It’s abundantly clear that this city’s strength is its charm rather than its superficial beauty. Görlitzer Park is a fine example of that.

If we were to liken it to a person, Görli would be the scruffy beardy hungover dude who was struggling to roll his cigarette through his half open, bloodshot eyes. He’d have bushy hair, style that was so wrong it was somehow right and be far friendlier than you’d think at first glance.

This once railway station (1867-1951) and home to British anarchist art communes, is now a seasonal snowball stadium and a full-time run-down park. It remains a cultural junction and is the first port of call for most Kreuzbergers on a sunny day, when people can be found grilling long into the night whilst occational raves occupy the park’s lower end, especially around the chaos of May 1st.

It is centered around a crater which was once the old station’s underpass and hydrated by the café/club Edelweiss (a reference to the station’s heritage as Berlin’s first connection to Vienna). A true hotch potch of sorts are attracted here with aging hippies happily sharing picnic space with the punks, the Kreuzberg pantywaists, the occasional yuppie and a regular team of frisbee-throwers and flame jugglers.