Pay what you like?

Imagine a cold, unfinished apartment in Berlin with three people - two Swedes, one American - staring at a digital recreation of a fireplace on a monitor, fake wood crackling on the speakers.

It may sound alien to us Americans, but the phenomenon of 'pay what you will' restaurants is kind of widespread in Berlin. I met a knew Swedish friend, Lotta, at one of these earlier in the evening. Well actually we met at this incredibly old Zionkirch in Prenzlauer Berg. Sort of north northwest of Kreuzberg. Lotta had been to these places before, but I wasn't quite prepared.
A projection splashed on one wall of the restaurant and the owner/host/commandant pointed us toward a table. We sat there for awhile until he mentioned that we might want some wine. He explained that you pay one euro for an empty glass and then have as much wine as you like. Pointing to a pretty wide selection sitting on the bar, free for the taking, he reminded us that we should pay as we saw fit for the food as well. Pouring some pretty fine vino we sat at our overly wobbly table and checked out a handwritten menu with no prices.
Conversation was pretty good. Lotta is 26, from Gothenburg (in so. Sweden) and wants to be an industrial designer. Her mother was involved in the Green Party and not long ago after her father and grandfather's brother died, her small remaining family (mother,brother,her) owned 4 summer cottages all around Sweden.
We spoke and checked out the scene and slowly noticed that the projection on the wall was not a still image at all, but a video of the stove in the kitchen. You could see broth smoking and every so often a cook would add a pan with some onions or pasta. It was probably the coolest thing I've ever seen in a restaurant. I'm sure it must exist somewhere else as well. At least it should.
Our food was great and we had a glass or two more. And then things got interesting. Or embarassing. But I'm not sure who was on which end....While making a point, Lotta managed to knock over her reasonably well filled glass of wine directly in my direction. I'm not sure I even noticed what happened at first. Too shocked to really move, and fearing that moving would somehow just spread the wine around a little more, I let Lotta try to deal with it. She grabbed a bunch of napkins and ran back to the table. It was obvious how embarassed and sorry she was. I was sorry for her - really. I would've really hated to do that to someone. But through all my embarassment for her came this one realization: 'This wine drenched pair of pants is the only pair I have in Berlin right now (my other pair, from the gap ripped a huge hole in the crotch 2 days ago...f the gap), and this 'niederhoffer' T-shirt with wine dots on it is probably one of my all-time favorites (plus its one of only three in existence).'
In a flurry of napkins, stains and a waiter who thought Lotta hadn't paid enough, we left shortly thereafter - Lotta wobbling on her old bike and urging me to sit on the back. That way we'd get to her place faster to deal with the stains. Too scared off further disaster (not only of falling but of the 40€ fine it carried), I denied the offer and we meandered up Kastanien Strasse to her place which is basically located at Eberswalder Strasse. There the plan was to do something about my clothes. Jonas and Jonna, her flatmates were home and Jonas lent me a very tight T-shirt and some oversize dressy pants. Luckily I wasn't stuck wearing the EIGHTBALL athletic pants that were also offered. While the computer animated fire crackled on Jonas' computer, we hung for a while and I got the story of these other two Swedes. Jonas answers calls from Scandinavia as a phone tech support for a laser printer company and Jonna makes waffles at a waffle shop. Meanwhile, Lotta was trying to figure out the clothes situation. By the time I stumbled back onto the U-bahn I had some recommendations about Paris from Jonna, some oddly sized cloths from Jonas and my wet hoody in a bag from Lotta.
Tomorrow I'll go back to see if my dearly beloved clothes are finally dry (no dryers here, only clothes hangers). Katherine and I leave for Paris tomorrow and I'm going to buy a digital camera at the base of Alexanderplatz beforehand. Then finally there'll be a photo document of this insanity!

Oh, and I have to buy some pants. F the Gap.