Dark Market: the gothic oriented flea market in Berlin

(Italian text follows)

Hi!

I haven’t been posting for a while once more, but temperature is pretty high in Italy now and sitting in front of my computer is challenging…

However, I would like to introduce you today to a topic that I enjoy a lot. I hope you will like it!

Flea markets are not only a tradition in Berlin, they are almost institutions. Some are small, some are huge and take place in several parts of the city. Most flea markets are on Sunday (like the ones in Boxhagener Platz and Mauerpark), they are a relaxing ritual for Berliners and the ideal destination for those tourists who wish to take a break from the classical sightseeing.

Especially interesting are those flea markets dedicated to a single subject or subculture, for all people looking for a specific object or garment, for those who like to keep focused on their own scene or for those who are simply curious. Among the several categories, for all gothic/dark style lovers there is the Dark Market –Der Gotische Trödelmarkt.

Entrance of Dark Market @ Duncker Club

The gothic market takes place on the first Sunday of the month, every second month, at Duncker: the well-known club of the dark scene in Berlin. Entrance is free. Exhibitors offer a range of both first and second hand goods, beside handmade accessories. In summer time (of course by good weather) stands are placed outside the club (by the street), inside it (yeah, directly on the dance floor!) and in the backyard: a small garden with gazebos and arbor.

Backyard of Duncker Club during Dark Market

Backyard of Duncker Club during Dark Market

The Dark Market is not only a sale-purchase occasion, but a true rendezvous moment. The bar of the club works like during night parties and, again in summer time, barbecue is granted in the backyard. Furthermore, inside the club, there is always a dj playing dark wave songs at low volume, so that participants can talk.

One of the stands inside Duncker Club. I lost the business card of the talented girl who creates these beauties and who was so kind to let me take the picture: if you konw her, please tell me, because I want to tag her in this photo, as deserved!

To keep updated about the events and to see the pictures which are taken every time, you can check the official Facebook page. If you wish to ask for information to take part as exhibitor, instead, you can send an e-mail to daisy@darkmarket.de , writing as subject of the e-mail “Dark Market”.

 

Next Dark Market is scheduled for August 2^nd, between 1:00 pm and 7:00 pm.

Duncker Club is in Duncker Straße 64 and you can reach it by tram M10 (Husemann Straße stop) or by S-Bahn (Prenzlauer Allee stop) with lines S41, S42 or S85.

Have you already been there? Are you planning to go? Let me know!

(I wrote the Italian version of this article for the on line magazine Berlino Cacio e Pepe)

See you soon

Mary

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Ciao!

Sono dinuovo stata un po' senza postare, ma patisco tantissimo il caldo di questi giorni e fatico a stare davanti al computer...

Oggi, però, torno con un argomento a cui tengo particolarmente: il Dark Market berlinese!

Ho scritto la versione italiana già qualche settimana fa per Berlino Cacio e Pepe, quindi è con gioia che vi rimando al link:

Dark Market (articolo per Berlino Cacio e Pepe) 

Voi ci siete già stati? Ho stuzzicato la vostra curiosità? Fatemi sapere!

A presto!

Mary

How Mary and Berlin met.

Hi,

I had not told almost anybody, but a 2-3 months ago I took part to a writing competition for bloggers.

Unfortunatly I did not win, though I think my text was not bad at all. The topic we had to develop was our relation to Berlin, our feelings and our experience.

As I do not want my entry to rest peacefully and forgotten in my hard disk, I have decided to disclose it here to you. I hope you will enjoy the reading! (I added photos later, as they were not part of the competition).

The first memory of Berlin which comes to my mind dates back to 10th November 1989. I was 8 years old and lived in the small Italian town where I was born.

That morning, when my classmates and I arrived at school, we discovered that our teacher had provided each and every of us with a copy of the local daily newspaper, something had happened: the Berlin Wall had fallen. The teacher had us reading the articles and she explained us step by step what they meant. Even we children should have been informed of this historical fact, as it was going to change the world and maybe our lives. And still I did not know how much Berlin would have changed mine.

Fourteen years later, in August 2003, I was standing in front of what remained of that Wall for the first time. My mind automatically recalled that childhood memory and somehow I felt that it was meant by the fate. That first stay in Berlin has been magical, I was there with my best friend and we felt free and accepted, it was like I had finally arrived where I had always belonged, like the city itself had told me: “Here you are! Why did you lose all this time?!”.

We had rent a one-room apartment in a colorful hostel near Warschauer Strasse, which had opened only a couple of years before, and there we felt like on top of the world! We left in the morning and stayed out all day, I have never walked so much! We got in touch with people of any kind, from policemen (no, we did not get in trouble, they gave us information), to old ladies helping us with our shopping list at supermarkets, to clochards who invited us to sit with them to tell us their story.

And at night… the big discovery about Berlin clubbing and about ourselves at the same time: we started attending dark wave parties, by chance, and we understood that it was our way! Also in this occasion we have experienced how much Berliners are open minded, because when we set off from Italy, our suitcases were full of colorful clothes and we did not have many options when getting ready for a night out. Well, we have always felt welcome at parties, no matter how we were dressed or how shy we were.

Those beautiful days ended up with two 22 year-old girls crying on a plane which was supposed to bring them home. In that moment I promised to myself that I would have to come back.

It seems that it did work.

Twelve years have passed and since then I have travelled continuously to Berlin, at least twice a year. I got to know many people and I have many dear friends there. Now, leaving for the German capital means having my husband, my dog and myself in a car and driving from Turin to Berlin (as we would not like our dog travelling in the stow of a plane), crossing the country and stepping by over night to rest and get to know other towns. The adventure goes on, it changed, but it never stopped!

All along this time my bound with Berlin has grown stronger and stronger, there are smells, sounds and sights that are carved under my skin, although they may seem like little nothings. I shiver if I think of the smell of fresh bakery when entering Kaiser's, or the strong smell of oil and grease when walking down the stairs of Frankfurter Tor’s underground, not to mention the incense perfume in some gothic clothes shops or in Duncker Club.

The voice in public means of transport saying, for example, “Nächste Station: Alexander Platz”, “Ausstieg: links” is so familiar.

Last, but not the least: seeing the sunset going down behind the TV Tower, when walking along the Warschauer bridge: this is quite often my last sight before leaving to go back home and it is as beautiful as it hurts.

Then faces, all those people who became close friends of mine. Seeing each other only from time to time means having much to update, but I have to admit that they make me feel like I had never left.

This is how I like to describe my feeling towards Berlin to anyone who asks me: in 2003 I went to Berlin for the first time and, since then, I have never really come back home.

A ghost at the seaside / Un fantasma al mare

(Segue testo in italiano)

One of the dichotomy in my person is being Italian and having a controversial relationship with seaside spots. I know it sounds a bit like a stereotype and a cliché, but if you are Italian or live in Italy, you perfectly know that, when summer holiday approaches, people ask you the usual question “where at the seaside are you going exactly?” instead of “where are you going to spend your vacation?”. Because in summer going to the seaside is a must, no other choice is taken in consideration. This attitude is so deep-rooted that when I answer “well, I am actually going to Berlin”, the possible reactions are usually the following:

“Oh, do they have sea too up there?”

Or

“Oh, ok, you have family there, haven’t you?”.

Once and for all: the answer to both questions is no.

I do not blame anybody for this behavior, it’s a sort of tradition and traditions are hard to be changed and maybe they shouldn’t at all. By the way, my friends do have this idea that I hate the sea. What I usually say is that it’s not me who hate it, but it is the sea itself which hates me. Being as white and pale as a ghost, I have considerable skin issues when it comes to laying in the sun and sea salt water plus wind make it worse. Like almost everybody else in this world, I do not like physical pain and even less I like people asking me what kind of disease I suffer from (aaaarrrghhh!!!).

Furthermore, in my early twenties I fell in love with Germany, where I feel at home and my fair skin is nobody’s business except mine. Sum up all this situations and you will easily understand why I do not spend my summer on the beach.

Last weekend my husband’s band (check them out! Klangstein, Rammstein's cover band) played in San Bartolomeo al Mare, a small town in Liguria, on the coast of the Tyrrhenian sea, and we took the chance of enjoying a weekend out, a little vacation.

The place was really lovely. Vegetation is luxuriant there, citrus trees, aloe plants and wisterias were everywhere, spreading sweet perfumes. We had a little balcony in our hotel room, from which we had a wide view both over the low hills and the sea. I spent several hours sitting there, just enjoying open air, the blue sky above, seagulls (not Steven… :D ) flying over my head and silence.

Then we headed to the beach. Wow. That was my actual idea of beach life! No one was around. It was still chilly, so we had our jackets on. The atmosphere was so peaceful and sun harmless. In April, at 18 C°, you are not really supposed to bathe, but I couldn’t care the least: I rolled up my trousers and entered in the water up to my knees. It wasn’t that cold after all!

Dear sea, we’d better keep our relationship for us only and meet privately, when other people are away and sun too weak to interfere. Winter-spring should suit, do you agree? Done!

Love

Mary

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Una delle dicotomie della mia persona sta nell’essere italiana e avere un rapporto conflittuale con il mare. Lo so che suona un po’ come uno stereotipo e un cliché ma, se siete italiani o vivete in Italia, sapete bene che, quando si avvicinano le vacanze estive, la domanda più frequente è “Dove andrai al mare?”, invece di “Dove andrai in vacanza?”. Perché d’estate s’ha da andare al mare, non c’è santo che tenga. Questa convinzione è talmente radicata che, quando rispondo “beh, in realtà andrò a Berlino”, le possibili reazioni sono sempre queste due:

“Ah, ma a Berlino c’è il mare?”

Oppure

“Ah ok, hai familiari là, vero?”

Una volta per tutte, la risposta ad entrambe le domande è: no.

Non biasimo nessuno per questo comportamento, è una sorta di italica tradizione e le tradizioni sono difficili da modificare, o forse non bisognerebbe proprio farlo. In ogni caso, tra i miei amici è diffusa l’idea che io non ami il mare. Quello che dico solitamente è che non sono io ad odiarlo, è lui che odia me. Essendo bianca e pallida come un fantasma, ho serie difficoltà con la pelle quando si tratta di esporsi al sole e il vento e la salsedine non fanno che peggiorare la situazione. Come la maggior parte delle persone a questo mondo, non mi piace la sofferenza fisica e ancora meno mi piace sentirmi chiedere di quale malattia soffra (grrrrrrrrr!)!

Inoltre intorno ai vent’anni mi sono innamorata della Germania, dove mi sento a casa e la mia pelle pallida è solo affar mio. Sommate tutte queste condizioni e comprenderete perché non trascorra l’estate in spiaggia.

Lo scorso weekend il gruppo di mio marito (i Klangstein: andateli a sentire!) ha suonato a San Bartolomeo al Mare, in Liguria e ne abbiamo approfittato per fare una mini-vacanzina.

Il paese é davvero carino. La vegetazione è rigogliosa, ci sono alberi di agrumi, piante di aloe e di glicine ovunque, emanano nell’aria un profumo fantastico. La nostra stanza in hotel aveva un terrazzino, con vista sia sulle collinette circostanti, sia sul mare. Ho passato diverse ore seduta la fuori, godendomi l’aria aperta, il cielo azzurro, i gabbiani che volavano sopra la mia testa e il silenzio.

E poi siamo andati in spiaggia. Wow. Quella era la vita da spiaggia che intendo io! Non c’era nessuno. Faceva ancora fresco, quindi avevamo ancora i giubbotti. L’atmosfera era molto tranquilla e il sole innocuo.

In Aprile, a 18 gradi, non è realmente previsto fare il bagno, ma poco mi interessava: mi sono arrotolata i pantaloni e sono entrata in acqua fino al ginocchio. Dopotutto non era poi così fredda!

Caro mare, io penso che dovremmo tenere la nostra relazione per noi, incontrarci in privato, lontano da sguardi indiscreti, quando il sole è ancora debole. Inverno-primavera dovrebbe andare bene, d’accordo? Andata!

Ciao

Mary