travel

Populus Coffee: Berlin / Neukölln

Of all the coffee spots I went to during my month in Berlin, Populus Coffee was my favorite, zweifellos. They were one of the cafes on the list that I’d put together, weeks before I was even set to head to Berlin, and they did not disappoint.

Since this trip was part of a study abroad program, I was staying in the hostel, Die Fabrik, in the Kreuzberg neighborhood. Oh, Die Fabrik was an interesting experience, as the lone, “older” adult in the group—thank god I had a room to myself. But when I say “interesting,” I actually do mean interesting. I had a lot of fun, especially the times I sat on the dirty hostel floor of a classmate’s room, chugging cheap wine from the bottle, eating too many Prinzen Rolle cookies, and recounting our days’ adventures. It was awesome.

There was another cafe, 19 Grams, across the street from the hostel. 19 Grams was good (I’ll write about them later), but Populus was further, and I liked the early morning walk before classes. Populus involved a brisk, 20-minute walk from Kreuzberg, through Görlitzer Park, and on to the Neukölln neighborhood. I loved that walk. I loved hurrying over for my espresso early in the morning before classes started and being part of the hustle and bustle of Berlin. I loved dodging cars and being carried along in the traffic of Berliners on foot and on bikes, as they made their way to work. I loved hearing the menagerie of German and Arabic and Turkish serenading me in the brisk morning air. In the time of walking to Populus and back, I listened to so many new playlists and recaptured much of myself that had been lying dormant in the last decade. It was pretty fucking magical, I have to say. After crossing through Görlitzer Park from Kreuzberg to Neukölln, I would then cross the Landwehr Canal and turn right. There were a couple of ways for me to get to Populus from the hostel, and I would always go the way that had me walking along the canal for several blocks. Populus is situated on the street next to the canal and, in the Summer, there really was no lovelier place to be.

So before I even had my coffee in hand from Populus for the first time, the cafe had burrowed into my caffeine-chugging heart. My love for Populus Coffee wasn’t just about the cafe, but that entire journey to and from and the simple fact of being a “regular” somewhere.

But then you get inside the cafe itself and yes, even the interior is lovely. So many shades of green and plants everywhere. Their coffee was the strongest I found in Berlin, and they had some simple and satisfying small bites, too. There are specific things I liked about the next few cafés I’m going to write about, but Populus was the whole package (strong coffee, great vibes, friendly baristas, perfect location on the canal). I’m a Third Wave girl through and through, but all the cafés that I go to from Seattle to Philly to Firenze to Prague to Berlin have the same modern hipster aesthetic. I’m over the Scandi-minimalist design of every single new café that opens. It’s kind of ironic, given that Populus has Finnish roots… but that’s not Scandi, it’s Nordic. So call me a Nordic fan. Populus felt different—they had a really down-to-earth quality that I loved. Maybe they aren’t that different; maybe I was just distracted by all the plants and the slick, emerald green coffee packaging… but it felt different and I loved it.

And did I mention, they have the strongest and best coffee of all the places I tried? I’ll be bringing back more than just one bag of beans this time!

Wieder zusammen

Husband has been asked to be on the jury of the International Sound Awards in Hamburg, Germany—he’s kind of a big deal in the sound design world. Of course I’m going to tag along. As I’ve been moving into translation and localization, I’ve been trying to make strategic decisions about which languages I should focus on. Spanish is a no-brainer. French is in the mix because after spending some time on it at UW, I quickly got myself to a point where I’m reading French novels. It wouldn’t make sense to drop Spanish or French now that I’m at C1 level in each.

But then it gets tricky. I was shocked to find, after an assessment test, that I’m already at a high A1/low A2 in German after a year or so of self-study. But I didn’t think that German would be a wise choice, in terms of what would be “useful” for me in future endeavors. Portuguese, for example, is considered a “critical language” spoken by many around the world. (I also love Portuguese and had picked up a fair amount during my time in Portugal a long time ago.) Romance languages are easy to add on – since I’m already so proficient in Spanish and French, I’m an extremely quick study in Portuguese and Italian. I’ve begun learning Russian and enjoy speaking to my son’s best friend’s mother when I have the chance (they’re Russian) and I can easily read and write the Cyrillic alphabet at this point. So I had decided, for practical reasons, not to focus on German anymore.

But then… BUT THEN. Of all the languages I know, German really sunk it’s hooks into my life. I have tried speaking to myself and my son (who is learning Spanish) in French and Spanish. But whenever I talk to myself, talk out loud, or make exclamations, it’s German that comes out. Every. Single. Time. I read Spanish and French every single day, I listen to French news every day, I listen to French and Spanish music, I occasionally write in Spanish or French… but I think in German. Warum? Das weiß ich nicht. Maybe it has something to do with that fact that I’ve been fascinated with Germany since elementary school, or my strong Germany heritage. Who knows.

Anyway. My point is: I had decided to let German go, even if German doesn’t want to let go of me. But then, with my background in technology and doing localization, it was pointed out to me that German is actually a damn good language to have in my arsenal. It would be especially good given the plans I have laid out for the next couple of years. SO. Husband is going to Hamburg for these sound awards… I’m going to fly out a couple of weeks early, to do an immersion German course at Humboldt in Berlin, then take the train to Hamburg when he arrives, then go back to Berlin for another week after he leaves. A few weeks may not be much, but I’m freakishly adept at picking up languages. I’m already around an A2 level, so I expect I’ll be around a B1 by the time I arrive. Really, what I most need is practice speaking and listening at a natural pace.

So that’s that. I’ll be in Berlin (and Hamburg) this September, which has shifted a whole bunch of other travel plans around. But that’s ok, because I am so happy to go revisit my favorite haunts and old friends.

And if I’m completely honest, it’s not so much BERLIN that I’m going back to but Kreuzberg and Neukölln. Yes, they are part of Berlin, but these two neighborhoods are very different from the rest of the city and very special. I have been through other neighborhoods… Prenzlauer Berg, Mitte… and they’re just fine. (Well… if you go to Berlin and spend all your time in Mitte, you might as well just save your time and money and stay in Bellevue, Washington. *cough cough*) If you want the best Arabic and Turkish food, go to Neukölln. If you want to see the best graffiti and urban art, go to Kreuzberg and Neukölln. If you want to be immersed in creativity and irreverence, get thee to Kreuzberg. And on and on.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to write about the places I’m eager to revisit (food-wise, mostly). And it’s hardly an exhaustive list, there’s so much I didn’t get to. I DID make a point of going to many, many, many coffeeshops. Five Elephant, Populus, 19 Grams, Silo, The Barn, Distrikt Coffee, etc. I am very serious about my coffee and always have been—you can drop me into the middle of nowhere and I WILL find the best and most interesting coffee spot within a 20 mile radius. Sometimes it’s rough going, but I always succeed. In the last decade, it’s also been a “thing” of ours (my husband and I) to bring beans back from wherever we go. Husband always wants to tear into them as soon as we get home, but I always find it kind of painful. I’d probably lock it all up or frame it if I could! (I know, that would be weird.)

Stay tuned. The first on the list is Populus Coffee, since I was just swooning over one of their Instagram posts this morning…

In the meantime, here’s a collection of my pics from my time in Berlin.

squishy things in your mouth

While fighting the urge to strangle my friend in Amsterdam, I did also manage to have a few moments of fun.

There’s a story about this cat in Amsterdam.

By the time that I ditched her (because she was, predictably, late meeting me during the one hour break I got from her) and ran back to the hotel for some quiet, I’d had cravings all day for Italian food. Pasta. Garlic. So when I sat down at a table on the outside terrace at the restaurant, my waiter asked if I wanted anything to eat. Well, as a matter of fact, I did. “I’m craving Italian,” I said, “Specifically, garlic. Lots of garlic.”

He whipped out the menu and showed me the two Italian dishes, showing heavy preference for once dish in particular. I’d mentioned that I’m a vegetarian, and he asked if I ate seafood. I made a face – the face of someone who is not a seafood eater but who, in the right moment, might be convinced to try it. He raved about a dish, with vongoles – which he explained were like clams, but smaller (though I later found out that “vongoles” is simply the Italian word for clam), and which also was loaded with garlic.

It might have been because I was so utterly fried from spending 48 hours with the most talkative travel companion ever, or maybe it was the glass of wine I’d already drunk, or maybe I was just feeling that adventurous, or maybe it was because I’ve always been a sucker for twinkly Dutch eyes. I agreed to try this dish, though I had always declared clams to be the most disgusting food ever – the very smell of them, on the rare occasion that my parents made steamed clams at home, sent me running from the house for a full 24 hours because it was so intolerable. I went to a clambake with an ex once, and even he, being a seafood eater, was a little grossed out by the whole thing… once we discovered… ya know… those things POOP. In their shells. And you can see it. I mean, c’mon.

So now, looking back, I don’t know what the fuck I could possibly have been thinking – ordering a dish like this was delusional. But I did it. He offered to tell them to put the umm… “vongoles” on the side, instead of in the pasta, but I said, “Just make it the way it’s supposed to be made, I’m going crazy tonight!”

My only complaint was, “You call that loaded with garlic?” Feh.

So he brought the dish out – a bowl of pasta with a bunch of little clams in the shell mixed throughout. I picked up a shell with one hand, a fork in the other. I poked at the fleshy little noodle-like lump for a bit. I was both fascinated and stunned at the idea of putting this thing in my mouth. I called Chris, my waiter, over. “Is there any special technique to this? I’ve seriously never eaten clams before. I just… detach this fleshy bit and eat it? That’s it?”

Yup, that’s it. When he passed by 20 minutes later and noticed my pasta bowl full of empty shells, he pointed out the empty plate at my elbow. Ooooooh… I was supposed to put the empty shells in there.

So here’s the thing. I can’t believe I ate all those clams. Seriously. I used to gag trying to get tomatos down my gullet, because the texture of raw tomato freaks me out. I’ve worked diligently to get over it my hatred of tomatoes; after a year and a half of effort, I can now eat raw pieces of tomato without even making a face, so long as there’s none of that snotty seed stuff laying around.

Anyway. First I ate a piece of spiral pasta, to investigate flavor. It was reminiscent of tuna fish. That’s do-able. The only fish thing I’ve ever eaten, and like, is tuna. I’m rather fond of a good tuna sandwich on toasted wheat. And then I chose a shell and ripped the flesh from the hinge of the shell and, with the clam speared on my fork, I held it up in the air for a good look. I took a deep breath and put it in my mouth, holding it between my back teeth for a minute before biting down. I bit down slowly and decided it had the texture of a noodle. That’s not so bad, I like noodles.

But I could only bite down once before I decided I needed to swallow. Because then I started thinking about internal organs. And poop. I don’t know about you, but I can’t get excited about the idea of eating poop. Even if it is from the ocean and probably only consists of salt and… I don’t know… what does clam poop entail?

The grossness of it all was balanced out by my fascination with this whole process – the fact that I have NEVER EVER EVER eaten anything like this before. But one bite is all I was doing, m’kay? I felt obligated, both to myself for trying it, and to Chris (the waiter), who I’d befriended by this point. What to do? Ok, so one by one I popped them into my mouth… and um.. well, I swallowed them whole. Look, at least I kept going!

He asked me if I liked it and honestly? It was an experience. I tried something new and it didn’t kill me.

After that, The Travel Companion from Hell and I hung out with the restaurant staff after the place closed down. By that point, I’d had half a bottle of wine and she was tolerable. Then not only did I have seafood for the first time, but I drank BEER. I drank beer for the first time in ELEVEN YEARS. (Don’t ask. Eleven years ago there was a drinking game. I lost. Badly. There was a lot of vomit involved.)

Beer and clams, the start of one of my most memorable nights in Amsterdam. (To be cont’d.)