GUMMERSBACH

GERMANY

Hi there, how are you? It's 7.52am and I'm drinking a beer. What of it?

This weekend just gone I was in Gummersbach with the Leeds folk, because let's face it, it's been ages since we saw each other. Contrary to Marina's initial reports of Gummers being "quite a small town" it still sports a modest 50,000 people, as well as H&M, the latter now being the first threshold by which the size of a place can be judged. For Germany, anyway.

To be honest, it had a bit of a Huddersfield sort of feel to it, certainly a lot better looking, but this was ok because it was in Germany and I haven't raped every vaguely entertaining bit of it to death. It also snowed a lot, which I'd hoped wouldn't happen because I'm bored of it being cold and wet and my shoes are shite.

Whatev, it looks like this.


The first night we ate Chinese food; a godawful huge amount of really good Chinese food. I can't be arsed explaining the reasons because let's face it, it'll become a novel, but the phrase "Jing Jong geflügel" is probably gonna stick around well into next year. My fortune cookie tells me that I am unbeatable this week.

When out of the house (which I'll say now is probably the best student house ever found on a year abroad; I've been in family houses owned by real people which were smaller than this one. It even had it's own Fritzl style cellar and a mahoosive garden.) we didn't get up to a great deal. We looked round the town sampling bakeries and cafe's and other such things.

Gummers does however have a plethora of weird-ass statues, which often put you in mind of a Salvador Dali painting, or the kind of dream you have if you don't get a goodnight kiss.

Nuts, I thought I had more pictures of that. The bottom one is actually pretty tame I guess. Suggestions about the top one are welcome. It's sort of like the god Atlas, only after one of his legs inexplicably shrunk and the shock made him drop the world. And that second one is a hand holding a book, only attached to legs. WHO KNOWS.

When we weren't posing with statues, we were shopping. We found this in Netto.

Translation: "Black man chocolate". Nothing cuts it like mildly racist chocolate.

And then this, in the films section of Saturn electronics shop.


Sherlock Holmes! In the mystery of "which novel was this based on?" Why is there a dinosaur? What is the giant squid for? Why has the dragon been shamelessly ripped from the film "Reign of Fire"? (which is shit but that's beside the point) Why was it set in 1941? Oh god, the list just goes on.

This was alongside such other gems as "Megapiranha", which was about a load of piranhas the size of whales, and "Big tits zombie", tagline 'boobs to die for'. In TITTYLICIOUS 3D! I .. yeah.

The rest of the time we spent at the house. Saturday night we played a drinking game designed by the national society of heart failure. You know it's gonna be lethal when its a printable sheet from the internet.

It was a pretty standard "make your way round the board" sort of setup, except that only 5 or 6 squares out of about 100 were blank. The rest had stuff like "roll the dice again, however many you roll is the number of seconds you drink for." The ability to consecutively roll high numbers finally turned into people's curse. And then the last square before 'finish' was 'return to start', so there wasn't much hope for anyone really.

And one of Marina's housemates must have been pretty wasted, because he mistook me for a German, apparently. That game was a monster.

This is Dora looking like the well-spoken Hertfordshire gal angry cockney she is.

And then on Sunday I came home, via Cologne. Anyone else in Germany ever noticed in train stations the token 'soldier in military fatigues with full pack' wandering around? Well, he was there. I was also befriended by 3 hobos when I was waiting by the door, which was interesting.

When I was walking to the platform, some of the armed police came out of the security door to the police section. One of them was fiddling with the sling of his submachinegun, trying to fix it to his vest.

HE DROPPED IT.

It bares repeating. The safety catch was off. I saw. HE DROPPED IT.

And it clattered about and a few people stopped and looked worried, and I walked on in the hope that elsewhere my security would be in the hands (literally) of people who carry the power to blow you the hell away who were vaguely competent.

Other than this, it was an awesome weekend; I shall be seeing them again in a fortnights time in Aachen. Now back to my beer.

NEUERBURG - new year things

GERMANY

What with all my travelling of late, I'd almost forgotten that Neuerburg exists. It isn't difficult, let me tell you. What's been happening?

School

Now my travelling cravings have been momentarily quenched, I'm as back into the swing as I'll ever be at teaching English. I have less hours for the time being, seeing as two English teachers have left and we're waiting on replacements, because I politely declined the offer of "fancy taking these two classes by yourself indefinitely, Max?"

As well as this, the guys in the final year are currently writing their Abitur (A-levels) in time to finish in March, which means another 2 hours a week gone because their teaching has effectively ended.

In the classes I do still have, I'm still playing the role of dictionary bitch, which is fine by me because the whole standing up in front of a whole class and bullshitting for 45 minutes is always a challenge for me.

If you'd asked me last September something to the tune of "Do you think that post-christmas in Germany, you'll have some half-decent teaching tactics under your belt and a better grasp of the German language?", then I'd have been all "Fuck yeah, maybe!". In answer to that question now, January 2011, It would be more along the lines of "Fuck yeah, maybe! But actually probably not!"

Note to self: learn how to speak German

Language ability (or lack thereof)

My German is still appalling, despite numerous attempts, kicking and screaming, at doing the whole 'completely immerse yourself in the culture' thing. Discouragingly, and worryingly, I'm also becoming aware that constant exposure to the German language, apart from not improving my ability to speak it, is botching my English.

I've spewed such gems in the past two weeks as "I am going to make a photo of that", because that's how the Germans say it, and this absolute terror: "does it pain?" Does it pain? PAIN? I fucking ask you!

Even in lessons, when I'm given words to explain, I still look a retard. You never appreciate how moronic the English language can be until you've tried explaining it. The word that always sticks with me is 'just'. Think of every scenario you can use the word 'just' in; I listed about 6 different contexts. Then try and explain that bitch, in all it's contexts, in language suitable for learners. Gah.

Conclusion: studying abroad can be a hit and miss affair in terms of improving your foreign languages and in managing to speak your mother tongue without sounding like a foreigner yourself. Let's hope that the wisdom teeth which are currently gouging their way through my gums bring me some of their namesake.

Neuerburg

This is old news, but it's no less relevant now it's 2011: hopping round German cities before returning home to Neuerburg isn't the most fun thing. And then, after spending two days just driving round the Eifel region in Germany, you realise quickly that Neuerburg is the most inhabited place in 25km around.

Contrary to all hopes that H&M might see the beneficial value of a Neuerburg branch, or at least that we might have a suggestion box installed on Marktstrasse, our little town remains pretty silent and 98.4% of the population still believe it's the centre of the known universe.

After 5 months, my list of Neuerburg activities has been expanded from going to the bank and Rewe. I eat at the Chinese place pretty much on a weekly basis, they're gonna lose €40 a month when I'm gone. I buy iced coffee in a can and chocolate from the tiny shop that wishes it sold more things. I buy art stuff at our tiny art shop. If I'm feeling particularly debonair, I drink coffee alone with a bun at Cafe Brunker in the main square.

And the weird thing is, I kind of enjoy it. That even after Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, even Barcelona, I come back from the mad chaotic humdrum of Europe and I still sort of bum this town. Drinking alone in cafe's, praying for the internet, sidling away from some of the genuinely insane people who live here, walking a daily route now burned into my soul and observing the glaring lack of a competent police force - it's still awesome.

And that, my friends,

That makes it very special.

BRUSSELS

BELGIUM

This post is a little late seeing as Neuerburg had another internet drought.

After doing my grand mini-europe tour the week before last, we made the critical error of booking a flight back for friday, which left us with the less than peachy prospect of a weekend in Neuerburg/Bitburg. This is a fairly major step-down from the capital cities of western Europe.

So on the Sunday we made a pretty quick decision to hit the road for Brussels. Having been driven through Belgium a fair few times now to and from various exotic places, I was ready to actually make a stop there and get out of the car. Thus: Brussels.

It was slightly easier to drive in than Paris, though it's worth mentioning that Belgian roads have potholes the size of sumo wrestlers, so weaving all over the place is encouraged rather than frowned upon. We parked in an area like this:



This part had a very Dutch feel to it, almost like Amsterdam with main roads instead of canals.


After a bit of walking, we came across this, which I have to assume is Belgium's answer to Berlin's famous Brandenburg gate. That statue on the top is pretty much a replica anyway. I think it's part of an art museum.


Brussels is also the home of the official council of the European Union. Security is somewhat lax around this seemingly important cornerstone of European politics, though in all fairness, what would any terrorist gain by declaring Jihad on Belgium?


To give you some idea of how cool the Belgians are with stuff happening near this building, this is a sign we saw in that little plaza thing in the photo immediately above.


Belgium must be the only country that actively encourages this. I did notice that it seemed popular in Barcelona, but I'm sure there's still some social stigma attached to going round a city on roller skates.

This sign was on a cafe.

Bless the Belgians. According to urbandictionary.com: "Smoot - A midwestern American term describing a tight and usually clean shaven vagina. It is widely considered to be the highest quality of vagina, and is rarely found on any females with the exception of young college girls from the suburbs."

We didn't end up going to this cafe.

We did however find some German, which after a whole day of reading Frelgian was a welcome sight.


I was all "Glücklich?!!?! Hellz yeah!!"

And then we went home because we had school in 10 hours or something.

NEUERBURG - the old folks

GERMANY

Now, Neuerburg has a great deal of old folks. I'd say they make up a good 50-60% of the population of this village with a castle town.

I walked passed one of them today, an old chap with a big white beard. I gave him my best British-Accented "Guten Tag".

I'm almost certain he responded with "yo".

If he did, that's going down in the Neuerburg highlights book 2010-11.

NEUERBURG - Bureacracy prevails.

GERMANY

I've just managed to envelope up and send my load of erasmus forms from Germany back to the UK, after 2 attempts which apparently failed. If this one actually turns out ok, which would be a nice weight off my mind, then I should be back in pocket in the area of €2000.

The school pays around €800 per month, which is a handsome amount considering the admittedly simple scope of my weekly routine. I can live off this income with ease and afford to travel. This is essentially all I want. The €2000 grant I've just sent back the forms for is free, and it would seem unthinkable to pass up free money, but the crux is, simply, that it is not crucial. I could live as I am without it.

Cue British bureacracy, in all it's indecipherable glory.

I'd be lying if I said that the main reason I sent these grant-money forms back was because I'm in desperate need of backup cash. No, I think it was more in the way of incurring a fucking inexplicable charge of £880 if I don't. For .. for what? I don't know. I genuinely have no idea. If I don't send the forms back, the Government/Leeds University/whichever other twatting pencil pushers designed these clapshot rules remain €2000 better off. Is this £880 a necessary bonus for them, or just something they threw in for fun?

Pfft. So yeah, I'm voluntarily receiving my free money because if I don't I have to pay for not receiving it. You work that one out. I dedicate this post to the fucknugget desk-jockeys who drew this plan up. It sucks balls. It literally tongues sack.

BARCELONA

SPAIN

Ola Perras!

If competing to be Max's favourite European city was ever some form of barfight, Barcelona just smashed its empty glass over Cologne's head and beat Amsterdam in the face with a barstool. After which it turned round, pointed at Paris, and said "don't even fucking think about it". France would probably surrender anyway.

Barcelona is awesome.

Everything about it just puts me in mind of how all big cities should be. It isn't grimy like London can be, or depressing like Moscow, it's cooler than Berlin and it isn't a mindless French clusterfuck like Paris.

The only city I can compare it to in my experience would be Trier, where the old lives alonsgide the new without being confusing. However, Trier lacks a beach, a cable car and decent weather.

The hostel we stayed in was a major upgrade from Paris, even though when we first found the very non-descript building it was in with a big For Sale sign over the door we got a little worried. They also decided to change the lock on the second night which made their key somewhat obsolete so we just had to buzz until someone let us in. That wasn't as enjoyable. Otherwise great.

I'm gonna bombard you with pictures now; I'll say, as ever, that the rest will be on facebook within the week, but with regards to previous uploading of photos experience, take this promise with a big big pinch of salt; the facebook uploader can be shit.

I'll start with general city photos, shall I? These ones are fairly typical of the main roads and wicked little side streets that Barcelona enjoys having.



Take note, Paris: This is how a major city CAN work if you pull your finger out and design your roads well. No honks, no beeps, no near-misses. And Barcelona had almost as many bikes as Holland. No way in hell could Parisian drivers deal with that.

I don't even know exactly how many photos I took of these little streets. I just love them.

One thing Barcelona has whored from Paris however is the Arc de Triomphe which I mentioned in my last France post. What the Spanish one lacks in size by comparison, it more than makes up for in general design and location choice.

The photo below is taken from just in front of the arch, looking down the boulevard (is it a boulevard? Does this qualify for boulevard status? It's a boulevard) in the opposite direction.

This is me in part of an old cathedral in Barcelona's big cultural hub, which we spent a day looking for without realising we were in it. I'm looking rather touristy. And on a lion.

One of the highlights would probably have to be Gaudi's Sagrada Familia cathedral. Having already confessed to cheating on Cologne with Barcelona, I'll backtrack briefly to say that even after a lengthy comparison, the Cologne Dom would still win in the "ZOMG that's incredible" architecture competition. It's wicked nonetheless.



These photos would have been a lot better without the shitload of cranes and scaffolding going on. It's also worth noting in the lower photo that the building actually continues right down almost to where my foot level would be; it's bastarding huge.


This is me doing my best nonchalant British-person-abroad pose in front of La Rambla, a big street designed for mugs, tourists and the gullible. There is some crazy shit on this street. Remember, anyone carrying beer cans will first offer you a beer. If this is declined, hash will be suggested, "the best hash man, the best. Outta my country man, my country, the best. 40 euros a gram. Nah nah wait, 35, 'cos you my friend man".

Take it elsewhere, Spaniard. There exists a country called Holland.

It does however have this bloke, who kicked ass.


Just in case this photo is a little unclear, he holds onto the stick and his arse levitates 3 feet off the ground, while he waves and smiles and poses for photos with his other hand. What did kill the experience for me was seeing his friend, who presumably takes the next 'shift', standing just to the left wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a fag in his mouth, except with his face painted gold and wearing another horns headdress. He looked a bit like a fan who was a little too keen.

I lost my paella virginity while here. I went for the chicken option over the seafood, as nothing puts you off a plate of rice more than a pair of Langoustines sprawling over the top of it.

Good effort chef.

This restaurant is special enough to offer seasonal garrisons. I didn't ask what the current 'garrison' on offer was, but had I ordered it, I'd have been more than disappointed if they hadn't brought a load of soldiers with "Winter" written across their helmets to go with my paella.

Barcelona also has a beach. I was introduced to the Mediterranean for the first time.

This guy has lots and lots of time.

Me gazing out towards the little harbour. The cable-car tower is in the background. If I had as much time as Captain Sandcastle in the picture above, I'd have gone for a ride.

Being on the beach a mixed experience for some.

Another high point was the art gallery. Unfortunately we didn't see any art, so the gallery itself wasn't exactly a high point as such, but the views from the top and surrounding area were definitely worth it.

I believe that's a bullring in the background. I'm also a big fan of this photo. I don't even think I was consciously posing for this one, which is a definite bonus.

And this is me with the art gallery itself. I'm a big fan. This picture does no justice whatsoever to the size of this building.

And this is the view from in front, right at the top of the steps. Something about it puts me in mind of Rio de Janeiro. Maybe its the rolling hills with a big sprawling Metropolis underneath. Either way, Cologne has no hills of this calibre.

Winning in Barcelona.

It's a brave man who tries the chocolate milkshake at the Hotel Colon.

Anyone with any ideas of the thinking behind a rooster with a dog's body, do let me know.

Similarly, I will pay good money to anyone who can give a plausible explanation to the indescribable, horrific wonder below. This was in a shopping centre in Barcelona's "most culturally rich leisure area"

Look at that thing. Not only has someone sat down and designed it, some poor sod in Spain has had to pay for the fucker. If this was England, it would be the taxpayer, probably for some politician with odd tastes. It depresses me to think that, for the UK, "£10,000 of public money frittered on giant gnome taking a dump" would be a believable occurrence.

A statue of a boy squeezing a frog. This is one of the most sadistic statues I've ever seen. There is no artistic value; it just seems cruel. Is this tradition in Spain? Superstition?

"Don't forget to squeeze your frog tonight, Pedro. You don't want the flu now, do you?"

A collection of wooden knobs, and wooden people sporting large knobs. Your call.

In case you weren't already aware, the Grim Reaper is Spanish. He lives on Barcelona beach.

And a guy taking some handbags for a walk.

That's pretty much all of it. Like I say, don't hold your breath waiting for the rest of the pics to appear, but you get the basic idea. Barcelona is a pretty sweet city.