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Zur Molle
It was really just a touch of fate that landed us in what I'm sure is one of the
most interesting Bezirk Kneippes in Wedding. It was a most beautiful Saturday
afternoon. The last frosts of winter were fading, and it seemed that the sun had
finally come out and adhered to the prayers of me and millions of other
Berliners. My friend and I took immediate advantage of the weekend prize, and
couldn't resist the opportunity to go out and parade with them. A friend of ours
had recently moved to a huge apartment in Wedding, and Gregor and I finally
agreed to make the somewhat longer trek to the hallowed suburb. Although referred
to by some as an unattractive area, due partly to the underdeveloped cafe scene,
it seems not to be too expensive to rent there, and therefore will most likely
find itself becoming hipper in the next few years. Anyway, the journey to
Wedding requires the services of the train, and anyone who's aware of the
post-communist Berlin city aesthetics overhaul will probably be able to
imagine the difficulties one can have with the rail system. Often lines are
being redirected, rebuilt, and this can lead to trains full of passengers having
to disembark at strange train stations, and then waiting for another train to pick
them up and take them to a more central one, and then get shuttled back to the
original, in order to avoid public works. Unfortunately, this is what happened to
us. To the tune of Sly Stone^s "It^s a family affair" we sang the German
translation for "transport difficulties being encountered at this station" which
is "It's A Transport Verkehr", very loudly on all our platforms. After about two
hours of fucking around, we finally arrived at Wollank Straße S-Bahn, and upon
realising we were obviously much too late for our appointment, we thought we'd do
the next best thing and make a phonecall. All the nearest phone boxes were only
accepting phonecards, so we asked around, went into a nearby Kneippe to see if
they had a phone - they didn't, then crossed the street and entered a kneippe
where we saw a sign that said "Zur Molle". Although we really only wanted to use
the phone, it seems that our ruse was a thin one, and we were immediately
embraced by a totally mad guy who for some reason took an instant liking to us.
The telephone acted faultily, and he gave us his phonecard ("There's two marks
left on that."). Gregor stayed with him in a gesture of trade, and I went and
used the card. When I returned it appeared obvious that Gregor had rapidly become
embroiled in the company of the totally mad guy. We decided to order a beer and
sit down for a rest. I immediately ordered a "crystale wei§en bier", one of the
best and most famous beers of all southern Germany, and was greeted by grunts and
groans of approval from all the surrounding drunks. Not that they were drunks in
the more homeless sense of the word, but they were definitely there for a reason.
Other occupants of Zur Molle (apparently it means "to the Molle", and although
nobody we asked really knows what a "Molle" is, it is supposedly the kind of name
that is commonly used when naming local pubs) included a very nice guy who
brought me to the jukebox and gave me the opportunity to pick any songs I wanted;
the bar-man, who also happens to be the world master of table football; and
another guy, small-time smarty with a deep voice and searching eyes, who kept
telling Gregor that I reminded him of his first girlfriend. As if that wasn't
enough stimulation for a Saturday afternoon in an S-Bahn kneippe, it seemed that
one of the more lively occupants (remember the guy I told you about with the
phonecard?) was a total Jimmy Page head and started singing and dancing to all
of the Led Zeppelin songs he could get out of the jukebox.
Zur Molle is located directly underneath the Wollank Straße S-Bahn station.
It's open every day and at night until Jimmy Page drives everyone home to their beds.
© Electra
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