A suitable apology to English Girls worldwide

Well, I have to apologise to English ladies everywhere. As Brad would also tell you, I have firmly believed that they were all teases, all show and no go, if you follow me. Well, I was wrong.
As we were hanging out in the hostel, we met these two ladies, who were into town to surf...yes! Surfing chicks! The one, Sara, was unreal. She was stunning, with a dolls face, and the body of every teenagers dream. Rather than hang out for the hostel owners Halloween party, with all their friends, (we felt like outsiders), we went to the pub with our 2 new friends. I thought that Sara was hot before.When she answered her door, all done up, my jaw hit the floor. I figured that so long without would make me lower my standards, but no, they are higher than ever now! The evening progressed as evenings at pubs do...good times, beers, cider, a little pool. when we went back, we went up to their room for a little more beer. when that ran out, we went down and watched some late night tv...baywatch, I think. Lilou (Sara's friend) went to bed after a while. Jer, like a tit, decided to just continue to sit there. I had to give him a subtle signal to vacate the room, leaving just Sara and I. She asked if I could massage her injured shoulder (old surfing injury), and well, everything that happened after that is nobodys damn business...let me just say that the evening progressed as all evenings should in a perfect world!
So, We are now in London, and after Jer leaves on the 2nd, I am off to Worstershire to meet up with Sara, and then we are going to the Guy Fawkes celebrations in a camper van together...ahh, beautiful lady, bonfires, burning effigies, fireworks, camper van...maybe a little side trip to brighton? Could life come up Geoff any more right now? I may take a little longer coming home now dad. I will let you know!

Back in the saddle boys. 'Nuff said.

"The Dude abides; I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that."
"The path to true happiness is carpeted in sand."

Surf Town UK

The beach here is amazing. At low tide, it is huge and stretches out forever. On the right there are jagged rocks and large boulders, but right up the gut is a sweet strand that is made for surfing with a right to left break. It got my Stoke up and gnarled. Rad. Yesterday as Jer lay in bed, I walked all over the town. It is a phenomenal blend of old English style (hedgerows, green fields, the stereotype of rural England), with Australian/Cali/Hawaii surf culture. Too sweet. I was bopping along with my pod turned up. I figured, a human interest piece was in order: what music made me stoked here in Cornwall.
Well, I started my pod on shuffle, and just let it ride.
Guess Who - Star Baby
Keb Mo - Thats the Story (the Glory) of Love
Jim Croce - Speedball Tucker
Stan Rogers - The Witch of the West Moorlands
Black Eyed Peas - Bebot
Beautiful Girls - Periscopes
Xavier Rudd - Chances
The Towne Pants - Monohan the Mutineer
Ben Harper - Faded
Hayden - We don't Mind
Great Big Sea - End of the World
John Butler Trio - Sunrise over Sea
ZZ Top - Jesus Just Left Chicago
Huey Lewis - 100 Years
Amongst others, these tunes really made me bob along the beach, singing away, turning heads, you know the deal. It was just such an amazing day, blue cloudless sky, sunshine, the surf, the sand, the canal and lock system, fishing boats, left high and dry while the tide went out. I can't wait to come back here with my wettie, and a stick under my arm (longboard for me, of course, cause I rock it old school...and I can't get up on a shortie), so Grigg, when I get home, a little shopping trip may be in order...as well as a few little excursions around the great lakes, just so I don't look like a total ass next time I go to ride on the open sea...
Well, thats all, just a little ramble for those who are interested

Merry Auld Angle Terre

I know, I know, its been a while...I have been shit these last few weeks keeping up to date, but in my defense, there was no net access on the moorlands! Ironic, England is the richest and most advanced nation we have been to thus far, but has the least access to the net...more people have personal access to the net I think, and therefore do not need the cafes...
Anyway, that does not matter! Our first day in England was less than auspiscious. We arrived late from Venice, 10:30 ish, and had to take a bus into Bristol itself. The ride alone was 5£, or 10$! We then trudged about town, looking for a hostel. The first one was full, but they directed us to another, an independent Backpackers up the way. When we got there, it was full...who knew that Bristol in Oct. was such a huge tourist draw. The city literally heaved with people, (there are 2 universities) all of who were drunk and roving in packs of 20 or more (" And all the bright young things were throwing up their Guinness in the gutters"). Having been turned down yet again, we wondered up to the bus station, at about 12:00. The security guard agreed to let us wait in there for a bus that did not leave till 9:25. We tried to sleep, but it was cold and the floor was hard (go figure, concrete). At some point, a mincing fag started banging on the window to get my attention...just my luck...you see in Venice, a guy asked me if I wanted "kink", and then wiggled his tongue at me while I took a leak(I think he was giving bj's for $ in the shitter), and now in Bristol I attract again another flamer...great. He started singing "I'm a London Boy, I do things in my own way" over and over...no, sleep was a long way off that night.
Luckily, we got the bus to Exeter no worries, and were able to transfer there for the Moretonhampstead bus, which took us to the little town of Moretonhampstead (from now on, Moreton for short), which sits in the middle of Dartmoor national park. If you have never been to an English Moor, go. They are wonderful places. There are green fields and pastures all over the place, all bound in by the traditional hedge rows. The lane ways are 1 car wide, but are two way roads (one car has to reverse to a pull off when they come head to head). Above these lush green farms are bleak and stunning Tors, hills capped in jagged granite, and covered in gorse and heather. The whole region is spectacular. We went walking everday, for an average of 10-16 miles per day. One day we would explore a river valley, the next range over the exposed moors, exploring various Tors and peaks. Even though we stayed in one town (at a hostel called the Sparrowhawk, a very nice little place that we had largely to ourselves), we were able to rove all over the place, without ever retracing our steps. Some of the highlights were: the Cottage Pie (shepards pie at home) at the Union Inn, a pub that has served local ales and ciders (the local dry cider is amazing), as well as home cooked food, since the 1400's, the Kings Tor, capped as it is by the King's Barrow (an old barrow that has since collapsed inwards), the Hounds Tor, where Sherlock Holmes bested the Hound of the Baskervilles, the river valley of the Bovey, a very scenic walk that leads you out to the Hunters Tor, and lastly, the Giants Grave, a large Tor that overlooks Moreton, (and where we were almost attacked by a womans dog..."don't worry, he's all bark" as this huge dog lunges at our hamstrings..."don't worry, lady, I'm all kick") and offerd some of the best views around.
Of course, this being moorlands in England, the weather was very changeable. You could have sun one minute, rain the next, so we had to be prepared with our gore tex. We got caught on the open moors twice in heavy rain, but the sparrowhawk was a snug place to dry out.
We did have to share the hostel dorm one night with a group of women from Cornwall, who all worked together and were taking a weekend trip...we were sitting in the kitchen when most of them got back from the pub, and they went up to sleep, then an hour later, these two come in, and they are blitzed! They talked to us drunkenly for over two hours, keeping us up, so I did some flirting with the single one...the other was married. After a while, they go to get up and hit the hay...the married one then puts it out there that she would like so "male company" so to speak...now, shes married, and ugly, so it was lucky that her friend put a stop to that one...dear god, why can't the hot single friend want some of the G Love action? Why, because she is English, and as Brad and I know too well, the English are cock teases. End of story.
After a very pleasant week on the moors, we headed west into Cornwall to the town of Tintagel, the suppossed birthplace of King Arthur. I have not been to a town in England that offended my sense of history more. The coast line is amazing, I have to say, and the scenery is awesome, but the town is full of kitchy shops that sell nothing more than faery statues, dragons, new age aroma therapy shit, and the like. The whole town is bullshit. In Moreton, we ate at a pub that had been there for over 600 years, and had a very local, traditional feel (kind of like the F.ville Tavern, no lie!). In Tintagel, the pubs were called "King Arthurs Arms", etc. totally cashing in on the dubious connection to a legend...no tradition, no heritage, just tourist trap.
The castle on the coast was a bug disappointment. It is situated quite stunningly on this massive headland, but other than the natural setting, its crap. The castle, the "birthplace of Arthur", dates from the 1200's, some 500-700 years after Arthur was alive, and was built by Duke Richard of Cornwall, brother to king Henry III. There is some evidence that the castle was built over top of a Dark Ages Cornish stronghold (the headland is so defensible, that that makes sense), but there is no evidence that it was at all connected to the Arthurian legend. I don't know what I was expecting, but I sure did not find it. As I say, the setting was unreal, but the rest of the place knacked me the wrong way.
Of course, my experience was further soured that night. The Hostel was beautiful, an old traditional cottage built right into the cliffside, a mile or two out of town, right on the coast. It was full. Not wanting to pay B&B prices (our budget is 25£ a day), and as the weather was great, nice sunny skies, we camped at a campground that was right in town. There was little in the way of shelter from the light onshore wind, but we found a spot just behind a hedge (the only shelter for a tent in the whole place, as it is geared for caravans). The night started out well, but then the wind shifted from onshore to off, meaning that our tent was exposed. Then it started to rain...still, no worries as the tent is a good one, and the rain was light. Then the wind picked up until it was gale force (I am not exaggerating). My poor tent was being blown in on itself (no Brent, it did not blow away with a person in it!). I was afraid that the poles would snap as the wind was forcing the tent wall so low it was hitting my face as I lay there. In the predawn, I forced Jer up, and we took all the gear to the dishwashing station (which was a covered shack), then struck the tent. It was soaked now, as the wind had forced the fly to press up against the wall for so long, and the wind had forced a corner up, and the rain (which was now blowing in horizontally) was coming up under it. Luckily, we were able to take it down, and keep it from blowing away in the process, then hung it up from the rafters in the shack until it dried out. I had had enough of that! So...we got a bus, and came to the surfers haven of Bude (Grigger, the whole north coast of Cornwall is considered the European surfing capital...huge surf culture...a surf trip, perhaps?) where we got a room at the unbelievable North Shore Bude Backpackers. Hands down the best hostel I have ever been in, and I have been in a few! Absolutley amazing place to hang your hat, with awesome facilities, and a super friendly staff. 12£ a night, which, for what you get, is an unreal deal. When I come back here to surf in a few years time, this will be my base, for sure.
Last night, we had the place to ourselves (and its huge), until a group of 3 Aussies came in. In usual aus fashion, they went to pub, and then came back and we played a drinking game (they called it Waterfall, but I have played it at home, and it was called Circle of Fire). After a solid round of that, we watched Anchor Man...a shit movie that turns into an Oscar winner when hooped, and we were hooped. Of course, one of the girls was super politically correct, with an "every culture is just as good as another" cultural anthropology attitude that I hate (which is why I was so shit in anthropology in First Year Uni.) I used some powerful examples (rape victims in Islamic Nigeria who are considered the criminal instead of the victim[the man is the victim of their wanton femininity], and then buried to the waist to be stoned to death, or the enforced Paedophilia amongst certain Sudanese tribes who believe that a pre teen boy, 10-12 years old, needs to administer oral sex on the shaman, in order to swallow the semen...if a boy does not eat semen first, he can never produce his own, so they are told...these are true examples, and these cultural traditions go back for generations...clearly, they are wrong and evil) but that dizzy bitch was like "we can't judge them just because they are different" - FUCK THAT. Political Correctness is bullshit. Luckily, the political talk died out when the Circle of Fire began...I think she knew that the rest of us (the other two Aussies agreed with me and Jer) would make her drink even more if we sided together. The evening was quite a good time from there on out. We drank, chatted, joked, laughed, drank...we were hooped by 9:30, and by 1 I had called it quits...one girl was making "chunder" (Aussie for barf), Jarod and the PC chick were wrestling, and Jer was drinking more than was good for him. The owner came in and asked us to keep it down. I hit the hay. A while later Jer came in and yelled at me. He went outside, barfed all over the place, took a piss on the shrubs out front, and then could not work the code machine on the door and was locked out for a while. He was in a tshirt and it was cold and wet. Finally, he got in (he said we was outside for hours, but I think his drunk ass had no concept of time...2 hours in that would mean hypothermia, and he did not have that). Somehow, it was my fault. I got him into bed, and buried him in blankets, then got him a bucket, and water...who would have thought that I would be the one to tend to him!? he then apologized, admitting that it was his fault, and that it was dumb to go outside alone after all the others were in bed. Lucky for him nothing worse happened, when I think about it. I will have to keep a better watch on him from now on, as I am by far an "older hat" to the drunkenness.
I was up at 9, and was ready for the day, but Jer, sadly is still abed at noon. I booked another 2 nights here, so we can explore the coast tomorrow, as today is a write off. Don't worry mom, Jer will be fine, but I think he will stay off the cider for a while! It was not a life and death situation, as the owner lives here as well, and would have let him in...it was just some drunken shenanigans! Oh, Scotty...you silly prat!

Ciao Bella

Well, these last weeks have really flown by, so much has gone on, so the blog has really suffered. I will pick up the story in Vienna. The last day there was a blasse one for Brad and I. Jer and Dora had some cheesy romantic notions about the city (due to some smalchie chick flick, Before Sunset) and went off to pursue their own fantasies, leaving Brad and I to look after all of the practical day to day things...laundry, train bookings, groceries, etc. So, that was how we spent our last day in the grand city of the Habsburg dynasty.
Our train through the Austrian country side to the Italian border was unreal. It was the same ride Brad and I had taken 3 years before, but we had done it at night, and arrived in Venice at 3 am. This time we wee doing it during the day. The mountain scapes were extraordinary ... That Tirolian mountain culture is so rustic and, for lack of a better word, pretty. Little chalets and massive old hillforts dotting the landscape. The idea of skiing the Alps really appeals to me...I'll put that into my backpocket for another day!!
Once we got to Venice Mestre, we switched trains for Firenze, and then onto La Spezia, the closest major hub for the Cinque Terre (five lands) region. We ended up in the village of Levanto, where we set up at a local campground. As we left the station, this strange young Italian guy latched onto the group...no idea what he wanted, but he proceded to asist us in finding the camp...we thought for sure he wanted money or to rob us, but it turned out to be a random kind act...kind of sad that our first instinct is mistrust, but that is the way of the world, I guess...better to be safe than sorry!
The following day we headed up into the hills onto the footpath that runs all along this stretch of coast. It is a UNESCO world heritage site, as well as an Italian national park, and you could see why immediately. The scenery was breath taking...it put me in mind of the Bruce Trail from Dyers Bay to Tobermory, only more rugged, more mountainous, and more well travelled. The 7 km stretch from Levanto to Montorosso (the first of the 5 villages that makes up the Cinque Terre) was a good haul, up and down hillsides, all the while hugging the coastline, offering up stunning vistas. We had a great bagged lunch of tuna sammies and crackers with olives and cheese. Once we descended the trail to Montorosso, Jer's dodgy knee was acting up (some will rememer the Appalacian trail, when he ran down the trail and wrecked it up) so we just hit the beach in town. Despite the fact that it was ctober, the beach was full, and the water warm. Just a side note, but Italian chicks FROM Italy are SLAMMING HOT...had to hit the water just to hide the Penius Erectius... Why aren't Italian chicks at home like this? Too bad...
The local food speciality in the region is pesto...my god, pesto lasagna is so good, it was like an orgasm in my mouth (or something like that).
The following day, we walked the actual Cinque Terre trail from Montorosso to Riomaggiorio. We definately started at the rugged end. the hike to the second town of Vernazza was quite a trek, but also offered some of the best scenes. The trail at time hugs the mountain side, and is less than a foot wide...pretty awesome. Vernazza itself was a sleepy fishing village, and in my opinion, the prettiest of the towns due to its harbour and building location on a small prominatory. The trail continued on, and got progressivly easier...which was a good thing as Dora was hurting. Eventually, the trail (which was a rugged SOB at times) turned into Via del Amore (Lovers Lane - heres looking at you Brad), which was a cobbled cliff side walk into Riomaggiorio. We did the whole 12 km hike, and it was worth every uphill stretch. What scenery. It is a little bit of joy to get out there and hike it..and it is still off the beaten backpacker trail...although very popular with European tourists.
The day after the hike, we headed for Firenze. Brad and I were not sold on it as a destination, despite its glorious Rennaissance history. Boy, missing it would have been a huge mistake. The city was amazing. We found a hotel/hostel that was 25 euros a person (it is an expensive city due to its popularity), but it included a great breakfast, so it was not too bad. We hit the streets and wandered all around, as the evening wore on. There are colossal churches (the Duomo may be one of the world's most impressive cathedrals), and wonderous old palaces that now house museums and fantastic works of Rennaissance art. It seemed as though a significant piece of statuary was on every street corner. After watching the sunset over the river Arnoe, we retired to a restaurant that sat beside the Basillica Santa Croce (basically, the Italian Westminster abbey, where many of the most glorified Italians are buried). We had some very good house red, and pizza...yes, we are food afficianados!
Jer and Dora then went back to the room for some "alone time" (read here, hanky panky) after our 2 l of red. Brad and I ventured to the Red Garter, a bar of some repute. You will all be proud that we held our own in the great International Beer Pong Tournament. It is played a little bit differently than at home...no ping pong tables or paddles...you set up a pyramid of 6 cups, and throw a ping pong ball at the other teams cups across the table.kind of like beer basketball. We had had 3 pints before the start, and then filled our glasses (all the other teams poured a mouthful in, and "chugged" that...not us, we chugged full beers!!) Things looked grim off the start, as we lost to a pair of particularly hot American girls, who used their sexual charms to throw us off and get some of our beer. But we rallied, and were able to advance to the quarter finals. We were on the brink of elimination to a pair of Aussies, when I hit a final shot that forced overtime...and then went on to hit 3 straight cups for the win (no offense to Brad, but I carried that team). In the semi's, I went to piss (we were lit) and Brad conceded defeat on account that he could not force himself to chug another beer.
After that we staggered out to the streets...I made some racial slurs about Brad's German heritage, and we fought. I picked him up and carried him upside down for a while, then turtled him and threw his shirt onto the street...then we laughed it off and walked up to the Duomo, which was deserted on account of the hour, and Brad barfed all over the street...very classy guy.
The next morning was rough, but we made it through. We went to the Duomo (no sign of barf, the pigeons were busy). It was just as grand on the inside. We then went to Santa Croce, and saw the tomb of Galileo, Machiavelli, Dante, Michelangelo, amongst others...some might argue that those guys were important...I don't know...
Then it was onto Venice. I tell you, Spirit of the West has got it right, "If Venice is sinking, then I'm going under, because beauty's religion, and it's christened me with wonder". Venice is the Grand old master of the Mediteranean. Of course, the fact that the floating city exhists at all can be attributed to one man...Attila the Hun. When his horde of 100,000 + warriors swept into central Europe, they appeared to be invincible. This made the inhabitants of northeast Italy nervous, so they headed into the swampy lagoon and founded a city were the Huns' horses could not go. For the next 1000 years, Venice was the major power broker in the Western Med, and it shows in the faded glory of the republican city. The basillica San Marco is the most impressive church I have ever seen. It is a true coming together of East and West in its architectural style...amazing, especially lit up at night, with bands warring in the piazza for musical supremacy. We spent 5 days here (2 with Brad and Dora, and 3 without), just wandering around its warren of streets and canals. It is a magical place of beauty and art and majesty. There is no where else like it the world over. It has indeed "strove with none, for none was worth its strife". Actually, the Republic strove with many in it rise to the top, especially the Byzantines (who they dealt with by convincing the 4th crusade to sack, despite the fact it was a christian city..the 4th crusade never did make the holy land, but went home with the plunder of a christian kingdom), and then the Turks...despite the turmoil, Venice prospered, because its religion was money. It alone of all the city states of christianity never once burnt a heretic...fundametalism is bad for business (as the world is discovering yet again, from Bush to Bin Laden). Venice had the worlds most advanced spy net work, as its merchants, military, and spy network were all one and the same, all working for the good of themselves, and by connection, the state. It is a marvelous place to lose yourself...physically and spiritually. You feel reborn here, alive and filled with a lust for life. Venice makes my European top 5, if not number 1. Glorious, wandering the alley ways buzzed on good (cheap) wine and pasta, the sun gone, the lanterns lit, the water smelling of waste and salt. Carnevale, the huge pre Lent celebration, is another must for my future list of things to do. Robbed and masked, people party all night long for 2 weeks...400 years ago, they partied for 6 months (yes, a 6 month long carnevale!). Another day, with certainty!
Today we fly to Bristol...could not find a Malta flight for less than 300 Euros....flight to England 63...too bad, maybe another time. I am exciited about seeing the English moor lands though!

One Road Ends Another Begins

Howdy folks!
Well, the last few days in Turkey were amazing. I had forgotten to mention the Chimera, a natural gas flame that has burned since ancient times. Under one of the mountains around Olympos there is a huge well of gas, and it seeps out on the mountain side in a few places. As soon as the gas hits the air it bursts into flame. Once the flames were a lot bigger and were used by mariners to help navigate at night. Today they are smaller in size, but I have rarely ever seen such a spectacular sight...it was very otherworldly, just seeing flame burning away, with nothing visible as a fuel source. I will give a shout out to my mom at this point, who managed the climb up at night with us, without complaint...what a trooper!
After our two (far too short days) in Olympos, we had to move on, as there were plains to catch, and deadlines to meet. Antalya, which is the major hub of transport and tourism in the region was a really charming town. We stayed in the old quarter, near the tiny ancient harbour. It was very picturesque. We also scored some really good deals on Turkish must haves (like rugs and backgammen sets).
On the second day in town we headed up into the mountains. The scenery all along the Western Med. coast is amazing as there are these huge rugged peaks rising up from the sea, much like along the Aegean coast...only here it is not as desertous, and there are a lot of huge old trees and what not. Our destination was the fortress city of Termessos. Ideally situated in the mountains, it was impregnable in ancient times...and when I say impregnable, I mean it. It was the only city state (Persian Satrap) to turn back Alexander the Great. He never took it, one of the few defeats of his short life. Again, when the might of the Roman Empire tried to force its way up into the hills, Termessos stemmed the tide. Hadrian was forced to agree to an `ally` status with the small kingdom rather then tread them underfoot as they were able to do elsewhere. Amazing achievments for such a small relatively remote place.
The city was breathtaking. Easily some of the best ruins I have seen (and I have seen a lot at this point!). The city sits right up at the top of the mountains, and there is still some impressive remains. The theatre which clings to the side of the mountain was awe inspiring. Of course, the ruins were more impressive in part due to the amazing backdrop!
We wandered all over the place (mom got separated, and wandered to the Necropolis, grave yard, which was 2 km past the city, uphill, at the peak!) dad went off to find mom, and Jer and I explored some of the rock tombs that were cut right into the living rock.
The following day, mom and dad left early to celebrate their 30th in style in London (Happy Anniversary!!!). Jer and I killed time until our flight that night to Munich. I was sorry to see mom and dad go, but onward and upward!
We flew into Germany with out too much trouble, although we almost missed our plane as the passport guy was trying to be a hero and spent forever going over all the passports...we literally had to run to make the flight...stressful.
In Munich we met up with Schwy and Dora and Dora´s friend Mignon. It was a bit of an early night...brad was jet lagged, Jer was horny, and I just tagged along. The next day we got to Oktoberfest nice and early (11ish) and had a few beers (one beer is 1litre in size). we then explored around a bit. It was like a huge fair or carnival, only with more beer and sausage (and of course saurkraut). There are rides, and all sorts of things. I bought my new pride and joy, a real Oktoberfest hat. The chicks in their traditional Bavarian dresses were HOT. I love German Fraulines...very healthy lungs, good oxygen capacity (not to mention those child bearing hips, or more accurately, their Gadunkadunk and\or bootay!!). However, after our walk about, we could not find a table inside or out. It was so packed with people. Each tent holds 6-10 thousand people, and the fairgrounds were wall to wall. we went back to Mignon´s and napped (a few litres in the morning will tire you out!). In the pm, we wandered the city and Mignon showed us some sites. She was great, totally taking us in and showing us a good time (until things got weird, but that comes later).
On the 3rd, it was the final day of the Fest. We went to the Hippodrome tent and sat and had a few beers (we got their at 10:30 in the morning). After awhile in that tent Mignon wanted to go elsewhere. She was off work as it was the holiday celebrating the reunification of East and West. we went on some rides, yada yada yada...come on lets drink!
We then went to a tent where her friend was a cook. It was rammed, but by some miracle we found a table. Brad and I got our drink on...we had 12-14 mass that day...not all beer, as they make this drink called Radler, a mix of beer and lemonade, which was invented for people who cycle (no water for a German, all drinks use beer). Thank god or we would never have made it out alive. all the same, by 9pm we were feeling groovy, and were up on the tables dancing and singing with the Oompa bands and the other bands that spelled them off (and played hits like summer of 69). we were not alone. The whole tent was up and dancing and just having an awesome time. It was amazing. I have never had more fun.
This is when things got weird. Jer ánd Dora had left, leaving us with the 36 year old Mignon, who told us she hates Oktoberfest, she was just their with us to be a good host. Brad and I were having the time of our lives, dancing away on the table top with these Germans we met (the one girl was GORGEOUS, and into us)...it was coming up us. All of a sudden, Mignon, who had surprised us by staying, said she wanted to go to a different tent. Brad and I were obligated to go, as we were freeloading at her place. The other tent, we were warned by our new german buddy, was a swank place, and not as raucous or traditional. Brad and I were pissed off to say the least, but we went. When we got there, they wouldn´t let us inside, we had to stay out on the patio...it was raining hard, and we had to huddle under this tiny overhang...as you can tell not as fun. Mignon could sense we were mad, and kept asking what was wrong...for a psychologist she was pretty fucking stupid.
We stayed there way longer than we should have. Brad and I were the only ones dancing at this place, but we made the most of it and danced away, trying to salvage the night. FINALLY, we went back to the other tent. Mignon told us we would not get in, so she called her friend to let us in, then turned to Brad and said`´what do I get for this?´Brad, in a panic, says a kiss? Now, Mignon was FAT and UGLY and OLD, so Brad goes for the cheek...she grabs his head, and from where I stood, watched what looked like a fat lady trying to eat my buddies face...oh, there was tongue. I almost wet myself I was laughing so hard. I then walked right in, no need for the cook to let us in. Brad followed, and we blined for the washroom. Mignon was chatting with her pal the cook, so we wandered about the tent and met these Georgians (not the state, but the Black Sea country). They bought us a beer, and we talked to them for 10 min or so, then moved on. It was the end of the last night so there was this huge ceremony. We hopped up on the tables, and joined in, waving lighters and what not. Suddenly, I was two handed in the back and almost fell off the bench I was standing on. It was Mignon, who then started freaking out on us. She threw Brads Fest hat into a crowd (it was then stolen), and screamed at me for 10 min, then yelled at Brad. I ignored her and kept up the celebration, as did Schwy. She calmed down somewhat, and then the tent was closed. It was still pouring outside, and we had to walk home in the rain, Mignon the whole time giving Brad shit about how he had ´misused´her, or some BS. Like I said, it got weird. She almost ruined the night, but luckily it was too much fun for one crazy harpy to ruin utterly. Brad fell all over himself to apologise, even though he didnt do anything. That pissed him off, but he felt he had too as we were at her home...she told him that he deserved to have his hat stolen, etc etc. I feel bad for slamming her, as she let us into her home, but she was CRAZY. I was glad to see the back of that place the next morning (luckily, Mignon had to go to work, so we did not see her).
On the 4th, we drove, yes drove, from Munich south to Innesbruck, and then all through the Alps to Vienna. Jer drove, and did an admirable job. The scenery was outstanding. I love the mountains, and the Austrian mountain culture is very quaint and enjoyable. That drive was a real highlight.
When we got to Vienna, we had a little trouble finding as place to stay, but got one for 100 euros for the 4 of us...a little steep, but all the hotels here are (or full). We are in the student area, about 7 blocks from the main centre with all its historical buildings. we are also close to the red light zone...some very pretty ladies in thigh high boots working the night...and they are nice and smart as well, speaking a variety of languages well...I know , as I talked to a few...no, I did not want to spend the 90 euros, but I was sorely tempted...these women are GORGEOUS, not at all like the whores in Amsterdam, who were 3rd worlders, who had seen hard days...these ones are very pretty German, Austrian, Polish, etc. Brad and I were a little scared to walk around, but it was no worries, although we did not go into any of the establishments, as we did not know if they were strip clubs or brothels or what, and we did not want to go into one and get fleased out of our $...Jer and Dora went to the Opera that night while we walked about. Vienna is a great place to see, its buildings so huge and imperially majestic...at one time it was the cultural capital of Europe, but it is just not an area of history that interests me a great deal, so I am content to see it and go.