I finally caved and started reading “Eat Pray Love.” I had just been to the best yoga class of my life in a jungle-themed studio with rice fields views. We chanted incantations to Ganesh for 20 minutes before bending into pretzel-like poses while breathing in self-acceptance. Before class four girls to my right hugged each other hello with such intensity, for a second, I thought they might be on molly.
At first, we observe the club kids from a safe distance, venturing out to a daytime party at ://about blank, a place on the fringe of Friedrichshain that boasts a sprawling outdoor garden. Here, dirty couches and bean bag chairs are nestled under the trees and every surface is occupied by cuddle puddles of disheveled clubbers in their early 20s who look like they’ve been on the party train for the past 24 hours.