Delirious with Erika and Rudigger
Trip Start
Apr 12, 2006
1
69
115
Trip End
Ongoing
Starnberg,
Germany
Monday, June 19, 2006
Roaming around all night into an eventual state of uncharacteristially energetic delirium was a suprisingly enjoyable and productive experience. Had i been roaming the streets of Melbourne all night, i probably would have got bored at about six, given in, and called it a night, whether i had a place to sleep or not. And dont even get me started on Adelaide. My mates Corno, Sheep and i thought driving around there all night would be a top idea on tour once - to put it bluntly, it wasn't, getting woken up by the derilects of Glenelg Beach at some ridiculous hour and subsequently playing a show with bugger all sleep. That's another story altogether. In the middle of Munich, everything looks unbelievably cool and fresh, especially when you're totally schtonkered and your sleepless mind believes that everything is poignant and awesome. I dug it, plus i managed to recoup some of my losses after forking out a small fortune for the underappreciated room at the Heilderberg Hof Hollander the evening prior, a very expensive place to pass out in.
After another fairly reasonably tasting coffee courtesy of Maccas - i must admit, maccas has lifted their game somewhat since the good ol days before McLibel and Morgan Spurlock came along to ruin the party - i ventured out into natural light, back along the Karlsplatz towards Marienplatz, the main sqaure which i passed through no less than twenty four times throughout the course of the night in my bid to discover new ground. Met up with Ryan and Catie at the designated time of 10am, followed soon after by Wild Bill, who claimed success at shacking up with a German for the second night in a row, managing to claim a bed for the night in the process. Still, i bore no envy towards his slumber. I was running off some external vibe of electric World Cup energy that seemed to keep me going relentlessly. That and the four rounds of coffee. I was in a zone. We chatted about the night, recapped the memmirment, and Ryan again spoke of his feelings of disheartenment at the collective attitude towards the USA chants in the beer hall last night.
Soon after, it was time for me to part ways with the coalition, to break away from the yanks and go solo. With hugs and handshakes all round, i slapped on the wifebeater, and the pack, and trundled onwards toward Munich Central station. The trains in Germany are particularly clean and always spot on time to the minute, confimrning all rumours i'd heard about the system. I'm sure Germans would be horrified if they ever had to wait seventeen minutes in order to catch the 5.46 Connex Train from Flinders street to Fairfield.
Anyway, today i was hooking up with relatives of my stepdad Von, his German Aunty Erika and Uncle Rudiger, who lived down in the leafy southern suburb of Starnberg. I'd met Erika once before and she seemed a lovely lady, but all i knew of Rudiger was that he was right into chess tournaments, and from his photo, he kinda looked like a dead ringer for Papa Smurf, sporting a fetching snowy neckbeard with no goatee. They'd offered me a place to stay for as long as i liked and I looked forward to meeting up with them both.
I felt the first pangs of sleep deprivation on the train as my head jolted forward a number of times, my eyes heavy with lethargy, and a number of times i nearly zonked out. I thre down another coffee at the Starnberg Nord station, desperately hoping that i'd come across as a regular human to my gracious hosts and that i'd be able to maintain a coherent conversation with them, especially considering my German was borderline shite and the Germans' English was just reasonable. Rudiger rocked up in a cosy little yellow hatchback soon after, and we shook hands and talked some jive as we burned thorugh the very lush, green winding streets of small town Starnberg, an economically quite lucrative and posh area. He looked just as muhc like Papa Smurf as he did in the photos, though admittedly he was not 4 inches tall, nor was he of a blue complexion. But he did sport a particularly unfashionable pair of German sandals, and an even less Vogue pair of poo brown socks to go with them. Chatted with Erika and Rudiger as they showed me around their fantastic three story house, and made myself at home in the roomy attic upstairs.
Offering to take me on a tour about the traps, i forgot my lethargy and agreed to join them, as they ferried me around the magnificent German countryside. Through small towns and hamlets, Rudiger's steel trap memory triggered a lengthly spiel on pretty much everything he saw around him, which was good beacuse it kept my mind active and less likely to fall instantly asleep. Driving through the glorious countryside, along huge oaks and 'Fischter' trees that gave the distinct impression that you were driving through German land, my head and eyes battled extensively with consciousness, and i seriously felt that i was about to enter a bout of spontaneous narcolepsy at any minute. Stopping at an amazing little town called 'Bad Holz', we roamed up the main cobblestoned streets, along a bridge built over the bluest, clearest turquoise alp water river i'd ever seen, afoot a looming, untouched centuries old chapel on the top hill over the town. It was so German, that i'd be a fool to not call it Uber German. There was certainly nothing bad about this place at all, and i thought they'd do it justice if they changed its name to 'Good Holz', 'Bloody Alright Holz' or even 'Fully Sick Holz'. Take my word for it, the place was cool.
Rud and Ez even treated me to a real Bavarian meal at the local beerhouse, sausage, potato salad and other German delicacies, and we shared stories and jokes over a stein of Bavaria's finest.
It was great to hook up with Erika and Rudiger, two excellent people, and suprisingly down to earth and very cool to hang with. Rudiger speaks particularly good English, though he often uses and lisps the word 'special' so it sounds like 'Schpechial', which humoured me greatly every time he said it. Upon return to the lodge at around 7, i was forced to call it a night, as i listened to Jethro Tull's 'Thick as a Brick', and slumbered deeply for the next 13 hours in my top story attic bed. Thunderstorms woke me periodically in the night, and i never felt cosier.
Ahhh sleep at last.
