The Deutsch, the Dutch, writing too little and eating too much..
I'm still alive!!
Now that I've got the important stuff out of the way, I'm now faced with a difficult task of describing quite a few months of travel around Germany and the Nederlands. I'm unlikely to be able to do justice to the experiences I've had, the people that have helped me along the way and what I've come to learn - but I'll have a red-hot crack at it. I'll try to keep it brief because I know most of you are reading this on company time - slackers that you are.
I'm rolling Germany and the Nederlands together in this blog, so that they may share the various snipes, secrets and shenanigans I have to extol in this diatribe. They have much in common anyway, a heritage of marauding Germanic barbarians, pork, phlegm hawking language and an inherent dislike of each other. Did I mention pork? there's so much of it, it probably deserves mentioning twice..
Pork (three times, even).
After a 3 week stopover in London spent feverishly job hunting (more on THAT later) and staying at Cade and Gerv's pied-a-terre, I was off to Heidelberg in Germany. Here I was reunited with long-running travel partner Amanda who was posted there on an IT contract. Heidelberg is an historic town featuring one of the oldest castles in Germany and a university that has been cranking out generations of smarty-pants since the 14th century. This was the place that fostered the likes of Max Weber and Georg Hegel, allowing them to inflict their brow-furrowing philosophical texts on generations of confused students like myself. After shaking my fist at the place, I discovered the amazing library and vaults with texts dating back to the 12th century. The late return fines on these books alone run into to the tens of thousands..
Although years of being a staple on the international tourist trail has dragged a pall of kitsch over the town, Heidelberg was picturesque and a quiet place for me to escape the stresses and burdens of my hectic lifestyle. If you were able to circum-navigate the package-tour crowd and souvenir shops, some fantastic ruins and countryside could be enjoyed. Our adventures in West Germany extended up to Köln (sweet baby Jebus, they gots the biggest church I ever done seen) and Dusseldorf (currywurst is to Dusseldorf what Boeuf Bourgignon is to Burgundy - for real), thanks to Susanne and Peter for the hospitality there!
While I generally found ze Germans afflicted by the same ubiquitous melancholy that follows the winter in this part of the world (see my post below about the gloomy Swedes), there are few people more ecstatically cheerful than a German at a christmas nachtmarkt clutching a steaming gluwein and half a metre of bratwurst while the snow is falling. The colour rushes back into his jowls, his voice raises to a shout, his chest heaves with laughter - all is well with the world. Except in Berlin, of course, where to smile (or to express anything other than intense reflection or aloof bemusement) is to betray yourself as a tourist.
If Heidelberg was kitsch, then Berlin is its antithesis. For a city that is bankrupt and still coming to grips with reunification, the vibrancy of the city is tangible. It has the presence of a city that used to be the centre of Europe and in many ways is still years ahead. Some brilliant record stores, rock gigs, boutique fashion (in store screen printing!) and art galleries attested to this. Uber kudos goes to Kat and Mat who were brilliant and very charitable guides to their city and gave Amanda and I a roof to sleep under. Unable to resist a second trip here, on return from the Nederlands, Tom and I stayed with Zarven (card magician) and Matt (horn blower) in their place in Friedrichshain. This was a fantastic taste of old skool east-Berlin living, with coal that needed to be lugged from the basement each morning (Karl was cranking!) to feed the burner, a shower that needed to be pumped for twenty minutes before use - and not to forget playing about a million hands of 500 to keep the fingers warm... all we needed was some secret police to burst through the door and arrest us to complete the experience!
Reluctantly leaving Berlin, Amanda and I hurtled towards Maastricht in the Nederlands for a Christmas rendezvous with other Antipodean refugees (amongst whom, my brother Tom). Seeking refuge at the very charitable home of Senors Charles and Owen, we were glad to hear some other Australian voices and experience some thickly spread Christmas cheer. Heading north to Amsterdam, Tom and I had a joyful reunion with me old mate Kaz who is now kicking goals with Plugger-like consistency there.
Amshterdam ish crayshee, if only becaushe everybody speaksh like dish! Maybe itsh becaushe dey put mayonnaishe on everyting!! Ash tempting ash it ish to write like dish for de resht of the blog - I'll stop now. With the highest population density in Europe, Amsterdam is a heaving town with some amazing sights. The best times were had bypassing the city's seedy areas, and rolling around in De Pijp and towards the Oud West. To be experienced truly, Amsterdam must be seen as a passenger riding side-saddle on the back of a bike. Better still, chaperoned by a caffeine-charged Kaz who proudly showed off her new home, riding through the beautiful city with the fiendish zeal of someone who has just fallen completely in love with it.
New Years Eve saw the city erupt into a frenzy of celebration and the streets filled with revellers. We soon discovered that the Amsterdamers have a penchant for throwing very loud firecrackers at each others feet during the festive season. As one might expect, the combination of NYE, legal sale of fireworks and liberal drug laws culminated in 48 hours of mayhem and street explosions - a la Gaza Strip. I even caught an impish pre-teen kid throw a cherry bomb at my feet as he rode by on the back of his mothers bicycle - cackling as I jumped a metre in the air upon its explosion. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get my hearing back and track the wee bastard down. I still can't help but scream like a girly-girl when something rolls by my toes..
No trip to the Nederlands would have been complete without hooking up with my uni buddies Erik and Niels who lived in Rotterdam. It was great to see those guys and have a cruise around Rotterdam and its surrounds before leaving the country.
From The Nederlands I headed east, so stay tuned for the Prague update. A swashbuckling tale of snowball fights that spiral into bloody shambles, accidental mullets, alcoholic landlords and the usual tomfoolery and intrigue that seems to befall me wherever I hang my hat...
And now it ish photo time, ishn't dat fantastisch?
Unfortunately, I'm still trying to track down most of my photos from Germany, I'll post the good ones when I get a chance..
This is the (now defunct) student prison at Heidelberg University. Built in 1778, it was used to house rascal students for drunkenness (some things don't change) and unauthorised duelling (some things do). As a freshman in the 18th century, you weren't worth your salt unless you'd squared off with somebody and attempted to fill them with buckshot or hack at them with a rapier. The walls are covered in 250 years of graffiti from students who were kept there for up to a month. It sounds brutal, but I can't help but feel that my student life was a little empty because I never had the chance to cooly look somebody in the eye and say:
'Pistols at dawn, you rogue.'
Christmas night markets like this were ubiquitous throughout Germany and the Nederlands.
Kazzy with apple pie in Amsterdam. This was the greatest slice of apple pie ever created - period. No correspondence will be entered into, our decision is final.
Christmarket delights in Maastricht. First, the waffle is made from a mixture of egg, flour, sugar and butter. After being fried in more butter, melted white chocolate and hot caramel is liberally poured over the waffle. Served with sprinkled chocolate, you can actually feel your arteries hardening before you've taken the first bite..
The dead zoo in Maastricht. For reasons that only our twisted tour guide can answer himself, on a night time tour of the city Owen took us to a very strange zoo. Seeming to be a memorial to the animals that existed in poor conditions before zoos of the modern age cleaned up their act, we saw a huge enclosure with sculptures of a dead giraffe, a depressed bear, tasmanian tigers and others. And a girl in a ballet outfit. It was verrry spooky and not completely understood.
Erik and Niels (aka The Dutch Touch aka The Proppers) gave me a brilliant tour of regional Holland, with a walk through these beautiful fields outside Rotterdam. It'sh jusht like in de poshtcardsh!
-sammyd
RIP hst
Now that I've got the important stuff out of the way, I'm now faced with a difficult task of describing quite a few months of travel around Germany and the Nederlands. I'm unlikely to be able to do justice to the experiences I've had, the people that have helped me along the way and what I've come to learn - but I'll have a red-hot crack at it. I'll try to keep it brief because I know most of you are reading this on company time - slackers that you are.
I'm rolling Germany and the Nederlands together in this blog, so that they may share the various snipes, secrets and shenanigans I have to extol in this diatribe. They have much in common anyway, a heritage of marauding Germanic barbarians, pork, phlegm hawking language and an inherent dislike of each other. Did I mention pork? there's so much of it, it probably deserves mentioning twice..
Pork (three times, even).
After a 3 week stopover in London spent feverishly job hunting (more on THAT later) and staying at Cade and Gerv's pied-a-terre, I was off to Heidelberg in Germany. Here I was reunited with long-running travel partner Amanda who was posted there on an IT contract. Heidelberg is an historic town featuring one of the oldest castles in Germany and a university that has been cranking out generations of smarty-pants since the 14th century. This was the place that fostered the likes of Max Weber and Georg Hegel, allowing them to inflict their brow-furrowing philosophical texts on generations of confused students like myself. After shaking my fist at the place, I discovered the amazing library and vaults with texts dating back to the 12th century. The late return fines on these books alone run into to the tens of thousands..
Although years of being a staple on the international tourist trail has dragged a pall of kitsch over the town, Heidelberg was picturesque and a quiet place for me to escape the stresses and burdens of my hectic lifestyle. If you were able to circum-navigate the package-tour crowd and souvenir shops, some fantastic ruins and countryside could be enjoyed. Our adventures in West Germany extended up to Köln (sweet baby Jebus, they gots the biggest church I ever done seen) and Dusseldorf (currywurst is to Dusseldorf what Boeuf Bourgignon is to Burgundy - for real), thanks to Susanne and Peter for the hospitality there!
While I generally found ze Germans afflicted by the same ubiquitous melancholy that follows the winter in this part of the world (see my post below about the gloomy Swedes), there are few people more ecstatically cheerful than a German at a christmas nachtmarkt clutching a steaming gluwein and half a metre of bratwurst while the snow is falling. The colour rushes back into his jowls, his voice raises to a shout, his chest heaves with laughter - all is well with the world. Except in Berlin, of course, where to smile (or to express anything other than intense reflection or aloof bemusement) is to betray yourself as a tourist.
If Heidelberg was kitsch, then Berlin is its antithesis. For a city that is bankrupt and still coming to grips with reunification, the vibrancy of the city is tangible. It has the presence of a city that used to be the centre of Europe and in many ways is still years ahead. Some brilliant record stores, rock gigs, boutique fashion (in store screen printing!) and art galleries attested to this. Uber kudos goes to Kat and Mat who were brilliant and very charitable guides to their city and gave Amanda and I a roof to sleep under. Unable to resist a second trip here, on return from the Nederlands, Tom and I stayed with Zarven (card magician) and Matt (horn blower) in their place in Friedrichshain. This was a fantastic taste of old skool east-Berlin living, with coal that needed to be lugged from the basement each morning (Karl was cranking!) to feed the burner, a shower that needed to be pumped for twenty minutes before use - and not to forget playing about a million hands of 500 to keep the fingers warm... all we needed was some secret police to burst through the door and arrest us to complete the experience!
Reluctantly leaving Berlin, Amanda and I hurtled towards Maastricht in the Nederlands for a Christmas rendezvous with other Antipodean refugees (amongst whom, my brother Tom). Seeking refuge at the very charitable home of Senors Charles and Owen, we were glad to hear some other Australian voices and experience some thickly spread Christmas cheer. Heading north to Amsterdam, Tom and I had a joyful reunion with me old mate Kaz who is now kicking goals with Plugger-like consistency there.
Amshterdam ish crayshee, if only becaushe everybody speaksh like dish! Maybe itsh becaushe dey put mayonnaishe on everyting!! Ash tempting ash it ish to write like dish for de resht of the blog - I'll stop now. With the highest population density in Europe, Amsterdam is a heaving town with some amazing sights. The best times were had bypassing the city's seedy areas, and rolling around in De Pijp and towards the Oud West. To be experienced truly, Amsterdam must be seen as a passenger riding side-saddle on the back of a bike. Better still, chaperoned by a caffeine-charged Kaz who proudly showed off her new home, riding through the beautiful city with the fiendish zeal of someone who has just fallen completely in love with it.
New Years Eve saw the city erupt into a frenzy of celebration and the streets filled with revellers. We soon discovered that the Amsterdamers have a penchant for throwing very loud firecrackers at each others feet during the festive season. As one might expect, the combination of NYE, legal sale of fireworks and liberal drug laws culminated in 48 hours of mayhem and street explosions - a la Gaza Strip. I even caught an impish pre-teen kid throw a cherry bomb at my feet as he rode by on the back of his mothers bicycle - cackling as I jumped a metre in the air upon its explosion. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get my hearing back and track the wee bastard down. I still can't help but scream like a girly-girl when something rolls by my toes..
No trip to the Nederlands would have been complete without hooking up with my uni buddies Erik and Niels who lived in Rotterdam. It was great to see those guys and have a cruise around Rotterdam and its surrounds before leaving the country.
From The Nederlands I headed east, so stay tuned for the Prague update. A swashbuckling tale of snowball fights that spiral into bloody shambles, accidental mullets, alcoholic landlords and the usual tomfoolery and intrigue that seems to befall me wherever I hang my hat...
And now it ish photo time, ishn't dat fantastisch?
Unfortunately, I'm still trying to track down most of my photos from Germany, I'll post the good ones when I get a chance..
This is the (now defunct) student prison at Heidelberg University. Built in 1778, it was used to house rascal students for drunkenness (some things don't change) and unauthorised duelling (some things do). As a freshman in the 18th century, you weren't worth your salt unless you'd squared off with somebody and attempted to fill them with buckshot or hack at them with a rapier. The walls are covered in 250 years of graffiti from students who were kept there for up to a month. It sounds brutal, but I can't help but feel that my student life was a little empty because I never had the chance to cooly look somebody in the eye and say:
'Pistols at dawn, you rogue.'
Christmas night markets like this were ubiquitous throughout Germany and the Nederlands.
Kazzy with apple pie in Amsterdam. This was the greatest slice of apple pie ever created - period. No correspondence will be entered into, our decision is final.
Christmarket delights in Maastricht. First, the waffle is made from a mixture of egg, flour, sugar and butter. After being fried in more butter, melted white chocolate and hot caramel is liberally poured over the waffle. Served with sprinkled chocolate, you can actually feel your arteries hardening before you've taken the first bite..
The dead zoo in Maastricht. For reasons that only our twisted tour guide can answer himself, on a night time tour of the city Owen took us to a very strange zoo. Seeming to be a memorial to the animals that existed in poor conditions before zoos of the modern age cleaned up their act, we saw a huge enclosure with sculptures of a dead giraffe, a depressed bear, tasmanian tigers and others. And a girl in a ballet outfit. It was verrry spooky and not completely understood.
Erik and Niels (aka The Dutch Touch aka The Proppers) gave me a brilliant tour of regional Holland, with a walk through these beautiful fields outside Rotterdam. It'sh jusht like in de poshtcardsh!
-sammyd
RIP hst
posted by SammyD at 11:28 AM
1 Comments:
that wash an advensure shtraight out of tha mofiesh!
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