Children of the Lenbach Platz

The next day, I go with Lori to pay a visit to the Lenbach Straße crew.

Everyone is at Noam's flat - the Germans I mostly remember from last time, a seemingly mute new roommate, and the Israeli technival contingent, consisting of Ehud, his broter Nir, Eitan the Invisible Officer, Tom and Lola.

I am trying to figure out how to get to Kreuzberg to Frederic's studio to pick up a set of keys to the flat. I am motivated to set forth on my own, but by the time I leave Noam's flat I am so disoriented thanks to local weed, that I am a tad afraid of finding myself passed out on a bench in the Turkish quarter.

Thanks to some heavy explaining, complete with drawings and internet maps, I safely make it through a couple of trams and find myself in front of Hard Wax studios. Frederic gives me a tour of the place and explains how records are mastered and cut. I stay for a joint and then head back to Noam's place, where I am congratulated on having survived the journey and treated to bonghits, a-la-Tel Aviv. I am so baked I spend the night on the floor, curled up like a dead kitten.

The next day, I manage to make initial contact with The Mute, who is of the female variety and goes by the name of Christina. Having heard of my extensive sewing skills, she excitedly shows me her sewing machine, and then points to a patch she designed on some footer material, and then motions towards a tank-top she would like to adhere it to.

With all this movement, it is a bit like communicating with a mime, or an airline stewardess going over the safety instructions.

She then solemnly directs her gaze towards the sewing machine.

"You want to learn how to thread it, then?" I ask.

She nods her head excitedly.

I can't even wrestle a Ja out of this girl.

"Okay," I say, "I'll be back in a few hours and we will master the machine."

Noam is content, hoping that perhaps this creative bonding will aid The Mute in emerging out of her shell. However, all hope to help the socially challenged goes out the window as soon as I go to the park with one of the other roommates, as our casual walk in the park eventually lands us on the other side of town, over the bridge in Kreuzberg.

We are at Claudi's house, drinking tea and betting on when the rain will start pounding down on us. There was talk of going to the Botanischer Gardens, but the prospect of rain took the punch out of the idea. So instead, we sit around smoking joint after joint, while my eyes wander off to survey Claudi's bookshelves.

I like her very much, and have since the first time I met her, when she visited Israel. There is something very brave about her, as quiet as she appears to be. We are joined by Ben of Jagermeister fame, and by Joni, Claudi's adorable boytoy from France.

I soon find myself tired from doing nothing but smoking.

Part of me is afraid of returning to the flat and facing the disappointed doe eyes of The Mute.

Ahhh, good old Berlin.