Berlin Mauerpark flea market

Berlin
Mauerpark Flea markets Sundays from about 8-4pm
Well some unexpected fun jaunts have come from our unplanned 6 week long stay near Berlin with my folks here. One being Mauerpark flea market!
With 300 plus stalls, give this market lots of time!
I went a couple of times with Jesse when he was busking, and lucky me, once all alone!
I found it too busy for kids to enjoy after 11am and must confess I preferred fossicking on my own. Old things, lots of lovely dusty old things with only a few new made stalls. Some savvy Turkish dealers with rows of estate boxes to rummage, be ready to bargain. It took me a couple of visits to build my courage but it was worth the reductions! I wish I had a container to fill and bring home!!
Streets of second hand clothing stalls! So fun!
I found some fabulous cotton vintage dresses and a button accordian, Polish ceramic ware and olive wood bread boards.
In the midst is a walled, sandy eating courtyard where you can quietly retreat for a bio (organic) sausage with sauerkraut and a bun. Don’t be overwhelmed by the 15 choices of mustard! Or get a pizza or a delicious mixed plate from the Turkish ladies. Yummy!
There’s a big green (old location of the Berlin Wall, hence the name Mauer/wall park) running alongside with buskers of varying talent and lots of people seem to picnic there.
I ended up getting a cab back to The main station (Hauptbahnhof) for 8 € instead of navigating the connecting trams on the way home.
Have fun if you go I’d like to hear about your treasures!
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the well

 I wrote these words some time ago as I reflected on the question ” for what purpose do I blog”.  I was wanting to rekindle this place of expression and found myself connecting this story.  
Once upon a time a windswept and painterly girl fell into a great hole of solitary sadness and weeping. Though many tried loyally to throw her a rope her suddenly clumsy hands could not hold the fibre for long enough to climb. It seemed slippery as a silken strand of silver lining. She tried to weave herself a shawl to fly on, a basket to sail away in, a raft of stitches and baked up a magical cake. But alas, she was doomed to stay in the midnight shadow for many days and many nights with broken body and bound heart.

Some nights the stars seemed closer and she could almost see the moon. Some days the sun did seem to rise just for her once more. Those days she captured what she could of life’s gifts and in golden ink scribed them into her magical tome with ink illustrations, and these pages and pictures became a scaffold of good memories to rise her up. A sturdy reminder that her life had beauty and light and gifts and company, a place to reach out shyly to the world with her gifts of word, colour and pictures.
The hole she was in, seemed to floor itself up under her and rose her until she could once more see the ground beneath her souls. One plank at a time a new frame is made. Sometimes she sits on the edge of the well of dark sorrow and sometimes she floats amongst it’s thick insidious air, and when she finally returns she will gasp for air and lay upon the blossom strewn grass giving thanks that these days pass.

 Roselinde