The night the wall fell I squatted an empty house with a group of acquaintances. The next morning, I was a little late for work and wondered why there was no one there. Only then did I find out what happened the night before. I went to the border crossing at the Chausseestraße and witnessed coffee and bananas being thrown out of a lorry into the crowd. When I saw how many of my fellow East German citizens greedily leapt to it, I was shocked and went back home.
A few days later I crossed the former border into West Berlin again. A bank had been set up in an old villa next to the Kranzler café. Here I spontaneously picked up my Begrüßungsgeld (welcome money) and walked on until I reached a flea market. There I saw a hustler, as they would call it today; this was totally new to me. And when I saw how the man made the little ball disappear underneath one of the three upturned matchboxes, I thought: “I’m going to do this. I’ll be able to double my money straightaway.” I wanted to bet the entire 100 mark straightaway, but 50 mark was the maximum bet. I have to add that I paid a monthly rent of 25 East German mark for the house I rented at the time. But I thought, this is my chance. So I bet the 50 mark and lost. When the hustler saw my reaction – I was totally horrified – he gave me the money back. So I immediately thought “Great! This time I’ll do it!” But I lost again and didn’t get my money back this time.