Berlin Brandenburg Airport to Charlottenburg (City West / Zoo)

One does not simply arrive in Charlottenburg; one returns to it, even on a first visit. This is the Berlin of long luncheons and longer window displays, of the Kurfürstendamm unspooling its awnings toward the horizon and KaDeWe standing sentinel over the whole affable enterprise like a grande dame who has seen every fashion come and go and outlasted them all. City West wears its elegance without apology, and it expects you to arrive in a manner that does the neighbourhood some small credit. Happily, from BER that is entirely within reach — a matter of roughly thirty kilometres and three-quarters of an hour, and a decision or two about how much fuss you care to make of it.

A Boulevard Deserves a Proper Approach

The most refined thing about Charlottenburg's rail connection is how little it asks of you. Deep beneath Terminal 1 sits the airport's own station, and from there the S9 glides directly to Zoologischer Garten — no changes, no scurrying with luggage across strange platforms, simply a single carriage that will, in its own unhurried fashion, deliver you to the very doorstep of the boulevard. It runs roughly every twenty minutes and asks a mere €5.00 for an ABC ticket. I shall be candid: it is an all-stops service, and it takes its time — nearer the hour than the half. But there is a certain civility in a slow train. One watches the eastern suburbs give way to the leafy west, gathers one's thoughts, and steps out at Zoo Station already half in the spirit of the place.

Should you prefer briskness to reverie, the FEX — the airport express — makes a swifter overture. It departs from the same station beneath Terminal 1, every fifteen minutes, and carries you to Hauptbahnhof in some three-and-twenty minutes. There you change to an S-Bahn — the S3, S5, S7 or S9 will all serve — and ride merely two stops westward to Zoologischer Garten. The whole passage comes to about five-and-forty minutes on that same single €5.00 ABC ticket. One ticket covers the connection entirely, which I find a small mercy; nobody wishes to fumble for a second fare with an armful of parcels.

The Question of the Metered Cab

There are days — arrival days especially, when one is weary and disinclined to negotiate a staircase with a trunk — when only a taxi will do. The official rank sits just outside Terminal 1 arrivals, orderly and dependable, with licensed Berlin cabs waiting at all hours. Budget €65 to €80 for the crossing, plus the modest €1.50 airport surcharge that BER adds to every metered fare. Do bear in mind that Charlottenburg lies clear across the breadth of the city; this is no dash to the nearest district but a proper traverse, perhaps fifty minutes with the traffic, the meter ticking companionably the while. For a solo traveller it is an indulgence. For two or three with luggage between them, it begins to look almost sensible — and there is something to be said for arriving at one's hotel on the Ku'damm without ever having touched a ticket machine.

When One Would Rather Not Think at All

For those who like their arrivals arranged in advance — and I confess a weakness for it — a private transfer removes the last particle of uncertainty. Houses such as Welcome Pickups and Blacklane will have a driver waiting in the arrivals hall to relieve you of the luggage, the fare fixed and settled beforehand at somewhere between €60 and €85. No meter to watch, no queue to join, no doubt about the sum. The journey runs much as the taxi does, near enough fifty minutes door to door, but the pleasure lies in the certainty of it. One steps off the aeroplane, follows a courteous stranger to a waiting car, and the next thing one properly registers is the elegant hush of City West.

Arriving in the Right Frame of Mind

My gentle counsel, then, is to suit the conveyance to the mood. If you have come to stroll — to graze the length of the Kurfürstendamm, to ascend to KaDeWe's celebrated food halls, to pay your respects at Charlottenburg Palace — then arrive lightly and let the S9 set your pace; there is no better prelude to an unhurried afternoon. If the day has been long and the flight longer, engage a cab from the rank or a driver booked ahead, and preserve your good humour for the shopping. Either way, remember that the boulevard has been here longer than any of us and will greet you the same whether you arrive by train or by town car. The only real error is to hurry through it. Charlottenburg does not reward haste; it rewards the pause — so do arrive, and then, at last, do linger.