Airports are amongst the oddest of places, don’t you think? People scurrying around in ‘I Heart Benidorm’ t-shirts and pink cowboy hats, ready to sell their soul to sticky backstreet bars and chlorine-plagued outdoor swimming pools. Squabbling middle-class couples, over-prepared with their poly-pocketed boarding passes and four hour premature arrival time. Infant children wandering off towards the wrong gate before being grabbed in panic by their weary parents who are already regretting the decision to partake in tourism.

I’ve never flown alone before and, to reflect by apparent ideological tardiness, I’m running late. The sun is yet to rise and I’m too tired to stress, instead breezing towards my terminal. Luck is on my side of the fence today though; my flight is an amiable 30 minutes delayed, leaving me plenty of time to measure up the weekend ahead of me.

I’m heading to Berlin. Known for its beer, sausage and historical landmarks, I’ve frequented the German capital twice before, on a school and university trip respectively, but this time I had a much more potent mission at hand – visiting the city’s oldest permanent nightclub. Among the most cherished establishments in one of the world’s most renowned locations for nightlife, Watergate’s legacy precedes itself. This autumn, they are hosting W21, a series of evening extravaganzas to commemorate their 21st year, which I’ve been invited to attend.

Touching down at Berlin Brandenburg Airport, I attempt to buy a train ticket to my hotel, quickly finding myself confused by the information screens that are entirely in German (ignorant Brit, I know). Time is of the essence, so I swallow my pride and hop in an expensive Bolt, dropping off my bag at the hotel before heading to lunch, taking in some neo-traditionalist architecture and observing an elderly lady who has tamed a pigeon.

After lunch, I arrive at the venue at which I will be spending my Friday evening. Situated on the waterfront of the Spree river, right next to one of its grandiose bridges, from its outer appearance Watergate looks somewhat inconspicuous, but as soon as I step inside, its notoriety is quickly understood. I’m met by Ulrich Wombacher, one of the three founders, and Lewin Paul Schulte, the club’s booking agent who, as our conversation begins to take shape, appears perhaps the most quintessential player in the continuing success and relevance of the institution.

Watergate was founded by Wombacher, Steffan Hack and Niklas Eichstädt in 2002, after the trio had amassed experience and ambition promoting parties all over the city. They rented what was originally an office building in Kreuzberg, which at that point in time was considered far from a prominent location in Berlin for nightlife, still feeling the repercussions of post-war Germany. Their vision was soon followed by others. “Luckily or unluckily, gentrification moved the whole scene here,” Wombacher remembers. “We were the first and the rest followed basically. After a year or two, this was the hot spot. The whole area developed. More and more clubs were opening.”

They’ve not moved Watergate’s address in its 21 years of existence, making it the oldest club in the city in this respect. With the changing economic and social landscape though, Wombacher fears austerity. COVID hit the nightlife industry harder than most, and although the government aided Watergate in its most trying of times, an unavoidable ripple effect is occurring. “It’s a difficult time,” he says. “Now we’re back in the free market, there’s no government help anymore. Everybody’s on their own. As we Germans say – the cake that we’re all eating has become smaller. It’s very likely a few clubs are going to shut down in the next two or three years.”

I question whether this has resulted in a competitive nature between venues; after all, they are vying for the same demographic of customers to keep themselves afloat. “It’s still a community,” Schulte pipes in. “I think there is some natural…[pauses, searching for the English translation] selection. Of course, there’s competition because we all sit in the same boat. But we do the same business and we know each other. There’s stuff like when the DJ is playing at a certain club, they’re not allowed to play in another club three weeks before and after. But it’s healthy, I don’t think that it’s a bad thing.”

COVID and advances in technology have left somewhat of a void in the clubbing sphere. “It’s crazy how things have changed, how rapidly the scene has moved to a completely different crowd,” Wombacher offers. “These past few years have left out a whole generation of clubbers. The old couldn’t pass, let’s say, their knowledge on. The next generation just made their own thing.”

“They experience music through these live streams” Schulte adds, pinpointing Berlin-based online radio station HÖR. ”That’s where their first impression of electronic music comes from.”

Despite the difficulties they currently face, and the difficulties to come, Watergate is resilient in their ability to adapt, with Schulte leading from the front in its metamorphism. He established a new day of once-a-week festivities; a Sunday event which has apparently been luring in a younger crowd that the Thursday through to Saturday nights weren’t attracting. The club’s booking promoter has been refining his own craft for curation, proven by the blockbuster lineups that the club boasts this autumn for the W21 events, with esteemed names like Dubfire, Joey Beltram, Sama Abdulhadi, Recondite, 8KAYS, Louie Vega, Carl Craig all spinning the decks at some point between September and December this year.

Watergate is bursting with character; from the so-called photo hunter who walks around searching for mischievous guests who have taken the sticker off their phone that they received at entry to cover their camera, to the sleek river-bed outdoor decking smoking area and luxurious feel of its interior. Wombacher, Schulte and the rest of the team know what they are up against, and are forward-thinking in their handling of an adverse situation.

Later on that evening, I meet Lewin Schulte for a drink in a dimly lit cabaret bar brimming with eccentric characters. To thank him for hosting me so benevolently, I head to the bar and order two pilsners, before quickly discovering that it’s cash only. As those who live in London will agree, cash is a notion from the past in the UK capital, so I was nothing short of astonished at the absence of bank payment at the bar, and as I soon found out, a large portion of the city.

Lewin, sensing my ignorance, swoops in and rescues me from embarrassment. We sit and he tells me more about his personal background. He first began frequenting the club as a raver, before joining the team and working his way up the chain of command to his role as booking agent now. He’s not the only employee that was at first a regular attendee, highlighting the intimacy of the club’s crowd, and the loyalty and community that runs through the business.

Our bonding is cut short by a call from the club – Lewin needs to go and solve something technical related, but he invites me to join him. It’s a while before opening time yet, so I find myself excited by the prospect of seeing the club whilst in preparation mode for the night ahead. I perch on the same sofa I sat at when doing the interview a few hours earlier (what can I say, I’m a creature of habit), and Lewin introduces me to a few members of staff, as well as Marco Reisman, the DJ spinning the opening set in the club’s downstairs room in the coming hours. The club opens and begins filling up, and Lewin soon becomes needed elsewhere – hands to shake, etc – so gives me some drink tokens and lets me loose on the people of Berlin.

Although I do catch much of Resmann’s trance-driven techno and the esteemed Sama’ Abdulhadi’s impressive craft, I spend a fair portion of my evening in the smoking area. As the evening ensues, I meet a motley array of characters. I haven’t the memory to describe them all, so let’s pick up on a few key players…

I’m introduced to Hassan, a Somali immigrant who has been in Berlin since 2009, alone, without his family. It’s one of his friends birthday’s tomorrow, and the guys plan to play basketball in the park and drink a few German lagers to celebrate. He invites me along, but my answer is vague and I forget the next day. Bigger fish to fry on this occasion, sorry Hassan.

I meet a Ukrainian – alas, I’ve forgotten her name – who has lived in Berlin for the last year or so, by way of studying in Poland. She is moving back to Ukraine in a few days. I ask her if she’s nervous to be heading home – she smiles warmly and says no, that she is in fact excited. I’m happy that she’s happy.

The night swirls in and out of consciousness and I eventually retire back to my hotel room with the sun peeping through the darkness.

My Saturday looks pretty open until meeting my host and Watergate’s PR, Alexa, in the evening. I decide to take matters into my own hands and see what all the fuss is about, investigating Berlin’s art and culture. I am suggested berlinische galerie, a museum about an hour walk from my hotel.

I find my way to the museum with only a few wrong turns, and quickly am in awe of the exhibitions on show. Losing myself in the immersive, the political, the emotional and the topical, I’m treated to a motley collection of pieces, from Nikolaus Braun’s vivid Berlin Street Scene to Heinz Trökes’ interpretative modernism with Tuberies, Building Blocks, Father Growth, and Trak Wendisch’s gloomy, almost Gothic, Man With Suitcase.

The standout, however, is undoubtedly the work of Edvard Munch. The Norwegian expressionist spent segments of his life in Berlin, and the city was fundamental to his work. His breadth and individualism bleeds a raw authenticity that is rare to find.

I find my way out of a maze of art and into the rainy Berlin afternoon, regrouping with my thoughts before heading for drinks with Alexa. We meet at the dazzling Silverfuture where she introduces me to some classic German beer, before we move to Sway Bar, a bespoke wine bar with a food pop up courtesy of rising food community platform, Gather.

I once again find myself entwined in a collection of zany side characters. One is a Canadian ex-mormon. He’s 38 but looks 10 years younger. I tell him such, to which he replies – “that’s what happens when you don’t drink or smoke until you’re 28.” I knew I went wrong somewhere.

Hoping to broaden my Berlin nightlife experience, I tag along with my companions for the night, experiencing the inner workings of the vibrant culture first hand.

I’m awoken by the violence of my alarm; the home-time blues beginning to settle inside me. My flight’s not until the evening, so I spend the day killing time, wandering the streets of Berlin, drinking coffee and observing the locals.

My evening flight to Stanstead is without complication. As the plane leaves the runway and Berlin becomes nothing more than dots of fading light, I reflect on my 50 or so hours in the German capital.

Berlin moves a lot slower than London. Its heartbeat is more gentle, its breath more calming – although perhaps hindered with a light wheeze from all the tobacco. Its clubs are a melting pot for connection and creativity, and my new friends at Watergate are the epitome of such.

For a fleeting moment, my romanticism takes over and, as I soar through the clouded darkness, I plan uprooting my life and moving to the city. By the time I land though, the drab certainty of reason returns. Maybe someday. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of the sticky dance floors, smooth pilsners and curious locals.

Thanks Berlin. Thanks Watergate.

Visit Watergate’s W21 events this autumn:

1st December – Sven Väth, JAMIIE, Maurizio Schmitz, Sarah Wild: tickets here.