Hello once again from the land of acid washed jeans and bad 80's metal...
The past week or so has been quite an eventful one. Last thursday Jonno Worthley arrived on my doorstep for our weekender to Amsterdam. Before setting off, however, we had to warm up the engine, so to speak, by having a few big nights out in Dortmund. The thursday was rather uneventful, but the friday quickly decended into a night of drunken revelry after the bulgarians from our building decided to join us on our pub crawl. The thing is about bulgarians is that they like to drink, and drink well. We went to various places and I found myself at 530 in the morning in a filthy, twisted parody of a punk club, full of acid-washed denim clad, safety pin wearing, german style punks, all rocking out to the dead kennedys. I think I may have stood out a little, with my white shoes and polo shirt... anyway, we managed to get on the train the next morning for the 2.5 hour trip to amsterdam, which was spent drinking coffee and being interrogated by funny sounding dutch border guards.
Once in Amsterdam, after meeting up with the 8 or so other people we were going to be staying with, we got a tip from a random person on the street that there was a legendary nightclub hidden in the eleventh floor of the decrepit old Amsterdam central post building. So after a few preliminaries, we wandered about the middle of the city until we found what looked like the building. It was quite strange, walking into a seemingly deserted building, and being told by seemingly the only person around that there was a 10 euro cover charge. We decided to bite the bullet and caught the 1960's style warehouse lift up to the eleventh floor to be greeted by what can only be described as a magnificant nightclub. With perhaps 1000 people on the 11th floor, with a massive dancefloor, a chillout room with very luxurious beanbags, and a stunning view over the city lights, this was a club that put anything we have in adelaide to shame. Anyway, as the night wore on, and we were finally kicked out of 'Elf' at about 5 o' clock, jonno and I managed to lose everybody in the winding back streets, before asking a kindly chap if he knew where another nighclub we had heard of was. He cheerily offered to help us for the cost of 5 euro, and we cheerily told him to g.f before walking over the street to pull up stumps and get a tram home. Before leaving he told us that he was also going home, and waved at us with a cheeky smile before dissappearing into the ether.
Just a few moments later I patted my pants and jacket only to realise that the filthy street urchin had relieved me of my wallet. By this time he had melted into the shadows, and to make matters worse, in true cartoon style fashion, the heavens opened up and we were caught in an absolute downpour, with one missing wallet and no idea how to get home. Well, we did eventually get home, and I didn't let that little lesson in life's school of hard knocks to ruin my weekend. I borrowed some money from my friend Idle Pete, and we carried on. The strange thing was, on a canal cruise on our last day there, we saw a very flash looking street urchin with a cheeky smile and quite new looking threads waving at us from the water's edge.... At least he didn't have a brand new hat with a long peacock feather in it... That may have been too much.
Anyway, after quite an eventful weekend we arrived back in dortmund just in time for the traditional tuesday night piss up in our cellar bar. After the expenses of Amsterdam, there's nothing quite like half litre beers all night long for 1 euro. I managed to get dad to wire some of my money from aus into my dortmund account, and now I have another week in which I have little to do except sit around my student house, drinking 1 litre beer cans from the servo and 1.5 litre bottles of sangria, which both cost the equivalent of about a buck fifty australian. The only interesting thing is that I am not exactly sure when I will actually get my first pay cheque, all I know is that it could be as early as this week, or as late as the end of the month. If it is anything less than two weeks, I can live like a king, anything more, and I will be eating pumpernickel and boiled dumplings until my german taxpayer funded goose lays its golden egg in my account...
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