Turkish Flea Market

August 9th

It was relieving when I saw a crowd of people outside what appeared to be the Turkish flea market. S-Bahn to U-Bahn, down Bernauer Strasse or is it Brenanuer Strasse? Obviously I nor Natalia knew since we went in every direction but the right one for a while. Berlin, will I ever know you? Silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes, painted pictures, I wanted it all but I hear the lira is better than the euro so I choose to wait. Here for ten minutes and there is already a wet patch on the stomach of my shirt; I knew I shouldn’t have worn gray. Where is that cheering coming from? I wish I could take my time down these overcrowded outdoor aisles but my stomach is warning me that there isn’t enough time. I pick up my pace while walking in between strangers pass the silver rings, silver bracelets, old shoes and painted pictures. “Excuse me”, “sorry”, “oh, pardon me”. I forget that no one here is bothered by my aggressive passing and it is entirely unnecessary to be polite in this situation, apparently. I follow my nose and it leads me to a Wiener schnitzel stand. I can still hear the cheering, is someone singing the Beatles? I hold on to my little bun, waiting for the wiener, and realize this is definitely not enough food. My stomach is still mad at me. I finally decide to follow the cheers and the music. Karaoke in front of thousands, not a bad idea.