Day 32 – ENTERING GERMANY
This was the day we were going to enter Germany; a country bigger than Belgium and The Netherlands put together and noisier than Belgium and The Netherlands put together. Anthony for some reason was particularly excited about visiting the home of the Autobahn and Phil was particularly excited about visiting the home of the roadside Bratwurst. (I soon discovered that Anthony’s excitement did not relate to speed limits being a thing of the past, it was actually because he got to say the words ‘this isn’t Europe this is the Autobahn’. Apparently this is some kind of Alan Partridge quote I didn’t really get the first time or every time he’s said it since.)
There certainly wasn’t any kind of culture shock when we crossed the boarder into Germany. The landscape was still flat and dotted with wind farms. Once again we didn’t get touched up at the boarder and no one ripped the van to bits in search of drugs or contraband clogs smuggled from The Netherlands.
Boarder Services = 1,195 Miles Travelled
Day 32 – OLDENBURG
Oldenburg was our first port of call and was another one of those places where locals wondered at our being there. It is safe to say that it wasn’t a big town and was by no means a big tourist destination. In fact it was a very ordinary German town and thus a pretty good place for us to begin our Germanic adventure. By this time our arrival at any new place follows a fairly predictable routine: find a free car park, find tourist information, and find food. In this instance the twenty minute walk from free parking to town, meant our bellies took priority over our need for knowledge and so food came first.
The question of what to eat was easily answered. When in Oldenburg eat a big sausage. (This may not seem like a blog worthy subject but the humble bratwurst quickly became a staple of our diet and so the first is remembered fondly). Stepping rather timidly up to the opportunely placed street vendor, Phil mumbled in his best (GCSE) German “zwei bratwurst bitte”. He came away proudly brandishing something that resembled a hotdog, where the sausage had experienced a growth spurt and the bun had shrunk in the wash. Said sausages were enjoyed at speed that guaranteed indigestion and then we headed to tourist information. We soon discovered that we were parked in Oldenburg’s only free car park and this happened to be located under a motorway overpass. With this in mind we were inclined towards finding a hostel and we found quite the hostel…
Stepping through the door of DJH Oldenburg was a little like stepping into a retro fantasy where you could holiday in the eighties. This doesn’t just refer to the decoration either; the very kind lady at reception, sporting a Hawkwind t-shirt and a pair of ripped Levi’s 501, was in on the act as well. However there was a shower, a bed for a lie down and a private place to put on clean underpants, so we were happy enough. As we were getting ready to go out, a roommate entered.
‘Hi I’m Anthony’ followed by the obligatory handshake.
‘Hello’ the young man replied.
‘Hi I’m Phil’ followed by handshaking.
‘You speak English’ the young man continued.
‘Yes’ came the rather obvious answer.
For the rest of this conversation and the whole of the following morning this man never introduced himself. What we do know is that he was from Algeria and he was very, very tired. In the course of the brief conversation we had it was mentioned that Toj spoke French and this man proceeded to talk to him in French for the rest of our stay. This was slightly problematic as many topics were covered which Toj didn’t always fully understand. What was more problematic was he also talked to Phil in French; Phil who doesn’t speak a word of French.
Presumably tired out from all the talking the young man put himself to bed, it was about 6:00pm. Then entered another roommate and the introduction was pretty much the same except this time we got a name in return. Andrew was an enthusiastic physicist from Malaysia, studying in Oldenburg, but we will talk more about Andrew later.
Our trip into the town centre was without event up to the point Toj spotted an Irish bar running a Karaoke night. Now our trip so far has taught us that if in desperate circumstances you want to meet other travellers an Irish bar is a safe bet, so it seemed worth a look. What we found was an unexpected piece of German social culture. Apparently (and forgive the generalisation) the people of Germany love karaoke. They sing with passion and at least some of them take it very seriously. I’d like to tell you that it took Toj a few drinks before his desire to sing took over. This would be a lie; in fact he picked up the song list before he got a drink in his hand. Phil on the other hand took at least a few drinks and a lot of convincing, from Toj and a local girl called Martha whom we’d been chatting to, before he’d get up. Some people would say this karaoke experience was doomed to failure when the only song we could agree to sing was Message in a Bottle by The Police. What I can tell you is that we hit a definite low point around the twelfth refrain of ‘message in a bottle, message in a bottle’ when the DJ turned the microphones off. It is hard to tell whether or not the people appreciated our effort, loud conversations and looking the other way could be there equivalent of applause, right?
We weren’t too down hearted after our poor public reception and we headed back to the hostel for a good nights sleep. Now this brings us back to the subject of Andrew. At around 6:00 am our good friend Andrew felt it was the appropriate time to unpack his bag. Lucky for us everything in Andrew’s bag was separately wrapped in plastic bags. I guess if plastic bags could have an orgy this is what it would sound like. Not content with rustling more than a squirrel in a pile of crispy autumn leaves, Andrew refused to use the ladder kindly provided with his bunk bed. Andrew leapt like said squirrel from his bed about seven times. Each time something was retrieved from its plastic bag and taken back to his bunk. One can only assume this hive of activity was the precursor to a period of hibernation in the winter.
For the first time on our trip getting up for a breakfast which finished at 9:00 was not a problem. Our ability to make conversation with the still very lively Andrew was however affected. On this occasion leaving the hostel and getting into the van gave us the same feeling Superman must get when he reaches the fortress of solitude.
Travelled = 1,254 Miles
Days 33-35 – BREMEN
We had planned a two night stop in Bremen and booked a hostel in advance. So we drove straight to the Townside Hostel, situated in a trendy little spot, ten minutes walk from the city centre. We got inside and sorted our usual first priority of parking. This hostel generously provided a safe spot where the van could be kept under lock and key, truly a dream spot. Then we were checked in by possibly one of the nicest and busiest receptionists we’d come across. Climbing four flights of stairs we eventually reached our room and entered to the sight of four alarmed and slightly disgruntled holiday makers from Israel. We didn’t quite know what to make of this so we got on with making our beds. Their rather speedy departure left us with the feeling that we were going to be stuck with some pretty grumpy roommates (the last thing we wanted after a night with Andrew, the bag rustler). The hostel itself was a beautiful place, our room had access to a sun terrace, its own en-suite and adjoined a kitchenette provide for guests. This was the kind of luxury that brings tears to our eyes and made the grumpy roommates seem like no big deal.
Then it seemed like the gods were really smiling on us; the Israelis returned to say they had been put in the wrong room. They were expecting a room of their own and were a little upset by our arrival. In actual fact they were pretty nice people. So now we had these extravagant surroundings and there was only one logical thing to do: lounge, take a nap and spread our stuff everywhere. We were rested, taking care of business and the room was a mess when another character was introduced to the room. He was a big man and his outfit was similar to that of a polar explorer from the turn of the twentieth century. This man also seemed to be in a bad mood and to us this was aggravated by the messy room… oh no. After a rather sheepish tidy up and retreat to our bunks there was a moment of intensity and then the gods smiled again. The man said to Anthony ‘I hope the quality of what you write lives up to the quality of your note book’. ‘Probably not’ Anthony replied and we all chuckled. From this moment the ice was broken and we got on better and better as time went on. It turned out his mood related to miss-adventure with his vehicle.
You maybe wondering why I refer to him in such unfamiliar terms and basically it is for legal reasons. The fantastic nature of this man and the trip he was on means it is better to talk of him in euphemisms anyway. So we shall call him The Gunner, say that he is a Viking and that he had travelled an amazing distance, for an amazing length of time, under his own steam. It was an epic journey that really puts ours in to context. So with our new mysterious friend we hit the town and drank many a jug of mead (in reality it was beer).
The following day we went in to Bremen to see a statue that was described as ‘a lot of animals standing on top of each other’. There is much more to see in Bremen than this however this is by far and away the strangest. This town has a connection with the Brothers Grimm Fairytale of The Wonderful Musicians and there is a statue to commemorate this. Essentially what you see is a donkey, with a dog on its back, with a cockerel on its back, with a mouse on its head. Surrounding the statue is a huge group of people trying to touch the donkey’s hoofs and rub his nose. We don’t know why they do this, if you do please let us know.
In Bremen’s main town square we were also lucky enough to see a Polish market in full swing, with traditional song, dance, food and drink (It looked a little like the German Market we have in Manchester). After a combined dose of German and Polish culture and thorough explore of the city we headed back. Meeting The Gunner (coincidently) at the hostel door we headed back to the room together and found a Lithuanian family had moved in.
Now the events I am about to describe are not for the faint hearted and I apologise for there lewd content… it’s all The Gunner’s fault. Soon after our arrival the Lithuanian mother and father in their 60’s and son in his mid twenties left. We carried on chatting and after discussing our own YouTube page, the conversation hit a wayward track. To put it in a nutshell the topic was disgusting things you could watch on the internet and of course that infamous video with the girls and the chocolate ice cream cropped up, (If you don’t know what I mean be pleased with yourself and ignore this). We were laughing like little school girls at the very serious description of this video available online, when the Lithuanian family returned. Both Phil & Toj stifled our giggles and looked back to our books, but The Gunner carried on reading. As the mother and father readied themselves for bed the son got involved in the conversation as well. At this point we were disturbed and completely baffled about the things he was saying in front of his own mum and dad. When we eventually left the room and went out, with the Lithuanian son in tow, the question had to be asked. ‘Your mum and dad must have been horrified?’ To which him and The Gunner replied ‘no, they don’t speak a word of English, it was fine’. We breathed a sigh of relief.
Then we indulged in a traditional German custom, Legal Street Drinking, our chosen spot was outside Corona Pizza, for obvious reasons. It was here we met the (very drunk) youth of Bremen, who gave us an in depth look into German youth culture. Not that different from our own apparently. They also offered us a quick German lesson, which began with the question ‘what words would you like to know in German’. The night carried on from there in much more ordinary, although much less sober fashion and we all went to bed not looking forward to checkout in the morning.
Normally checking out is an uneventful experience, this time it was particularly uneventful. In fact we didn’t even make out of the hostel lounge, we didn’t move the van, we just sat for hours reading and eating our stack of alternate Pate and Primula sandwiches and saying goodbye to The Gunner as well.
As I said we’d only planned to stay in Bremen two nights, but our desire not to move was strong. Another night in the hostel wasn’t an option (didn’t want to get too used to the good life) so we decided we’d do a night in the van, in Bremen. We saw there was a lake just out of the centre and thought that a bit of time out of it would be good. As it turned out there was no where suitable to park overnight, we did however take in the lake while we were there. On our peaceful stroll around the water we chanced upon a sight which has etched itself on my mind and still to this day I struggle to believe I saw it.
Sat on a bench looking over the water we were joined by a few dog walkers, some families and the odd jogger stretching out. We caught a glimpse of a man in his seventies undressing by the water; a man who had muscles I had never seen before. It seemed to cold for a swim but he didn’t mind. In fact he cared so little he took off all his clothes and naked as the day he was born walked toward the water. He then splashed himself a little and turned around showing all of himself to the amazed people on the lakeside. He repeated this routine about three times before he took his swim. This bizarre exhibition was followed by some particularly explicit drying and his departure.
The words only in Germany spring to mind. We certainly hope so. Everything after this seems rather dull. That night we slept in The Bremen Shakespeare Company’s car park, still a little scarred from what we saw and dodging the theatre’s departing clientele as we prepared ourselves for a cool night in the van.
Travelled = 1,305 Miles
This was the day we were going to enter Germany; a country bigger than Belgium and The Netherlands put together and noisier than Belgium and The Netherlands put together. Anthony for some reason was particularly excited about visiting the home of the Autobahn and Phil was particularly excited about visiting the home of the roadside Bratwurst. (I soon discovered that Anthony’s excitement did not relate to speed limits being a thing of the past, it was actually because he got to say the words ‘this isn’t Europe this is the Autobahn’. Apparently this is some kind of Alan Partridge quote I didn’t really get the first time or every time he’s said it since.)There certainly wasn’t any kind of culture shock when we crossed the boarder into Germany. The landscape was still flat and dotted with wind farms. Once again we didn’t get touched up at the boarder and no one ripped the van to bits in search of drugs or contraband clogs smuggled from The Netherlands.
Boarder Services = 1,195 Miles Travelled
Day 32 – OLDENBURG
Oldenburg was our first port of call and was another one of those places where locals wondered at our being there. It is safe to say that it wasn’t a big town and was by no means a big tourist destination. In fact it was a very ordinary German town and thus a pretty good place for us to begin our Germanic adventure. By this time our arrival at any new place follows a fairly predictable routine: find a free car park, find tourist information, and find food. In this instance the twenty minute walk from free parking to town, meant our bellies took priority over our need for knowledge and so food came first.
The question of what to eat was easily answered. When in Oldenburg eat a big sausage. (This may not seem like a blog worthy subject but the humble bratwurst quickly became a staple of our diet and so the first is remembered fondly). Stepping rather timidly up to the opportunely placed street vendor, Phil mumbled in his best (GCSE) German “zwei bratwurst bitte”. He came away proudly brandishing something that resembled a hotdog, where the sausage had experienced a growth spurt and the bun had shrunk in the wash. Said sausages were enjoyed at speed that guaranteed indigestion and then we headed to tourist information. We soon discovered that we were parked in Oldenburg’s only free car park and this happened to be located under a motorway overpass. With this in mind we were inclined towards finding a hostel and we found quite the hostel…Stepping through the door of DJH Oldenburg was a little like stepping into a retro fantasy where you could holiday in the eighties. This doesn’t just refer to the decoration either; the very kind lady at reception, sporting a Hawkwind t-shirt and a pair of ripped Levi’s 501, was in on the act as well. However there was a shower, a bed for a lie down and a private place to put on clean underpants, so we were happy enough. As we were getting ready to go out, a roommate entered.
‘Hi I’m Anthony’ followed by the obligatory handshake.
‘Hello’ the young man replied.
‘Hi I’m Phil’ followed by handshaking.
‘You speak English’ the young man continued.
‘Yes’ came the rather obvious answer.
For the rest of this conversation and the whole of the following morning this man never introduced himself. What we do know is that he was from Algeria and he was very, very tired. In the course of the brief conversation we had it was mentioned that Toj spoke French and this man proceeded to talk to him in French for the rest of our stay. This was slightly problematic as many topics were covered which Toj didn’t always fully understand. What was more problematic was he also talked to Phil in French; Phil who doesn’t speak a word of French.
Presumably tired out from all the talking the young man put himself to bed, it was about 6:00pm. Then entered another roommate and the introduction was pretty much the same except this time we got a name in return. Andrew was an enthusiastic physicist from Malaysia, studying in Oldenburg, but we will talk more about Andrew later.
Our trip into the town centre was without event up to the point Toj spotted an Irish bar running a Karaoke night. Now our trip so far has taught us that if in desperate circumstances you want to meet other travellers an Irish bar is a safe bet, so it seemed worth a look. What we found was an unexpected piece of German social culture. Apparently (and forgive the generalisation) the people of Germany love karaoke. They sing with passion and at least some of them take it very seriously. I’d like to tell you that it took Toj a few drinks before his desire to sing took over. This would be a lie; in fact he picked up the song list before he got a drink in his hand. Phil on the other hand took at least a few drinks and a lot of convincing, from Toj and a local girl called Martha whom we’d been chatting to, before he’d get up. Some people would say this karaoke experience was doomed to failure when the only song we could agree to sing was Message in a Bottle by The Police. What I can tell you is that we hit a definite low point around the twelfth refrain of ‘message in a bottle, message in a bottle’ when the DJ turned the microphones off. It is hard to tell whether or not the people appreciated our effort, loud conversations and looking the other way could be there equivalent of applause, right?
We weren’t too down hearted after our poor public reception and we headed back to the hostel for a good nights sleep. Now this brings us back to the subject of Andrew. At around 6:00 am our good friend Andrew felt it was the appropriate time to unpack his bag. Lucky for us everything in Andrew’s bag was separately wrapped in plastic bags. I guess if plastic bags could have an orgy this is what it would sound like. Not content with rustling more than a squirrel in a pile of crispy autumn leaves, Andrew refused to use the ladder kindly provided with his bunk bed. Andrew leapt like said squirrel from his bed about seven times. Each time something was retrieved from its plastic bag and taken back to his bunk. One can only assume this hive of activity was the precursor to a period of hibernation in the winter.
For the first time on our trip getting up for a breakfast which finished at 9:00 was not a problem. Our ability to make conversation with the still very lively Andrew was however affected. On this occasion leaving the hostel and getting into the van gave us the same feeling Superman must get when he reaches the fortress of solitude.
Travelled = 1,254 Miles
Days 33-35 – BREMEN
We had planned a two night stop in Bremen and booked a hostel in advance. So we drove straight to the Townside Hostel, situated in a trendy little spot, ten minutes walk from the city centre. We got inside and sorted our usual first priority of parking. This hostel generously provided a safe spot where the van could be kept under lock and key, truly a dream spot. Then we were checked in by possibly one of the nicest and busiest receptionists we’d come across. Climbing four flights of stairs we eventually reached our room and entered to the sight of four alarmed and slightly disgruntled holiday makers from Israel. We didn’t quite know what to make of this so we got on with making our beds. Their rather speedy departure left us with the feeling that we were going to be stuck with some pretty grumpy roommates (the last thing we wanted after a night with Andrew, the bag rustler). The hostel itself was a beautiful place, our room had access to a sun terrace, its own en-suite and adjoined a kitchenette provide for guests. This was the kind of luxury that brings tears to our eyes and made the grumpy roommates seem like no big deal.Then it seemed like the gods were really smiling on us; the Israelis returned to say they had been put in the wrong room. They were expecting a room of their own and were a little upset by our arrival. In actual fact they were pretty nice people. So now we had these extravagant surroundings and there was only one logical thing to do: lounge, take a nap and spread our stuff everywhere. We were rested, taking care of business and the room was a mess when another character was introduced to the room. He was a big man and his outfit was similar to that of a polar explorer from the turn of the twentieth century. This man also seemed to be in a bad mood and to us this was aggravated by the messy room… oh no. After a rather sheepish tidy up and retreat to our bunks there was a moment of intensity and then the gods smiled again. The man said to Anthony ‘I hope the quality of what you write lives up to the quality of your note book’. ‘Probably not’ Anthony replied and we all chuckled. From this moment the ice was broken and we got on better and better as time went on. It turned out his mood related to miss-adventure with his vehicle.
You maybe wondering why I refer to him in such unfamiliar terms and basically it is for legal reasons. The fantastic nature of this man and the trip he was on means it is better to talk of him in euphemisms anyway. So we shall call him The Gunner, say that he is a Viking and that he had travelled an amazing distance, for an amazing length of time, under his own steam. It was an epic journey that really puts ours in to context. So with our new mysterious friend we hit the town and drank many a jug of mead (in reality it was beer).
The following day we went in to Bremen to see a statue that was described as ‘a lot of animals standing on top of each other’. There is much more to see in Bremen than this however this is by far and away the strangest. This town has a connection with the Brothers Grimm Fairytale of The Wonderful Musicians and there is a statue to commemorate this. Essentially what you see is a donkey, with a dog on its back, with a cockerel on its back, with a mouse on its head. Surrounding the statue is a huge group of people trying to touch the donkey’s hoofs and rub his nose. We don’t know why they do this, if you do please let us know.In Bremen’s main town square we were also lucky enough to see a Polish market in full swing, with traditional song, dance, food and drink (It looked a little like the German Market we have in Manchester). After a combined dose of German and Polish culture and thorough explore of the city we headed back. Meeting The Gunner (coincidently) at the hostel door we headed back to the room together and found a Lithuanian family had moved in.
Now the events I am about to describe are not for the faint hearted and I apologise for there lewd content… it’s all The Gunner’s fault. Soon after our arrival the Lithuanian mother and father in their 60’s and son in his mid twenties left. We carried on chatting and after discussing our own YouTube page, the conversation hit a wayward track. To put it in a nutshell the topic was disgusting things you could watch on the internet and of course that infamous video with the girls and the chocolate ice cream cropped up, (If you don’t know what I mean be pleased with yourself and ignore this). We were laughing like little school girls at the very serious description of this video available online, when the Lithuanian family returned. Both Phil & Toj stifled our giggles and looked back to our books, but The Gunner carried on reading. As the mother and father readied themselves for bed the son got involved in the conversation as well. At this point we were disturbed and completely baffled about the things he was saying in front of his own mum and dad. When we eventually left the room and went out, with the Lithuanian son in tow, the question had to be asked. ‘Your mum and dad must have been horrified?’ To which him and The Gunner replied ‘no, they don’t speak a word of English, it was fine’. We breathed a sigh of relief.
Then we indulged in a traditional German custom, Legal Street Drinking, our chosen spot was outside Corona Pizza, for obvious reasons. It was here we met the (very drunk) youth of Bremen, who gave us an in depth look into German youth culture. Not that different from our own apparently. They also offered us a quick German lesson, which began with the question ‘what words would you like to know in German’. The night carried on from there in much more ordinary, although much less sober fashion and we all went to bed not looking forward to checkout in the morning.
Normally checking out is an uneventful experience, this time it was particularly uneventful. In fact we didn’t even make out of the hostel lounge, we didn’t move the van, we just sat for hours reading and eating our stack of alternate Pate and Primula sandwiches and saying goodbye to The Gunner as well.
As I said we’d only planned to stay in Bremen two nights, but our desire not to move was strong. Another night in the hostel wasn’t an option (didn’t want to get too used to the good life) so we decided we’d do a night in the van, in Bremen. We saw there was a lake just out of the centre and thought that a bit of time out of it would be good. As it turned out there was no where suitable to park overnight, we did however take in the lake while we were there. On our peaceful stroll around the water we chanced upon a sight which has etched itself on my mind and still to this day I struggle to believe I saw it.
Sat on a bench looking over the water we were joined by a few dog walkers, some families and the odd jogger stretching out. We caught a glimpse of a man in his seventies undressing by the water; a man who had muscles I had never seen before. It seemed to cold for a swim but he didn’t mind. In fact he cared so little he took off all his clothes and naked as the day he was born walked toward the water. He then splashed himself a little and turned around showing all of himself to the amazed people on the lakeside. He repeated this routine about three times before he took his swim. This bizarre exhibition was followed by some particularly explicit drying and his departure.The words only in Germany spring to mind. We certainly hope so. Everything after this seems rather dull. That night we slept in The Bremen Shakespeare Company’s car park, still a little scarred from what we saw and dodging the theatre’s departing clientele as we prepared ourselves for a cool night in the van.
Travelled = 1,305 Miles
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