Kreuzberg

Trying to figure out where to watch today’s soccer match between the FC Bayern and Berlin’s Hertha BSC I seriously considered getting Sky, the Pay-TV. It seemed awkward and I went to the organic supermarket instead.
It felt like time traveling. Was I gone for too long? Is there a new movement I didn’t hear about? The store was packed, full of hippies, real hippies like from the 1970s. Long hair, some had dreadlocks, batic shirts and large linen trousers which looked like skirts.
A land commune on an excursion to the city. But they didn’t know each other. I considered it being a flashmob or a bet from Wetten dass? (I bet you don’t get 100 real hippies to do their shopping in the same store within the next hour.)
It felt very strange. Hidden camera?
At the checkout counter everybody stared at me. Anything wrong with the goods I chose? I realized that my basket contained the groceries for a single person: 4 eggs, 2 oranges, and 1 avocado. The tiny version of everything. They were all in groups and families, it felt like being unmasked. Lonely and ashamed I left the place as fast as possible.
Later this evening I went to a concert organized by my neighbors. A Latvian Blues and Jazz Band. That was even worse than the supermarket experience. Sitting alone at the bar watching them dance I wondered why it was impossible to share their enthusiasm.
However I don’t like Jazz and that wasn’t even good Jazz. People behaved like hearing something really new and unique. I went deaf and made the observation that everybody in this Kreuzberg club, men and women, had the same ugly shoes. A mixture of orthotic shoes and working boots. Like this brand, like Camper.
Most of the women wore jeans skirts with funny tights and the men large trousers getting even larger at the bottom.
Is this me? Am I just too arrogant? Am I the one who gets everything wrong or did I really travel back in time?
Yesterday in K: