That's it. Thanks for coming.
Sunday
Good Times at the Weisn
Oktoberfest hits pretty hard. Soon enough the jetlag has turned to fatigue and you feel like you've swallowed an ashtray.Getting right into the spirit of things involves half chickens, head size pretzels, roast pork knuclkes, cigars, snuff (the white stuff), tobacco snuff (the 'real' snuff) and of course 'mass' (a 'measure'/ litre of bier).
It can be challenging juggling the consumption of all these goods while standing precariously on a thin wooden bench singing and dancing to folk & popular songs in the 10,000 strong bier halls of the Weisn. Weisn refers to the daughter of the King who got married here. He invited the whole of Munchen and this was the start of Oktoberfest. What a champ.
The legal bier drinking age in Germany is 16, and these guys were well aware of that.
I didn't mention the 1/2 meter Wurst, cos you get that outside the tents, in a 25cm bun. Pictured below are the Sluthe and I, enjoying the sights and sounds of the huge Oktoberfest showground while cradling a good portion of pork sausage.
(Pat, Jaime)
There is much excitement amongst the troops at the generous servings of consumables.
One of these will set you back btwn 8 & 10 Euro, depending on if you get your change or not. ($16)
Two locals named Frame and Colons. They travelled long way from their nanny goat farm in the mountains to be here.
(Kaisa - charmer)
Pat D (excited, before he lost his wallet), JW and me
Impressive and scary appearances sometimes deceive. The "Shocker" was shocking.
Heaps more photos of course - if you want any, ask.
MÜñchëÑ - City of People
Munich, the Captal of Bavaria, is a wonderous collage of gardens, old grand stone buildings (also 'heavy'), bicylcles and gorgeous blue skies.
In contrast to the town, and Germany, of today is Dachau - the first Nazi concentration camp, built in 1933. It was a cold drizzling day we chose to wander the Role Call Yard. The wind turned the cold to ice and it was impossible to imagine, comprehend or even believe what went on here not so long ago. Very overcrowded living, torture, medical experiements, killings.
Mel, Kel and Jimmy Barnes (living in Munchen who was good enough to host us for a few evenings. And a great host he was too.) Mel and Kel wear traditional Derndals and Jim wears the Lederhosen. To the Weisn! (Oktoberfest!).
Friday
Easy Rider IV - The wheels fall off
This would be the last day on the bike, although we did not know it yet.
I'd been keeping an eye on the front whel nut which was castellated and had provision for a split pin, although no split pin was in place.
We gorged on prawn sushimi that night, with extreme wasabi and soy. Then we strolled into the Louisiana bar - a classy bar/brewery serving gourmet beer. Mossying across the marble floor we noticed a clean blue lit pool in the middle of the beer garden. Beer was four times the usual price (ie $4) at this establishment and it went down almost as easily as the pool balls were.
Bao & I engaged in a nailbiting battle on the green felt. The stakes were high - winner buys the beer, loser meets a watery grave.
Bao is an Easy Rider - jack of all trades and he's obviously spent many years studying 'The Colour of Money'. Luckily I had brought my A game and was demonstrating a Walter Lindrumesq understanding of geometry.
Bao took the 1st game by a whisker but I didn't let him have the second. So our fates rested on the last game.
I cleverly potted 3 balls off the break and maintained the solid lead on bigs until I was eyeing the black. I lined up the white between the 8 and my freshly chalked cue tip. Mildly inebriated and overly confident I decided to introduce Bao to the game of 'Arrogance' - where you look at your opponent while you knock the black into the corner pocket.
As soon as the white ball had been dusted my eyes panned left to see the black rebounding off the cushion away from the pocket. A scream of embarresment later and it was Bao's turn. He nailed 3 smalls in 3 strokes of the cue. And it was over....the black was being cradled by a net of white rope, out of view.
I endeavour to uphold my word whenever possible and I would honour the bet. Without hesitation I slipped of the shirt, dropped the dacks and descended the few steps past tables of honeymooning couples and launched my b'day suited body into the pool.
Before the splash had come down the pool was surrounded by security. A pretty young waitress leaned over the pool edge and advised that the pool was closed. A young gentlemen at a nearby table lent me a napkin and I made a graceful exit from the water, concealing my boiled shrew with said napkin, exited the bar.
Like a Ted Nugent concert the night was going Gonzo but it didn't end there. It ended half way through the second 'bucket' at a bar down the road, where it turns out Bao lost his wallet, licences etc and phone.
I'd been keeping an eye on the front whel nut which was castellated and had provision for a split pin, although no split pin was in place.
We gorged on prawn sushimi that night, with extreme wasabi and soy. Then we strolled into the Louisiana bar - a classy bar/brewery serving gourmet beer. Mossying across the marble floor we noticed a clean blue lit pool in the middle of the beer garden. Beer was four times the usual price (ie $4) at this establishment and it went down almost as easily as the pool balls were.
Bao & I engaged in a nailbiting battle on the green felt. The stakes were high - winner buys the beer, loser meets a watery grave.
Bao is an Easy Rider - jack of all trades and he's obviously spent many years studying 'The Colour of Money'. Luckily I had brought my A game and was demonstrating a Walter Lindrumesq understanding of geometry.
Bao took the 1st game by a whisker but I didn't let him have the second. So our fates rested on the last game.
I cleverly potted 3 balls off the break and maintained the solid lead on bigs until I was eyeing the black. I lined up the white between the 8 and my freshly chalked cue tip. Mildly inebriated and overly confident I decided to introduce Bao to the game of 'Arrogance' - where you look at your opponent while you knock the black into the corner pocket.
As soon as the white ball had been dusted my eyes panned left to see the black rebounding off the cushion away from the pocket. A scream of embarresment later and it was Bao's turn. He nailed 3 smalls in 3 strokes of the cue. And it was over....the black was being cradled by a net of white rope, out of view.
I endeavour to uphold my word whenever possible and I would honour the bet. Without hesitation I slipped of the shirt, dropped the dacks and descended the few steps past tables of honeymooning couples and launched my b'day suited body into the pool.
Before the splash had come down the pool was surrounded by security. A pretty young waitress leaned over the pool edge and advised that the pool was closed. A young gentlemen at a nearby table lent me a napkin and I made a graceful exit from the water, concealing my boiled shrew with said napkin, exited the bar.
Like a Ted Nugent concert the night was going Gonzo but it didn't end there. It ended half way through the second 'bucket' at a bar down the road, where it turns out Bao lost his wallet, licences etc and phone.
Easy Rider III - The King & I
So we continued to ride through the Central Highlands past pepper, corn, coffee, casava and sugarcane fields. Every 5 mins I saw a white light as we narrowly missed an oncoming bus or overtook a van that was simultaneously overtaking a truck.
I developed an exit strategy in case of collision - jump into the bush. There are these rows of little 40cm tall concrete pillars 150x150 on the roadside every now and then. If I jumped into one of those there'd be in a world of hurt.
Traded in the bad motorscooter for more traditional transportation at Lake Lac. As we plodded along I looked past the driver's body and couldn't help thinking the back of Babar's head looked like a massive set of nuts.
Visited the palace of the last King, Bao Dai, in Dalat. Inside is dated and opulent wih strong french influence and high ceilings. From the outside the palace looks like a NYC ghetto housing complex.
Took some time out to bathe in the King's mud bath in Nha Trang.
I developed an exit strategy in case of collision - jump into the bush. There are these rows of little 40cm tall concrete pillars 150x150 on the roadside every now and then. If I jumped into one of those there'd be in a world of hurt.
Traded in the bad motorscooter for more traditional transportation at Lake Lac. As we plodded along I looked past the driver's body and couldn't help thinking the back of Babar's head looked like a massive set of nuts.
Visited the palace of the last King, Bao Dai, in Dalat. Inside is dated and opulent wih strong french influence and high ceilings. From the outside the palace looks like a NYC ghetto housing complex.
Took some time out to bathe in the King's mud bath in Nha Trang.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)