I'm not sure why I have less and less to write when I travel now. Perhaps after the initial awe of grand old Europe, I've become a little blase about the already seen.
So Berlin, to be kind, is an unfinished symphony. Under construction.
I admire the impassioned youth making their mark, creating afresh, expressing their anger and confusion at the history they have found themselves a part of. A city wears its scars and Berliners wear them well. They are all so open about their history, embracing education and information and sharing it without shame or hostility, and why should they? They are blameless after all and they were victims as well. The taxi driver takes us from the stoic cold concrete of the East to the colourful, creative civilised West.
But for the exceptional shops and cutting edge cafes, there's a lot of nothing in between and anything that is finds itself crumbled and covered in graffiti.
What was the highlight of the trip for you?" Mum asked
"Paris. And you?"