We did the Münster mash… (Part One)

I’m determined to see as much of Germany as possible so when my good friend, Manfredas, invited me along on a trip to Münster, I jumped at the chance.

Road trip!

We set off at around 2pm on Friday afternoon. No, I tell a lie – we set off at EXACTLY 2pm on Friday afternoon. Once we hit the Autobahn, I did what any self-respecting woman would do – lifted up my top and yelled, “ROAD TRIP!!!” at the top of my voice. Don’t worry, I was wearing a t-shirt underneath it – I didn’t want to cause a pile-up.

This was to set the tone for what were probably the longest five hours of Manfredas’ life. If I wasn’t chuckling at “Ausfahrt” and “Gute Fahrt!” signs, I was targeting place names that started with “Bad”, shouting things like “BAD Nenndorf” in a strict voice while wagging my finger.

After a couple of hours, we pulled into a truck stop for food and drinks. For some reason, I chose the stickiest-looking Danish they had so the shop assistant, obviously suspecting my mental age, took no chances when handing it over.

Nice…

Amazingly, Manfredas didn’t abandon me there and, a few hours later, we arrived safely at “Barbaras Bed and Breakfast” in Münster. The key had been left in a little safe for us, so we let ourselves in and went to our room. We were staying in “Cloud 4” which was a bit disappointing as I’d rather be on cloud nine, but ho hum…

I soon cheered up when I saw that the Münsteraner also favour the two-duvet approach to bedding.

I ate my sweet before taking the picture – oops.

The room was lovely – light, clean and airy. A little too airy actually as ze Germans tend to go a bit nuts when it comes to lüften (airing), even in the depths of winter. One surprise feature of this property is the punching bag and boxing gloves on the second floor. Gropers of Münster beware…

I boxed for a little while, we freshened up a bit and got ready to hit the town. On our way out the door, Barbara showed up and immediately offered us a lift.

Barbara: So, where are you from?

Me: Ireland. 

Barbara: No way! I lived in Ireland for a few years! In Dublin.

Me: No way! I’m from Dublin! 

And so on and so forth. We were practically best friends by the time we got out of the car a few minutes later. I certainly couldn’t fault the Münsteraner on their friendliness and helpfulness so far. After taking a photo for the file I like to call “Random stuff that tickles me”,

Effing Studio…

we found a lovely restaurant called Cult Eck and ordered. I had the chicken with tomato and mozzarella, fresh vegetables and fried potatoes. You’ll have to take my word for it that it was amazing – I ate it before I could take a photo.

After we’d finished, we walked down the street to a party being thrown by some of Manfredas’ friends. It was in a bar with the rather amusing name of “Nippes”. You paid €25 at the door and your drinks were free for the whole night. With an Irish woman and a bunch of Germans, this could have led to disaster, but it was a great night. Manfredas’ friends were really welcoming and more than happy to be tortured by my ScheißGerman for the evening.

The next morning, I bumped into Barbara on my way back from the loo so she made me a cup of tea, and we settled in for a natter about life, love and the universe. Shortly afterwards, Manfredas appeared.

Manfredas: Is there a flower shop around here? (We were going to visit his sister.)

Barbara: Yes. There is one a seven-minute walk from here. 

Manfredas: Not five, not ten, but seven…

Barbara: Yes, seven.

Me: Germans.

But, you know, if you can’t beat them, join them.

Me: OK, so if it takes you seven minutes to walk there and seven minutes to walk back, that’s fourteen. Let’s say that you’re in the shop for three minutes choosing and paying, so that’s a total of seventeen minutes. I’ll be out of the shower by then and able to let you back into the room. 

Manfredas and Barbara: (collective jaw drop)

With alles in Ordnung, we set off for Manfredas’ sister’s place.

The day was a bit gloomy but it was a pretty walk through leafy streets and along the canal. When we arrived, we were brought into the kitchen where more food than I could eat in a year was laid out. Three or four types of meat and cheese, around eight different types of bread, two baskets of fruit, butter, jam, Nutella, juice, water, tea and coffee. The woman had had her appendix out a few days earlier and she was still a thousand times better Hausfrau than I would ever be.

Me: Jesus. She really pulled out the stops for us…

Manfredas: No, this is just a typical Saturday morning for them. 

Me: Jesus.

Manfredas’ sister and brother-in-law were probably wondering why he’d chosen to bring a mute person to breakfast, but I was too busy eating to mind much.

Stay tuned for Part Two – coming soon! 

 

 

Forest Chump (Part Two)

On New Year’s Eve, I was out of bed by 9 for breakfast. Much as I love being a “Continental European”, I will never get on board with the continental breakfast – especially not in the depths of winter. Someone else could have the slabs of cold meat and cheese. I was having cereal, raisin toast and a lovely big pot of tea.

Where’s the bacon?

After that, it was back to my room to shower and psyche myself up for my first ever walk in the forest. I toyed with the idea of going full-on Latvian and wearing heels but the Germans might kick me out for that. Sensible footwear it was.

So damn cute.

I’d seen people heading down a little lane opposite the hotel, so that was where I started. The skies were ominous but the walk was actually quite… pleasant. I’d pass the odd dog-walker every now and then and we’d exchange smiles and hellos but apart from that, it was was perfectly peaceful. And very tree-full.

Sexy German trees…

After I’d been walking for a while (keeping an eye out for wolves, naturally), I stopped a likely-looking, Jack Wolfskin-clad German couple in very sensible shoes.

Me: Hello, my fellow forest nymphs. Is there a lake around here somewhere?

They gave me a rather dubious look up and down and were probably thinking, “What the hell is this Arschloch doing in a forest?”

Horst: Well, there IS a lake, but it’s around a 7km walk in that direction. 

My face must have dropped slightly, as his wife chimed in.

Hilda: But there’s a river around 400 metres that way. 

Me: Right, be on your way, my feisty forest faeries… 

I trotted off in the direction she’d pointed in, but I think maybe the famous German sense of humour was at play here.

Are you a river?

Are you a river?

I decided to follow a man out walking his dog and three-year-old for a bit. I figured that if there were wolves, they’d probably go for the mutt or the toddler first. This, however, got annoying fast as (what are the chances?) it turns out they were English speakers and the daughter couldn’t get the names of the Seven Dwarfs straight. Before I started yelling, “Bashful, Sneezy, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy and DOC!”, I needed to get my zen back. I climbed an embankment and did the unthinkable. Yes, it’s the photo the Latvians thought they’d never see…

It’s me! Hugging a tree!

After sending the pic to a couple of people and enjoying the virtual “thuds” as they fell off their chairs, I sauntered back to the hotel, river-less, wolf-less but happy.

I enjoyed a quick red wine nap-cap and then went back to bed for a couple of hours. Turns out trees and fresh air are exhausting… When I woke up, I decided that there was no harm in being sociable for a while and hopped on a bus into Lübeck. The bus dropped me off outside a rather suspect-looking bar – you know the kind of place that you’re not sure if you’ll come out alive but you’ll probably have some good stories if you do? In short, perfect.

As I walked through the fug of smoke, every head in the place turned to look. At this point, it’s important not to show fear so I marched to the bar and asked the 80s hair-do behind it for a glass of wine. The man next to me immediately offered me a chair, shook my hand and introduced himself. In no time at all, we were gabbing away like old friends.

I thought the guy on the other side of me could be trouble as there seemed to be some tension between him and my new buddy – I would have ended up on my back on the floor if he’d lunged for him. But then, dream boat that I am, I got a toothless smile from the tattoo-covered trouble-maker and knew that I was going to be just fine. (In these kinds of situations, it’s always good to get the scariest-looking person on side.)

A guy came around selling roses and my new buddy bought me one. An hour later, he came around again, and my new buddy bought me a second one. Two white roses also appeared from somewhere else in the bar and soon I had a veritable garden in front of me.

Time to go

After the drunkest man in the world accidentally smashed a pint glass on my jeans, it was time to head back to the hotel. Germany on New Year’s Eve is characterised by the sounds of rocket launchers and ambulance sirens so, rather than wait 50 minutes for the next bus, I got a taxi. I gave the cute Cypriot driver one of the roses and he almost teared up as it was the first time a woman had ever given him a flower.

Back in the room, I poured myself a glass of wine and settled in for some (probably) classic NYE entertainment, German style.

Yes, it was just as scary as it looks.

At midnight, I watched the supremely baffling German favourite “Dinner for One” and wished myself an excellent 2016. All in all, it was the perfect day.

The next morning, I woke up full of the joys and, after another walk in the forest, fairly skipped to the bus stop. I made my way to where I thought the bus to Berlin went from with a song in my heart and feeling all kinds of goodwill towards mankind.

Me: Tra la la la la are you going to Berlin la la la?

Random stranger: Can you speak in English?

Me: Sure! Is this where the Berlin bus goes from?

Random stranger: I am not ticket.

Me: Yeah, clearly the English thing is working out great for you.

And, just like that, I was back.

Until we meet again, trees.