A short 3 hour train ride from Bremen got us to a little out of the way village named Amsterdam. After going ninja style for a free ride on the metro we arrived at our hostel. It came highly recommended as a cheap but accessible nice place which I would say was glossing over some need to know information. It wasn’t the worst place ever but it was fairly ghetto with an always present garlic smell except for the one bathroom. This bathroom was very special because it was the size of a broom closet and about half that space was taken by air fresheners. Needless to say we didn’t spend much time in the hostel…not that we ever do…soup.
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My Drink is Bremen
We got a little burned on Hamburg after a few days and felt like a smaller laid back town would suit us fine. So we picked bremen, a smaller place on the way to Amsterdam. Turns out, Bremen was not so small but it turned out to be legit. We were greeted by a large population of angsty gothic Germans with all sorts of hot topic-esque accessories who were most likely talking about the latest twilight flick. I should point out though that this was not why Bremen was legit. It was pretty amazing how similar the city felt to Boise. It was bigger, but it had a river running through it with a greenbelt and very similar trees. We walked along the river for a while and found a huge beerfest in session so we joined the fun. A couple beers later while watching the sun go down over an even larger river, we went and grabbed a kebab for dinner. The place we ate at had to of been the fanciest kebab shop I’ve ever been to. The guy made us sit while he meticulously put together a professionaly garnished plate. The kebab was the size of two large burritos and was only 4 euros so I was pretty sold on the town. Bremen was awesome for the cheap food, cheap beer, boise feel, and a small hostel run by a nice Greek lady that tried very hard to make us comfortable. In hindsight I wish we could’ve stayed in that town for a few more days.
Don’t Fear the Reeperbahn
We decided we would have to swallow our pride for a night and go hit the famous Hamburg Reeperbahn. It’s basically a strip with some side streets that felt like a mini las Vegas with a lot more clubs and less casinos. It was pretty packed and full of interesting people. We felt obligated to hit at least one huge euro club and went for the multi-story freiheit 46. One floor was fog machines and lasers everywhere which was pretty funny to watch. The basement was our reason for picking the club as it was the hard rock n roll area. It was quite a sight watching the Germans try and dance to system of a down… The subways run 24/7 which was pretty cool being able to get around quickly for free (cause I’m sneaky sneaky).
Now I’m on a train to bremen which just seemed like a cool place to go…so we shall see.
Also happy berfday to Christopher
Hamburglar Sausagefest 2010
We decided to go to Hamburg not so much because we had heard great things, but more because it was just on the way to other places and seemed cool. This was my first look at Germany and it was definitely legit. Kind of a weird feeling walking around the city and thinking what it was like only 60 or 70 years ago. But it was a nice change from scandyland. For starters, the prices of everything were much more like the US and things like beer were significantly cheaper. We bought six beers for around 2 euros (approx. $2.60). To celebrate being in Germany we decided to have a mucho grande sausagefest. We bought a bunch of schnitzel, saurkraut, spicy mustard, etc… and cooked it all up at our hostel.
Shortly after we finished eating a bunch of Scots came in, arms full of beer. They were more than happy to share it with us as long as we didn’t mind one of them kept using our mustard as toothpaste…? After a minute or so of observing them speak some foreign language, I realized they were actually speaking English. It took about all my concentration to speak with those guys and not start cracking up. Comprehension of what they were actually saying was entirely out of the question. They talked a lot and very loudly and I could mostly get by with the classic smile/nod combo. I ran into trouble though when they’d ask me a question which was good for an awkward moment or two. Oddly enough, with each beer I had, they became easier to understand. By the end of it I was getting pretty much all of it, except one guy who I’m pretty sure nobody understood. It’s pretty funny having someone speak your own language to you but with such a thick accent and localized slang that it sounds completely foreign. I just remember staring at them in disbelief for a while.
Also, carhartt is successfully marketed over here as a skate brand which I though was pretty hilarious.
Not Impressed
Neima was none too pleased with the ferry/train tom foolery.
Blinded by the Schnitzel
One second I am sitting on the train reading, the next, the conductor meister bursts through the door with a look on his face like he was choking on his adams Apple. He yelled something at us in German and I just looked at neima confused. He glared at me, chewed to the core of his Apple, and yelled “GET OFF ZEE TRAIN!” This was slightly troubling because we had stopped in what looked like a narrow tunnel and I was told we would not have to change trains. Then it got really strange when what looked like a semi truck squeezed up alongside us. The meister was in a fit of rage at this point and practically carried me off the train. I was ushered to an elevator and arrived up in a well polished nicely lit room of tables. Suddenly I realized our train had driven on to a ferry boat which totally blew my mind for a good thirty seconds…definitely the last thing I was expecting. The conductor meister is up on the poop deck spitting out seeds so I’m guessing he is in for a rough night.
Training
On el traino from Copenhagen to Hamburger…about a 5 hour ride but I keep getting kicked out of my seats by the conductor meister. He is a large angry German man who seems partial to only two things…David hasselhoff and his designer conductor edition man bag.
Beeeeeeeeeees
Had some time to kill waiting for my train to Hamburg so I ordered a beer at a nearby cafè. Within no time a bee started flying around and messing with my drink. Then the damn thing fell in my nearly full beer and just started flopping around for a while. I figured he was toast and poured him out in a plant. About five minutes later he miraculously climbed out and started doing some drunken bee dance on the table…I did the only thing that seemed right at the time and filmed it.
Also, apparently Ricky Martin gets his hair cut in Copenhagen.
¡Living the life crazy!
Ghost Partay
So last night Neima and I went out for a night ride on our bikes through the mean streets of Copenhagen. We started weaving through little side streets and stumbled upon one of the stranger things I’ve seen lately. It was a huge stage set up with tons of lights and speakers, similar to a good sized concert. On stage was one dj just playing music on bus mac. The weird part was they had all this set up and going in a huge square with booths, but only about four people were there. Those four people however were super down to dance. This went on for a while until suddenly guys with chains of fire emerged from nowhere and started swinging them around. They proceeded to light a bicycle on fire with a dummy on it, then for the grand finale, they lit a wire heart on fire with a question mark inside of it. Just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. Some random guy came out and thanked us very sincerely and they all disappeared. We went back to watch the dj bit most the four people had made themselves scarce. This went on for another 20 minutes or so and then they just shut it down and dispersed. It felt like they had planned a huge show but forgot to advertise or something. Then again, maybe these danes are such hipsters that in order to keep their music from getting popular they hold secret shows that not even they know the location to…oh no!
In other news, I’m really jonesin some Guac.
Ruh-Roh!
Oh man, my bike got rugged in…this is why you don’t park outside of a Persian rug shop while you enjoy your cafè.