Slide Show of Kreuzberg 36 on May 1st

What is Kreuzberg 36?

What is Kreuzberg 36? Kreuzberg 36 is where punk meets Turk meets hipster. It is Oranienstrasse Ecke Adalbert Strasse. It is Baklava in 36 different flavors.




Krezberg 36 is warm beer on a Friday afternoon. It's Döner and Curry Wurst und Schish Tavak. It's where squatters saved the world from becoming a nightmarish concrete jungle.


Kreuzberg 36 is where you can see a French film, have the best Martini, watch Turkish grandpas shucking sunflowers seeds and two men doing the rhumba all on the same Sunday evening.












Kreuzberg 36 is a place I truly love.

I love Berlin/I hate Berlin

Anyone who has been to my Etsy shop probably has figured out by now that the city where I live, Berlin, inspires me. It has been the subject of several collages and will come into play creatively now and again I'm sure. Berlin has been my home for almost ten years now. I once heard from a fellow (aging) ex-pat that 10 years is the cut off date. If you are still in Berlin at that point there is no going back. I will always love California and miss my family and the Pacific Ocean everyday, but Berlin has my heart. Berlin is where you can still find a studio apartment for 200 Euros and so what if it has coal heating and is in Neukölln: you can concentrate on your art and what and who you love. Berlin is where no one cares what you are doing so go ahead and do whatever you want. In Berlin, everyone is from somewhere else. This morning I heard a familiar sound out my window. It was the roaming gypsy band who makes their appearance every 6 months or so. The stroll down the street and play their instruments hoping that people will toss money from their windows. Where else do things like this happen?

But I also hate Berlin. Berlin is where I can't count on people opening doors and asking me if I need help as I'm struggling with the baby buggy. Berlin is where I have literally gotten bruises from people who slammed into me and then, as usual didn't apologize or say excuse me. It is where no one smiles at or chats nicely with a stranger; strangers are your mortal enemies, not to be trusted until they have, by trial of fire, proved otherwise. Berliners speak a language where there is no word for "anal" because the word they use is "normal". Perhaps there is no such thing as paradise....