A collaborative project by Sophia Halamoda and iHeartBerlin
Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek
Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar.
Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Dieses Werk, einschließlich aller seiner Teile, ist urheberrechtlich geschützt.
Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist ohne Zustimmung des Verlages unzulässig und strafbar. Das gilt insbesondere für Vervielfältigungen, Übersetzungen, Mikroverfilmungen, Verfilmungen und die Einspeicherung und Verarbeitung auf DVDs, CD-ROMs, CDs, Videos, in weiteren elektronischen Systemen sowie für Internet-Plattformen.
Bei Fragen zur Produktsicherheit wenden Sie sich bitte an herstellung@bebraverlag.de
Writers: Andreas Dohmen, Nicole Paulus, Marie Trankowits, Alix Berber, Franziska Müller-Degenhardt, Stella Manouseli, Claudio Rimmele, Sophia Halamoda, Frank R. Schröder
The city of Berlin has always been fascinating for people, and not just during the hype that it has gone through in the last two decades – even a hundred years ago people came flocking here to experience firsthand the outrageous and curious things they heard about it.
Berlin is so many things to people. A home to return to, a weekend trip for adventures, a playground for wild ideas, a place to find yourself or to get totally lost in. People love to project all sorts of things onto the city: their hopes for a better life, their desire for self-expression, their most intimate sexual fantasies. But they also use it as a punching bag when things go awry.
There is something fundamentally different about Berlin – there is no denying it. Life here is different from other big cities all over the world. The pace is different, the space is different, the people are different, the humor is different, the attitude is different. So many have tried to decipher the special recipe of the city, but hardly ever succeeded to fully understand it.
This book is a way of translating all the different aspects of life in Berlin into words and images that will resonate with locals, newbies and visitors alike. In twelve chapters, you’ll learn everything from finding accommodation, understanding the language,
DEAR READER
dressing the part, choosing your favorite Späti and, most importantly, getting into the most notorious club. All of it comes with a big appreciation for the city and its inhabitants, but also with a lot of tongue-in-cheek humor. One thing is for sure: Berlin doesn’t take itself too seriously.
“How to Get Into Berghain” is actually how this book started back in 2015. The comic by Sophia Halamoda that cheekily pokes fun at all the tips and tricks people give each other to conquer the hardest door of the city went viral on iHeartBerlin back then and laid the groundwork for what would later become “Like a Berliner”. During their time together in the iconic Blogfabrik co-working space, Sophia and the team of writers from iHeartBerlin put together this eclectic collage of comics, essays and guides that is as unique and quirky as Berlin itself.
We invite you to get lost in this book, trying to find all the things about Berlin that you can relate to, find something new, something forgotten and maybe even something you’d rather not be reminded of. We poured so much love, dedication and thought into this book for several years of creating it. We deeply hope that it will touch you, make you smile or laugh out loud.
page 104
page 118
page 62
page 52 page 76
page 90
page 132
page 166
page 196
page 176
Hello flathunter, so you are new to the city and want a flat? Cute. For the record, none of these tips are going to work. This book was originally written in 2017 and unfortunately no one has been at a flat viewing since then. They have become the most underground event you could possibly be invited to. For nostalgic reasons we would like to leave them here so you know how it could all work in theory. You can try them anyway for practice. And who knows, you might be the chosen one.
Check websites with real estate ads – ImmoScout, ImmoWelt, WGGesucht (yes, they also have whole apartments). And check Facebook groups! There are many. But keep in mind: Just like when searching for your soulmate, don’t simply rely on online resources. Expect plenty of ignored messages and rejections. And don’t take it personally. ;)
Go analog. The “Kleinanzeigen” that you find in traditional newspapers are still a thing, especially for elderly folks who are a bit skeptical about the interweb. You can also make a call to any number posted in the hallways of large apartment buildings. You might get lucky with a well-timed vacancy.
Once you find an interesting apartment, the next step is the viewing, or “casting” – as it’s often similar to an audition – with dozens or even hundreds of people. How will you stick out?
Ask a lot of questions to come across as very engaged and reasonable.
Hand in all the required documents before your rivals even arrive.
Create a fake flat viewing at the same time to lure your rivals away from this one.
Talk shit about the apartment to discourage the other applicants.
Mandatory: MIETSCHULDENFREIHEIT
A letter from your previous landlord proving that you are not in debt with them.
Basic: A COPY OF YOUR ID OR PASSPORT
To check that you are not a criminal.
Most importantly: PAYCHECKS FROM LAST 3 MONTHS
If you don’t have these papers, maybe you have rich parents who can give you a “Bürgschaft”?
Or if you are a freelancer your last Einkommensteuerbescheid. Basically, you need a job!
This is probably the only situation in Berlin ever where it really doesn’t matter how interesting you are...
In any case, prepare a perfect little opening pitch about yourself ready to send out into the void.
When it’s ready to send personalize every single message. At least try to change the first name of the receiver.
There are two options and both are equally dreadful: Facebook groups and WG-Gesucht.
If you go down the online path keep in mind: The fact that someone has to advertise their room through an outdated website might indicate something is off. They might have no network at all which, in Berlin, means having no basic human contact... and from that comes weirdness. In any case if an opportunity pops up, don’t get too excited just yet. Investigate with care and no matter what happens remember: if it gets psycho, it’s them not you. You have been warned.
Speaking of being psycho, it’s probably smart to stalk people and their insta stories for a while. Someone somewhere will post about a room and…
Draw a cute ad about you, hang it in your desired neighborhood and hope someone falls in love with your weirdness, ok but lets get real. Word of mouth is your absolute best shot. From now on you tell everyone, I mean absolutely everyone you are looking for a home. Make a post on insta, brief your friends, do not rest! Make “I am looking for a flat” your new intro line, the first thing you say when you are asked how you’re doing and the last thing when you say goodbye. Don’t forget to send random reminders every couple of hours, yes I’m afraid it’s that serious. d ed
And then wait, and wait... And send some more messages... wait a little longer. Send more replies...
THE DAY WILL COME!
And don’t take it personally if it takes a bit longer. Don’t lose hope.
Now remember: this is the moment you’ve been waiting for, your dream room is almost yours. You’ve got one chance! How are you going to impress the jury?
Is your baking game on fleek?
Do you work at a cool magazine and can get anyone on any guestlist?
Are you a David Bowie impersonator?
Do you have nothing to offer but look exceptionally cool?
Do you know 7 different ways to separate trash?
THE WG CASTING ODYSSEY
by Nicole Paulus
Finding the perfect WG in Berlin is like finding the lost city of Atlantis. There will be many times where you think you’ve found it only to realize hours, weeks, months later that it was actually just one big mirage.
Before moving here three years ago, I reached out to everyone who might know someone in Berlin, specifically someone who could help me secure a flat. Like many fresh-off-the-boaters, I wanted to live in Kreuzberg because I thought it was the hippest part of town. I mean, there was tons of graffiti and welldressed youngins everywhere – what’s not to love?
Through a friend of a friend of a sister of an old colleague, I was introduced to a seemingly kind couple in their 50s via email. We Skyped a week before I arrived and they seemed like honest folks. Sure, they were as old as my parents, but their flat was in Kreuzberg –the mecca of cool. While my €450 rent was a great deal compared to the LA rent I was used to, I would later find out that I was being ripped off. After all, this wasn’t a WG where I could wander around freely in my underwear. This was their flat.
When I first moved in, I felt good. The OG Berliners took me under their wing, showed me around the neighborhood, and even introduced me to their son (who happened to be a DJ and 1/3 of a popular German rap group). The husband took pleasure in telling me stories from his glory days living in West Berlin, like the time he went to a party in East Berlin and didn’t make it back before curfew. The guard made him get completely naked and harassed him for a few hours before letting him enter back into the West.
At first, these stories were endearing. Then after a while, I realized what was actually happening – my landlord secretly resented us “expats”. The way he spoke about gentrification, the way he denigrated the “tourists”, and the way he casually said the
neighborhood was changing for the worse. This resentment started to trickle down to me since I was the exact archetype of such disdain.
I think he thought I was making a lot more money than I actually was because he was constantly asking what I did. I even caught him spying on my LinkedIn a few times. Um, you know I can see that, right? After a month of living there, he informed me that I would have to start contributing 15 euro more per month to cover the cost of toilet paper and laundry soap I was consuming. Um, what? I don’t use 15 euros worth of toilet paper in a year. Did I mention that he had recently lost his job and that his wife was on temporary disability due to a broken ankle? Did I mention that I was paying him cash for the room? Did I mention I wasn’t allowed to use their living room or cook without being watched? How convenient to request a rent increase after stalking my LinkedIn. Out of principle, I politely declined the rent increase and began buying my own toilet paper instead. That meant that, at any given time, there were two rolls in the bathroom – theirs and mine. Petty, I know, but so is LinkedIn lurking.
Enough was enough. After his wife screamed at me one day because I was boiling water on the hottest temperature, I decided I had to get out of there and find another place to live – a very difficult task to say the least. And so I began my search on WG-Gesucht. de. I went on interview after interview.
I revealed a lot. I was mysterious. I cracked jokes. I was serious. I tried every single song and dance I could muster up.
Many castings later (yes, they call these castings, where you show up to meet the other roommates, have a chat and a coffee and they judge the crap out of you), and many rejections later, I got desperate. My best friend was coming to visit me soon and I didn’t
want to subject her to my current roommates, the geriatric hipsters. So, to my next casting, I decided to bring a plant. Before you pass judgment, realize that I had been on maybe 20 castings before this. I had said and not said everything you could possibly imagine. I was myself. I was a better version of myself. I was a more humble version of myself. I didn’t even know who the hell I was anymore. Three euros was a small price to pay to end this spiraling identity crisis.
Turns out, Germans can smell bribery from a mile away. She thanked me and then immediately said: “Are you trying to bribe me?” I laughed nervously but in my head, I felt doomed. That was it, I overdid it. Not going to get this apartment either.
Well, it didn’t seem to hurt me. We sat and had a nice chat for nearly an hour. She said she liked me, but that she wanted the other roommate to meet me also. I left feeling hopeful and excited.
A day later, I arranged to meet the other roommate
at a bar for a beer. When I met her, I felt immediately comfortable, like we were old friends. She divulged her current love triangle and we giggled like schoolgirls. Afterwards, we hugged and she told me she would be in touch soon. I felt relieved, like there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
A few days went by before I received an email from my new “friends”: “Sorry, but we decided to go with someone else. ”Um, what? Was I really that delusional? How could this have happened? The tears, oh god, they were welling up. I grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the stack on my desk, dabbed my eyes and then begrudgingly logged onto WG-Gesucht for maybe the thousandth time.
“Hi there, Nicole here. Desperate expat from the States. I shower regularly, don’t leave food chunks in the sink drain and refill toilet paper rolls like it’s my job. Pick me and you won’t be sorry!”
Finding a place to live here is such a struggle. With increasing rent, mould, and German bureaucracy, finding the right flatmate is usually left to the workings of fate. The next few pages will introduce you to some of the most characteristic Berlin personalities and give you a sneak peek into what sharing a roof with them will really mean.
