After my last blog my (now ex) flatmates Graham and Justice were disappointed that I didn’t write about my ear infection. Yes, I don’t understand either why the world would want to hear about the bacterial invasion and phagotic battle in my hearing orifices, but according to them it was “the funniest thing that happened to you (me) all week”.
What a pair of bastards.
Their initial hilarity stemmed from the fact that I had to wear a bandage strapped around my head so I looked like “a shit Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle” in their words.
I repeat; what a pair of bastards
Then I had to have my ear so that I looked like some pathetic hipster attempt at home jewellery.
Finally I have been given what looks like a minature dildo constructed out of Blu-Tac to wear in my ear.
I think the Van Gogh Solution will be the best method if this continues…
More positively, my eventual exodus meant that several folks had outpourings of unusual sentimentality including some lovely pictures from Joseph and a bottle of malt whisky from Greg. Graham also insisted on cooking me a final breakfast before I went to the airport despite being violently hungover. Many thanks to you all.
Any this was written from the most evil place in the world.
Airports seem to be factories for stress, misfortune and the meticulous evil of bureaucracy. The last time my Dad took us on holiday he vowed;
That was 2005 and until today he has kept his word.
As a general rule and correlation, the more stressful your airport experience is is proportional to how good your holiday actually is. It’s basically the closest you can get to purgatory on earth. This trial, this test, the turmoil you must surmount to win your right to enjoy yourself, to relaxation and to sunburn complete with ensuing skin cancer.
Time for some pictures from my first couple of days, since this requires a level of creativity tending to zero.
This is where I’m currently working
Above is a picture from a birthday party I was at. The people I was there with have just finished their Abitur, their version of A Levels, Advanced Highers, so this is the ceremonial burning of one of their course textbooks
Today I also got my flat…
The first few days have been very tough language-wise. I’m getting better at speaking it. Partly because I managed to get completely lost in Karlsruhe and spent a lot of time asking in broken German for directions! On the brightside I found a place that does good German beer in a half litre bottle for 1.30 euros. Ausgezeichnet. Despite my recent improvements in the spoken department I have managed to confess to being a socialist instead of being social. That gave Maike’s family a laugh. I’ve also answered a very interesting question: does Yoda from Star Wars speak in normal sentence structure? Speaking German is really weird at first because the structure resembles how Yoda speaks. However, apparently in German, Yoda weird to them too, he speaks closer to English in structure!
Listening is still almost impossible. My brain just works too slow still to process the words and it’s really, really frustrating.
Number of days in Germany: 3
Number of explosions caused: 0