Behind the Scenes:
Hidden Treasures in Kreuzberg
By Sofia Mejias-Pascoe
It was a warm Sunday afternoon when some fellow students and I ventured from our hostel for one of our first adventures after arriving in Berlin for a reporting trip. We made the short journey from where we are staying in Mitte to Kreuzberg in hopes of finding clothes, jewelry and any interesting trinkets or treasures to buy.
To our dismay, all the shops we hoped to visit are regularly closed on Sundays.
Despite the small setback, we continued to wander the streets of Kreuzberg looking for a way to pass the time. We were just about to head back to the subway station when we suddenly stumbled upon an opening in a fenced area. Peeking our heads around the gate, we saw a couple of charming stands selling jeans, hand-me-down clothes, and other random items, the kind that looked like they had meant the world to someone else.
Excited at our serendipitous discovery of a local flea market, we walked in to check it out. As we browsed among the items, chatting with friendly vendors and strolling further into the maze of thrift stands, we realized that we had walked into an entire complex of sustainable shopping and culture. Dozens of Berliners casually picked through clothes, old books, stone jewelry and more, bargaining with the sellers and slipping shirts and skirts over their clothes, creating a dressing room behind cargo trucks and old boxes.
One stand proudly displayed at least 30 pairs of vintage Levi’s jeans. In the U.S., this particular style and fit had become popular and was sold in all of my favorite stores. But right here in this little stand 5,000 miles from home, dozens of those jeans were folded up on the table, for sale at less than half of what I would pay in the U.S.
The two men hosting the stand, one from Italy and one from Korea, personified the sort of people that have found a home in Berlin, unimaginably far from where they came. Berlin is a city that welcomes drifters, misfits and wandering souls. Many settle here, at least for a short time, attracted by the accepting nature of the city and its subcultures — artists, LGBTQ, ethnic minorities, and others who may have felt less at home elsewhere.
These two vendors, who helped us locate our sizes and desired style, were particularly friendly. I tried on several pairs of jeans and found some that were promising, but not a perfect fit. I thought if I could bring the seller down on the price, it would be worth it. But, to my dismay, he wouldn’t let up on his solid 35 Euro price. I decided to pass on the jeans and set out to look through the rest of the market for something else to catch my eye.
After walking through the entire flea market — amazed that it included at least 30 stands, a bar and restaurant and even a three-story treehouse — we again stopped at the jeans stand for a last-ditch effort to find the right jeans. This time, the man from Italy promised I wouldn’t leave without a pair, and after three awkward attempts to slip on jeans under the dress I was wearing, we struck gold.
The perfect pair of jeans had been found. After hours of a sweaty, muggy conquest, I had successfully prevailed — it was a feat of mythic proportions.
Content with the day, we waved goodbye to our new friends at the jeans stand, hopeful that my new pair of jeans would provide as much luck on the rest of the trip as it took to find them.
UCSB students are now out reporting daily in Berlin for feature articles which will be published here in July. Meanwhile, they are blogging from the city about their travel and journalism experiences.
