So how do I feel by the end of the day? Well, I get by with ein little help from der Freunde in Berlin.
I am on the last leg (and my last legs) of my whistlestop tour of Deutschland for the annual travel convention, the German Travel Mart.
And as is my wont when left on my own I have gone off piste.
Despite the best efforts and planning of Nicole, my planner extraordinaire and Deutsche Mark as I’ll now know him.
My globetrotting English buddy and human sat-nav who I rely on every year at this convention.
Which last year took us to Essen in the Ruhrland and this year Chemnitz (or Karl Marx Stadt) in Saxony.
Strassed out
And so, pulled along by the German history in front of me and my wheelie rucksack, I over-reach when I see the sign for Charlottenburg.
And rather than double-back to go to the central station, the Haubtbanhof on Europaplatz.
For my simple eight-minute ride to Charlottenburg, my billet for the night I decide to march in.
I have done the de rigueur Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag and Potsdam and got my picture in front of a block of the Berlin Wall.
Which this year has been down 35 years, longer than it was up, but worthy of commemorating and celebrating.
Which I have also done in Leipzig outside the church where the protests which triggered the revolution began.
A day in the strife
Emboldened by that spirit of freedom blowing through an icy April eve in the German capital I feel like taking on the world.
Literally… springing past the embassies of the world and always keeping the signs for Charlottenburg in my sights.
No going back now even when the guard at the booth at the Japan embassy alerts me to the fact that I am 5 miles from my destination.
Having my now trudged that distance in my excitement.
Ich bus ein Berliner
I am though blessed to see a part of Berlin few do.
And with a little help from der Freunde at a hotel and a bus stop I am pointed towards a stop where I can take another bus.
To Adenhauerstrasse where hopefully I will be able to find my hotel, the Yggotel Ravn, on Albrecht-Achilles Strasse.
Of course with low battery on my phone and no internet I cannot turn to Google Maps so I go old-fashioned.
And ask at the Apothekary where a helpful assistant (the first couldn’t speak English never mind Glaswegian) got me on track.
Berlin haul
Weary of bone I slumped on the desk of my hotel half an hour later.
And after booking in asked how best to get to the airport in the morning.
Only to be told it would be €70 by taxi.
Now working on the proposition that four heads are better than one I asked her colleague for help.
And the two travellers who had just arrived through the swing doors and I recognised from our Chemnitz party.
All of which would save me €65 and take just a 15-minute walk to the Charlottenburg S, or train station.
Of course I did a recce that night which took me around an hour and introduced me to the backstreets of the district and a Russian supermarket.
One way or another I did get my train to the airport the next day with ein little help from der Freunde.
