We could not help but sleep in. It was a cold, rainy morning, and the constant pattering on the window produced too soothing a rhythm for us to wake up.
Eventually, our hunger took over the window music. I left to grab breakfast. Nothing looked very appetizing at the market, so I ventured farther down the street, past the shops we’d popped into yesterday. One of the hipster punk shops had a necklace with a K emblem on it that Ash had wanted. She didn’t end up getting it because it was pricey, but I wouldn’t have minded her wearing my initial on her neck all the time.
With no luck finding a place to grab food on this street either, I asked the shop owner to recommend a good breakfast spot. She gave me some vague directions to a place called something “Schmuck.” She couldn’t remember the first word in the name, but told me it had the best brunch in the neighborhood. If I knew the name, I could google it, but “Schmuck” wasn’t registering as a location.
Ash was far from impressed that instead of food, I returned with a great recommendation to a place I didn’t know the name of. It was getting close to noon, and if my lady hasn’t eaten by noon, she turns into a Hangry Hulkess. I was running out of time before the transformation.
Today we were going to Tempelhof Airport, and we agreed to find food on the way. We strolled in the direction of the abandoned airport and kept an eye out for places to eat. I had forgotten about the mythical “Schmuck” restaurant when Ash pointed out a place that looked good. We approached the quirky-looking diner to see a cursive sign that read SALON SCHMüCK. Well, I’ll be damned, I thought.
We took seats at a comfortable table in the café, which had a living room feel, and we ordered two shots of espresso each while we waited for our food. The food arrived, and it was exquisite. The French toast had bacon sprinkled on top, and the berg auf tal, essentially a continental breakfast, was a mountain of cheese, meats, fruits and vegetables, and a basket of rolls, toast, and small baguettes. It looked way too good to be true. The only thing we were missing was butter for the bread. This was a small price to pay for a heavenly meal. Our trek continued.
The Tempelhof Airport was one of the world’s first commercial airports. It was an instrumental hub in World War II Nazi Germany, but it was closed down in 2008 so it could be turned into a park where cyclists, joggers, kiteboarders, and other active people use the former runways for recreational purposes.
We reached the airport and walked along the massive old runway. I realized this was my first time going less than two hundred miles per hour on a runway. There was a harsh chill coursing through the Berlin air, and although we had jackets on, we still had to find a bench on the wheel-beaten asphalt to sit behind to escape the biting wind. If the bench didn’t do the trick, I imagined the large beers we’d bought on the way here would. We attempted to play a card game, but the wind was like a pestering two-year-old throwing our cards all over the place. Luckily for the kiteboarders, and unluckily for us, the wind kicked up a notch.
It was great that we were legally allowed to drink in public in Berlin, but the true game changer was that I could legally urinate in public. I took advantage of this legality and relieved my bladder over the fence to make room for my second beer in public. I could certainly get used to this lifestyle, I thought as a kiteboarder flew off the end of the runway as if he were taking off.