I got into Europe’s most notoriously difficult nightclub

Hopefuls queue to enter Berghain ... many will be refused entry.Credit: Getty Images

With Berlin's Sunday dawn sunlight piercing our skinny, unconcealed arms, we stand in line awaiting our day of days.

Inside Berghain we hear the grumble of techno music, with its metronomic thumps of bass that start every Saturday night and do not stop for 36 hours. In the line outside, my friend and I stay silent. This is essential to our entry strategy: no talking in the line, no looking at our phones. Even chewing gum feels high-risk.

After all, it would have been a shame to mess it up when we're this close.

Sven Marquardt, Berghain's legendary bouncer, who decides whether or not you get in.Credit: Getty Images

We had bought our tight, black singlets and pants days before, along with our equally tight and black sunglasses. Our haircuts are quintessential Berlin: razor sharp on the sides, long at the back.

Sure enough, we're about to embark on not one, but two, sessions inside the world's most mysterious club, with its ice cream parlours, sweat-coated dance floors and freedom to do almost anything - sexual or otherwise - except consume drugs publicly.

That we felt the need to go to such extents partly explains why Berghain holds such a mythical status. The club's security is notorious for turning people away. About two-thirds of visitors are knocked back on the morning we arrive.

The author's Berlin look.Credit: Michael Fowler

Little is known about what happens inside, aided by the club's no photo policy, while thousands and thousands have unsuccessfully sought the golden formula to get in.

There's even an online simulator where you can try convincing head bouncer Sven Marquardt to grant you entrance to the converted heating plant.

It's no simulation, however, as we arrive within metres of the man himself. An intimidating figure even without his face tattoos and dual lip piercings, Marquardt rejects the three groups in front of us with nothing more than a shake of the head.

The club closed during the pandemic but hosted an art installation called 'Eleven Songs' ... offering a rare glimpse inside.Credit: Getty Images

We stand ready to activate our battle plan. I'm ready to speak the German I learned in high school; we've memorised the names of each act playing that day.

Yet without a word spoken, Marquardt gives the two of us the nod. Somehow, we're in.

A thorough pat down by security follows, before they place green stickers over our phone cameras.

The club is open from midnight Saturday to Monday morning, with clubbers showing up during the day on Sunday.Credit: Getty Images

Past the cloak room, up the shuddering steel staircase and we arrive at the Berghain room: the church of techno. The only lights are lasers, glass windows span the 18 metres from ceiling to roof on the right, the hundreds-strong dance floor simmers and squirms.

To our right stands a long bar that could be in a five-star hotel, dotted by leather stools with white granite decorations on the wall behind. Next to it, a canvas swing propelled by rope that's large enough to hold 10 humans. Up the adjacent metal staircase and we arrive at the ice cream parlour, conveniently serving gelato and fruit smoothies all weekend.

Left from the main room and we pass another bar before climbing what feels like a fire escape but acts as a semi-outdoor smokers area. Two staircases later we're in the club's other main room, Panorama, which plays slightly less intense electronic music and opens on Friday.

Are you following? In other words, the labyrinthine Berghain is not a great place to lose your friends.

Small booths line the club's hallways, where we regularly see couples or small groups getting intimate. Since opening in 2004, Berghain has remained a gay club at its core. Leather is the choice of many men and women: studded collars, jumpsuits, tight pants, the occasional strap or rope.

By mid-morning temperatures are above 30 degrees outside. The sensation of exposed, sweaty skin rubbing against us is common, although the smell is surprisingly neutral aside from the occasional waft of cigarettes. It's a room of dancing, leather-toting, greased up sumo wrestlers, gleefully squelching against each other in the Sunday daylight. Or, as DJ Job Jobse later posted on his instagram, Berghain became a swimming pool.

Midday strikes and the labyrinth expands again, this time into an outdoor area. Grateful topless partiers cool off under sprinklers, others make use of the showers or brush their teeth. One man eats a pre-packed egg sandwich.

It's truly an all-day experience, which some take advantage of.

Re-entry is also possible all weekend for five euros, so we choose to travel home for a nap before returning at 8pm. A top DJ, Ben UFO, is on and we figure we may as well make the most of it. Don't dwell on the logic too much - we certainly didn't.

Already new parts of the club are open and brimming with an even larger crowd than the morning. Night appears to attract the true believers. One English punter flew in on Saturday evening, sped directly to Berghain and intended to stay until his flight home on Monday morning.

I meet a married, 38-year-old mother of two enjoying a session by herself - relief from the kids, she tells me. I suppose it beats a walk around the block.

The club stops allowing new entrants after midnight. While the crowd has thinned slightly as we depart at 2am - nearly a full day after first arriving - many are clearly in no mood to stop before the music does at 6am.

They could even enjoy an ice cream from the club on the sunny walk home.

Berghain is located at Wriezener Bahnhof, near Berlin’s Ostbahnhof. It opens from 11.59pm Friday to 7am Saturday then from 11.59pm Saturday until 6am Monday. Some special events occasionally take place during the week. The entrance fee varies but generally starts from €20. See: berghain.berlin/en/