October 2: The Unfortunate Arrival in Berlin

Throughout my journey across Europe, I had been navigating with a GPS system I installed on my mobile phone (a Nokia N70). It consisted of a GPS satellite receiver connected via Bluetooth to the phone, which had a removable card with maps of all Europe. I used it to get to Héctor’s place in Zaragoza, to find a specific street in Sant Andreu de la Barca, and to take me all the way to Switzerland. That morning I even used it to drive Dani to his university before leaving Lausanne.

The first part of the trip could have been called the “Cheese Route,” since I passed through La Gruyère and Emmental. I was surprised that, driving through those towns, there weren’t houses with signs saying “CHEESE FOR SALE,” like when you pass through Castilla–La Mancha.

After that, I crossed the German border without any incident.

German border

The journey across Germany felt endless. It took me 10 hours to reach Leipzig (160 km from Berlin), where I had arranged to hand a book over to a friend. Once again, the GPS guided me to his office and then out of the city.

After 12 hours on the road, I arrived in Berlin. The GPS kindly gave me a sightseeing tour of the city on the way to Iván’s place—the other student from the University of Salamanca who has the same scholarship as me and who was hosting me for the first night. I drove along Spanische Allee (no idea why it’s called that), past the Victory Column (whose laurel wreath shamelessly points toward Paris), by the Reichstag building and Unter den Linden. There I was, naïvely stopping at every landmark to take photos, while the GPS continued its route, leading me through Alexanderplatz… and suddenly…

Goodbye, phone, goodbye

The Nokia screen appeared, announcing that the phone was shutting down. I had run out of battery.

No phone, no GPS, midnight, in a city of ninety square kilometers—how was I supposed to find the street I needed? The first thing I tried was connecting to the internet with my laptop, searching for an unsecured Wi-Fi network. The computer was on the passenger seat, and I kept parking wherever I could around Alexanderplatz and along Karl-Marx-Allee, hoping to pick something up—but no luck. I put the laptop away and started looking for somewhere with a power outlet (should I open a lamppost and improvise a bit of MacGyver?). Then, as I returned to Alexanderplatz, I saw a shopping center that seemed to be open. I parked badly right at the entrance and, with charger and phone in hand, headed inside. It was closed. I waited a bit, and when an employee came out, I slipped in through the service door. On a column next to a small children’s ride, I found a power socket. I had to unplug the merry-go-round to plug in my charger.

I called Iván to explain my situation and memorized the route the GPS traced to get to his house. When I saw a security guard coming down the stairs, I ran out, jumped into the car, and sped off.

Iván’s place wasn’t far from there, and I found it quickly. I had to sneak into the courtyard of his building to find the mailbox and ring the doorbell.

Iván had dinner ready for me, but I didn’t really feel like eating. I was exhausted and needed sleep because the next morning, at eight o’clock, I had to pick up the keys to my room and then face the complicated German bureaucracy.