Wednesday, January 16, 2019 // The Statement 
7B
Wednesday, October 30, 2019 // The Statement
7B

D

uring 
my 
second 
month 
in Berlin, one of my good 
friends from Ann Arbor who 
also happened to be studying abroad 
visited me for a week. Kieran has 
always had a strong adventurous spir-
it, and our friendship developed from 
our ease of conversation and search 
for stories to tell. He had heard from 
one of his German friends that the 
cafe “Zuckerbaby”, loosely translated 
as sugar baby, was the place to go, so 
we went on his last day in Berlin. We 
walked in the rain from my apartment 
to the cafe laughing at the week we 
had just shared and wondering what 
our lives would look like once we were 
back in Ann Arbor. We made it to Zuck-
erbaby, rather drenched, ready for a 
warm meal. As we sat at a small table 
with mismatched chairs, the rain still 
hitting the rattling window. We said 
our goodbyes over grilled cheese sand-
wiches that felt like home. 
Even with Kieran gone, I made Zuck-
erbaby one of my go-to spots in Berlin. 
I think I would go because they made 
grilled cheese sandwiches with cheese 
oozing from the sides and frankly the 
best vegan carrot cake. I understand 
that having carrot cake as a favorite is 
rather odd. People will often critique 

carrot cake because it has raisins. I 
don’t understand this hatred of raisins. 
To me, the case in favor of carrot cake 
is simple — it is moist and sweet, but 
not overpowering. And honestly, who 
can say no to a buttery cream cheese 
frosting? But beyond the carrot cake, 
my love for Zuckerbaby is grounded 
in its ambience and charm, which 
reminded me of my favorite cafe in 
Fayetteville, Ark — a little cafe called 
Arsaga’s located right next to the rail-
road. Something about the old building 
housing Zuckerbaby — with exposed 
brick, old furniture and mood lighting 
— brought me back home to Fayette-
ville while studying abroad in the cold 
Berlin. 
One of my closests friends in Germa-
ny was Tabea, and I made sure to take 
her to Zuckerbaby. We met on a rainy 
Saturday afternoon and sat down at a 
charming wooden table. At the other 
end was a family — a set of parents, 
their newborn, and what I imagined 
were two overjoyed grandparents. 
Tabea and I spent a couple hours just 
talking and watching the day go by. 
Customers would come in and leave. 
The day was at peace. 
Right behind Tabea, still within my 
eyesight, an older couple sat down. As 

I listened to Tabea talk, I couldn’t help 
but observe them. They reminded me 
of my parents. I wondered if my par-
ents would get to live into their older 
years like the couple before me, and 
if they would spend their Saturday 
afternoons in cafes together just as 
they once had when they were teen-
agers. I lost track of the couple for a 
while. However, when I refocused my 
attention to their general direction, I 
noticed that the man had taken a leash 
out of his bag. In my mind, I imagined 
two stories. 
The first, that the couple had just 
put down a furry companion, and they 
were now at Zuckerbaby to avoid going 
back to the home that once housed 
their dear pet.
The other story was also about a dog. 
Perhaps they had decided to adopt a 
dog.
Neither of these proved to be cor-
rect. 
I remember watching intently, as 
the man eagerly attached the leash to 
the choker on the woman’s neck. I was 
taken aback by this, to me, brazen act. 
However I noticed that every so often, 
he would tug the leash and her head 
would lunge in the direction of his 
crotch. He did this once or twice mak-

ing eye-contact with me — a held gaze 
that I broke each time. 
I remember my brain was trying to 
process a lot at once as this interac-
tion was unfolding before me. The first 
thought that came to my mind: only in 
Berlin. I had a morbid curiosity to keep 
watching, but I also heard my mom’s 
voice in the back of my head reminding 
me that it is rude to stare. But I mostly 
got caught up in the scene happen-
ing all around me: a tranquil Saturday 
with a friend, the noises of a cooing 
baby behind me juxtaposed with the 
image of an older but seemingly kinky 
couple.
I wondered for a while what it is that 
I found so jarring as I sat and watched 
that couple in Zuckerbaby. Was I taken 
aback by the very exposed nature of 
the behavior? What does that say about 
my own assumptions of sex? I also con-
sidered if I was taken aback because 
the couple was older and dressed in 
posh clothes. Not the type of image I 
associate with kinky behaviour. 
I recognize that conversations sur-
rounding sexuality are getting easier 
to have, but still not the norm. We 
don’t always like to openly talk about 
how we are sexual beings. We don’t 
like to talk about fetishes. We hardly 
talk about how women are also sexual. 
And we certainly don’t talk about how 
older people are still doing it. But why? 
Why do we associate sex with youth? 
Is our understanding of sex so 
closely tied to our sight that we can’t 
think of an older body being attractive. 
There seems nothing inherent about 
sex or even love that would be exclu-
sive to younger generations. Sure, the 
body changes, but does that funda-
mentally mean that sex and old age 
are diametrically opposed? How do we 
overcome our assumptions? I wonder 
are they living a more honest sexuality 
than I am — unashamed? 
I don’t have the answers to any of 
these questions, but what the overt 
scene lay bare were my own hasty 
assumptions and judgments about sex. 
This couple, inadvertently, planted a 
seed in my mind that has grown into 
several questions. 
As I observed the couple, I tried to 
overcome my initial prejudice, and 
tried to see them for what they were in 
that moment: strangers, with an equal 
right to express and explore their sex-
uality. 
I thought, only in Berlin. 

Free love in Berlin

BY MARTINA VILLALOBOS, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

ILLUSTRATION BY KATE GLAD

