You can sit. In cafes. For hours. And hours. And hours. And hours. And hours.
The waitresses do not look at you funny. They do not slice their eyes in your direction. You do not have to order a second cup of coffee. Nor an accompanying pastry. Nor a glass of water. Nor anything else. You can just nurse that first cup and type and type and type without the slightest pang of guilt, and when you leave, you do not have to give more than a 5 percent tip. In fact, if you do, then they will look at you funny. Foreigner!
Right now I am at one of many booths in the expansive Cafe Euforia, where I already wrote for three hours on Wednesday, and where I am guaranteed to be ignored by the waitresses until it's time to pay. When my battery loses its juice, I can wander a little further down the block to another (much smaller) cafe, where I know the handsome Turkish owner will allow me to plug my power cord beneath the fan he has pointed at the counter to cut the humidity. On Wednesday I walked in and said simply "ich suche eine Steckdose," before even ordering anything.* He happily complied, even asking whether I would prefer the French Cabaret music be turned down, and offering me a piece of cake, gratis.
This BEST THING about Berlin EVER is something so very good, it might be all it takes to seduce a footloose writer into staying. For a very long time. And not just in the cafe, I mean.
*A girl at a nearby table tittered when I made my request. Later I discovered Steckdose might also be slang for "female," the Steckdose being the thing you stick the Stecker into. Not sure. (Will a real German please weigh in? Roland? Silke? Moms?) At least I didn't say "ich bin eine Steckdose."
I have heard from my erstwhile German teacher, Roland, and it appears I was correct. I am a Steckdose. Going forward I will use the word with more discretion.
Posted by: Lilan | August 24, 2007 at 01:16 PM