GERMANY
So today I had my first lesson with Herr Henkel teaching students who are probably older than me about British media. Today's subject was the TV and film industry. Their english is so good it makes me sad inside.
Herr Henkel (or 'Markus' as I should probably refer to him as) is pretty much a legend in his own right. He must only be in his early 30's but he dresses like a black gangsta rapper, with baggy jeans and a big shirt and white trainers, though he's about as far from being a rapper as you can get. His response to two girls who weren't really paying attention was "Oy. No lesbian games in my lessons".
I laughed more than most of the other people, which has probably made them think I'm a twattish little boy who laughs at the word 'gay'. It was pretty funny though. He seems to have a really good rapport with all his students, which means he can get away with accusing people of lesbianism. I'd probably be less successful.
I went to the bank for the first time this morning to withdraw cash, which was an absolute task in itself. I can't speak for all of Germany, but the bank here in Neuerburg will only open its doors for you if you scan your bank card on a little machine outside, which begs the question "how do you get in if you want to set up a bank account?". This task is easier said than done. It seems German card reading machines read cards the other way up; you have to put the card in with the shiny strip on the back facing upwards.
This was offputting, as it took me 2 or 3 minutes to realise I was doing something wrong, and a couple of workmen inside the bank occasionally stopped working to watch me struggle with this machine. I think devices like this would put hilarious new spins on bank heist films. Think the opening scene of The Dark Knight where the Joker and his henchmen can't get in because they don't have a card.
It was all a waste anyway, as when I finally got to the cash machine I realised I'd forgotten to transfer any money into the account. This was pretty nerve racking, as when you own an account with £800 in it and you're told that "your available balance is €0", the first thought is more along the lines of 'oh shit' than 'oh, never mind'.
So today I have no chocomel because funds wouldn't allow it, and even though I could very easily go back to the bank now, having transferred some pennies, and quench my cravings, I just can't be arsed. chocolate milk withdrawal symptoms should kick in shortly.
And there are still no photos, which I know a few of you are after at the moment. I have my camera which made a miraculous recovery to the tune of "I will only charge with a charger that is meant for another model of camera" but sadly forgot to bring my memory cards, which means I can only take 3 pictures at a time on the internal memory and then sit sadly and realise I don't even have the means to transfer them onto my laptop anyway. Ho hum.
I leave you with one of the finest moments of my time here so far. On the way back from Lidl earlier, a lady asked me if I knew when there was a bus to Bitburg.
"Lady," I said "There are no fucking buses to ANYWHERE."
That's a lie; I actually said "Yes, if you wait here, they come every hour on the hour!"
That was a lie too. I actually said something along the lines of "I'm a tourist so I don't know things". And she thanked me, and we went our separate ways. I've no idea where she ended up or whether she found a functioning bus service in Neuerburg, but I will say with some certainty that she is probably dead now.
So today I had my first lesson with Herr Henkel teaching students who are probably older than me about British media. Today's subject was the TV and film industry. Their english is so good it makes me sad inside.
Herr Henkel (or 'Markus' as I should probably refer to him as) is pretty much a legend in his own right. He must only be in his early 30's but he dresses like a black gangsta rapper, with baggy jeans and a big shirt and white trainers, though he's about as far from being a rapper as you can get. His response to two girls who weren't really paying attention was "Oy. No lesbian games in my lessons".
I laughed more than most of the other people, which has probably made them think I'm a twattish little boy who laughs at the word 'gay'. It was pretty funny though. He seems to have a really good rapport with all his students, which means he can get away with accusing people of lesbianism. I'd probably be less successful.
I went to the bank for the first time this morning to withdraw cash, which was an absolute task in itself. I can't speak for all of Germany, but the bank here in Neuerburg will only open its doors for you if you scan your bank card on a little machine outside, which begs the question "how do you get in if you want to set up a bank account?". This task is easier said than done. It seems German card reading machines read cards the other way up; you have to put the card in with the shiny strip on the back facing upwards.
This was offputting, as it took me 2 or 3 minutes to realise I was doing something wrong, and a couple of workmen inside the bank occasionally stopped working to watch me struggle with this machine. I think devices like this would put hilarious new spins on bank heist films. Think the opening scene of The Dark Knight where the Joker and his henchmen can't get in because they don't have a card.
It was all a waste anyway, as when I finally got to the cash machine I realised I'd forgotten to transfer any money into the account. This was pretty nerve racking, as when you own an account with £800 in it and you're told that "your available balance is €0", the first thought is more along the lines of 'oh shit' than 'oh, never mind'.
So today I have no chocomel because funds wouldn't allow it, and even though I could very easily go back to the bank now, having transferred some pennies, and quench my cravings, I just can't be arsed. chocolate milk withdrawal symptoms should kick in shortly.
And there are still no photos, which I know a few of you are after at the moment. I have my camera which made a miraculous recovery to the tune of "I will only charge with a charger that is meant for another model of camera" but sadly forgot to bring my memory cards, which means I can only take 3 pictures at a time on the internal memory and then sit sadly and realise I don't even have the means to transfer them onto my laptop anyway. Ho hum.
I leave you with one of the finest moments of my time here so far. On the way back from Lidl earlier, a lady asked me if I knew when there was a bus to Bitburg.
"Lady," I said "There are no fucking buses to ANYWHERE."
That's a lie; I actually said "Yes, if you wait here, they come every hour on the hour!"
That was a lie too. I actually said something along the lines of "I'm a tourist so I don't know things". And she thanked me, and we went our separate ways. I've no idea where she ended up or whether she found a functioning bus service in Neuerburg, but I will say with some certainty that she is probably dead now.
