Berlin Diaries: Gentrification, hold the defecation

Seeing both sides of supposedly-trendy Kreuzberg

There’s human shit on the street in Kreuzberg. I’m walking past Görlitzer Bahnhof, a U-Bahn station, and there it is, by the stairs, staring back at me.

The discerning readers amongst you will ask how I know it’s human, and hasn’t been dropped there by say, a dog. To those readers I will say just this: if that shit has been produced by a dog, said dog could give a grizzly bear a run for its money.

Shit isn’t the only human waste product available in Kreuzberg. There’s vomit too, and although I can’t see piss, I can certainly smell it. On street corners, in train stations, it lurks there, waiting for the unsuspecting passer-by to take in a nose-full.

Berlin’s tourist board won’t thank me for pointing these things out, of course. Kreuzberg has a different reputation now, compared to when it languished as a forgotten part of West Berlin pre-unification.

It was poor then, with a diverse population. Now rents are rising. As is happening in cities all over Europe, the gentrification nation is moving in. They’re bringing their flannel and their avocado and they’re going to want a couple of brunch places around here, sharpish.

Once down-trodden, poor neighbourhoods are becoming trendy tourist hotspots. Londoners have Hackney, Camden, Berliners have Kreuzberg.

There’s a prime example of all this societal shifting on Eisenbahnstraße: Markthalle Neun. Those of you with even a rudimentary grasp of German will have guessed that it’s a market hall, a market hall that’s been there since the nineteenth century.

It was opened in 1891, one of Berlin’s fourteen historic market halls, but though the building itself survived the war, the trade didn’t, and it struggled to what looked like a likely death, until it was reopened in its current form in 2011.

Today it’s a smaller version of London’s Borough Market: vendors of local produce, with their vegetables, cheese, flowers, mix with vendors of street food, they have bao buns, burgers, oysters.

I’m here on a Thursday evening. It’s the time to go if you like street food, and god do I like street food. I make it a personal challenge to churn through as much of it as I can, all in the interests of research.

There’s a bowl of dumplings from Manti Berlin first, covered in yoghurt and a butter-paprika sauce that are unlike anything I’ve ever eaten. Then there’s a bao bun that’s almost a spiritual experience, and tacos stuffed full of pulled pork. The night is finished with beer, which is German, so, good, and ice cream from Rosa Canina.

Despite the dumplings, the beer, the ice cream, Markthalle Neun has its detractors. There’s this amusing TripAdvisor review which states the place is “gentrification at its worst.” Then there’s the sign right across the street, looking down at the market, stating bluntly: Stop Markthalle Neun.

That’s despite the market hall actually being the result of residents campaigning against the sale of the building to a big conglomerate, and the city of Berlin relenting, selling it to its current owners to keep it a market for all. Some hold it up as an example of regeneration done right.

But the clientele certainly do smell like gentrification. There are Berliners here, sure, but mainly professionals. Shirts and suit trousers are de rigueur. There are tourists, English is spoken all around me. Instagram and TikTok are getting plenty of content from Street Food Thursday.

I’m contributing to this, of course. Gentrification wouldn’t exist if there weren’t schmucks like me willing to check out the new food markets or cereal cafes or bars that are also soft play areas for adults.

Modern day Kreuzberg has its cool market hall, but it’s still poor in parts. I pass a small village of tents under a train station, half-a-dozen or so people huddled around a makeshift cooker. They live in the same neighbourhood as the bao buns, the burgers and the oysters. But they’re cooking whatever they can find. Street food must seem an ironic term here.

The gentrification nation may have moved in, but those that were here before are still here too. The decision for Berliners is whether these people are helped or pushed out.

Either way, somebody please, please, clean that shit up off the floor.

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You should read The Cairo Dispatch.

I discovered Samantha Childress’s newsletter this week about Cairo and Egypt, but also travel and life and everything in between. I particularly liked her post about Luxor, When Past Becomes Present. What links Hercule Poirot, Queen Hatshepsut, and the Italian designer Stefano Ricci? Sam’s time in Luxor. You have to read about it.

When Past Becomes Present: Luxor Part II

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Some housekeeping

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