I’ve just come back from London. And after a few days in a city where people queue at bus stops as though it were the most natural thing in the world, I’m sitting on the S-Bahn heading into Mitte thinking:
Yes. Right. That’s how it was.
If you’re visiting Berlin, there are a few things you ought to know. Not as a warning, exactly. More as a gentle briefing. Because what Berliners have absorbed so deeply into their bones that it no longer requires explanation can come as something of a surprise to visitors. Occasionally, a small shock.
Boarding. A Contact Sport.
Let’s start with the obvious. In Berlin, there is a long and deeply held tradition of standing directly in front of the train doors as the train pulls in. Not to the side. Not at a respectful angle. Directly in front. And when the doors open, you get on. Whatever happens to be coming the other way, namely the passengers trying to get off, is a logistical inconvenience, not a social one. The reason is always the same. You’ve already spotted your seat while the train was still moving. And you will have it. At any cost.
For visitors, this can be genuinely disorienting, and at times rather physically uncomfortable. The proximity involved is a proximity nobody asked for. It has something of running the gauntlet about it. That’s just how it is. That is, perhaps, the nature of Berlin. There’s no universal advice I can offer here, except the one that applies to most things in life:
Keep Calm and Carry On.
The Escalator. A Territory.
Anyone arriving from London, Paris, or Tokyo will know the drill. Stand on the right, walk on the left. An escalator is also a staircase if you’re in a hurry.
In Berlin, this concept is simply unknown. A different principle applies here.
“This step is mine.” I am fully myself upon it. The possibility that someone might wish to pass is a piece of information that is not processed. The idea of treating an escalator as a staircase has not been considered.
Keep Calm and Carry On.
The Aisle. A Comfort Zone.
A third phenomenon that reliably baffles visitors is the use of available space inside the U-Bahn, S-Bahn, or bus. The fuller it gets, the greater the resistance to spreading out along the aisles.
The reason is almost always the same. It is the fear of not making it to the doors in time at your stop. I genuinely cannot think of another explanation. If you can, feel free to leave a comment.
Again: Keep Calm and Carry On.
But.
I don’t want to make it all sound dreadful. Because the truth is, Berlin’s public transport brings me genuine joy, every single day. And I mean that.
What fascinates me is how much you can learn about this city simply by riding through it. U-Bahn, S-Bahn, bus, tram, each one has its own crowd, its own energy, its own rhythm. Because each one serves different journeys. Short ones, long ones, commutes to work, trips to the shops, visits to friends across town. Local, or end-to-end across the city. It shifts constantly, depending on the day, the hour, the line. The route that’s half empty at seven in the morning is an entirely different animal at six in the evening.
If you need to get somewhere quickly, go underground. The U-Bahn and S-Bahn are your friends. If you have time, or simply want to take it, get the bus. And if you find a double-decker, go upstairs. Get a seat at the front if you can. I do this everywhere, not just Berlin. In London, too, the upper deck changes how you see a city entirely. Berlin’s buses, incidentally, move at a considerably brisker pace than their London counterparts. Which would be a whole other article.
In the mornings, before ten, the S-Bahn still belongs to the locals. The ones who start the day with a faint smile because something, somewhere, is right. The ones staring grimly at their phones, headphones firmly in place, acoustically sealed off from everything around them. I’ll write about those people separately. They deserve their own piece.
And then there are the ones who make phone calls before eight. Work calls. Personal calls. Sometimes, bewilderingly, both at once. Some topics are simply not suited to public life. In moments like these, I find myself deeply questioning the invention of the speakerphone.
But that, too, is a topic for another article.
Travel. And stay curious.
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