Berlin

She fumbles nervously with the loose fabric as she vomits unknown lyrics to giggling onlookers, her gaze cast away from the judging eyes of the public. Nothing she does impresses as the crowd begin to cackle and boo in a comical fashion. Our confused clash of textiles is unanimously evicted from the arena, evidently Bear Pit karaoke lives up to its name.

Towering behind the grass-covered amphitheatre, the remains of the Berlin Wall peer down over Mauer park’s wannabe pop stars strutting to an imaginry beat. Adorned with provocative art from all corners of the globe it cuts through the inner-city greenery like a concrete snake, history’s most revered division now acting as both a haunting reminder of humanities darkest hours and a popular canvas for modern social thought.

The summer’s heat of a blistering Sunday afternoon mirrors the local vibe, where trendy middle classes pick their way through a maze of antiques stalls sprawling the length of the park.

The infamous flea market pulls in international tourists for its eclectic mix of odd and ends, it’s a visual marvel just to sit and quietly observe the tattoos and foods and vinyl and colours mixing en-masse, occasionally interrupted by squeals of dismay emanating from inside the Bear Pit.