I made it to Berlin. Long flight, back destroyed, and two ladies sitting next to me who I'm completely certain have added me to their permanent blacklist of travel companions. It's not like I did anything wrong, technically. The problem is I fell asleep. And when I fall asleep on a plane, I apparently become something that shouldn't exist at 10,000 meters. The snoring. You know how it goes. There's not much to explain. The two ladies looked at me with that mix of disgust and resignation that only belongs to people who've accepted their fate but haven't forgiven it. I arrived in Berlin feeling guilty and well-rested at the same time. That's a partial victory.

What I didn't expect was that the first German I'd interact with would make me laugh from the very first second. Taxi line, airport, 23-kilo suitcase I'm hauling around like I'm permanently relocating to Europe. The driver walks up and says "let me help you with your luggage." I tell him no, it's too heavy. He insists. "Let me try." I say okay, figuring he'd learn the lesson himself. He picks it up, pauses dramatically, then delivers: "It's heavy! What do you have inside, tacos?"

I died. I literally died in the Berlin airport at 11 PM.

I had this cliché in my head that Germans are serious, cold, efficient but humorless. This guy shattered that stereotype in thirty seconds with a taco joke. Full respect. During the ride to the hotel he told me about the city: that Berlin at night is quiet, that you can walk alone without any problem, that people are peaceful. He said it with the naturalness of someone who's lived there for years and doesn't even find it remarkable anymore, but it sounded good to me. I come from Mexico City. The concept of "walking alone at night and nothing happens" is not something my body processes easily.

He also recommended KitKat. For those who don't know, KitKat Club is one of Berlin's most famous clubs, with a dresscode policy that basically means showing up wearing as little as possible. Fetish-friendly is the diplomatic term. I told him it wasn't my thing. He laughed and said he doesn't go either because he doesn't want to see men having sex with men. Said it just like that, no filter, pure late-night Berlin cabbie style. The level of brutal honesty from this man in twenty minutes was genuinely impressive.

Hotel check-in was just as fast and friendly. Two people, two interactions, zero drama. I've only been in Germany two hours and it's already surprised me more than I expected. Not in a "wow what an amazing country" way, but in the sense that: people here just work. No nonsense. No attitude. No making you feel like they're doing you a favor.

The driver also mentioned that getting into Berghain as a foreigner is nearly impossible. It's not urban legend, it's the documented reality of thousands of people who've waited in line for hours and ended up staring at the door from outside. Berghain's bouncers are famous for turning people away without any explanation, with a coldness that would make any VIP-list influencer cry. Tomorrow is the attempt. I'm not setting high expectations but I'm also not showing up looking like an excited tourist. Attitude is everything, according to those who've actually made it inside.

Tonight I just rest. The body needs it after Ibiza and the flight. Tomorrow we'll see what happens with Berghain or Tresor. What I do know is that Berlin already won me over from the first taxi ride, and that says a lot.

Tomorrow: the Berghain attempt. Or Tresor. Or I sit in a café watching people walk by like a proper Berliner. Berlin doesn't rush you, and I already like that about it.

Me in front of the Berliner Dom

Me having dinner in Berlin