Three weeks ago I journeyed to the German capital for some late-night adventures. The trip marked my third visit to Berlin, and–like my previous visit–this one did not disappoint. I have only ever visited the city during the dead of winter, which skews my perception if it, just a bit. I, until I visit in summer, will permanently have the city sizzled into my memory as being a frigid metropolis on the edge of Europe–where Scandinavia meets the Continent. Because of these mid-winter visits, I have never seen the city in full bloom. I've yet to lay eyes on its (supposedly) luscious vegetation, and never seen the masses clinking beers on its sunny terraces. One day soon enough, I imagine. What I did see though, were mountains and mountains of snow, and thermometers lacking any abundance of mercury. The German capital was frozen to the bone, to the tune of -12C. Lucky, the SoHo House kept me warm.