I have a Scottish face

Sadly, I left Berlin today. I really loved it. Everyone seemed so happy, even the bus drivers. I definitely want to return.

I didn’t have any time for seeing anything this morning. It was a case of slowly packing, checking out then waiting about two minutes for the bus back to the airport. All very smooth and this time I could see Berlin as we drove through it.

At the airport there was a bit of a strange group heading to Cologne in all the finery one normally expects from fairy tale characters.

I think this was the king

As well as this chap there was also a prince and a princess looking very similar. Well, without the beard. The last I saw of them, as I headed through passport control they were standing around their gate knocking back beer. They were all very jolly. A big part of me wanted to go wherever they were going.

But a bigger part headed for the gate and then my plane for the very smooth flight back to Heathrow.

Back in the UK and the grim face of the British service industry was everywhere. Faces weighed down by some imaginary slight; attitudes approaching doom. I was very glad to get back to the house.

And this was there to greet me.

On the walk from the bus stop (there were no taxis at the station) I forced my way through a mini blizzard which turned into snowfall as soon as I walked into the house. It accompanied me to Sue’s where I interrupted her yoga class (sorry) and collected the girls. Apparently they loved the snow. Once home, Freya refused to go out on the terrace though which seems far more likely.

So, my mini-adventure to Museum Island was over. I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to visit all five museums (the Berlin Card was brilliant and highly recommended for anyone wanting to see them all) and experience a tiny bit of Berlin.

I found the people lovely. An example this morning was a chap in security. In most countries, these people are grim and reserved. I guess they see it as their job to be distant from the people they’re checking. (Mind you, Australian security and customs people are always very friendly.)

The chap I encountered this morning was happy, genial and pleasant. He asked me where I came from. (Given the political situation at the moment it’s always handy to say I’m Australian in my broadest possible accent.) He looked surprised when I told him. I asked him why.

You have a Scottish face,” He told me.

We both laughed and patted each other on the shoulder as I walked away, my experience through security having been eased considerably.

And that was my three day experience of Berliners. Lovely people, lovely city.

Mind you, I reckon I have an Italian face.

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2 Responses to I have a Scottish face

  1. Mirinda says:

    šŸ˜‚

  2. Josephine Cook says:

    You have your fathers face and he is very English’ love mum xxx

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