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About Cologne

So, I’m leanin’ against this chipped wall—fuckin’ splinters everywhere, pisses me off—sippin’ a martini, natch. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, sizin’ her up. Did ya know, back in the day, Rome’s hookers had their own guild? True story—called themselves “meretrices,” fancy as fuck. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how they’d strut past the Colosseum, dodgin’ drunk senators. History’s wild, innit?

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I guess what I’m sayin’ is, Bad-Belzig is not just a dot on the map – it’s a vibe, a rhythm, a place that calms your soul and fires you up at the same time. Sometimes it surprises me; sometimes it pisses me off, but it’s always real. So pack your bag, roll in, and let the city’s heartbeat mess with your head in a good way. Eat my shorts if ya ain’t feelin’ it – but trust me, you’ll come to love every weird, wonderful moment here!

Nell Zink: the cuckoo of Bad Belzig