We get Euros, free food, love letters and a visit from the police
I take another gulp of cold air before the train rumbles still. The doors open and my friend and I clamber inside. Almost in unison, everyone aboard the westbound line to Berlin lets out a huffing flurry of air in a possible attempt to warm the carriage. Icy-toed and scruffy after days of highway rollin’ from Amsterdam, we’re used to any conditions.
No matter how German or un-German you look, when you and your friend have 100 kilograms of music gear in tow, Germans love to stare, even when the favour is sternly returned. But attention, and lots of it, is crucial when busking. To make ourselves louder than the yodelling Olof around the corner, we use: a speaker, speaker stand, two microphones, two microphone stands, two guitars, effects pedal boards, a car battery, a backpack full of leads and two sets of numb, prickly calloused hands.
From time to time, illegal buskers break the train goer’s gaze. The doors open and two kids emerge playing Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” on saxophones. A bucket presents itself. Coins clink loudly among passenger cheer all the way to the next station where the kids narrowly miss two train guards boarding. I feel safe knowing my ticket is in my right pocket, yet the nervousness rolls in as the guard looks at my ticket. “Ticket ist abgelaufen,” he says bluntly.
We begin the tedious job of setting up. No need to chat—the procedure’s down pat. A quick “testing, test one, two” then a little excitement as we rock paper scissors to see who sings first.Lawson Hull“Sorry, ich spreche kein Deutch,” I reply, uneasily.
“Your ticket has expired,” he snaps. “Passport please.”
After a good while of trying to convince the guards our tickets are valid, we both give rough addresses of long lost aunts back home and hope for the best. The best is an €80 fine.
After checking the line map and mumbling Betriebsbahnhof Rummelsburg like a million times, I realise two things: one, pronouncing station names doesn’t make life any easier; and two, we’d missed our station.
Stairs and escalators are always trying when reaching ground floor—we brace even strangers nearby to avoid worst-case scenarios such as Eisenhower’s domino theory. I look back to my friend to read his face in the 15 seconds of meditation, gathering thoughts before the rolling staircase jolts us forward into foot traffic fever.
Outside the doors of Berlin’s central station, Hauptbahnhof, we head for the closest square. A water fountain is in the centre while all kinds of human life criss-cross to banks, coffee shops and Burger Kings.
We choose a spot close to the edge of the square, outside some office buildings. We begin the tedious job of setting up. No need to chat—the procedure’s down pat. A quick “testing, test one, two” then a little excitement as we rock paper scissors to see who sings first.
My friend always begins with some experimental made-up-on-the-spot song, something he may have heard the night before. Casual-like, laying a few riffs together, pausing a moment to breath deeply into his coiled fist to warm it. I turn on the pavement to find a place to drink. I walk briskly to dodge deaf beggars. Pushing through the doors of a café, I hear behind me, “And I ain’t see the sunshine since I don’t know when . . . ,” a Johnny Cash cover that always does the trick.
After using the free internet to make sure no one back home is doing anything more adventurous than me, and nearing the bottom of my coffee, I notice a woman to my left, sitting on a step, drawing or writing or both. She’s been here a while, past 30 minutes, dressed fairly alternatively, messy blonde hair, biting an apple. I take more notice when she stands up and begins walking across the square to my friend, the busking man. She pauses a moment, listening before gracefully taking a few steps in rhythm to the song, placing down a piece of paper and a yoghurt cup on top. She smiles and wanders off.
I’m not sure how much my friend makes—maybe a handful of euros, at least a love letter and some yoghurt. Either way, I’m going to earn that and double when I start playing. And just as I do, the police arrive.
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