The Continent: First Trip

By George Kemper

"All very hip and cool and the rest of it," Marc's friend suggested they take a trip to Berlin. On the Continent, Marc, Dave and Jane run into Eddie. The four of them embark on a magical tour, taking them from Kreuzberg to the Seven Sisters, from the Rhine Valley to the Yorkshire Dales. Back and forth they go, from the UK to mainland Europe and back again to Sussex. Their first trip to the Continent is just a little warm-up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781528969246

George Kemper

George Kemper was born in 1950. His first love was music--songs by the Beatles in particular. He studied English language at the University of Cologne. At first without a clue, but later he began to see its richness in vocabulary. G. K. lives in his native town of Altena, Germany, incidentally twinned with Blackburn, Lancs.

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About the Author

George Kemper was born in 1950. His first love was music—songs by the Beatles in particular. He studied English language at the University of Cologne. At first, without a clue, but later he began to see its richness in vocabulary. G. K. lives in his native town of Altena, Germany, incidentally twinned with Blackburn, Lancs.

Copyright Information ©

George Kemper (2020)

The right of George Kemper to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528937757 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528937764 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781528969246 (ePub e-book)

Cover artwork by Pia Bruer

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

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Part One Berlin

They were hanging around in the botanical gardens of Charlottenburg castle when Eddie appeared from nowhere.

Hello, Marc, what’s up or WhatsApp? Marc’s Brightonian friends, Dave and Jane, were staring at their smartphones.

Slightly addicted, Eddie.

Aren’t we all, Marc, in many ways? Some are followers of fashion, others supporters of football teams, devoted fans—doubtless. Call it addiction. You see it everywhere. Tell you what, Eddie said, this is your first trip to the Continent. Might as well go to Kreuzberg. Wanna join me?

Marc and his friends had arrived at Bahnhof Zoo the other day via Harwich and Hoek van Holland. They had crashed at Eddie’s place in Seelingstrasse after a night out at Café Bleibtreu.

What’s this thing about Gentrifizierung? Sounds like some disease.

Well, yes, Eddie said, in some districts, flats are being renovated for no other reason than charging outrageous rents. It’s a disgrace. Oblivious of the dialogue, Dave and Jane were still characterising their display, when Eddie and Marc got on their way to Sophie-Charlotte-Platz U-Bahn station.

Don’t mind my asking, what made you come to Berlin. I mean, this place is full of people.

It was getting boring by the sea, and there was this bloke in Patcham, who told us that Berlin was the place to see. It sounded like theee place to see, all very hip and cool and the rest of it.

"Marc, eine Molle zischen? You know, the Deutsche are a funny lot. Why don’t they spell it, Zunami?"

In England, it’s called German linguistic submissiveness.

Britannia rule the waves, Eddie said.

"Schlesisches Tor Zurueckbleiben." A loud echo announced Linie 1.

Come on, Marc, let’s make a run for it.

Silesian Gate stand back. How about that, Eddie. I passed the audition, didn’t I?

Brilliant. You into German at all?

Not that much, to be honest. I’m a…shall we say, I’m a little on the lazy side, when it comes to lingo. Screeching tracks were taking Linie 1 back into daylight and on to the old overhead railway. On the other side of the car, two teenagers were vividly talking to each other, gadget in hand.

See the haircut, Marc. Gone viral, hasn’t it?

I’m not so fond of it either. It’s a fad, is what it is. Just like the sixties. Not everyone looked good then. Talk about virus, you’re right. Same with mobiles and smartphones.

Hey, Marc, I’m dying for a Kindl. Let’s change lines and get on the 7. There’s a nice little park by the name of Hasenheide.

It was still warm and sunny when they got off at Suedstern station. A nearby kiosk sat right on the corner of Volkspark Hasenheide.

What you having, mate? Go for Berlin beer?

Sure, German beer, can’t be too bad.

Half a litre later, things slowed down a bit. Both of them scented some fragrance.

You’re not into smoking then, said Marc.

No, kicked the habit long time ago.

Give me a time check, Eddie.

Half past seven.

I wonder what Dave and Jane are doing.

Don’t worry. Berlin is not that big. I mean, it is big, very spread out, sort of. But once you get the hang of it, you exactly know how to find the right people and places. Why not sit over there by the tree.

There were Turkish families sitting on the lawn, Asian and black people, dope vendors, a few drunks and the local scene. Some really attractive females were passing right in front of them.

You’re eligible, Marc said, nice word, isn’t it?

Nice word, indeed. Look, some flashy get-up. They tryna’ act nonchalant. How about a change of scenery, Marc?

You bet, Eddie.

They left Hasenheide and walked along Graefestrasse in a north-easterly direction, through a part of Berlin one would hardly find in a tourist guide.

See the young people over there. They all look the same, don’t they? See the way they dress, the haircut and everything. There’s uniformity. They are uniform in their ubiquitous, would-be uniqueness. Happens all the time, quite literally, because people don’t change that easily.

Eddie said that he was from a small town which is home of the wire industry. People over there were into wire and the rest of it. He was less into wire, he said, more into the wireless. A little pun, and they both had a laugh.

"We’re approaching Paul-Lincke-Ufer, named after a composer who wrote, ‘Das ist Berliner Luft’, a well-known song from the 20s."

Those were the days, said Marc, life in the fast lane, as it were.

Want another Molle, Eddie? They were crossing the Landwehrkanal.

I sure do. There’s a kiosk down the Ufer, can’t miss it. You’ll find me right here sitting on the wall by the willow trees.

Twilight was coming on. Marc was on his own. It gave