Tag Archives: sex

Road Trip: From Schechen to Salzburg

With the Germans on the road in their camper vans or off stealing sunbeds in Mallorca, there’s nobody left in Berlin for me to teach so it seemed like as good a time as any to take a holiday myself.

Our first main destination was to be Salzburg but that’s a bit of a monster drive from Berlin so we decided to overnight in a pretty little Bavarian village called Schechen.

Our little Gasthaus :)
Our little Gasthaus ūüôā

You knew you were in Bavaria the moment you walked into the bedroom…

God is watching you, you unmarried sinners...
God is watching you, you unmarried sinners…

Still, as much as they like¬†a good pray, the Bavarians are also rather partial to a good party, which is why you shouldn’t be overly surprised when you come across something like this:

Chuckle. Bavarians.

Anyway, after a walk around the town centre (approximately 2.5 minutes), we headed back to our Gasthaus which also had rather a nice beer garden. It seemed to be a pretty popular spot with the locals – it turned out¬†to be¬†the only spot – so we sipped our drinks and tried to understand what in the hell the other guests were saying. Bavarian, if you didn’t know, is not at all like “normal German” so it was a total mystery to both of us.

I ordered a Schnitzel which turned out to be the best one I’ve ever had. But still, I’m no match for German portions and the Schnitzel won, as bloody usual. It was while I was trying to wash it down with wine that I was attacked by the most vicious mosquitoes I’ve ever come across. Maybe they couldn’t understand me telling them to “Fuck Off!” in normal German and English so I ended up being¬†bitten 10 times¬†in under 10 minutes. We retreated to our room and hoped God would protect us as we slept…

The next morning, after a gigantic German breakfast, we were on the road again. With the sun shining and the temperature around 30 degrees, we decided to stop off at Lake Chiemsee, which was¬†absolutely lovely and jam-packed with frolicking Germans. Clearly this is what they’re up to when they’re supposed to be at English lessons…

After almost burning my arse off on a seat and almost freezing my feet off in the water, we set off for Salzburg. This is where the Bavarian countryside starts to get really pretty and I was ooh-ing, aah-ing and singing the whole way. Lucky Manfredas…

DSC01515
Ooh…aah…

Just before the border crossing, we pulled over to buy the sticker you need to have on display if you want to drive on the Austrian Autobahn. Manfredas also pulled two hi-vis vests out of the boot – seemingly you need to have them in the car to drive in Austria. (And that’s it for “Linda’s Random Facts You Probably Aren’t Interested In” – for now anyway.)

We arrived at our AirBnB apartment at around 2pm and met with the cute Polish-Russian host couple, who gave us a little guided tour, handed over the keys and then headed off to Italy for a couple of days. After a quick freshen-up, we hit the streets. The flat was in a great location so after around five minutes, we were in the centre of the Old City.

Cute idea!
Cute idea!

Salzburg has to be one of the most dreamily-located cities in Europe – it lies on the River Salzach, is renowned for its Baroque architecture and is surrounded by the Alps on all sides. Some guy called Mozart was also born here…

DSC01520The city is known for being incredibly rainy but we were in luck and it was blue skies all the way. After lunch at the perfectly named “Wein & Co”, we caught the bus to Hellbrunn, home to a palace, a park and trick fountains. I’d read about the trick fountains online and was intrigued so we bought tour tickets (you can only see them on a guided tour) and prepared to be amazed…

What I wasn’t prepared for was how wet I would get. While you’re admiring the fountains, the tour guide¬†sneaks over and switches on jets of water that hit you from all sides. You never know where they’re coming from next so it’s either a laugh or a squeal a minute. The best you can try to do is find a dry spot to stand in but there’s really no way to avoid getting wet – which is a bit scary when you’ve got a nice camera or phone in your hand. One Chinese girl screamed her way through the entire tour, which was massively entertaining.

We didn't volunteer but also didn't escape...
We didn’t volunteer but also didn’t escape…
Thankfully not a trick fountain.
Thankfully not a trick fountain.

After drying off a bit in the park, we caught the bus back into town for some dinner and to find somewhere to watch the opening match of the Bundesliga. We settled upon my favourite kind of bar – dodgy – at the end of our street. There was no football, only some local characters and a semi-toothless Indian owner.

We chatted a bit with the locals who weren’t asleep and despite me calling one man’s tattoo a “tramp stamp”, we were invited back the next evening for a drink and a tour of where the locals go on a Saturday night. On a trip to the unlockable ladies’ loo, I came across something you probably don’t find in the guidebooks…

A SEX GAG MACHINE!
A SEX GAG MACHINE!

Of course, I couldn’t resist. I’m not sure when the last time it was used was but Manfredas told me every eyebrow in the bar raised when they heard the “clunk, clunk” of the coin dial. Still, I wasn’t disappointed:

Clearly enchanted by my cackling, the owner gave me a quite nice beaded necklace he found in a drawer.

Dodgy bars are always the most fun.

 

 

 

Can’t find a hussy? Try “TravelPussy”!

Having lived in Germany for a while, it’s rare that I’m still surprised by anything. The German bedding system, the massive signs for “Dildo King”, the early morning beer drinkers, the speed at which supermarket cashiers operate, the poo shelf, the reverse poo shelf…

All of these things I take in my stride. But I do still like to be surprised on occasion, and this is exactly what happened at a service station on the way back from M√ľnster.

Manfredas: I got you a present.

Me: From the toilet? 

Manfredas: Well, yes, but I think you’ll like it…

He was right. It turns out that for the bargain price of around ‚ā¨5, you can make me the happiest girl on earth. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you – the “TravelPussy”.

Bah ha ha ha ha ha ha!
What to give the blogger who has everything

Once my initial mirth had subsided, I just had to take a look inside. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

A sandwich bag crossed with a hot water bottle?
A sandwich bag crossed with a hot water bottle?

Me: What the hell?

Manfredas: What the hell?

Clearly, I would need to read the instructions which, apart from being enlightening, were also one of the funniest things I have ever read.

  1. Open up TravelPussy. (Sure, a closed TravelPussy is no use to anyone.)
  2. Pour a very small amount of TravelPussy-Gel into the “vagina” and spread it. (The quotation marks had me in tears before I even got to the word “spread”.)
Don't leave home without it.
Don’t leave home without it.

3. Turn TravelPussy upside down and fill gently with warm water or simply blow air into it. IMPORTANT! Make sure the water is not too hot, check with your finger! (I really am not making this up.)

4. Place some TravelPussy-Gel on your penis and you are ready for a wonderful experience. (I wonder.)

5. After use, empty TravelPussy and leave it to domestic waste – not in toilet! (Yes, please guys, have some respect for your Pussy – not in toilet.)

I guess this is one of those rare occasions where size really doesn't matter.
I guess this is one of those rare occasions where size really doesn’t matter.

The environmentally-aware among you will be pleased to hear that TravelPussy is made from eudermic and eco-friendly material. TravelPussy-Gel does not contain any paraffin which is good news for those who fancy a smoke¬†while playing with their Pussy. But be careful, it also does not contain any contraceptive or spermicide so you run the risk of knocking up your sandwich bag-hot water bottle if you don’t use a condom. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Over the course of my Saturday night out, the topic of TravelPussy came up. (OK, I brought it up.) Proving that it (she?) still had the power to surprise, it emerged that my dear friend, Nigel, had actually bought¬†a TravelPussy. “For the laugh”, you understand.

Me: How would you sum up the experience?

Nigel: Confusing. Disappointing.

Me: Sorry, I’ll stop laughing eventually.

If you want to see confusion and disappointment in picture form, I highly recommend clicking on this link:

His face…

At the risk of lowering the tone of this blog any further, I leave you with this profound thought for the evening.

20160202_131337

You are welcome.

 

 

 

Sleeping with the Germans

Contrary to popular belief, Germany (unfortunately) isn’t all about the Nippel-twisting and Arsch-licking, so when I say sleeping, I actually mean, sleeping. Sorry to disappoint but it’s not my fault your mind went where it did on reading the headline. (Dirty bugger.)

As with most things, sleeping in Germany is a serious business.¬†Don’t be surprised if, when you go back to your new lover’s place and are passionately shedding your smalls as you smooch your way towards the bedroom, you¬†are faced with a bit of a surprise when you get there. You see, practicality trumps romance in a German bedroom. Sure, he’s got a double bed, but you won’t be snuggling up under a double duvet after the main event.

NEIN, this could lead to all sorts of chaotic behaviour. One of you¬†might get¬†more of the duvet than the other, or God forbid, take the opportunity to dice with the dreaded¬†“Dutch oven”. Perhaps if it had been called a “Deutsch oven” things might have been different, but as it stands, you’ll be keeping your Wurst farts to yourself. On a German double bed, there are two single duvets, which, when you think about it, actually makes perfect sense.

Relationship saver
Relationship saver

Germans are also rather early risers so don’t be surprised if, even after the most strenuous exertions, your German is wide awake at ungodly o’clock and slipping his manly German feet into his Hausschuhe. The good news is that he’ll probably make you a nice cup of tea or force-feed you magnesium (to replace lost vitamins) after he’s had his morning Sitzpinkel.

My current Hausschuhe
My current Hausschuhe

All in all, I’m a fan of the Germans’ nocturnal ways; you never have to wake up shivering in the middle of the night, you needn’t worry if he develops a taste for Heinz beans, and you usually get a¬†productive, early¬†start to the day. If I had to gripe about one thing however – and I do – it’s German pillows. Yes, the country that brought us the car, the computer, the jet engine, the pill, X-ray technology, beer and, rather ingeniously, aspirin to ward off the effects of said¬†beer, has failed abysmally at creating comfortable pillows.

I’ve slept in a lot of beds since I moved to Berlin (I’ve changed apartment a lot, OK? Don’t you judge me…) and I can safely say, I’ve yet to find a decent pillow. Pillows in Germany are not your standard rectangular haven of loveliness. No, not content with this, the Germans have created massive square monstrosities that have the approximate consistency of a marshmallow. It doesn’t matter how much you fluff them, pile them, or beat them, as soon as you lay your head on a German pillow, the stuffing retreats¬†to all four far-flung corners and your head is left languishing pathetically on the mattress.

WHY?!
WHY?!

Still, I like to think that this isn’t an oversight on the Germans’ part, but rather, another clever (if tricky) invention. After all, where would the country be if everyone was still drooling into their non-neckbreaking pillows at 8am? Down the Schei√üer, that’s where…

What brings you here?

For the season that’s in it, I decided to write about something totally unrelated because, let’s face it, I think most of us are Christmassed out at this stage. I don’t think I was ever particularly Christmassed in, to be honest.

Instead I thought I’d write about something far more interesting – me. Or, more precisely, my blog. Expat Eye on Germany has been going for around four months now and I’m pretty pleased with it. While I never expect it to reach the dizzying heights of “popularity” that the¬†Latvian blog¬†reached, I am actually quite happy about that. Pissing off two million Latvians is manageable; pissing off 85 million Germans is a different story.

So, with blog hits heading for 25,000 and close to 3,000 comments, let’s have a look at some of the weird and wonderful search terms that have brought¬†people here.

that expat linda girl

I think the Latvians might be looking for me…

berlinda the expat sausage

I’m offended. And also hungry.

crazy linda in ikea

Yes,¬†that¬†wasn’t one of my finer moments. I still haven’t changed my mind about the place though. NEVER AGAIN.

how many time couple fuking for baby bourn

I’m not really sure why Google sent you to me. I’m hardly an expert on procreation. Still, if I could give you one piece of advice,¬†it would be – don’t procreate. The world has enough morons.

places in germany that look like fuck

I’ll admit that I haven’t travelled that much of Germany yet, but there don’t really seem to be that many places that look like fuck. However, if you’re really intent on this, you could try¬†Marzahn. Alternatively, just skip Germany altogether and head for Poland or Latvia – there are plenty of places that look like fuck there.

20141030_125604[1]
Marzahn. It looks like fuck.
german poo shelf

I know, I know. Despite numerous explanations/justifications, I still don’t get it either. (Splash.)

german word for i’ve followed through

You sound like you might be in need of a poo shelf.

english mans sexs only towel dress image

Sorry, but I’m more interested in German mans sexs right now.

German mans sexs

 

do germans working in america understand our humor

I don’t see why the Germans would have any more difficulty understanding American humour than any other nationality.

why all ppl want to move to germany

Because it’s awesome.

sex with german sweeping maid utibe

I’ll get my uniform and a camera. In the meantime, this will have to do…

Sexy, I know.
Sexy, I know.

weed feels like japan

Um…

am around just a little busy,but i live in buru in german language

Double “um”…

am all tied up man whatsup/old fashioned pictures of women tied up/girls who likes to meet up and being tied up for the evening/girls who likes to meet up and being tied up gagged

I really hope I never bump into this guy.

And finally…

why is expat eye so popular?

You tell me!

So a big thank you to everyone who’s been reading and commenting ¬†– except the gagging guy. Here’s to a fantastic 2015! I hope you all join me for the ride – except the gagging guy.

Happy New Year/Guten Rutsch!

(And hoch f√ľnf)

 

Hermann makes a woman of me

I’ve had my first German sexual encounter. I think. As with most things, it wasn’t what I was expecting and I’m not even sure it was a sexual encounter. At least, I know it wasn’t for me anyway…

So I’m sitting in my room, working away on my laptop and dressed in my (very nice, mostly cream) interview dress. Hermann knocks at the door. When I open it, he’s standing there looking a bit dishevelled and out of breath. He draws a line with his finger from his throat down to his crotch, which I take to mean that he’s had some sort of major operation. (Now I think he may have been pointing at something else entirely.)

He asks me to help him in the kitchen, so I dutifully trot along after him. When we get there, I see that he’s emptied the fridge and now wants me to clean it. Sigh. He pulls out an apron and puts it on me, fastening it with a chain… Then I get my instructions on how to clean a fridge, German-style.

So, I’m bent over with my head in the fridge; Hermann has placed himself on a seat right behind me. Suddenly, I hear cries of:

JA, JA, JAWOHL! OH, WUNDERBAR, WUNDERBAR. JA JA!

coming from the general direction of my ass.

Hermie: Wait, what is this?

Me: Umm, it looks like a bit of card stuck to the back of the fridge.

Hermie: NEIN.

Me: (scrubbing at it ineffectually) Maybe we can put some hot water on it and let it soak for a while…

Hermie: NEIN!

So he grabs a knife, bends over my back and starts attacking the offending bit of card like a man possessed. For someone who didn’t have the strength to wipe down the rest of the fridge, he’s making up for it now,¬†grunting and working up a sweat as he hacks at the card, his considerable girth finding repose on my nice-interview-dress-clad behind.

JA JA! DAS IST WUNDERBAR! JAWOHL! JAWOHL!

Close encounters of the fridge kind
Close encounters of the fridge kind

Smelling of industrial strength cleaner and old man sweat, I retired to my room, only to be disturbed again a few minutes later. Hermann needed my help printing something. When I managed to do it, he kissed me on my cheek. I guess this is the German version of snuggling.

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned, I was in my nice interview dress because, yes, you guessed it, I had interviews. The first was with a German man and I was in and out in 15 minutes flat. The second was with an English woman and I was there for almost two hours. We bonded over Hermann and his dish towels in the first five minutes (she’d had a similar experience when she first arrived) and got on like a house on fire after that.

Me: So, when do you think you’ll let me know?

Sally: Oh no, we definitely have work for you! 

And she gave me a group there and then. Later that day, I got an email from the other school, saying that they also have a group for me. It’s not much, but it’s a start – and a big relief to know that I am hirable in Deutschland. So I went and celebrated with a cup of tea in a Mercedes-Benz showroom – as you do.

All in all, it’s been quite the week. JAWOHL!

 

Wedded Bliss

Amazingly, I’m not bound and gagged on someone’s basement floor, but am, rather, alive and kicking in Berlin.

I’ve settled into my temporary home in Wedding, which I have until the 23rd of September. The old guy who owns it is currently in hospital so, most of the time, I have the place to myself. However, he does pop in every day (colostomy bag in tow) to give me helpful pointers on how to use various household objects in a more German way. For example, this is unacceptable behaviour in Germany:

NEIN!
NEIN!

After my previous lecture on how to hang up a dish towel correctly, I thought I’d just let things dry naturally from then¬†on and avoid the whole dish towel issue altogether. Now Hermann comes in every day (at unexpected times) and puts everything away where I can’t find¬†it¬†neatly. We’re a bit like an Irish-German ‘Odd Couple’ – after I’ve spent the whole of the previous day unintentionally deGermanising the place, he comes round and reGermanises it, tutting good-naturedly at my slovenly ways.

However, fun as this is, the prospect of being homeless in under two weeks is gnawing at me so I’ve lined up a couple of flat viewings for tomorrow. (One woman replied saying she wanted someone ‘god-fearing’ so I ruled that one out.) After chatting to some people, I’ve decided to just go for a room in an apartment for the first few months and look for my own place a bit further down the line.

I thought my luck was in last night. I’d been at an English language stand-up comedy night in J√Ą√Ą-√Ą√ĄR (Estonian for ‘iceberg’) and afterwards headed back to Offside on the off chance my new buddy might be there. He wasn’t but¬†I did meet¬†a red-headed German named Paddy, complete with leprechaun tattoo, who offered me his spare room. It seemed like fate but it turns out I’d have to buy a bed so that’s not going to fly. Moral of the story – don’t get excited over things that happen while drinking green shots that taste like Listerine.

There’s not much to report on the job front yet (but I do have an interview on Thursday) so instead, I thought I’d make a little list of things that I’m looking forward to in Germany.

1. More sausage than I can handle – and just good-quality meat in general. Take that as you will.

2014-09-13 18.51.41
Giant sausage

 

2. Order, rules, systems… it’s going to make¬†such a pleasant change.

3. Being surrounded by polite, considerate, helpful, cheerful people – and yes, I do mean the Germans. Except when they’re in Primark on a Saturday afternoon – then they’re just scary.

4. Sex in German – ja, ja, oh mein Gott, schneller, schneller, ja, ja, das ist ausgezeichnet… what a sexy language.

5. Learning German so that I can understand what’s going on during the sex.

And that pretty much brings us up to date!