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Writer's pictureAlexandra Sharova

Berlin, Baby

Updated: Jan 13, 2019


Berlin falls in the middle of my European adventure, in-between Paris and Moscow; rightfully so, considering the blend of cultures that make up the coolest city in the region. Walking through the bustling streets of Eastern Berlin I pass a historic church whose once-bombed exterior is refurbished with modern accents and colorful lights reminiscent of a nightclub. Welcome to Berlin. Kurfüerstendamm Avenue — the Champs-Élysées of the area — is lined with the likes of Louis Vuitton, Hermès, and right next to my hotel, an Apple Store. It’s luxurious and chic, a stark contrast from the graffiti mural-clad streets of the Western side, where an underground scene parades freely and seeps into everything from music to fashion. This unique duality is one of the city’s main appeals.

Myself, and my imposing suitcase finally arrive at our destination after a beautiful, yet freezing walk from the metro. Modern double doors slide to expose a jade rug decorated with sprawled out cheetahs reaching all the way to the reception desk. Fitting, considering this is Hotel Zoo. The space is grand — 22-foot ceiling grand — with oversized walnut doors, velvet accents seen on plush pillows and sweeping crimson drapes, and exposed brick walls preserved for over 120-years. The once private residence, that converted into a hotel in 1911, keeps its historic roots while reinventing itself thanks to New York-inspired glamour. It’s juxtaposition at its finest.


I step into the elevator and swipe my red VIP card to get to my room, and as I begin to ascend the faded images of “paparazzi” light up with camera flashes. Corny? Yes. Entertaining? Absolutely. My room is a muted version of the lobby: the leather headboard and matching chairs have a pearly finish, the bathtub looks like a trendy eggshell, and in keeping with the hotel’s affinity for green hues and large space, vibrant chartreuse curtains conceal a floor-to-ceiling window that exposes a courtyard scattered with animal sculptures.


What’s truly impressive is the attention to detail; from a hand-written card, to a personalized Apple TV that reads my name across the LCD screen, and all the extra amenities you never think you’d need until they’re presented to you (i.e.: a custom-designed nightshirt available for purchase post-stay, heated floors, and high-end bath salts for decompressing). After indulging in my complimentary bottle of Champagne and fresh fruit, I head to bed on a king-sized mattress big enough for three.


Wrapped in the embrace of a cashmere throw (another perk of the suite) I make my way down to breakfast for a decadent buffet. We’re talking every pastry, fruit, cold-cut meat, juice, and spread you could possibly imagine. And it’s all delicious. The real treat however lies just outside the dining area. It’s snowing. I pick the table next to the window, where slowly twirling powder pops against a rich emerald chaise. A cappuccino, parfait, salami sandwich, and two pastries later, the courtyard is covered in a blanket of winter white. After layering nearly all the sweaters I packed, I emerge to brave the cold and explore the city.


Of course the East Side Gallery, where remnants of the Berlin Wall were transformed into powerful murals, is a must for both historic and artistic reasons, so I begin there, where revolution reshaped a culture.

The sight is greater than the stark concrete wall spanning nearly a mile, it’s greater than a tangible object. I leave for Checkpoint Charlie (the main crossing point between the East and West during the Cold War) with overwhelming emotions, likely stemming from my Russian roots, making the entire experience more personal. Nonetheless, you know it’s good art when it makes you feel to your very core. From there I walk through the busy gray streets to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the brisk air stinging the few inches of my face that remain exposed, preparing me for the memorial. The square is covered with 2,711 concrete slabs of varying heights, organized in a maze-like formation. It’s chilling, and effective. After such a grim lesson in history I return to my hotel for a much-needed cocktail.


I use my VIP card to skip the growing line to Grace Bar — I could really get used to this. Reminiscent of the 1920s, the bar (like the rest of the hotel) teeters between sexy elegance and modernity, with a hint of gaudy knick-knacks (think fringe-edge green leather chaises, and bold tassels strung along the bar) that somehow just work. This place is a people-watching gold mine. From Instagram bloggers to actors and aspiring rappers’ girlfriends. I order a martini and join the crowded area in front of the DJ. Luckily for me, everyone understands English, because even my simple “danke schoen” (translation: thank you) turns into a mumbled mess.


Another night of deep sleep and a gluttonous visit to the buffet later, I prepare for my second day of snowfall. Clad in all black I head out for some shopping. Berlin is recognized as a street style trailblazer, so I seek fashion inspo everywhere I go, subway included. I see layered coats, timeless leather pieces, and of course punk fashion on adults who took the lifestyle of their youth into a new era with bold band tees and studs galore. In-between vintage stores and countless boutiques I stop for a pho break. Fun fact: Berlin has some of the best Vietnamese food outside of actual Vietnam. Cao Cao leaves such an impression that during my short visit I dine there twice. Having spent plenty of time exploring the city’s streets I figure it is time for a perspective change. I take a 40-second elevator up 666 feet to the observatory level of Fernsehturm tower.


With a panoramic view and a solid bar for a tourist attraction, it’s the ideal spot to watch the sunset paint the sky with electrifying colors. Before making my way back to the comfort (and warmth) of the hotel I stop at Dali, which holds 450 original exhibits from private collectors of the infamous Salvador Dali. Having seen his exhibits in Paris and New York, this one truly impressed with the range of mediums it housed, from sculptures to videos, and even early sketches. I leave inspired, yet absolutely exhausted from my jam-packed day.




Back at Hotel Zoo it’s time for dinner. An extravagant one, of course — as if anything less could be possible here. I opt for the premium tasting menu paired with Champagne, which my waiter informs is recommended for two…but this is a vacation, so anything goes. The starters arrive in order with detailed descriptions: Asian burrata salad, miso pork belly, and tamarind foie gras. The burrata is silky smooth beyond compare. The pork belly, cooked to perfection with its crispy exterior smothered in a heavenly union of bbq and miso sauces, while the interior is a fatty dream — I mean that in the best way possible. Although perhaps appealing to others, foie gras is never my cup of tea…maybe in another life. Next comes the half Maine lobster and the Massaman monkfish. Coconut flavors peek through the meaty fish, while crispy jasmine rice adds texture to a modernized Thai dish for a truly incredible dish. Last but certainly not least is the dessert. Flawless presentation makes me reluctant to eat my final course, but I cave to my sugar-loving instincts, leaving the plate licked clean of an airy chocolate mousse.


From the comfort of my bathtub, I reminisce on a trip filled with unforgettable experiences while immersed in a bubble-filled blanket of bliss. The city is dynamic and just like the hotel, it leaves an impression, to say the least. I know without a doubt I will be back for another visit to both Berlin and Hotel Zoo, to delve once again into their fusion of old and new.

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