History revision

Ich bin ein Berliner for a week and things have stabilised into something resembling normal life, complete with all the recognisable cycles of the twenty-something lifestyle. As is typical for a Saturday, I spent all of yesterday in bed with a hangover, eating lots of chocolate, watching DVDs (Bridget Jones' Diary) and begging the lovebirds to stop shrieking.

Today I made up for it by doing some homework and then taking myself to the German History Museum. Five hours later I was spat out of the exit, my head aching from factual/historical overload and hungry enough to eat a horse. I had great plans to make up some Dougal-inspired dahl but all the supermarkets are shut on a Sunday night, so felafel kebab it was. I'm now sitting in my room rugged up in my 10 euro winter jacket (I've discovered that "room temperature" is actually culturally contingent) with some serious garlic breath and a cup of Earl Grey, taking stock of the past week.

It got a lot better towards the end. Every morning I've been spending a couple of hours in the library with my Schaum's German Grammar book which has provided just enough routine to both bore me to tears and calm me down. In the afternoons I have been taking to the streets on Helena's borrowed bike to explore and get my bearings. My sense of direction is being foiled by Berlin's overcast weather - it's impossible to tell where the sun is or where the shadows are. My map is my constant companion, but I try to be subtle about it.

Riding in Berlin's a different ball game than Melbourne, where speed is king and most cyclists take themselves a little too seriously in their lycra bodysuits. Here cycling on footpaths is encouraged and wearing a helmet is a clear sign that you're a little slow. Helena's bike is built for leisure - you can roll up and down curbs without the bike shaking apart and meander along slower than walking without falling over. As well as being beautiful, Helena's bike is also incredibly old so and it's got backwards pedal brakes and awkward handlebars. I have lovingly dubbed it "Crazy Bike".

I'm only subletting my apartment in Kreuzberg until the end of March. But it seems like a great suburb to make my home - cheap, close, amazing Turkish food, great bars and some crazy political stuff happening. A few nights ago I was drinking in a bar a street away when a group of young people march past wearing all black and holding up traffic. I took their flyer home for homework and after twenty minutes' painstaking translation discovered that they were demonstrating for the death of fascism.

Thea is also temporarily living in Kreuzberg until she moves into her permanent room. She's couchsurfing in this amazing place that, on the outside, looks like your typical haunted house (slight lean, on a massive vacant lot, trees that scratch at your face, bats etc) but inside is a beautiful loft. Yesterday her host had a massive couchsurfing party there, attended by the Berlin Couchsurfing A-List. My aforementioned hangover forced me into premature retirement but it was going off-tap when I left.

Tomorrow I start my language course. I can't wait - I'm realising that my German is becoming book smart when I really need it to be street smart. So I can give some proper lip.