Off The Road

Berlin, a city popular for its alternative itinerary, has one growing “To Do” that won’t ever be found on traditional travel guides, but is no less essential. I jumped on the above rail-line and off to Spree Park.

I had made the trek alone. On the ride out my heart was in my throat. It was possibly the most illegal thing I was about to do (and I had, by accident, smuggled a 200mL bottle of sunscreen onto a plane out of Athens.) I fortunately heard British accents on the train, spied a group of six, roughly my age, and pounced when they got off the same platform as me.

There is definite safety in numbers, or at least you can make more jokes when you’re nervous. Entering Spree Park included skulking around the fence, looking for a hole. Inside is like transitioning into a fairy-tale. You get in deeper and suddenly you find yourself following a railway track to a green lake. I could only hear my own heart in my ears. The wood on the rail tracks was almost entirely rotted through, but there were steel bars through enough of the bars to create a stepping stone path. When we got to the other side (and through the dark, graffiti tunnel, because in true Berlin-style there was not an inch of property left that wasn’t marked up), there was a moment of true movie-style panic when we heard German. The group fractured, I ran and, as it turned out, picked the better option. The two left behind were swiftly picked up and unceremoniously kicked out. More secure, we tried again.

The biggest goals of undertaking the Dino Hunt, is, of course are; The Tiger Head the quintessential symbol of Spree Park. With a train already up on the platform waiting, the rollercoaster is just the Tiger mouth entrance.

On our way we found the train track’s station, next to a witch-like thatch house. Even without having run into other people on our adventure, it was clear that the park was still visited. In the village part, what once must have been food courts and circus sideshows, we found handmade signs for liquor. All of this gave us a sense of liberation, but also didn’t discourage whispering. The Dinos were by the Ferris wheel, a great blind eye that would spin in cross-winds but was still on that summer afternoon. It looked down on the two giant plastic dinosaurs that bore their likeness. Both had been knocked down onto their sides, one with its head caved in. Like finding images of poachers with their Big Game kills, their plastic shells feeding back into the unkempt lawns.