By summerstudent Liam Collin >
If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again. A motto instilled into me by my grandpa. Resilience is the key to success he said, as we sat by the fire and looked up to the stars at the family home in Solihull. A man small in stature with the biggest heart, he came from humble beginnings: growing up in poverty by the docks in Glasgow, he longed for a better life for himself and his family. During the day, he would work to provide for his mother and younger siblings. As the day turned to night, he would travel to the technical college to attend night school. Every day without fail.
Summer internship: a symphony of learning
It is this mindset, I believe, that has driven me to where I am today, a summer internship at HZB, a once in a lifetime opportunity to study at the forefront of electrochemical storage research, while simultaneously experiencing the vibrant city of Berlin, embracing the culture and discovering myself. A beautiful symphony of learning, as I perceive it.
As I was made aware in the scientific communication workshop that I would be one of the first to write a blog, I made it my mission to do something of note the following weekend. Yet still, I had only the time to craft a handful of cells, and any meaningful results remain shrouded by the slow march of time. No. I had decided this blog should be written about an experience, one that captured a fragment of Berlin tradition. As I pondered, the answer came to me, a light bulb. Of course. What else? The only option was… Techno.
My initial plan was to head to a nightclub and party till morning, however after Friday drinks with some other interns, it was mentioned there was a day rave in central Berlin.
Or a rave
Waking from my slumber, the Saturday morning sky was drowned in deep grey clouds. I was determined not to let the weather dampen my spirits, after all, us Brits are accustomed to such conditions. The train to central station was rammed. People packed into each carriage like sardines in a tin. The predicament accumulated into an uncomfortable, humid mess with the stench of BO and coffee breath circulating the cabin.
As the train edged closer to Berlin hbf, first Charlottenburg, then Zoologischer Garten, the crowd thinned and the excitement grew. Voices located at the other side of the train became noticeable, cheers and laughter filling the air. At this point, I remained uninformed on the start time or location of the rave; however, my instinct was to follow the huddle of people dressed in Hi-Vis and glittery attire. Shuffling down the escalator towards the exit, my feet were greeted with metronomic vibrations, pulsating through my skin and to the bone. The group I followed had amalgamated, circulating a large, 5ft speaker, with a small, scrawny man perched on top, conducting the crowd. One would assume, if ill-informed, that this was their religion, a techno Mecca, where those who follow are obliged to attend. Indeed, this was just an appetiser, a warm-up, a teaser, something to loosen the muscles before the real sermon commenced.
The walk to Tiergarten was brisk. The ever-increasing police presence reassured me that I was heading in the right direction. Walking onto Straße des 17. Juni I was welcomed by the low rumble of bass accompanied by the high kick of drums. Each bus commanded its own following, with crowds stomping and headbanging to the beat. One lady, in the centre of the road, danced as though her body had been hijacked by the rhythm, limbs flaring inwards and out, synchronous with the sound blaring from the speakers.
Try, try and try again
At this point I wondered if it were possible to gain entry onto a bus. Each vehicle was heavily guarded, security and a thick woven rope was all that stood between the crowd and the mobile club. It seemed obvious that you needed a ticket to board and so I bartered with the doorman to see if it was possible to buy a ticket. A stern frown and a shake of the head was the response. Not to be disheartened by my initial failure I waited for the second bus to approach, a slightly different vibe to the first but with the familiar fast tempo of drums and snares. Again, I left the interaction with my feet still planted firmly on the wet tarmac. I stood for a moment, accepting my fate, the day would be experienced on the pavement amongst the crowd, this was fine, what more could I have expected? As I strolled towards Brandenburger Tor, head bopping to the beat, I was caught by another bus. I debated approaching as I was sure of the outcome. But if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, and try again, I suppose.
I repeated my question, “Any chance I can buy a ticket, mate?”. The response was music to my ears, “Are you British?” in a slow, elongated Mancunian accent. “Yes!” I hastily answered. “And you are by yourself?”. “I am”. The man disappeared momentarily. He returned clutching a torn yellow wristband in one hand and an outstretched arm, inviting me on. As it turns out, I had unknowingly stumbled onto a bus owned by TeleTech, a techno event company born in Manchester. To say I was lucky is an understatement; my only credentials for gaining access to the bus were my British citizenship and, conveniently, the advantage of flying solo. Seemingly, the old adage, you create your own luck, could not be more true.
On board, space was limited. The area occupied by speakers and subwoofers surrounding the dance floor, overlooked by an altar equipped with turntables with a disk jockey commanding the ceremony. To the untrained ear, techno can be loud, obnoxious and repetitive. I couldn’t help but admire the DJ. The seamless mixing of one song to the next, all while matching frequencies and creating suspense. Each drop felt revolutionary, the look of disgust on each raver’s face, a sign of approval. It was here that time warped, the ticking seconds replaced by the reverberation of the sub. In that moment nothing else mattered, work, relationships, money seemed irrelevant to me; my only concern was to enjoy the present, taking in the atmosphere as we turned in front of Brandenburger Gate.
As the cloak of night began unveiling itself, the rain continued to pour. At this point, I was soaked through, a drowned rat. I didn’t care. Ironically, the rain came as a relief, a gentle cooling of the skin as my core overheated. As we crawled down the road, once again, we passed a group of five soon to be six, all perched precariously on a shelf. They hadn’t any room for error, one wrong step and they would fall. But this did not phase them, enough room to step, and so step they did. Rising above all others to show appreciation to those behind the decks. The final tracks began to bellow out across Tiergarten, my body ached, 8 hours of continuous dancing testing my endurance, a marathon. The DJ hoisted herself out of the cage fastened to the bus, arm in the sky, triumphant. This was an experience like no other. One that I will cherish for the rest of my life. And most importantly, I now had the material to write about for my blog.
On the author: Liam Collin comes from a small town, Banbury in Oxfordshire. He is studying his masters in chemistry at University College London. He participates in the International Summer Students Programme at HZB in 2025.