Down a slim break in the continuous apt block facades that crowd the length of Griefswalder Strasse in Berlin's Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood, a small road leads you to a wide lot on top of a small rise. Some old brick walls line the lots' borders, while temp construction fencing wanders aimlessly around the dust. In the middle of the expanse is a large brick building, clearly a factory of some type. Most of the third floor is reduced by either a fire or a bombing raid to a skeleton of brick chimneys and blown-out windows.
The RF holiday party is supposed to be here, and from the outside it is dead silent. There are lighting effects on the exterior brickwork, highlighting the rough facades in red and blue beams from a low angle, so someone is actually doing something here. We are directed to a basement staircase by a security guy standing next to a pile of stones and weeds.
We're now in the cellar of the old Schneider Brewery. We pass through massive subterranean rooms lit by inconsistently-placed incandescent bulbs. In one spot, a 1950's era operating table, surgical lights and nurse's cabinet sits in a corner. In another direction, we spot recently-renovated bathrooms with infrared signal self-flush eco toilets. Quite emblematic of modern Berlin: spotless creature comforts attractively arranged within very raw, historical and atmospheric surroundings.
We come to the base of a tight spiral staircase. A half-open large iron door rusts on massive hinges and hides a dark corridor behind it. We start up the stairs and can now hear dim strains of music and voices. Around and around, passing other similar rusted monolithic doors on sliding rails on evey landing. Eventually we arrive at the event room, one of the main brewery work areas. 40' ceilings, beams, and exposed ancient brick everywhere. Three long tables split the room, upon which sit candles. There's some ambient indirect lighting in the corners to accent the brick patterns in the walls, but otherwise a low-lit, medieval feel to the place.
Agency people running around in snazzy dresses and makeup, or beards and black suits. Dinner follows, then the Year in Review speech by CEO Sascha Martini, then the evening devolves into beats and dancing. This dancing part goes until 3 or 4 in the morning, when people get tired of the place and leave to find another one they can hang at until breakfast.
Cassandra went home to relieve the babysitter and I stayed later just to make sure I didn't miss anything. For the most part, these late night parties are loud and smoky but one of our mottos with this is not to miss anything. So I stayed around making sure I didn't miss anything, then took a long walk back to Alexanderplatz and caught the S-Bahn home.
This provided another interesting Berlin observation: At 2 in the morning the trains are just as crowded as they are at rush hour. And it isn't all just young party kids. You've got the whole spectrum covered: grandparents coming back from the show, business guys in suits, professor-looking types with white beards and glasses quietly reading Bertolt Brecht novels. It seems that people here also take on this "don't miss anything" idea.
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