MrLittlePants and I returned from our trip to Berlin this afternoon. As the city is poised to be the next “it” euro-capital, we were a tad disappointed. Berlin lacks a distinct center (for historical reasons, duh) but even accounting for that we were still surprised at the sparseness of buildings, and residents, no matter what corner of the city we visited.

Among Berlin’s tourist attractions, we were bored by the sterile Potsdamer Platz. Same went for strolling around Mitte (it just didn’t feel that old). But we did very much enjoy the roof of the Reichstag. Big, easy, free, and impressive (after you’ve waited your turn at the wildly inadequate single-conveyor security checkpoint). It’s the ideal tourist attraction.

Given the mash notes New Yorkers have been writing to Berlin lately, we had high expectations for general Berliner hipness. This led to some confusion as we saw little besides children, the elderly, and tourists in our first 48 hours in the city.

Eventually a Berlin native (friend of a friend) showed us around the pleasantly youthful, Billyburgish east side of Kreuzburg. Schlesische Straße south of the Schlesische Tor U1 station is a gem. Tiny and sporting four or five chillax bars, you can easily feel smart two nights in a row there. But with the big cheesy youth hostel right across from Neue Bohnen bar (Schl. Str. 28), hairstyles are bound to deteriorate quickly.

On the seventh day of our trip we were conned by a subway cop. Berlin’s BVG subways, unlike those in places west, are regulated entirely by spot checking. Riders are expected to purchase and validate tickets before using the transport. You won’t be checked on the average subway trip, but count on being hassled eventually. In a one-week stay our credentials were verified on two occasions.

The first check was an unpleasant, but uneventful, intrusion of police authority. In our second check on Friday we weren’t so lucky. We had bought our seven-day passes on the Saturday before that with the expectation that they would be valid at least through the following Friday. But the two undercover BVG cops who stopped us insisted this was not the case, claiming that my ticket had expired that morning. They demanded 40 € in cash, and I gave it to them.

This led to hours of disbelief, finger counting, and head scratching on my part. I went home believing that seven days in the rest of the world was only six in Berlin.

That night MrLittlePants found the following text in the official subway brochure: “The 7-Tages-Karte (7-day ticket […]) is valid for one person […] Validity expires at 12:00 midnight on the seventh calendar day, starting on the day of validation.” I was relieved to see that Berliners count days correctly, but appalled that I had been fined after presenting a valid ticket.

The next day a German-born friend of Lil’s helpfully presented my then-expired ticket and fine receipt to various subway officials. Each one immediately, sympathetically agreed that the ticket should not have been issued. But naturally none could arrange a refund. Perhaps, they suggested, if I visited the central office on Monday (accessible only by bus) I could get the refund? I liked those odds, but by Sunday night I’d be safe at home in New York.

So I was defrauded by the BVG ticket police, and there’s nothing to be done about it. That sort of shakedown is the natural consequence of undercover enforcement and on-the-spot fining in public transportation. Most cities in the western world use a system of automatic enforcement by turnstiles, supplemented by plainclothes cops; this way you know your ticket is valid.

If my hunch is correct, Berlin will have loads more American tourists in years to come. If you’re going to be one of them, I recommend using the city as a base to visit other eastern cities; two or three days is enough for Berlin. And if you dare enter their subway, be absolutely certain that your ticket is valid. Know the exact rules for the ticket class, or better yet, carry the BVG brochure with you.

Because two jean-jacketed cops are prowling the U1, waiting to tell you that seven is six. Throw that brochure at ’em.