It’s almost 6am Berlin time – I’m should be tired, but this jet-lag has a bitchy way of, if ignored, simply goes away and lets you be awake…not that I wouldn’t be after a short walk from bar #3 to bar #4 tonight, alongside my friend Tobias, who I first met in Yangoon, Myanmar.

We’re in the Eastern Side of the wall, where we stay – in fact, one look from a photo and Tobias immediately knew where we were staying, as he used to live in this area as a child. The Eastern Side. As a child. Does that mean anything to you? It didn’t used to mean anything to me until I first came to Berlin in 2000, so don’t feel bad. I don’t even remember The Berlin Wall fall reaching Oklahoma – I’m sure it did, but it wasn’t more important than Michael Jordan. But for Tobias, it was different – he just didn’t just live on the East side, he lived right up against the split.

My questions of ‘well, didn’t you visit Paris or London as a kid?’ – normal questions to ask most from the area, were met with a kind laugh. No, he didn’t. He and his family were quite acquainted with Eastern Europe, but summers in Spain? No. They simply weren’t allowed. 11 years-old and you can’t visit others – some family members – in your own country. I don’t want to sound like an insurance agent when I say this, but think about that.

You. Can’t. Go. Over. There.

But this wasn’t the story that got me – interesting as anything, of course, but it was about life after The Fall. Right after.

‘What did you do?’

‘What was it like?’

Crazy, he said. Crazy.

He was only 11 at the time, but he remembers it being crazy.

And he remembered that the government gave 100 marks in reunification money and his mother went and bought a few boxes of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes – one of the happiest days he can remember.

Think about that.

This made me think about a lot of things, but one was when I first came here, 8 years ago and splurged on buying a pass to Checkpoint Charlie and in there, I saw a photo that moved me to a point of, again, tears. You can see it here – not really clear, but you can make out what’s happening.

This is one of the first cars to drive from the East to the West. What you can’t make out is the expressions on the faces of the people in the car. I remember this like I remember my first beer – and seeing things like this are as important as taking the time to pick a good first name for your child.

Tonight, a long-lost friend remarked that ‘I would love to know what has shaped you into this person you have become’ and it’s this, these 6-minute walks…

It has nothing to do with me.