Until now, I’d always associated lavender, rosemary, and thyme with the south of France, not Brandenburg. That these Mediterranean classics can thrive on the sandy soil of the Mark is proven by Provinz, a permaculture farm near Brandenburg an der Havel. Here, they thrive in mixed cultivation, alongside yarrow, ground ivy, ground elder, and St. John’s wort, among hops, fruit trees, and berry bushes. All following a principle that stays as close to nature as possible.

Since 2020, Clara and Raphael Danke — an interior designer and an artist from Berlin and Aachen — have devoted themselves to a contemporary vision of living and working in the countryside. They cultivate herbs and edible blossoms and call their approach slow farming. Instead of large fields and monocultures, there’s mixed cultivation; instead of artificial fertilizer, compost and mulch. The soil is disturbed as little as possible and left a little better with each passing year. The idea behind it is as simple as it is convincing: whatever is allowed to grow slowly in healthy soil develops character, and in the case of herbs, above all, aroma.

What’s especially lovely is the focus on what’s already growing right outside your own front door. At harvest time, the plant sets the rhythm of the day. Blossoms are picked in the morning, while Mediterranean herbs are harvested more in the midday sun, when their essential oil content is at its highest. Only then do Provinz’s products come into being: herbal teas, spice blends, bath salts, and smudge bundles. Everything is hand-harvested, air-dried, and processed right on the farm. Rosemary, oregano, thyme, lemon thyme, and lavender come together to make Kräuter der Provinz; mint, hops, and lemon balm, along with blossoms, go into the evening tea Ouuumm; sage and mugwort are bound by hand into smudge bundles. This summer sees a new blend take shape: Clara’s Geist. The Sale Florale bath salt brings together lavender, mallow blossoms, and rosemary.

Going forward, Provinz aims to be more than just a farm whose herbs and blossoms find their way home in pretty tins and jars. Wild-herb workshops are planned on-site, where visitors can turn the plants into their own smudge bundles and bath salts. Wild-herb walks through the surrounding landscape are also in the works, taking a closer look at mugwort, St. John’s wort, and others, and at which plants grow here and how they can be used.

For those who want to stay longer, there’s a retreat at the edge of the farm: an old circus wagon nestled among meadows, fields, and the landscape of the Mark. A place to slow down and, for a few days, immerse yourself in a Brandenburg defined by openness, quiet, and a touch of wilderness.

The best thing about Provinz is that the farm isn’t trying to turn Brandenburg into Provence. Instead, it draws attention to what the region has to offer, and how much knowledge is held in plants that most of us otherwise walk right past without a second thought. To me, that’s a pretty good reason to look closer to home for herbs, and especially towards Provinz.

Text: Milena Kalojanov / Photos: Adel Bikulov, Clara & Raphael Danke, Provinz

Provinz
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Discovering Berlin’s waterways has taken on a new meaning since I came across Quellcode. And while all things water — from summer raindrops and ice cubes to lake spots — are pretty much always on my mind, I’d never paid much attention to Berlin’s water pumps. You see them everywhere, but seeing them as a way to connect with your neighborhood? That had never occurred to me. Thanks to Julien, that has changed.

Quellcode maps all 1,968 of Berlin’s historic street pumps, alongside an optional layer showing the 315 drinking fountains operated by the water utility. The distinction is an important one, and not necessarily obvious when you encounter them on the street. The fountains provide tested drinking water, while the hand pumps do not. The latter are emergency wells, drawing groundwater independently of the mains and kept in case the city’s regular water supply ever fails. On an ordinary day, they have more everyday uses: someone fills a watering can, a cyclist cools off, a dog takes a drink, or kids play with the handle in summer. More interesting still is what the map can’t tell you on its own: whether the water is actually running.

That’s where the community comes in. Anyone standing at a pump can report its condition, with the app verifying that you’re actually there. Each observation is dated and located, turning a quick check on your way through the Kiez into part of a shared, up-to-date record. You don’t need to be a developer to contribute to this source code. Here, the “source” is quite literal (water) while the code is written collectively, one observation at a time. Somewhere between water source and source code, the name Quellcode is rather apt. 

The app is available not just in German, but e.g. also in French and recently, Turkish. That latest addition wasn’t simply about reaching more users. Julien noticed that Turkish already appears on some of the city’s official “no drinking water” signs. In other words, the language was on the object before it was in the app. Rather than adding languages for the sake of it, he’d prefer to wait until someone from a community can help with a proper translation.

Julien, who traded Paris for Berlin almost ten years ago and publishes his projects under the name InvisibleChaos, has been fascinated by water for much longer. He studied oceanography and has spent the past seven years exploring much of Berlin’s waterways by packraft. The pumps, meanwhile, were something he’d wanted to photograph and collect for years. New AI tools finally gave him a way to turn that fascination into the system he had in mind — small, useful technology that gives something back to the neighborhood.

And the neighborhood is beginning to answer back. While photographing one pump, Julien got talking to a passerby who had stopped to ask about his recumbent bike; the conversation soon moved from two wheels to water infrastructure. At another pump in Prenzlauer Berg, a crow appeared for a drink and made it into the project’s gallery. A first meeting with a Kreuzberg neighborhood association is also coming up, suggesting that Quellcode’s community layer might eventually extend beyond the observations on its map.

There’s a quiet political idea behind this, too. It makes you wonder who the city belongs to, who its water belongs to, and how much we really know about the infrastructure around us. Quellcode doesn’t try to answer these questions with a petition or campaign. It’s free, with no ads, tracking or account required. Just open it in your browser, see what’s around you and add an observation if you happen to pass a pump. Taken together, these reports become a coverage map for an Ortsteil or even a repair list to hand to a district office.

And on a hot Berlin day, there’s an even more immediate reason to open the map: those 315 drinking fountains, most of which run from spring to fall. Unlike the hand pumps, their water is part of Berlin’s regular drinking water system, which draws almost entirely on local groundwater. The famously hard water might leave its mark on your kettle, but the calcium and magnesium behind the limescale aren’t a health concern. The hand pumps are another matter. Their untreated groundwater is not drinking water, however tempting a splash from one might look. Thirsty for more? Meet your neighborhood pump and bring some fresh energy to Berlin’s water network, and maybe your neighborhood network, too.

Text: Nina Trippel / Photos: Adi Christensen

Quellcode

If that isn’t a buzzword headline, I don’t know what is. You might be thinking, Is this really a Cee Cee tip?! But honestly, who doesn’t want to travel by train for less? (We’d happily take more punctual trains, too, but unfortunately we can’t help with that.) This rather user-friendly innovation called bahnscanner.de landed in our inbox courtesy of a Berliner and, like all our tips, was promptly put to the test. And now I’m looking forward to my train ride to Frankfurt am Main. Not only because of the people I’ll see there, but because my ticket cost less than ten euros. Thank you to founder Naman for making the long journey from northern India (Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, to be precise) to Berlin. While he was spared a culture shock upon arrival, there was, as he puts it, a definite weather shock. Ah, the Berlin winter… no comparison to Jaipur’s long, sun-filled days. In a way, Bahnscanner is Naman’s escape strategy. He liked Skyscanner’s “Travel anytime, anywhere” feature, but prefers traveling by train, not least because it’s the more sustainable option. When he realized there was no equivalent feature for booking with Deutsche Bahn, he built one himself. Bahnscanner helps you find inexpensive train tickets, and, more importantly, an affordable trip when you don’t necessarily have a destination in mind yet. (For those moments when you simply want to get away.) Bahnscanner is Naman’s side project, one he’s been working on for the past few months while actively incorporating user feedback. Watching user numbers climb and following the live logs gives him, he admits, a small dopamine hit. He has no plans to sell Bahnscanner for now. Instead, he’d rather collaborate with Deutsche Bahn, particularly when it comes to API access. And yes, AI has played its part. Naman says it sped up development considerably, particularly for areas new to him, such as front-end development. More than anything, though, he uses it as a sparring partner: testing different approaches, weighing one solution against another, and working through the options before deciding which way to go.

But enough tech, back to the nicer part: traveling. Since Naman is well on his way to becoming an expert on exploring Germany, I asked him for one of his favorite routes. His pick: Dresden to Schmilka, following the Elbe with views of Saxon Switzerland. Also on his list is the wonderfully named Bingen, from where he’d continue toward Koblenz — preferably on foot through the Upper Middle Rhine Valley. But of course, I couldn’t resist asking for a recommendation for really good food from closer to home. Naman’s answer: Food Haus Berlin at the Dong Xuan Center. The small, unpretentious Pakistani restaurant serves the best aloo paratha he’s found in Berlin so far. You won’t need Bahnscanner for a trip to the Dong Xuan Center. But I quite like Naman’s idea of occasionally letting the ticket price decide the destination. Perhaps you don’t always need to know exactly where you’re going. Most of the time, it’s enough just to get away.

Text: Nina Trippel / Photos: Anna Nekrashevich, Domjant, Matt Mutlu

Bahnscanner