in the hostel’s basement, is worth a visit just to see the gilt-framed portrait of The Hoff, a photo-op worth taking. I felt a pang of bitterness that I didn’t indulge such whimsical spontaneity more often, and a regret that I had never experienced staying in a hostel… which, judging by the café, looked a damn good place. In my youth I was cripplingly shy and lacked the confidence to travel. I never took a gap-year. I got on the treadmill of a career, mortgage, pets – responsibilities. The lack of memorable experiences bugged me. My clipped wings were a source of deep frustration others were unable to comprehend. In that café - soaked to my skin - the irritation with my worklife, my lack of time, and a myriad of other concerns began to coalesce. A big idea started to form. Struck by my intense attraction to Berlin I Googled ‘sabbaticals’, ‘learn German’, ‘co-working spaces’ – and started sketching out a plan to spend more than just a long weekend in the city. Want to hear the best thing? So far, you’re the only person who knows about my plan.