We're wrong - the campfire starts up and we're subjected to a barrage of singing Germans at 2 in the morning. This is not conducive to a good night's sleep.

We are woken in the morning by a camp moron ringing a bell. We stagger out of our corner, organise our stuff and dump it in the camp's dining room. We then head back to the Zoo station by means of two buses and two underground trains.

We arrive in time for the walking tour, leaving at 9:30. It's very informative, and we leave 4 hours later, having learnt a great deal about the city's history. Highly recommended.

[The Brandenburg Gate, previously between East and West Berlin, still standing after the Wall came down.]

Afterwards, Cathy takes me to Planet Hollywood for lunch. Cathy informs me it's nice, I consider it a Hollywood propaganda vehicle - quite ironic in light of the ex-Communist countries we've been through, and American paranoid intolerance of them. We both order burgers, because we lose count of the number of zeros on the prices of everything else. The burger is nice, but not nice enough to make up for all the sickly self-congratulation occurring on the myriad screens around the "restaurant". When the time comes to pay, the waitress hands us a bill with a big space for us to write in our tip. We don't, and hand over the plastic.

[Checkpoint Charlie, the famous border post.]

The waitress comes back and announces to us, and anybody else who's interested, that there's something wrong with our credit. This immediately causes us to worry about faceless Eastern European mafiosi defrauding Cathy of her overdraft. We offer the waitress cash to placate her, and receive the question "do you want change?" in return, in the sort of voice that makes it quite clear that we're complete scabs if we do. We do - we only leave a tip if we get service.

We then leave, deeply worried about fraud (luckily, the card mysteriously has its credit restored during the night, as we use it to purchase our Eurostar tickets the next day). Cathy decided to call her Dad for advice, using the next available phone.

Since we're currently in East Berlin, phones are pretty scarce. We go instead to the Checkpoint Charlie Museum. This has, among other things, a lot of information on escapes, some more feasible than others.

[The Berlin Wall. Several grafittied stretches stand as a monument. this one's near the Potsdammer Platz.]

After a while, we start suffering from museum overload and head back to the "Info-box" on Potsdammer Platz. This is where lots of companies prove how good and trendy they are by their involvement in rebuilding Berlin. One exhibit shows how they're shifting the river, digging it up to put a tunnel under it, along the same route, and then putting the river back. Deutsch Telecom have a couple of internet terminals showing information about why they're so good, although they haven't reckoned with the ability of backpackers (not us this time) to read their email from anywhere on Earth. In general, it's quite interesting - if you're into engineering. Cathy was bored and stayed sat at the entrance, claiming knackered feet.

[What was previously No-Man's Land between the two walls is now a huge building site.]

When I finished, we wandered off to the nearest U-bahn station via a builder's café. We found a phone in the U-bahn station and Cathy phoned home for advice about her visa card. The advice was that there's not a lot we can do except try it again. We head back to our tent, not entirely reassured.

We got to the tent to find that the consignment of Russian Jehovah's Witnesses that had filled three tents yesterday had left, and that consequently there was considerably more space than previously. We sneak into an empty tent at the back, hoping that no-one will join us. We then go to the meal room and meet up with the Ukrainians we met yesterday. After purchasing essentials (beer, chocolate milk and a banana), we open up the books and swap addresses of accommodation in Amsterdam.

We eventually head back to the tent, to discover that we're not the only people to have found it. A bunch of noisy foreigners march in and have a nice chat amongst themselves as they unpack. Meanwhile, we're trying to sleep. Their crowning glory is when they drop a packet of spaghetti all over the floor. After that, they start responding to our icy stares, and we get some sleep.

Stupid American Quote, outside Hitler's Bunker, shortly after Tour Guide explained that it was sealed off to prevent it becoming a Neo-Nazi shrine: "So why don't they open it as a tourist attraction?"