Last night was the staff christmas do in Trier. This was pretty cool for a number of reasons, the first of which is that the copious amounts of alcohol set my German on fire and I communicated like a fluent, albeit slurred person for most of the night. The second reason ties in with the first; a couple of us went out in Trier afterwards, meaning I had my first real night out that I haven't had to travel at least 4 hours for.
The christmas do was a buffet. It was really tasty, but for bizarre reasons. It was as if someone had pointed with their eyes closed at a load of different menus. There was salmon, venison stew (fair enough), some variety of potato, tagliatelle, and - wait for it - scrambled egg fried rice. Now, all fried rice has egg in it, this is a culinary pre-requisite. But this rice had chunks of scrambled egg the size of a babybel cheese. Like I say, it was tasty, but in a "what the hell, Germany?" sort of way.
We drank a lot of beer. I forget what the drinks tab for the whole night came to, but it could probably have put a fair few students through English university. I was also introduced to Schnapps, which is something like the afterbirth of vodka and Satan's baby. Don't do it.
After this we queued for about half an hour to get into a club. I was having serious doubts at this stage; the coach had gone, and I wasn't certain where I was staying. Score one for dangerous spontaneous decisions. But we eventually got in, and it turned out to be awesome.
The christmas do was a buffet. It was really tasty, but for bizarre reasons. It was as if someone had pointed with their eyes closed at a load of different menus. There was salmon, venison stew (fair enough), some variety of potato, tagliatelle, and - wait for it - scrambled egg fried rice. Now, all fried rice has egg in it, this is a culinary pre-requisite. But this rice had chunks of scrambled egg the size of a babybel cheese. Like I say, it was tasty, but in a "what the hell, Germany?" sort of way.
We drank a lot of beer. I forget what the drinks tab for the whole night came to, but it could probably have put a fair few students through English university. I was also introduced to Schnapps, which is something like the afterbirth of vodka and Satan's baby. Don't do it.
After this we queued for about half an hour to get into a club. I was having serious doubts at this stage; the coach had gone, and I wasn't certain where I was staying. Score one for dangerous spontaneous decisions. But we eventually got in, and it turned out to be awesome.
I have no idea who these people are. I vaguely remember the guy telling me in English that he was more stoned than he'd ever been before, and that he lives in Sinspelt, Neuerburg's neighbour village.
This is me and Andreas sharing the love. I feel that there's some sort of special bond between us since I sketched him in the staffroom when he fell asleep.
At 5.30 a.m. we crashed, quite literally, at his girlfriend Sabine's WG, which was possibly the most lush student accommodation I've ever seen. Hangovers were flowing thick and fast (literally, in Andreas's case) when we awoke, so me and Sabine had awesome continental breakfast. Never has salami, brie and nutella looked as good as it did at .. 3 o'clock this afternoon.
Sabine and Andreas had uni work and recuperating, respectively, to do, so I headed back out into Trier to see what was going down.
I love Trier because its all so modern and everythings near each other. I started out at the christmas markets. Cue bratwurst and mulled wine.
Sabine and Andreas had uni work and recuperating, respectively, to do, so I headed back out into Trier to see what was going down.
I love Trier because its all so modern and everythings near each other. I started out at the christmas markets. Cue bratwurst and mulled wine.
I was also pretty chuffed to see that Woolworth's has somehow survived the recession in Trier. The only thing it seems to have lost as a result of it's going into administration is the 'S'.
The day took bizarre turns. As I was walking along, there was a sudden load of shouting and yelling, and people stopping the street. I don't know exactly what the issue was, but a lady was pretty angry with a man who I presume was her husband (possibly ex now). She was angry enough to be screaming bloody murder at him in the street in any case.
Just as I was walking past though, she decided that fists beat words and laid a few good punches on the unsuspecting bloke. Spontaneously, me and 2 or 3 others jumped forward without really thinking and held her back. It was like picking up a cat that doesn't want to be picked up; she flailed like an absolute crazy. Eventually she was restrained for good by a huge black guy*, and the man left, looking a little dejected.
Just as I was walking past though, she decided that fists beat words and laid a few good punches on the unsuspecting bloke. Spontaneously, me and 2 or 3 others jumped forward without really thinking and held her back. It was like picking up a cat that doesn't want to be picked up; she flailed like an absolute crazy. Eventually she was restrained for good by a huge black guy*, and the man left, looking a little dejected.
*The fact that the guy who did the restraining was black isn't really important. Just in case a film is ever made of my life which happens to include this day, that's a detail worth remembering. It'll make the scene more poignant.
Had I had my fair share of crazy people for the day? No sir. After leaving H&M, I saw a homeless guy with his dog sitting in the street. Homeless people guilt-trip me more in Germany somehow, purely because I know for a fact that, unlike England, I am never out of pocket, and to ignore them here makes me feel more of a twat. So this lucky guy earnt himself all the coinage I had on me, which wasn't loads, but a decent amount.
As I dropped it into the hat, he thanked me and vigorously waved his arms toward himself by way of a 'come closer friendly stranger' gesture. Now, I'm all for hanging out with the homeless, but there's a certain social stigma attached to properly hanging out with them. This may sound cruel, but my hangover was setting off several "You're not drunk anymore. Conversation with a German bum is beyond you" alarms. The street was also packed.
So I kind of half arsedly leant toward him, and he patted my face a little too enthusiastically. Truthfully, he slapped me four times. He said something in German which I didn't understand, and then looked into my eyes and said, very seriously and earnestly, "Dein Haar ist sehr groß". I didn't really have a response to this.
As I was sifting through responses in the same way that Arnie does in the Terminator films, he nonchalantly chipped in with "Kauf mein Hund?" Buy my dog?
Sorry?
"Mein Hund, willst du kaufen?" Do you want to buy my dog?
This took me by surprise. It was a cute dog, but I reckoned this investment could have a lot of potential long-term problems. I felt the familiar pangs of guilt, but no dice, homeless man. I don't remember what I said to him to throw him off the "englishman put money in hat, must want to buy dog" trail, but he took it in good spirits.
This is the last picture from Trier that I want to share with you.
Had I had my fair share of crazy people for the day? No sir. After leaving H&M, I saw a homeless guy with his dog sitting in the street. Homeless people guilt-trip me more in Germany somehow, purely because I know for a fact that, unlike England, I am never out of pocket, and to ignore them here makes me feel more of a twat. So this lucky guy earnt himself all the coinage I had on me, which wasn't loads, but a decent amount.
As I dropped it into the hat, he thanked me and vigorously waved his arms toward himself by way of a 'come closer friendly stranger' gesture. Now, I'm all for hanging out with the homeless, but there's a certain social stigma attached to properly hanging out with them. This may sound cruel, but my hangover was setting off several "You're not drunk anymore. Conversation with a German bum is beyond you" alarms. The street was also packed.
So I kind of half arsedly leant toward him, and he patted my face a little too enthusiastically. Truthfully, he slapped me four times. He said something in German which I didn't understand, and then looked into my eyes and said, very seriously and earnestly, "Dein Haar ist sehr groß". I didn't really have a response to this.
As I was sifting through responses in the same way that Arnie does in the Terminator films, he nonchalantly chipped in with "Kauf mein Hund?" Buy my dog?
Sorry?
"Mein Hund, willst du kaufen?" Do you want to buy my dog?
This took me by surprise. It was a cute dog, but I reckoned this investment could have a lot of potential long-term problems. I felt the familiar pangs of guilt, but no dice, homeless man. I don't remember what I said to him to throw him off the "englishman put money in hat, must want to buy dog" trail, but he took it in good spirits.
This is the last picture from Trier that I want to share with you.
Elektro Bonerz. Make your own minds up.I put it on a par with this, which I found on a toilet roll dispenser in Cologne.
"All new Triple Willy! For when one just won't do!"