I began walking towards Alexanderplatz, as my map had S+U markings on it, which implied to me that I could find the U-Bahn there. However, rather than taking the west side of the road, this time, I kept left, and shortly came to the entrance of the Spitalmarkt U-Bahn station.
Again, I discovered that familiarity with the system would have been useful. I needed to work out how many zones I had to pass through to get to Leopoldplatz. While I was trying to find an answer, a woman came to the adjoining ticket machine, and discovered that it would not take the latest design of 5 Euro note. She asked me if I could change notes and, at first, I said I couldn't. But a check in my wallet found two 10 Euro notes so she exchanged a 20 for these, bought her ticket, and asked if she could help me.
I explained my situation and she took me to a wall chart which was a bit more explanatory than the labels on the ticket machine, and told me what ticket I needed. She also informed me that, at Stadtmittel I had to leave the platform I came in on, and go through a tunnel to get to the platforms leading to Leopoldplatz.
Off I went.
It was difficult because the train windows were so covered with advertising that I could barely see the station names as I came to them, and, at one station, it seemed that even semi-local people were having trouble finding the station name. However, I got to Stadtmittel OK, found the tunnel and steps and made it to the other platform where it was only three or four more stops to my destination.
I was near the rear (station exit) end of the platform, and the first off, so there was no problem in identifying my companion nor in her identifying me. Not that she had changed much in half a decade. I had remembered her as being not quite as tall and a little lighter haired, but she had been spending a lot of time surfing while in Australia.
We hugged, greeted each other, and began walking.
At Leopoldplatz Bhf
The eatery was in what had been the basement of a student accommodation building. It was somewhere between an English pub and perhaps the old (and long closed) Jazz restaurant in Sydney. There wasn't a bar in the English/Australian sense, but people sat at benches and drank beer, and ate Brezel or Flammkuchen. I had a "black beer", not unlike Newcastle Brown or Tooheys Old in Australia, but with some pleasant malty tones, and M... had a Weißbier, I believe. Later we shared a Brezel big enough to feed a village in some parts of the world. Well, much bigger than the imitations you get in Australia, 25 to a snack packet.
It was really nice to catch up after such a long time, and to see how M... was maturing and gaining confidence. As a 20-year-old she already had those things, but they develop with the years. She reminds me of my niece in some ways, too. My niece is about the same age.
I was a little worried about her when she worked in Sydney, as she was fun-loving, enthusiastic and seemed trusting -- all great characteristics, but the kind of thing unscrupulous people are likely to exploit. As I remarked once to her employer, I thought she might have some painful experiences and lessons, but it seems to have worked out.
I also heard about her mum, who sometimes sends me Christmas greetings, and her grandmother, who has recently had to move to an aged care facility. They seem to be nice women. And, of course, how her education and employment were going. She works at the airport, where some of her tasks include information desk duties. As someone who engages well with people, I can see her doing well in that. She was well-liked in the sandwich shop where the women still remember her and ask after her in case I had heard anything. I also noted that she was known in the Bräuerei, and treated the waiting staff in a friendly manner.
However, she is also pursuing her degree and seems to be managing that well. She enjoyed a recent work-experience internship.
While we were talking, she brought out a bag containing a box of cakes, a large slab of Gouda cheese and some Roggenbrot and Pumpernickel -- a little gift for me (she likes Gouda, but didn't find it easily in Sydney. It's there if you know where to look.)
A couple came and sat at the other end of our bench, so we got them to take a couple of photographs.
We talked for about 2-1/2 hours, which took us to close to 11, and I thought I should go home and pack, and she probably needed to sleep before going to university in the morning, so we reluctantly got up. She wanted to walk me to the station, but I said it was too late at night for a lady to walk home on her own, so I walked her to her flat, which is conveniently near a selection of Asian eateries, so she is spoiled for choice. She said it was a long walk, but I doubt that it was even 10 minutes.
We were barely out of the Bräuerei when she put an arm over my shoulder and I put an arm around her waist and we walked a short distance like that. I was reminded of walking like that with my cousin when we were about 4 and 7 or maybe even a little younger. A good memory,
As we walked, we continued talking, and I felt I knew her a lot better, which was nice.
Once we were outside her flat, she said, "Now I should walk you to the station," so she did. By now, though, I could see it was relatively safe there, so I wasn't so concerned.
We got to the station, I bought my ticket and she laughed when I spoke the instructions aloud, "Fahrschein entgültigen" (I think it said). "That sounds perfectly German," she told me. I think it sounded a little strange or unexpected coming from an Australian.
The ticket arrangement is a little strange, but seems to work OK. You buy your ticket, and, when you are ready to go, you activate the ticket by getting it timestamped. You have a certain length of time in which to complete your journey, but may break it anywhere during that time. There is no ticket collection at the end of the trip, but you may be asked to show that you have a ticket.
She waited with me until the train came, we hugged again, and I was off into the underground labyrinth feeling rather happy.
The train got as far as Französischestraße, where I discovered that it was a "Pendel" service. It took me several minutes before I realised that this was a reference, not to some Berlin equivalent to Pendle Hill, but a pendulum service. It took me even longer to realise that that meant the train would now go back where it had come from. There was linework further down the line.
Even Germans were a but nonplussed by this situation!
But we worked it out, and I eventually reached Stadtmittel.
Now I had another problem: how to get from there to Spittelmarkt.
I even went up the stairs to the street, where I found a distressed young woman needing to get to her hotel and then to Schönefeld for an early morning flight. Unfortunately, she picked the one person who spoke pretty much her variety of English natively, so I couldn't help, except to suggest a cab, which I had already discovered was a relatively cheap way to travel. I offered to give her 10 Euros in case she needed more for her fare, but she said she would be OK.
So, back downstairs.
I was getting worried about ever making it home, and then I remembered the tunnel and stairs. Soon I was at the platform for Spittelmarkt trains, and reached my hotel at around 12:30am. Everything was locked up, but I had a key to the main doors, and caught the lift up to the 4th floor.
I didn't pack: I crashed.
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