The Berlin bus of bants seemed like a beautiful breeze compared to our outbound journey, and Tash and I were gifted many an hour of calm for podcast bingeing, upright napping and quality chats.
This atmosphere of tranquility ended abruptly upon our arrival in Berlin at 4:30am, whereby Tash and I staggered off the bus and into the station's waiting area to, well, wait, until the rest of Berlin was up. Owing to mega sleep deprivation, we did actually manage to catch a few angular z's whilst sat in the waiting room, our heads lolling awkwardly against the seats and propped up with piles of clothes. Eventually, the clock mercifully ticked round to 7:00, we gathered our weary, grimy, exhausted selves as best we could and headed out. We had agreed beforehand that our first port of call would be the Reichstag, as we'd received a tip-off that on-the-day tickets to visit the building's impressive dome started selling at 8am, and were usually sold out by 8:10. With this goal in mind, we jumped straight on the autobahn. Once we'd located the station.
I'll be honest - before we arrived, I didn't actually know what the Reichstag was. It was simply one of a lexicon of 'Berlin words' that I'd picked up from a life of travel writing. Tash however, who had already been, helpfully explained that this imposing building is the German equivalent of our Houses of Parliament, only with more impressive architecture and less wigs. Due to our keen-bean queuing, we secured a tour slot for the evening with no trouble at all, and proceeded to wander in the general direction of Berlin icon, Brandenburg Gate.
Our next priority, as so often happens, was to locate food. As we hadn't eaten properly since the Krakow canteen, a mind-melting 18 hours ago, we decided to go all out and brunch it up like the true city breakers we were trying desperately to be. A quick U-Bahn and bus journey into the effortlessly cool neighbourhood of Kreuzberg later, and we were stood hungry, disappointed and confused outside our brunch venue of choice, which was demonstrably not open. Plan B sent us on a slightly too lengthy walk along the canal, but my lord it was worth it when we arrived. Croissants, fruit salad, granola, poached eggs and gallons of coffee/herbal tea were consumed in an astonishingly short amount of time, and before too long we were out pounding the pavements again.
Our next port of call was the incredible East Side Gallery, one of the only segments of the Berlin Wall still standing, and now wondrously decorated with amazing, kaleidoscopic street art care of artists from all over the globe.
Following the resounding success of Krakow's free city tours, we opted to recreate the magic and headed back towards Brandenburg Gate, which was serving as the meeting point for Berlin's own tour. Sadly, as we walked, gargantuan droplets of rain began to fall from the gloomy skies, and before long we were nothing short of bedraggled, and massively not up for a three-hour outdoor tour. Making a snap judgement, we ducked inside a nearby, edgy coffee bar (is there any other kind in Berlin?) for unpronounceable roasteries, pretentious sandwiches and itinerary re-planning.
We wound our way slightly out of the tourist sprawl to the 'Memorial for the Murdered Jews of Europe', a haunting construction of concrete slabs above an underground museum. Once we'd queued appropriately, mutually (but silently) judged the few fellow queue-ers taking disrespectful selfies in front of the memorial and been through yet another bag check, we had successfully entered the museum.
Suffice it to say, it was an incredibly moving and reflective experience that brought us both almost to tears on numerous occasions, and is a fantastically curated museum. Once we'd resurfaced, a quick time-check revealed that we still had an hour or so to use before our Reichstag appointment, and so we gathered our remaining energy reserves and made our exhausted way to the famed Checkpoint Charlie.
Hands up - I also didn't know what Checkpoint Charlie was. Not a scooby doo. For any other ignorant arses, Checkpoint Charlie marks the point of the former Berlin Wall that separated the US controlled area from the German one during the Cold War. The Charlie in question was an American soldier who prevented a potentially bloody battle between the two sides, and has now been immortalised in a garish, Dinseyland-esque display, featuring many Hollywood-style graphics, unsubtle museum attractions and hot dog stands. America really makes its mark on this particular slice of Berlin.
It was now time to Reichstag-ger over to our last Berlin attraction of the day, and queue just a 'lil bit more. Obviously, the general public (read: endless tourists) are not permitted to simply wander around the inner chambers of Germany's governmental headquarters unchecked and willy nilly, and so we were shepherded through into a very swanky elevator manned by a particularly stern looking herr. This elevator whisked us up to the Reichstag's literal crowning glory - a glass dome perched atop the building and overlooking the city.
The glass dome turned out to feature a spiralling walk way and accompanying audio tour that systematically showcased every segment of Berlin's skyline, and irritating school trip children aside, was a really awesome way to round off a day in the German capital (and prepare for a potentially gruelling bus journey home).
There ain't no party like a Reichstag party.
Before we boarded the return bus, there was only one thing left to do - stuff ourselves with pasta. It was with slight trepidation that we settled down into our bus seats that evening, completely drained of energy, but with our previous bus escapades weighing heavy on our minds.
Miraculously, by the time we had reached Amsterdam to change bus, not one thing had gone wrong. Unless everything had gone wrong and we'd slept wholly through it, which I fully accept as a possibility. Regardless, we were at Amsterdam bus station in good time, and were happily chowing down on croissants and sandwiches as we waited to finally board the bus that was to take us back to London. The good fortune and lack of disaster continued, until we reached Folkestone, whereby it reared its ugly head in the form of an entire family who were also travelling on our bus being held at passport control for over an hour, before being refused entry into the country altogether. Obviously this caused us delays, but more prominently upset and compassion at seeing the family left behind as we finally proceeded to board the Eurostar.
Several more miles of rolling British motorway later, and we arrived back in London weary, dirty, exhausted and starving, but more importantly, with a conclusion for our experiment. Can you bus a weekend city break? Well yes, you can, if you take six days, visit three cities, pack a picnic that would happily feed a family of five, download several day's worth of podcasts and fully prepare yourself for delays, bag checks, panic attacks, grim toilets, extreme nausea, and, oh yeah, a hell of a lot of fun.