This post is one of those that resulted from a one-line note in my mobile quite a few months ago, on one of those rare days I didn't have a notebook with me in the underground. And yes, those days are indeed rare.
The BVG, as many of you know, is the city transport network for Berlin. It has its good days, its bad days, and its truly horrific days when major parts of the network strike, but in general, it leaves most of the other public transport networks I've had the pleasure (or, more often than not, the misfortune) of experiencing for dead. A spiderweb of trains, trams and buses connecting most areas of the city to most others, in a network so well thought out that the majority of Berliners choose to ride public transport over owning their own car.
Yes, the Berliners, and indeed ze Germans, are an environmentally conscious lot, which clearly gives public transport an advantage, but the BVG actually really is that good.
Living in a city which relies so heavily on public transport, you quickly learn to take a few select items with you every time you leave the house, so that you are not forced to endure the boredom of a: waiting for said transport, which to be fair is rarely more than about five or six minutes' wait (S-Bahn excluded, since they've been striking on and off for the better part of the last six months), or b: the ride in the public transport itself. One or two stops is tolerable, but then there's the walk to and from the station or bus stop, and add on a few minutes' wait, and heaven forbid you have to change once or twice in your journey, and that leaves you with at least half an hour of boredom which could potentially be alleviated by just one or two of a few small items.
My items of choice? For pure portability, an MP3 player, and usually at least either a book or my journal. Ultimately, I prefer to have at least two of these three items, to cater for battery failure or a particularly jittery driver impeding my writing or reading ability, but one will usually suffice. The problem is, choosing just one item leaves you open to the mercy of the choices of your fellow commuters. Choosing reading or writing material is practically begging for at least one of the kids in the train to play every single Turkish eurotrance or antagonistic German rap track that they have previously downloaded onto their mobile phone at the maximum volume that their Nokia can possibly pump out. Not pleasant.
The MP3 player is a better single choice, but then where do you look? If you're fortunate (that's a relative term, by the way) enough to be travelling by bus, or by tram, then you can quite happily while away the minutes staring out the window and watch the world go by.
Trains however, despite their inherent increased speed beneath the city from one rabbit hole to another, balance out this obvious benefit by removing all external visual stimulation. And so, should you have made the unfortunate choice to travel by train without bringing your own reading material, your only other option is to people-watch.
People-watching is where I get a large part of my inspiration for blog posts - so much so that I've actually got a series of posts in the works at the moment, the results of my observations while travelling around Berlin's underground network over the last two years. The characters of the Berlin transport network are truly unique, and there's never a dull moment in the train, if you know what you're looking for. More on these in upcoming posts though.
Occasionally however, you spy someone in the Ubahn who catches your attention, and even more occasionally, it's positive. You find your gaze drawn to them, not because of the Turkish eurotrash they're playing at volumes loud enough to wake the dead in southern Argentina, and not because you have the distinct impression that he or she hasn't indulged in personal hygiene for a period of years. No, sometimes, just sometimes, you catch a glimpse of someone you happen to find rather attractive. And suddenly, you're quite willing to delay the arrival at your destination a little just so that you can stay in their line of sight for a few extra moments.
Then before you know it, and most definitely before you're prepared to part with the welcome visual treat that he or she has brought into the usual monotony of a BVG ride, the yellow doors open and he or she has disappeared into the masses swarming on the platform. Just a few more moments later, as if nothing had happened, the doors close and you're on your way, back into your bubble of your MP3 player until you too finally reach your destination.
This happens on a regular basis - at least to me - and for the first few months of living in Berlin, I simply learned to welcome the opportunity for some eye candy to brighten up the hour ride from my old flat to Alexanderplatz. One day however, I noticed a poster on the inside of the train, advertising yet another service of the BVG, but unlike the others, this service actually had very little to do with transport and tickets. They weren't promoting the latest subscription deal for a yearly ticket, or kindly asking you to refrain from subjecting your fellow passengers to your choice of "music".
The BVG's latest promotional innovation was a dating service. Genius! Why didn't I think of that? Why just let the man or woman of your dreams get off at the next stop and disappear into the throng of communters on the platform? Find them again on the BVG website! Who knows - it could be the beginning of something beautiful!
The glaring problem here? How on earth to get in contact with him or her.
Simple. Register your details on the BVG website, and he or she can find you there. You can register your name, mobile number, your clothing and the clothing of the person you're searching for during the journey in which your encounter occured, the stations you travelled between, and of course the date and time of the encounter. Then, all you have to do is wait for them to register their details, remember what they were wearing at the time and the stations they travelled between, find you on the website, and bam - love!
It's foolproof! Nothing can go wrong!
Ok, BVG. I've got a tip for you. Stick to transport. Dating services are clearly not your strength.
The BVG, as many of you know, is the city transport network for Berlin. It has its good days, its bad days, and its truly horrific days when major parts of the network strike, but in general, it leaves most of the other public transport networks I've had the pleasure (or, more often than not, the misfortune) of experiencing for dead. A spiderweb of trains, trams and buses connecting most areas of the city to most others, in a network so well thought out that the majority of Berliners choose to ride public transport over owning their own car.
Yes, the Berliners, and indeed ze Germans, are an environmentally conscious lot, which clearly gives public transport an advantage, but the BVG actually really is that good.
Living in a city which relies so heavily on public transport, you quickly learn to take a few select items with you every time you leave the house, so that you are not forced to endure the boredom of a: waiting for said transport, which to be fair is rarely more than about five or six minutes' wait (S-Bahn excluded, since they've been striking on and off for the better part of the last six months), or b: the ride in the public transport itself. One or two stops is tolerable, but then there's the walk to and from the station or bus stop, and add on a few minutes' wait, and heaven forbid you have to change once or twice in your journey, and that leaves you with at least half an hour of boredom which could potentially be alleviated by just one or two of a few small items.
My items of choice? For pure portability, an MP3 player, and usually at least either a book or my journal. Ultimately, I prefer to have at least two of these three items, to cater for battery failure or a particularly jittery driver impeding my writing or reading ability, but one will usually suffice. The problem is, choosing just one item leaves you open to the mercy of the choices of your fellow commuters. Choosing reading or writing material is practically begging for at least one of the kids in the train to play every single Turkish eurotrance or antagonistic German rap track that they have previously downloaded onto their mobile phone at the maximum volume that their Nokia can possibly pump out. Not pleasant.
The MP3 player is a better single choice, but then where do you look? If you're fortunate (that's a relative term, by the way) enough to be travelling by bus, or by tram, then you can quite happily while away the minutes staring out the window and watch the world go by.
Trains however, despite their inherent increased speed beneath the city from one rabbit hole to another, balance out this obvious benefit by removing all external visual stimulation. And so, should you have made the unfortunate choice to travel by train without bringing your own reading material, your only other option is to people-watch.
People-watching is where I get a large part of my inspiration for blog posts - so much so that I've actually got a series of posts in the works at the moment, the results of my observations while travelling around Berlin's underground network over the last two years. The characters of the Berlin transport network are truly unique, and there's never a dull moment in the train, if you know what you're looking for. More on these in upcoming posts though.
Occasionally however, you spy someone in the Ubahn who catches your attention, and even more occasionally, it's positive. You find your gaze drawn to them, not because of the Turkish eurotrash they're playing at volumes loud enough to wake the dead in southern Argentina, and not because you have the distinct impression that he or she hasn't indulged in personal hygiene for a period of years. No, sometimes, just sometimes, you catch a glimpse of someone you happen to find rather attractive. And suddenly, you're quite willing to delay the arrival at your destination a little just so that you can stay in their line of sight for a few extra moments.
Then before you know it, and most definitely before you're prepared to part with the welcome visual treat that he or she has brought into the usual monotony of a BVG ride, the yellow doors open and he or she has disappeared into the masses swarming on the platform. Just a few more moments later, as if nothing had happened, the doors close and you're on your way, back into your bubble of your MP3 player until you too finally reach your destination.
This happens on a regular basis - at least to me - and for the first few months of living in Berlin, I simply learned to welcome the opportunity for some eye candy to brighten up the hour ride from my old flat to Alexanderplatz. One day however, I noticed a poster on the inside of the train, advertising yet another service of the BVG, but unlike the others, this service actually had very little to do with transport and tickets. They weren't promoting the latest subscription deal for a yearly ticket, or kindly asking you to refrain from subjecting your fellow passengers to your choice of "music".
The BVG's latest promotional innovation was a dating service. Genius! Why didn't I think of that? Why just let the man or woman of your dreams get off at the next stop and disappear into the throng of communters on the platform? Find them again on the BVG website! Who knows - it could be the beginning of something beautiful!
The glaring problem here? How on earth to get in contact with him or her.
Simple. Register your details on the BVG website, and he or she can find you there. You can register your name, mobile number, your clothing and the clothing of the person you're searching for during the journey in which your encounter occured, the stations you travelled between, and of course the date and time of the encounter. Then, all you have to do is wait for them to register their details, remember what they were wearing at the time and the stations they travelled between, find you on the website, and bam - love!
It's foolproof! Nothing can go wrong!
Ok, BVG. I've got a tip for you. Stick to transport. Dating services are clearly not your strength.
