My friend Kamni had recommended a bar on the North East side of town called The Absinthe Depot, so once we got done getting our tourist on, we decided this was something we needed to go check out. We walked quite a bit taking in the sites of the city at night (still mostly empty due to the weather) until we came upon our destination.
The "bar" itself was really more of a specialty liquor store with 3-4 tables in the front for service. The only options were coffee, water and absinthe (sold in both the 3 euro 50 regular and 4 euro 50 "special"). The man who ran the place had a certain gruff charm (again, Berliners are ridiculously friendly) and as we were the only customers we carried on a good amount of conversation about the city, his business, NYC and what have you.
During the time we were there (probably about an hour and a half) we only saw a few customers come in, and they were all to buy things to take with them...beers or bottles of the green stuff. But at around 1130 a group of 4 absolutely hammered Icelandic folk came stumbling in the door. And I gathered from their entrance that they had been to this place earlier in the evening and that the owner was not terribly happy to see them back.
There were 3 men and one woman, all seemed to be in their mid-40's. They apparently ran a local theater and had the bombastic personalities to suit that business. They joined us at our table without a proper invite, and proceeded to roll a hash joint (something that still managed to leave Anand amazed).
After several very drunken and loud conversations occured regarding our opinions of Berlin, what we knew about Iceland, and American politics it came up that I lived in Brooklyn. One of the Icelanders asked where and I said "Prospect Heights, I've lived there for nearly 4 years". He then jumped up and said "I used to live in Ft. Green (one neighborhood over, for the none Brooklyn people). At that point the owner of the bar said "oh? I lived in Ft. Green for many years". Apparently he'd lived there in the 80's and told a few stories about what the place had been like back then. It is indeed a small planet.
The Icelanders then asked what we planned on doing, at which point I dutifully pulled out my print out of places to check out. The woman in the group (Who was definitely trying to get her Cougar on) made fun of me quite a bit for having a "Drinking itenerary" but I personally think that she just lacked vision. As the place closed at midnight, the Icelanders tried to drag us along with them on wherever there adventure would take them next, but Anand and I were having none of it...we ducked out and on to our next adventure.
CSS is one of those bands that I feel slightly guilty for liking. They are "fun" and little else, though I must admit the lyrics to this are fairly wittily scathing. I guess the obnoxiousness of the art scene in Brazil isn't terribly different than the art scene in NYC...I would make a joke about it having more waxed vags, but that's probably not even true anymore.
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