Darkness has gently spread its gloomy coat over the roofs of the city. Berlin, once again, is captured in the hands of night owls. The ones that work and the ones that celebrate.
Berlin is two faced. Two faced it its finest way.
The city that never sleeps has to be Berlin after all. Anybody who visited the big apple realized, that this promising slogan only fits the noisy metropolis partly. But who needs New York when we have Berlin.
Berlin, Berlin, so wonderfully untamed in the middle of proper Germany.
The lights of a house reveal a lot. Windows agleam during darkness, even though the time of day demands a different behavior.
The shining narrates pensive writers, young parents and those who glitter when it becomes dark.
Those who ignore the law of time seem to be my favorite kind.
The moment I leave my apartment, I am greeted by the cheers of those who fete. A nightly gathering of gourmets who feast on life. Out on the town and willing to tell everybody about their emotional state. Repressed feelings are reserved for daytime. During the night, the cage of emotions is open wide and the usually so controlled behavior is free to run wild. Happiness, Anger, Enthusiasm. Out of the body and into the world!
And in between these expressions of being alive and the good slumbering citizen, they rest: Spätis!
On every corner, in every Kiez. Some glamorous, others dilapidated. Products from all over the world, others advertised with today’s title of honor, the one that shall bring the world back in order; ” Bio” can be purchased whenever one feels like it. Spätis belong to Berlin as the Masquerade to Venice.
Chandeliers wobble in one Späti. In another, the owner of this little paradise does. The nightclub next door ensures that both equally lose the position of balance.
Oh, in what magical land did I end up. I can not believe my luck. Many reasons to feel like Alice in wonderland in a city like Berlin. Spätis are one of them. Small and big stores that distribute all sorts of useful and amazingly useless merchandise. Cat food, champagne, candy or a weird last minute present. Nothing that can’t be found in these little stores of wonder. Most locals have found their favourite Späti guy, a Späti for late night snacks, and one for spontaneous parties that seem to happen out of the blue and are often so much better, than the long prepared ones.
Späti crawls have become more legendary than any pub crawl. These are the nights when the street becomes the club, the park our backyard and Späti owners barkeeper for everyone.
Adjusting to the situation, they have to transform into a philosopher, a judge or a guide at any given time. The storys these gentleman have witnessed could fill many pages.
Laughing faces of international guests, reflect in the dancing lights of a Späti disco-ball. The world comes to visit Berlin and our Spätis greet them all.
“Roll up and please come in! Beer Crates are our seats and delicacies for drunken souls can be found inside.No need to visit a fancy bar. Stay with friends, stay with us.”
And the hearts of students, travellers and undiscovered artists are elated. Celebrating life must not be expensive after all.
Ernest Hemingway would most likely hang out in Spätis now a days. Cheap coffee, cigarettes and a place to sit in for hours without getting kicked out, would have suited the lost generation well.
Strangers become friends and friends are able to see the strangeness in the other. It is good to look at each other with the expression of newly discovered features.
And when Football fever overcomes the capital every two years, Spätis will take care of the feverish. Cold drinks and seats placed in front of big screens to get through those weeks of excitement. A punk rocker will sit next to a latte macchiato drinking, Prenzlauer Berg mom cheering for the same team. The spirit of togetherness overcomes both. And for a brief moment they realize, one could not be who they are without the other. Berlin is Berlin, because of them both.
And the face of day raises wrinkles, while night honours the return of the blue hour.
As soon as the cold and wet season returns, the tiny shops will supply us with mulled wine. If preferred, of course, with some extra rum. A room filled with cigarette smoke and faces that tell stories.
What has become unthinkable in most parts of a clean, perfection driven, western world still exists in this city, which has become Germany’s black sheep and colourful unicorn at the same time.
Are the Späti-owners aware of how much they shape Berlin’s image? How Spätis have become an important part of this spot of madness?
Cult and Culture too often get most recognition when the era has already passed.
Let us celebrate before perfection and regulation take over once again.
Appreciate a component that contributes humbly to the feeling of freedom.
Berghain dress code or ball gown. Maybe this makes an impression on cliché admirers. Nonsense in a Späti. As long as we stay loyal to them as they are to us.
Because the culture of Spätis have become a constituent of Berlin.
illustrations: Sophia Halamoda
