1st spring meat inspection
I like winter. Everyone is dressed heavily and the imperfections of the human physique are hidden under thick puffer jackets. Scarves cover runny noses and bad-tempered faces. In the spring, mood generally rises, and proportionally the covers fall or the winter clothes are mothballed.
You know spring is here in Berlin when you see the first, mostly male, cyclist in shorts and a t-shirt at eight degrees, as if you could just pedal away and outsmart the still wintry temperatures by dressing like in midsummer. Other bad indicators of the changing seasons are bare legs and miniskirts and of course the inevitable man’s sandal. But that is also worn in Berlin and the rest of the country in winter, albeit with socks. A nightmare! Marcus Weingartner
2. The junk music is coming back
When the karaoke starts at Mauerpark and the queue at Hokey-Pokey causes more irritation than the price per ice cream ball, then it’s spring. And then they come back onto the streets, the musicians who actually can’t do it. Preferably on Oderberger Strasse, but also on other broad streets, they run from café to restaurant to bar and play exactly these three songs: “Despacito”, “Careless Whisper” and “Bésame Mucho”. Unfortunately, the truth is that you can’t play the instruments.
Of course this is not always the case. Especially at Mauerpark there are often singer-songwriters from Iceland or Australia who sell their CDs in a case and can sometimes create magical moments at sunset. Then you forget the turmoil and the price you just paid for an ice cream cone and look for the television tower so that it can be seen in the background when you take a selfie with your companion.
But most of the time you’re sitting in the café and unfortunately have to ask the street musicians to stop. Then, when they protest and say they’ve practiced, all I can say is, “But not enough!” I’m sure there’s a sad story behind it, some form of exploitation and forced begging in the form of “Despacito.” They also don’t look happy standing there blowing the triola. It looks like agonizing shift work. And now her season starts again. Soren Kittel
3. Rush for the highlights: It gets crowded in spring
You may know the pictures of Mount Everest and the crowds of people who want to climb the highest mountain on earth in the Himalayas. Well, there is also a Himalayan mountain range in Berlin, or at least an adventure world based on the original in the zoo, which has been open since spring 2022. A visit with our son was long overdue, after all, not only do his favorite animals, the red pandas, live in the Tierpark-Himalaya, but you can also climb rocks there and look down on Berlin from above. A real highlight for our little Kraxler.
We climbed the first time on a cold Berlin winter day, it was wonderful. Apart from us, no one had got lost on the summit, we thought we were in an insider tip, after all, the adventure world is not easy to find on the large area. Then we recently made the mistake of heading for the “high mountains in the middle of the metropolis” again on a warm spring day at the weekend.
What can I say, thousands of other families in Berlin had the same idea that day. Everywhere you could see colorful jackets and howling little climbers could be heard. In my mind’s eye I saw the masses of Mount Everest. My son was arguing with another kid about where to climb here and where not. Later he said to me: “Mom, it was nicer here the other day.” Spring in Berlin, especially after the Corona years, also means having to share the most beautiful places in the city with everyone again. And to develop escape reflexes because of all the locals and tourists. Anne Vorvorringer
4. The period of indifference
Actually, you can’t hate spring at all. Just like you can’t hate strawberry ice cream. Or puppies. But in combination, yes. The other day for example. There was this man in Gleisdreieck Park, boomer phenotype in Ray-Ban sunglasses and khaki zip-off cargo pants, structural complacency personified. problems? Obviously all outsourced.
In any case, the first rays of spring sun were just falling on the park bench, and because the master had overreached himself with three balls, the little dog was allowed to slurp. I got sick. I never get sick otherwise. Was that still prosperity neglect or already animal cruelty?
Spring is the show-off among the seasons. Look what I can do! Suddenly everything starts to grow and sprout, the days get longer and all the birds that are or are still there think they have to be louder than Vivaldi’s violins. We humans become hormone-crazed beings doing things we haven’t done in months. In spring, not only do registrations on dating portals increase, but so do suicide rates.
After autumn blues and winter fado, the time that sounds like a lullaby to my ears is beginning. I get tired, listless. Life: an area of immeasurable indifference. Where is the strength to hate something or smear strawberry ice cream in a boomer’s face? Paul Linke
5. Why the cute caterpillars on the birches are not cute at all
For a long time, hay fever was a term I couldn’t relate to: if you have hay fever, you just have to wrap yourself in a scarf, that was one of my sayings. I regard the fact that such a malaise afflicted me at an advanced age as just punishment for my ignorance. Ten years ago winter had lasted forever, and one day in April all the flowers exploded at once. Suddenly there was this itchy eye. And the sneeze. And the snot.
I didn’t want to spoil the spring and decided that it was a temporary phenomenon. In May it was over again – and forgotten.
Then spring came again. And it happened again. Yes, you can get hay fever too late, said the nice pharmacist, who immediately sold me eye drops for conjunctivitis and the antihistamine cetirizine. The tablets were of little help against swollen, red-bordered haws. But their advantage is that you sleep well at night, and unfortunately also during the day. And so I learned to hate spring with its cute caterpillars on the hazel bushes, alders and birches.
Against hay fever there is the so-called hyposensitization: for three years you can have a small dose of the allergy trigger injected by the doctor every month. My eyes don’t itch as much now. But I remain skeptical. Andrew Copetz
6. High season for transitional jackets: mediocrity in material form
There’s a song called “transitional jacket”. It comes from the punk band Detlef and consists of ragged guitar riffs and lots of screaming. “Too much snow and too much rain, 13 degrees, I’m against it,” roars the singer – and then again and again: “Lightweight jacket, lightweight jacket, lightweight jacket”.
In fact, it is not without a certain comedy that such a song was written for the transitional jacket. This most conformist of all clothes, which has about as much to do with punk rock as Christian Lindner. It is a kind of original German uniform, which is making its unfortunate big appearance again right now – also and especially in springtime Berlin.
Now you could say: a transitional jacket – that can actually be anything. A light wool jacket, for example, a thin blazer or a not too thick bomber. But what is commonly referred to as the Ü term is a mostly boxy zipped jacket, often with cuffs on the long sleeves, preferably dyed in brazen colors such as khaki, navy or olive. Sometimes the between-seasons jacket also comes along as a light buffer.
However, it is always a question of a really bad and now omnipresent piece of clothing that has nothing to offer other than its pure practicality. Not too thick on warm days, not too thin in cool hours – the material mediocrity. Christian Lindner certainly has one too. Manuel Almeida Vergara
#finally #winter #hate #Berlin #Spring
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