Monday, 24th September 2001.
Today I managed to drag myself out of bed in time to go on a morning
walking tour that didn't end up finishing until 4pm. Long. Far. The
enthusiastic Canadian tourguide got a bit carried away. He spent most
of the tour picking on the Aussie with the "Contiki" backpack, who was
last seen heading into a peepshow.
Speaking of peepshows and all things seedy, this evening I was walking
back to the youth hostel when I noticed there were few people hanging around
an otherwise quiet street. And there were cars driving through slowly,
for no apparent reason. As I got closer I realised that the people
hanging around were ladies with deep voices wearing short skirts.
Hmm, even country bumpkin Ian could work out what was going on. (I get
all my knowledge about the seedier aspects of life from watching "The
Bill".) They paid me no heed, probably because I wasn't in a car and
also because my reputuation as a scrooge has spread far and wide. Much
like those girls.
This evening I set off for Oranienburger Strasse in search of an exotic restaurant
recommended in the Lonely Planet. Couldn't find it.
FALAFEL COUNT: 2.