{"id":2861,"date":"2021-04-14T06:45:02","date_gmt":"2021-04-14T06:45:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/uberlin.co.uk\/now-that-youre-a-berliner-uberlinuberlin\/"},"modified":"2021-04-14T06:45:02","modified_gmt":"2021-04-14T06:45:02","slug":"now-that-youre-a-berliner-uberlinuberlin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/uberlin.co.uk\/now-that-youre-a-berliner-uberlinuberlin\/","title":{"rendered":"Now that you're a Berliner… : uberlinuberlin"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Now that you’re a Berliner…<\/h3>\n

by Guest Blogger<\/span><\/h4>\n
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By Giulia Pines, author of\u00a0Finding Your Feet in Berlin: A Guide to Making a Home in the Hauptstadt<\/em><\/a>. Her lively book gives the answers to every practical question regarding: history, official stuff, finding a place to live, learning German and other expat resources (yes, including \u00fcberlin!). Scroll down for a chance to win a copy, and find out what you should know now that you’re *really* a Berliner.<\/strong><\/p>\n

So, you say you\u2019ve been here for a while, now? You\u2019ve got a job, an apartment and a Sp\u00e4ti owner who always says hi to you? You\u2019ve survived a whole winter<\/a> (or at least a few months of it) and lived to tell the tale? You\u2019ve already been practically run over by a speeding cyclist and yelled at by a cab driver (only to curse back in return)? You\u2019ve memorised the U-Bahn and don\u2019t actually need to carry around a map anymore? Well, congratulations: you\u2019ve made it\u2026 halfway.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s because, luckily or unluckily for you, becoming a local is no step-by-step process. Learning to know and love and conquer<\/i> a city is an experience for which there is no rulebook; a mind-boggling journey of twists and turns, of failing and falling and getting back up again, of trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. Only you will know when you\u2019re finally at home here, and only you will sense when calling yourself a local stops sounding like wishful thinking and begins to ring true.<\/p>\n

In the meantime, though, here are some tips to help you navigate the wild, roiling waves of the city, in those first few months when you think you might drown in the wonderfulness of it all\u2014that is, until something fundamental snaps you back to the surface. When those little glitches fail to rile you because you can anticipate them before they happen, that\u2019s when you\u2019ll know you\u2019re a Berliner.<\/p>\n

Now That You\u2019re a Berliner, You\u2019ll Know\u2026<\/strong><\/h3>\n

<\/h3>\n

\u2026 To cross on the red in the right circumstances.<\/b><\/h3>\n

Sure, you\u2019ve been told it\u2019s the greatest sin in Germany – that whatever you do, you should never ever<\/i> cross the street on a red pedestrian signal (Ampelm\u00e4nnchen<\/i> or \u201clittle traffic light man\u201d in the former east, as the lights are actually shaped into little men walking or standing still, now a beloved symbol of the city). Indeed, Germans are notorious for following this particular rule even when no one is watching (it could be 3am with not a car in sight, and the only other person at the crosswalk will wait for green). You may have heard stories from friends who were yelled at by old cranks when they crossed the road before the light turned green, or given absolutely penetrating looks by parents standing patiently at the curb with young children. But really, 99 times out of 100, the worst that can happen to you is just that: a few nasty looks, a few raised voices, a couple of people who seem to think they need to give you an abbreviated etiquette lesson. By the 100th<\/sup> time you may actually run into a policeman, but the worst he\u2019ll probably do is scold you lightly and tell you to be on your way.<\/p>\n

This is really one of those rules that you can break, once you feel comfortable doing so. Sure, it might be best not to exercise your human right to traverse the crosswalk freely when there are young children around if you fear the wrath of their parents, but you can always reason it away: most parents who are adamantly against crossing on red argue that it sets a bad example for their children. But really, blindly following the red or the green man sets a bad example as well, and can be downright dangerous if a car is speeding or goes through a red light after you\u2019ve taken your first steps into the crosswalk. It is a far, far better thing to teach children to observe what\u2019s going on around them, assess the situation, and then cross when all signs point to it being safe.<\/p>\n

Of course, as with many rules that are meant to be broken, this one is also occasionally meant to be followed, and for good reason. Besides being yelled at by senior citizens, there\u2019s nothing more embarrassing than having to jump out of the way to dodge a honking, oncoming car just after you blithely, ever so nonchalantly waltzed into the street on red.<\/p>\n

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\u2026 Not to begin every conversation with \u201cDo you speak English?\u201d when what you really mean is, \u201cI\u2019m sorry I don\u2019t speak German.\u201d<\/b><\/h3>\n

<\/b>You may have felt it before: that slight twinge of embarrassment or shame when you\u2019re in a foreign country, have to communicate with someone, and don\u2019t yet know whether he or she will be able to communicate with you. The only thing to do is begin with \u201cDo you speak English?\u201d It\u2019s a slippery, precarious slope: only a few more of those charming conversation starters and you\u2019ll be on your way towards becoming one of those<\/i> tourists.<\/p>\n

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Luckily, you live in a city where people are<\/i> very likely to speak English\u2014or at least enough English to get you what you want. But why not start by assuming this? Start by assuming that they are better in English than you probably are in German, and give them the benefit of the doubt. A perfect opening phrase to use, which will get you the same results as the dreaded \u201cdo you speak English?\u201d but with far more respect implied, is the more polite, subtle, probing, \u201cCan we speak English?\u201d This does double duty, not only assuming that your speaking partner is already bilingual, but also handing over the proverbial reins: of course, it is implied that the conversation will continue in English, but it also suggests that the choice rests not with you, but with the person you are addressing.<\/p>\n

What\u2019s more, when you get to the point where you probably can<\/i> speak enough German to conduct the conversation in that language, but perhaps do not feel quite as confident as you should, you can ask the question in German instead (\u201cK\u00f6nnen wir Englisch sprechen?\u201d) and bask in the well-earned satisfaction of having your partner reply, \u201cAber Dein Deutsch ist viel besser als mein Englisch!\u201d (\u201cYour German is far better than my English!\u201d)<\/p>\n

\u2026 Not to make blanket statements about \u201cWessis\u201d versus \u201cOssis\u201d unless you really know what you\u2019re talking about (in which case you\u2019re probably an Ossi, no wait, a Wessi).<\/b><\/h3>\n

Not\u00a0long ago, Germany was two countries; this you know for sure.\u00a0 What you might not know, however, is that it kind of, sort of still is\u2026 at least in the minds of some Germans.<\/p>\n

You may not really get it until you get to Berlin, and even then it can be somewhat hard to believe, but each year some newspaper (or at least your first German teacher, eager to make an impression on you) reports that an astonishingly high percentage of East Germans wish the Berlin Wall were still up. This may sound insane considering what the Ossis went through under ruthless dictatorship (by the way, don\u2019t call it that in front of an Ossi unless you know them well), but it makes perfect sense considering what they\u2019ve been through since. Instead of feeling like they\u2019d reunited with a long last friend, the other half of their homeland, many Ossis (East Germans, taken from Ost<\/i> for East) believe that their culture, their beliefs, and the entire history of their short-lived nation were taken over by a country that had become entirely foreign to them. Going back to a reunited Germany meant they were now in the world of the Wessi (from the German word West<\/i>).<\/p>\n

In fact, when the Wall fell, East Germans had so much catching up to do, it was almost inevitable they would fall behind. And fall behind they did, as statistics show that East German cities and towns continue to shrink, mostly as the result of the exact brain-drain the Soviets feared when they put up a wall in the first place: young people with means, education, or any small amount of talent still tend to leave East Germany for better prospects in the West. What they find when they get there, however, is a society that seems to be rigged against them, with very few former citizens of the DDR winning promotions and career advancements, let alone reaching the tops of their fields. (One notable exception, it should be said, is Chancellor Angela Merkel, although there are even those who would attribute her every misstep to her East German background.) A recent article in translation on Spiegel Online<\/a> referred to this as \u201ca different type of glass ceiling,\u201d observing that, even a couple of decades after the Wall has come down, \u201cat times, it feels as if East and West Germans are becoming more and more estranged.\u201d
<\/a><\/p>\n

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The only way to really understand what it\u2019s like to be an Ossi is to talk to some former citizens of East Germany, and when you do, make no assumptions or authoritative statements, because you\u2019ll realise pretty quickly how little you know. Many older Ossis still chuckle at what they went through and what they had to do to survive, while some still insist, as their desire to rebuild the Berlin Wall might suggest, that things were better back then. There\u2019s no way to go back in time and find out what it was really like, and the number of people with vivid memories of East Germany will continue to dwindle over the next few decades. Honour their experiences by listening to them and accepting that, in the newly reunited German Republic, everything is not as it seems.<\/p>\n

\u2026 To leave all those comments about Schwaben<\/i> to the Germans. <\/b><\/h3>\n

Even if you\u2019ve only been here for a week, you\u2019ve probably already sensed that there\u2019s a debate about gentrification raging right in your neighbourhood. That\u2019s because, after years of seemingly paying a pittance for a palace, Berliners are starting to suffer from a drastic rise in rents for which they are probably, at some point, going to blame you<\/i>. Yes, whether it\u2019s fair or not, as a non-German new Berliner, you will likely be faced with the wrath of people who have been here for longer, either directly or indirectly. And it\u2019s really not fun. Complaints about gentrification in which you become the culprit are a double-edged sword: you\u2019re basically being told, in one fell swoop, that not only was the city better before you got here, it actually got worse because<\/i> you decided to come. Whether you ignore these comments or feel terribly hurt by them, one thing is bound to make you feel better: the Schwaben<\/i> have it worse.<\/b><\/p>\n

Who are the Schwaben<\/i>, you might ask? Some little-known tribe the Romans vanquished in the year 52 BC, on their way to tussle with the Gauls? Some 1970\u2019s electronic band that came seeking fame and fortune and was summarily kicked out of the city because Berliners weren\u2019t ready for techno yet? No, the Schwaben<\/i> (Swabians) are alive and well, and they\u2019ve taken over Berlin, as anyone who isn\u2019t one of them would have you believe. They come from a region of the same name (Swabia in English) in southwest Germany that compromises the area of Baden-W\u00fcrttemburg and part of Bavaria, and is known as one of the richest parts of Germany. Like Bavarians, Swabians have their own culture, history, and cuisine, along with a dialect that can seem incomprehensible\u2014even laughable\u2014to Germans who aren\u2019t from there. Over the years they\u2019ve been the butt of many jokes and the victims of many an insult from the rest of the country, but perhaps none so cruel as the accusation that they are ruining Berlin.<\/p>\n

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True, many of the people who rushed in to buy up the city just after the Wall fell were very wealthy Germans from the south, and some of them were from Schwaben. Even today, with Prenzlauer Berg thoroughly gentrified and Friedrichshain and Kreuzberg well on their way, you\u2019ll still see graffiti against the Schwaben defacing many a new storefront or recently renovated building. You\u2019ll even hear someone drunkenly railing against them on public transport every once in a while. But really, regardless of whether the rumours are true, where is most of the antagonism coming from, and who is it helping? In fact, many of the people who grumble the loudest about the so-called Swabian takeover of Berlin originally come from richer, more prosperous areas of the country, lured here by the same things that brought everyone else. The sad truth of the matter is that many of Berlin\u2019s original Berliners left these neighbourhoods long ago; people who survived an East German dictatorship only to be felled by capitalism in the end after all. Now those who replaced them back in the early \u201890s are complaining about the scourge of international wealth sweeping the city, pushing them out. It\u2019s playing out in every popular city in the world, and will no doubt repeat yet again. But until Berliners find some way to break the cycle, they\u2019ll still be one word for their ire: Schwaben<\/i>.<\/p>\n

\u2026 Not to make jokes about Kennedy\u2019s \u201cIch bin ein Berliner\u201d speech. <\/b><\/h3>\n

In 1963, American President John F. Kennedy addressed thousands of West Berlin citizens in front of the Rathaus Sch\u00f6neberg, on a square now called John-F-Kennedy-Platz. The aim was to send a clear message to the Soviets that Americans stood with West Germany and West Berlin, at that point still separated from the rest of the country and just as fearful as ever of a Russian takeover. The speech was a great moment for both the president and West Berliners, who needed all the encouragement they could get, and has gone down in history as one of Kennedy\u2019s best, but most people have very little memory of what it was meant to convey. In fact, they remember one thing and one thing only: when Kennedy, in what was meant to be an expression of solidarity, uttered the immortal words \u201cIch bin ein Berliner,\u201d he was actually making a horrible gaffe, as \u201cein Berliner\u201d is not a person who lives in Berlin, but rather a type of jelly donut. <\/b><\/p>\n

Comedians are still thanking him to this day. There\u2019s no telling who reported the embarrassment first, but the media latched on to the story, turning it into something of a legend, a particularly hilarious bit of pop culture history that everyone knows, but still brings up as if they\u2019re the first to mention it. The trouble is, John F. Kennedy\u2019s phrase was not a mistranslation at all, and what\u2019s more, would not have sounded particularly funny to Berliners anyway. That\u2019s because what some Germans label a \u201cBerliner\u201d is actually called a \u201cPfannkuchen\u201d in Berlin, and even a \u201cKrapfen\u201d in various other parts of the country. What\u2019s more, due to an obscure bit of German grammar that allows the meaning of a sentence to change entirely, depending on the article used, what Kennedy said was exactly correct for someone who is not actually from Berlin, but wants to express solidarity with the Berliners. While \u201cich bin Berliner\u201d literally means, \u201cI am a person who comes from Berlin,\u201d in the context of a presidential speech, \u201cich bin ein<\/i> Berliner\u201d could only be interpreted as \u201cI am a jelly donut\u201d by the most obtuse of Germans. What Kennedy actually meant to say was, \u201cI am one with the people of Berlin,\u201d so it\u2019s a good thing that\u2019s exactly how you would translate \u201cich bin ein Berliner.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\u2026 To get out of town.<\/b><\/h3>\n

The comparison exists for a reason: Berlin is to Germany as New York is to the United States. Both seem to exist on separate dimensional planes, operating independently of their parent countries, bucking all national trends and clich\u00e9s when it comes to defining them. True, Berlin is the capital of Germany, whereas New York is very happy not to be the capital of the US, but both still have a tendency to keep their distance, attracting newcomers with the lure of that otherness and then holding on tight for a lifetime. True, most Germans who move to Berlin have probably seen at least some<\/i> of their country outside of the capital\u2014at the very least, the area where they were born. It\u2019s a good bet, however, that a percentage of Berlin\u2019s international population hasn\u2019t been farther than the S-Bahn can carry them.<\/p>\n

Try to remedy this situation early on, since the longer you stay in Berlin the harder you may find it is to leave. Berlin is an island no more; no wall surrounds its western districts and there are no scowling East German guards at its borders. Getting out can be just as easy as getting on a regional train to Brandenburg, but you may want to venture even further, going as far north as Hamburg or as far south as Munich to remind yourself that there are<\/i> other cities in Germany, and people who love them just as much as you love Berlin.<\/p>\n

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This you knew already to some extent of course, but what you may not have realised is how truly rich and varied German culture is. It\u2019s easy enough to lump all Germans together, telling yourself there\u2019s Berlin and then there\u2019s\u2026 the rest of Germany. But actually, there\u2019s Berlin and Leipzig<\/a> and Munich and Hamburg and Cologne and Frankfurt and Stuttgart and Dusseldorf and Bremen and Freiburg and and and\u2026. \u00a0What\u2019s more, since modern Germany is actually a fairly new concept and a fairly young country (about 150 years old, dating from the formation of the First German Reich in 1871, which shrank considerably after World War II), its different regions, which used to be kingdoms of their own, still display wonderful variations in terms of culture, religion, language, and shared history. When most people think of Germany, they think of beer, and Lederhosen<\/i>, and women who look like milkmaids skipping through flower-covered fields surrounded by snow-capped mountains. This can all be found in Bavaria, in that part of southern Germany that shares the Alps with Austria and Switzerland. Somehow, the powers that be got together and decided it was better for Germany to have an image that involved alcoholic beverages, beautiful scenery, and blond busty women in old fashioned clothing than grey skies, dark winters, and the socio-economic inequality left behind by about forty years of dictatorship.<\/p>\n

Go figure. Or better yet, go see what the rest of the country has to offer, and come back with an entirely new concept of what it means to be German<\/a> (if you can figure it out\u2026 most of the country is still trying).<\/p>\n

\u2026 To do your shopping well in advance of a big holiday.<\/b><\/h3>\n

If you plan on throwing a party for New Year\u2019s Eve, you\u2019d do best to make a list of everything you need on the 29th\u00a0and go shopping on the 30th. If you have to work on the 30th or are otherwise engaged with post-Christmas celebrations, make the most of December 31st: wake up painfully early and march to your nearest grocery store. Better yet, be ready to visit five of them. December 31st isn\u2019t just the day before a big holiday in Germany, you see, it is actually more like the day before the apocalypse. By this time you should be at home, basking in the warmth of the fire (or at least that particular feeling of smugness you get from being prepared). If you\u2019re unlucky enough to be out in this particular post-apocalyptic frenzy, however, prepare yourself: you\u2019ll need emotional strength as well as physical stamina to brave long lines and not just empty but dusty supermarket shelves.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Best to plan early. Or better yet, outsource the work: dig out that dusty bottle of Sekt<\/i> from last year, back when you learned your lesson by throwing a part of your own, and head to someone else\u2019s house for a Silvester<\/i> celebration that is all the more enjoyable because it isn\u2019t yours.<\/p>\n

\u2026 To experience May Day in Kreuzberg once, and only once.<\/b><\/h3>\n

You\u2019ve heard it before, and you\u2019ve come to believe it through multiple trips to the B\u00fcrgeramt<\/i>, Finanzamt<\/i>, or Ausl\u00e4nderbeh\u00f6rde<\/i>. Germans are orderly. They are very proper and orderly. They are so perfectly orderly, in fact, they tend to obey completely inane rules that would make the rest of the world\u2019s inhabitants scratch their heads in confusion or double over in mirth (like only crossing the street when the light turns green for them, for example).<\/p>\n

But there are a couple of days a year when Germans prove this is all for show, letting loose in a manner so uncontrolled and truly frightening, it would make the rest of the world\u2019s inhabitants run and hide. One of these occasions is Silvester<\/i>, the New Year\u2019s Eve celebration at which everyone under the age of–oh never mind, just everyone<\/i>\u2014buys firecrackers and fireworks and begins to set them off in the middle of the city, no matter how many people with a heart condition might be walking by at that exact moment.<\/p>\n

May Day is another one of these celebrations. May 1st is based on ancient rituals celebrating the traditional beginning of spring (although by this point spring has been around for more than a month). In combination with Walpurgisnacht<\/i> or the Night of the Witches on April 30th, this holiday has become a chance for many Germans to frolic outdoors, get quite drunk, and light bonfires. As a national holiday, it is also the perfect opportunity for political groups to campaign for worker\u2019s rights, leading to a number of rallies that, depending on the tone of the evening, can quickly descend into riots. In some parts of the city, activities can reach a dangerous fever pitch, leading to broken glass, cars set on fire, and clashes between civilians and police, who usually come prepared, dressing in full riot gear for the occasion (which of course serves more to provoke than protect).<\/p>\n

In an attempt to combat this violent streak, Kreuzberg has instituted the MyFest, a day-long street festival with food and drink, DJs and live music, and dancing and partying alongside the scheduled protests and demonstrations of just about every left wing organisation in town. The area around Mariannenplatz and Bethaniendamm in Kreuzberg can become the rowdiest or the most exciting depending on how you look at it, while Oranienstrasse and the streets running parallel fill up with revellers, making it hard to make your way outside if you live in the neighbourhood, and even harder to resist joining in.<\/p>\n

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Join in or don\u2019t join in; it\u2019s entirely up to you. But you should probably experience this festival at least once, just to see what all the fuss is about. Then, in years to come, when you\u2019d rather go out of town for the weekend or have a much more civilized picnic on the banks of the Spree, at least you\u2019ll be able to speak from a position of authority: you\u2019ll know what you\u2019re missing. Just don\u2019t go by car.<\/p>\n

\u2026 That Sch\u00f6nefeld Airport is in the C zone.<\/b><\/h3>\n

Not long ago, there was a mythical time when Sch\u00f6nefeld Airport was considered to be \u201cquite close\u201d to the centre of the city. Then all that changed, and suddenly Sch\u00f6nefeld was \u201ca bit far,\u201d although it hadn\u2019t actually moved position while the city of Berlin slept. No, something far more insidious had taken place, and seemingly overnight: the city of Berlin had adjusted the boundaries of the A and B zones so that Sch\u00f6nefeld suddenly lay outside of them. Sch\u00f6nefeld was now in the C zone, and there was nothing anyone could do about it except reach across the great divide, previously only crossed on daytrips to Potsdam<\/a>, and pay a few cents extra to buy an ABC zone ticket.<\/p>\n

While this may not have been a big issue for most Berliners, it became a very big deal to unsuspecting tourists, who had no idea which ticket they needed to buy for which zones, and the ticket controllers who love them. In fact, ticket checkers had such a ball with this one, they would wait on empty trains sitting at the Sch\u00f6nefeld Airport terminus, looking like normal passengers having a chat as the cars filled up with tourists towing wheeled suitcases. The moment the train doors closed, however, the two would be quick on their feet, jumping up and shouting \u201cFahrscheinkontrolle,\u201d which most of the train didn\u2019t understand anyway, and proceeding to fine anyone who had failed to notice that Sch\u00f6nefeld Airport had hopped the B\/C zone border.<\/p>\n

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Perhaps you\u2019ve already been one of these people, either as a tourist coming to Berlin for the first time or as a relatively new Berliner, just back from a weekend trip to somewhere warmer in Europe. As the S-Bahn train coasted into town, and you breathed the sweet air of Berlin\u2019s southwest industrial districts, you were suddenly snapped out of your reverie with quite the rude awakening, given the harsh welcome Berlin\u2019s transit officials apparently decided you needed. \u201cAll right, Berlin,\u201d you thought, as you slipped back into semi-consciousness, clutching your reprimand in the form of a 40 Euro pay slip made out to the BVG. \u201cYou win this one, but not without a fight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2026 To stick around for a whole winter, or risk the wrath of your friends.<\/h3>\n

You may have heard it gets cold here\u2026 pretty damn cold. You may not have realised, however, that the cold is only half the problem. When you\u2019re waking up for work in the morning and it\u2019s still dark outside, or you\u2019re coming home at night and it\u2019s already dark again, all you\u2019ll long for is a little hopeful ray of sunshine through your office window, or a glimpse of brightness on your weekends. In times like these, it can be tempting to go back whence you came, or at least to hightail it to warmer climes like southern Spain or, you know, Australia<\/i>.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Think of your friends when you do this, though. Not really because they will miss you terribly and bemoan your absence at numerous Christmas and New Year\u2019s parties, but rather because they are almost guaranteed to hate you upon your return. You see, summer<\/a> is when all the wimps, the hangers-on, and the takers come to Berlin to enjoy the city at the expense of its year-round inhabitants. They lounge on the grass in parks they\u2019ve never seen snow-covered, don\u2019t even bother to bring a pair of shoes that aren\u2019t sandals, hardly own an article of clothing warm enough to be considered a jacket. And why should they? They\u2019re planning on leaving by the end of August anyway, or maybe, just maybe, sticking around until summer\u2019s last gasp, Germany\u2019s Tag der Deutschen Einheit<\/i> (Day of Germany Unity) on October 3rd.<\/p>\n

In our minds\u2014at least, those of us who do manage to stick around until we\u2019re slip-sliding away down ice-covered streets\u2014these people are actually hurting us with their ignorance. They don\u2019t know how much pain the city gives us in winter, so how can they possibly share our deep appreciation of it in summer? For that matter, if they think it\u2019s is so painful here in winter (because we keep telling them so), they\u2019ll never stick around long enough to discover the city\u2019s small, cold weather joys, like sipping Gl\u00fchwein<\/i> (mulled wine) with friends while walking around Berlin\u2019s many glorious Christmas markets, or the thrill of sledding down one of its little-known hills (they do exist), or the satisfaction of actually getting all your friends to leave their homes and come out and meet you for brunch on a wintery morning, or the way the city explodes in colour and light on Silvester<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Sure, the word Gem\u00fctlichkeit<\/i> (a cheerful feeling of warmth and coziness) seems better suited to the jovial Germans in the south who have all but co-opted it, and is rarely used north of the Rhine except in jest. Yet something about it seems to fit the spirit of Berlin\u2019s winter months perfectly: a time to surround yourself with treasured friends instead of mere acquaintances, to throw fashion sense out the window in favour of cozying up with blankets, scarves, hot water bottles, and lots of fuzzy sweaters, and to find those small moments of peace and calm that only come to you in winter, when you\u2019re not chasing after every outdoor party or park barbecue, when you\u2019re not feeling the pressure to be outside or else<\/i>, when you don\u2019t have to make excuses to stay home curled up with a good book or watching a movie.<\/p>\n

Berlin in winter will really give you reason to examine yourself in a way that flying off to Mexico or South America won\u2019t, and your fellow Berliners will respect you more for being hardy enough to suffer alongside them. Then, when the spring comes, and you have your first sunny day in months, you\u2019ll be able to enjoy it freely and openly in the knowledge that you earned it.<\/p>\n

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HOW TO WIN A COPY OF FINDING YOUR FEET IN BERLIN<\/em>:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Just leave us a comment below with the answer to this easy question:<\/p>\n

\n

Do you have anything to add? What is one thing that true Berliners know?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

You have until 6pm on Friday 25th July to enter. GOOD LUCK!<\/p>\n

The Boring Bit (yawn, RULES):<\/em><\/p>\n

1. You must be 18 years or older to enter.
2. ONE ENTRY PER PERSON!
3.\u00a0We will keep a record of each comment in a database and then a random number generator picks the winner.
4. Remember to include your full (real) name and email address, so we can contact you if you win.
6. We will notify the winner via email on Saturday 26th July.<\/p>\n