Not your average Punk kids.

Valentina took me to a punk show at what I would call a Punk commune on Köpenicker Straße known as Köpi.. (They call it autonomous living.) It is the kind of place you cross the street to avoid (maybe an exaggeration, but you get the idea.) A multistory brick building that lost its owner years ago has now been commandeered by punks and turned into some sort of punk utopian community. Tagged up like graffiti vomit, and dilapidated as one could imagine. It didn't help that we went at night. It did have some cool graffiti that had me question its execution methods. I bet these guys rigged some sketchy rope system to get to these spots or hung out a window. Valentina had no problem walking through the front gate so I didn't feel too nervous. She even asked about how one would begin living there. She said that it takes time, volunteering, and becoming friends with someone to have the change at living there. I would have never thought of walking into this place. Inside the building was a cool juxtaposition of grunge and class. A look at the ceiling revealed the old plaster details one might see in a fancy ballroom or church, but here it's peeling, fading, and covered in graffiti. Random banners promoting something I can't read hastily hang like art. The crowd consisted of punks at its culture's core. Plentiful piercings all over the face. Leather jackets with metal studs in all sorts of patterns.  Mohawks in myriad styles, some with dreads, some sculpted to perfection. Girls. Old guys. Patches and cigarettes a plenty. I think I smoked a few packs last night just being there. We did go outside a few times to get fresh air, and later they had a big fire going inside a metal drum.

The entry fee was only 5 € and a sparkling apple juice was only 1,50 € and the headlining bands weren't anyone I'd ever heard of. It's not surprising though. How would I know of any underground German punk bands? The two bands we did see were raw, and the songs sounded the same. It's the punk that makes me feel like I could write a song, have my friends play the instruments, and play a show tomorrow. It was fun to see and be jammed in the crowded room for a while, but the smoke and noise made it easy for us to leave early without too much thought. I went, I saw, I took no pictures, and we left. I would have loved to take pictures, but Valentina and Elisabeth suggested I don't in order to avoid trouble. In this crowd, I didn't want to piss anyone off, let alone become an unwanted American. We got there sometime before 11, and got home around 1.

Once home, I noticed how horrible I smelled. My aroma was a mix of cigarettes and whatever other stuff people were smoking. It's definitely not the good campfire smoke smell after a night of s'mores. This is the kind of stench that deserves immediate laundering, but unfortunately it's going to have to wait. I put the clothes aside and shoved them into the holey laundry bag, into my school backpack, and then put the backpack into my travel pack. I just hope the smell doesn't linger too long in the backpack.