I would like to share two things that have no relation to each other.

The first is that something I have long suspected was confirmed for me just last week at an Accenture group love in and dick pulling session.  It is official, I am the best of the best.  It was on a power point presentation for all to see so it is beyond refuting.  Where I sit amongst the other participants was not clear and to date I do not know if I am the best of the best of the best or if I am the worst of the best of the best.  I imagine I am probably the just ok of the best of the best.  Maybe if I wear the right suit, suck up to the right people and develop the right attitude I can become second best of the best of the best.  I don´t think I can ever become the best of the best of the best because of my self esteem issues.

The second thing is that the toilets in BP Sunbury were designed by a woman. I know this because only a woman would chose to fit out a men´s toilet without a urinal.  And it would be all part of a subtle plan to get back at all the men in her life that used to piss on the toilet floor.  Not having a urinal is no problem if you want to take a piss but if you are planning on dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool you had better have second thoughts, unless walking around with piss soaked strides features in your career advancement strategy.   If there is one thing that has made me want to improve my aim and the aim of every other bloke I work with, it has been using the crappers at BP Sunbury.

Microstuffed

With-in a week of buying my second laptop I had turned off Windows automatic updates.   Being deeply suspicious of Microsoft I opted to choose when and what I would update my operating system with.  So for the past 4 years this laptop has worked almost seamlessly, this included buggering around with it and installing a dual boot so that it could run either XP or Vista.  Even after doing this the laptop remained remarkably stable in either operating system and gave me years of pain free use.

Then I did a bit of consulting work for a small geothermal development company which required me to have a copy of MS Project loaded.  Their resident IT guru chided me for turning Windows Automatic updates off, citing that I needed many of the numerous error fix patches so he could load MS Project.  So I reactivated the update function and spent many happy hours catching up on all those important updates I had missed out on.  So now I can safely say that the days of trouble free computing are over.  My Laptop now repeatedly crashes and has become increasingly slower and slower with every log-in.  Finally culminating, the other night in becoming completely unusable.   The system was tied up running numerous scvhost.exe processes.  A quick search reveals that I am not alone in having this problem and that it was caused by “A problem with Windows automatic update”  Subsequent updates to fix the problem didn´t work.  I imagine that  MS is doing all it can now to remedy the situation and are probably offering suggestions like “Why not upgrade to Windows 7, it works fine.”

I have a friend that hates Apple and all its products (although he has never owned one) he thinks Windows rocks.  I think he is a wanker.

I might try loading Ubuntu.

Joining the club

I guess the time has come when I can join the ranks of my male friends that have already experienced this moment.  The moment when your wife or partner shows you a small black and white photo of something resembling a jelly bean surrounded by white noise ands says "I could see the heart beating."  That is the moment when your heart stops and all your worries and insecurities come rushing to front of your mind and momentarily you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.  Then from nowhere a feeling of joy starts to well from within, displacing all your concerns and replacing them with a single feeling of happiness.

Unser Hochzeittag (Anniversary)

It has been ages since I sat down and wrote my blog.  As mentioned previously I don't always write things chronologically.  As I write this there are at least 5 other entries pending release and when I say "entries" I am being very generous in my description, in most cases they are just a place holder or some bullets points to remind me what we have been up to.

Tonight, however, I intend to publish this entry and finish the others some time in the not too distant future.  The reason I have been so tardy in keeping up on top of things is that my free time has been drastically reduced.  I have a job, I am gainfully employed, ich habe Arbeit.  The jury is still deciding whether this is a good thing or not.  I shouldn't complain because on the whole I have a very good deal.  I attend German class in the morning and in the afternoon I work a half day for a Geothermal Power Company, what is more, my place of work is a 20 minute ride from school, a ride that takes me through the Englisch Garten and then down the banks of the Isar.  A more picturesque commute would be hard to imagine.  However it is a small company and they do things differently to what I am used to.  As some one very wise once said "I don't have a problem with going to work it is just the waiting to go home that bothers me."

Yesterday was our anniversary, we have been married for 2 years.  2 whole years have flown by since Annika and I were married in Grossbrembach in front of our family and friends.  We celebrated the day by going out for dinner.  There were no gifts exchanged other than a single red rose that I bought Annika on the way home from work. Our choice of restaurant was a place not too far from  here and was chosen because we had a voucher there for a three course meal including champagne. (I have to continually fight the urge to start nouns with a capital letter, learning German has corrupted me I fear) Annika has discovered a website which sells vouchers and they are usually of exceptional value.  Last nights' was a perfect example.

We rode our bikes there and we never left the cycle path.  I think we must have crossed two sets of lights on the whole journey.  The restaurant was in a new Hotel (you see I can't help myself) and was very chic but quiet.  We had three people serving us during the night and they did an excellent job.  The meal was exceptional and the champagne included was Moet.  The set menu was a tempura risotto, followed by a fillet with sweet potato grattin and ratatouille then a chocolate fondue (all captured here for posterity).  In all we had an exception meal with wonderful wine for less than €60.

Starnberger See

The Sunday after our epic ride to Augsburg and an indulgent meal with Berndt and Verena we decided to visit Starnberger See.  Starnberger See may, or may not be, the largest lake in Germany.  It is surrounded by expensive architecturally designed house with expensive cars parked out the front.  If you want to get away from it all and relax Starnberger See may not be the best place to go.  As it is on the S-Bahn it is very easy to get to from München and a very popular day outing.  We spent our time wandering around checking out the public access points.  Being in Europe access to the shore is limited, the majority being privately owned.

Proof that Budgie Smugglers are attractive

Augsburg - mein Arsch tut mir weh

Annika attempting to high 5 a total stranger

Feeling adventurous we decided to accept an invitation to join Melanie and her friend on a ride to Augsburg.  Augsburg is famous for not being München and is 65km away.  A daunting ride on a fixed wheel bicycle.  To celebrate our impending journey I decided to wear my clip-in shoes.  I haven't ridden with cleats for quite a while so it was with a little trepidation that we rolled down Belgrad Straße that morning.  We met Melanie and her friend Daniel at her place.  We did introductions, checked out each others ride then started our journey.  I think I might have made about 4 meters before I fell off, falling for the old "put your foot down on the same side of the bike that you intend to lean to not the other way round" trick.  Daniel watched my untangle myself from my bike and pick myself off the ground before enquiring as to whether I had actually ridden any sort of distance on a bicycle before.  I tried to put him at ease by confidently recounting my cycling exploits back in Australia.  He wasn't convinced.

I think he relaxed a little bit once we had reached the 40km mark and I had proved that I could easily keep pace with him on the flat even though I had only one gear.  The ride was really good.  We went from village to village, riding on quiet country roads, taking it in turns to ride along side each other and chat.  The weather was wonderful and I actually got sunburnt.  We arrived in Augsburg around 4pm after covering 73 km in less time than we had imagined.  We celebrated with a beer and a few photos.  Annika and I chose to catch the train home as we were running out of time and a little sore in the arse.  Daniel and Melanie opted to ride back to München.  Hard core.  We, of course, would have joined them but we had a dinner appointment to keep.


Dinner that night was with Berndt and Verena (our contracted friends) and our other neighbours, Daniel and Franzi.  A lovely night with lots of bbq meat, delicious salads and too much wine.  Annika introduced everyone to the Timtam straws.

Kramer and the Beer Factory

Cultural experience number 5 with the language class was a visit to the Spaten-Franzikaner-Löwenbräu Brewery in München.  The brewery has occupied the same site in down town München since 1854.  The place was just like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory only the Oompa Loompas were bigger and the chocolate fountain was, of course, a beer fountain.  The tour was spoken in Deutsch and luckily because of prior brewing knowledge I understood most of what was going on.  I came away with three poignant facts.  They produce an awful lot of beer, the average number of times a glass bottle is recycled is 21 and that the cost to deck out 6 normal wagon horses in traditional livery for Oktoberfest was over €700,000.

12 lucky and girls and boys were chosen to go upstairs to the senior management canteen to sample the product.  In Australia this would mean that you get a thimble full of their least expensive product.  In Germany it means you sit around a big table and a kind lady takes your order.  The beer is served in halves but this means half a litre and there are bretzels for as far as the eye can see.  The organiser of the event did a sterling job but let herself down at the last moment when she failed to account for some fundamental cultural differences.  Instead of saying we need to leave here at 6pm she said you can only order beer until 6pm then we must leave.  The difference is subtle but the consequences are far reaching.  For an Irishman, an Australian and 3 Koreans all we heard was you have 45 minutes to neck as much beer as possible.  The Koreans led the charge with the ambition of sampling all the beers produced in 500mL increments.  For myself and the Irishman we knew what we liked and stuck to it.  For me it was Dunkel Weißbier, for him it was a Helles. For the last round I whispered the magic words "Haben Sie Stark Bier" to the kind lady and verily there came 5 Stark Biers with their froth flowing, over their taste dark and malty and an alcohol content approaching that of a good Shiraz.

I rode home that afternoon.  It was peak hour and raining, the tail end of a thunderstorm.  There is nothing like riding a fixed wheel bicycle through a strange city at peak hour in the rain to heighten ones senses.  I had a moment, only a little moment, where I dropped the back wheel into the tram tracks but the force was with me and I managed to keep everything up right and travelling in the desired direction.  I also became geographically challenged for a little while but it didn't concern me because I knew that I was in München and if you know what city you are in then things can't be that bad.

The Miele Mystery

A little while ago the butter dish from our Miele fridge met it's premature demise.  There was a brief juggling act before it plummeted to certain death on the kitchen floor.  This was a shame for a couple of reasons.  The first being that it was a good butter dish. It met, and in some instances exceeded, the necessary requirements for being a butter dish.  It was big enough to fit a standard block of butter.  It had a see through lid so one could immediately ascertain how much butter was left.  It had a stable base so it would sit firmly on the table without rolling or sliding away and it was aesthetically pleasing.  Unfortunately it failed in one vital respect, that is the requirement for being able survive a one meter free fall on to a tiled floor.  The other reason it was a shame is because the butter dish actually belongs to Christoph and Tanja, the owners of our apartment and after they had successfully managed not to destroy their butter dish for some two years I thought it was a bit poor for us to do it in less than 2 months.

So Annika sent an email to Miele enquiring about a replacement butter dish.  An email was received stating her email had been forwarded on to the correct department and then nothing.  A few days later was Easter and we were in Salzburg.  As fate would have it, our hotel was just across the road from a Miele shop which, strangely enough, was open on Good Friday. Striking while the iron was hot, we went in a purchased a new butter dish.  When we returned to München we found a DHL tag on the door saying they had tried to deliver something.  We weren't expecting anything.  The next day I went to the post office to collect the package.  It was a butter dish shaped box with Miele printed on the side containing a free butter dish.  Strange.  We didn't order it, we had only inquired how to replace the broken one.

We now have two butter dishes and are hoping they will breed.

Salzburg

So we were at a loose end, as it were, for Easter.  Luckily the cost of a train ticket to Salzburg was inexpensive and the trains departed frequently.  We weren't set to a particular time table so there was no stress about leaving, we simply packed what we needed, jumped on our bikes and rode to the Hauptbahnhof.  The regional trains are set up for bikes, you just have to find a carriage with a bike symbol on the side and jump on board.  The bikes can be locked down stairs whilst you sit in comfort upstairs.

2 hours later we were in Salzburg.  Salzburg the birthplace of Mozart.  Historically significant because Austrias greatest composer was born there and of course because of the abundance of easily attainable salt, hence the name Salzberg.  Poetic licence had not been granted in the middle ages thus the names of places were not very imaginative.   Our hotel was just down the road from the Bahnhof and next to the river Salzach.  We unpacked and headed into town, choosing to leg it rather than take the Deadly Treadlies.  First impressions were good, it was warm and people were out by the river taking advantage of the late afternoon sun.  We wandered into the Altstatd and marvelled at the Schloß. Dinner was at The Waldmann, on the recommendation of a random stranger.  Annika has developed this charming habit of asking complete strangers where the best places to eat are.  Her selection of strangers is not totally random as I had previously alluded to.  She does in fact scrutinise each stranger with the aim of determining if they are a local or a tourist.  The locals are treated to a winning smile and a polite inquiry whilst the tourists are treated with the disdain that they so obviously deserve.

On the way home we chose to walk through Mirabellgarten and we were rewarded by a spectacular display of tulips. Spectacular is an understatement by the way.  I have a new appreciation of the Great Tulip Crash of The Dutch Golden Age in 1637.

Saturday morning had us wandering down the local café strip in search of Früstück.  We found it in a café that turned out to be vegetarian, the coffee was good though.  Next we decided to ride South down the river to Waldbad Anif.  Here we were treated by the sight of trout and tits. The trout were in the water and the tits were beside the water.  I never cease to be impressed by European women's love of the sun and for their propensity to sun bathe topless . It is easy to recognise a wealthy middle aged Austrian woman because she will have a face like a prune, tanned nut brown and breasts that she can tie a reef knot with or perhaps even a bow line.

From the tits and trout we made our way to Schloß Hellbrun.  Where we spent the afternoon lazily wheeling our bikes around the grounds. We climbed to the local vantage point to see the view and escape the tourists. From here we could look across the valley to Salzburg and not even know it was there, hidden as it were by the Schloß and its' berg.

The ride back was amazing.  We rode down a boulevard of large trees that led directly to Salzberg, dodging the pedestrians.  We decided to have an early dinner at the Stiegel Keller above the city on yet another recommendation gleaned by Annika from an unsuspecting local.   The Stiegel Keller is good and I am a bit reluctant to comment about it on such a public forum, afraid that I may contravene the laws of tourist attraction of which the Stiegel Keller is a prime example of Euler's first law.

If one applies Euler's first law of tourist transfer it is immediately apparent that a tourists interest in an attraction varies inversely with the amount of effort required to view that attraction.  Furthermore it can be seen that the relationship is exponentially decaying such that if you plotted the number of tourists (ordinate) against the level of effort required to view an attraction (abscissa) the number of tourists would reduce exponentially as the level of effort increased.  Further more when La Place's theorem of obesity and it's resulting gravitational attraction is applied the aforementioned relationship is further compounded, with each new tourist drawing yet further tourists to the attraction but only when said tourists are within the immediate vicinity of the point of interest and the level of effort required is minimal.  This phenomena can be observed time and time again in Europe with Salzburg being a prime example.

Me doing my Hugh Jackman impersonation, it's uncanny.

One can demonstrate La Place's theorem quite easily at almost any tourist local that is rich in attractions.  Simply stop and look up at some random piece of architecture.  Look at intently for a while and perhaps take a few photos.  Before too long you will be joined by others wondering what you have found.  The more astute will move on quickly but the majority will stay, too worried that they will miss out on some obscure, yet startlingly important piece of history, afraid that they will return home and their well travelled friends will say.  "Oh you were in Sienna.  You must have seen the Prophetic Brick of the Twelve Apostles set high into the wall in that little alleyway just down from the Piazza del Campo".  The very fact that people have stopped to wonder at the imaginary attraction will draw even more people to it.  Once critical mass has been achieved the system becomes self perpetuating and one can step away and observe the phenomenon.

The journey home was interrupted by possibly the best Apple Strudel I have ever had.

Sunday morning found us back on the café strip enjoying Frühstück.  Then it was a walk up to the Schloß for a little culture and history.  Once our collective cultural cups were full we decided to explore the hill directly across the river. It was a bit of an enigma because in a country where space was limited and a city where real estate was scarce the hill across from the Schloß was empty, with nothing but trees and the remnants of the old city wall.  Finding a route up the hill suitable for a fixie was difficult and in the end, when finally faced with a never ending set of steps, we chose to lock the bikes together and walk up.  At the top we were amazed to find a small Bier Garten in a converted fortification.  (we weren't really that amazed, I think we were more amazed to find only one)  Once again Euler's first law applied and the Bier Garten was quiet.

I had a little moment on the fixie on the way down.  I have a problem with riding over curbs at acute angles of approach.  It is an affliction I have borne since learning to ride and one that James can attest to. It is all about timing, or more specifically the lack there of. When you want to jump a curb on a bicycle it should be a matter of pulling the front wheel up just before you hit the curb then flicking the back wheel up an over. My problem is that I get lazy with second bit and this leads to problems if the approach angle is acute.  In this situation the back wheel may choose to track along the curb rather than up and over it which invariably results in bike going in different direction to that of your body.  I managed to address the problem of my bicycle beginning to disappear from beneath me by putting a foot down and kicking the bike up right.  This worked very well in that it managed to get the bike over the curb and back underneath me but didn't work that well in avoiding a large ivy covered wall.

After my near miss with death we headed back into the Altstadt to visit Mozarts birth place.  It is now a museum full of interesting things from the period Mozart was alive, some of which actually belonged to Mozart. Dinner was once again at the Stiegel Keller followed by Strudel at the café strip.

Monday was our last day and we decided to try the Früstück in the hotel.  We wanted to walk along the old city walls in the park so rode to start and then walked up past the monastery. Our wanderings eventually took us back to the small beer garten where we stopped for a refreshing beer.  We had one more task before we caught the train home and that was to blow more than the cost of a meal on some cheese and sausage in the Altstadt Markt.  The Truffle Camembert was worth it

Our stuff has arrived

After 3 months our stuff has finally arrived.  Everything has made the journey intact and we are quite happy with how smoothly it all went.  Looking through the stuff that we packed I have to question our sanity in the last days before we left.

The whole experience went quiet smoothly with the truck driver providing updates of where he was and when he was likely to arrive.  He turned up on time and the only hiccup was when he managed to park the truck with the steering lock engaged and the front wheels of the truck hard up against the curb.  This doesn't sound like much but it had far reaching consequences.  Occasionally when you park a car with wheels turned the steering lock engages in such a way that you cannot turn the ignition.  In such instances one usually jiggles the steering wheel until the lock releases allowing one to turn the ignition fully and start the car.  In this particular instance the truck wheels were up against the curb so the steering wheel could not be jiggled, the truck could not be started and the hydraulic tail gate could not be lowered.  Big problem.  Solved by me, the truck driver, his mate and any hapless passer by having to push the 10 tonne truck backwards until the steering wheel could jiggled.

So we now have some more of our belongings with us.  Most importantly for me the stereo and TV are here.  The neighbours are blissfully ignorant to the perils that await them but soon they will feel the sub and hear the obnoxious sounds of TISM and The Bloodhound Gang.

Das Messer

One of the things that has been has been vexing me since arriving in Germany is my lack of access to good knives.  My hopes were raised in the first apartment that we stayed in because the kitchen draw was full of large purposeful looking knives.  They came crashing down when I found out that every single knife had an edge on it that would have difficulty cutting through butter.  For me there is nothing more frustrating than trying to cut food with a blunt knife.  Some people love blunt knives, arguing that there is less chance of cutting yourself with a blunt knife.  I think these people are demented.

Next came a very dark period in our German adventure.  The "Fortnight of Frustration".  We moved into our new apartment, unfortunately our belongings had not arrived yet so we had retrieved Annikas' knives from her days living in Ulm.  These knives, whilst once of holders of fine edges, were now no better than those used to spread patê.  The evenings meal preparations were invariably punctuated by profanities and curses as I vented my frustration on the inability of these knives to perform the function they were conceived to do.

Providence smiled upon me and the Gods of all things right and pure decreed that the REWE supermarket chain would hold a promotion where the just could collect stamps for every 5€ spent and ultimately buy a knife at a price affordable to those no longer working in the Oil and Gas Industry.  A knife forged by one of Germany's finest knife artisans no less.  Needless to say the stamps were collected and a 20cm Chef's knife was brought with great ceremony into our kitchen.  Barely had the knife been unpacked before I inadvertently attempted to cut off a finger but so sharp and pure was it that the wound healed before my very eyes.  Upon reading the instructions I found that this blade was not too dissimilar from the famous Kurki of the Gurhkas which cannot, once drawn, be sheathed without drawing human blood.  It is but a small price to pay for having a sharp knife.

In search of the ultimate cup of coffee

One of the crappier streets in Schwabing

Saturday was ein schöner Tag.  There was a rumour going around München that a café existed that served good coffee.  It was whispered in the quiet streets, furtively passed from stranger to stranger, that there existed a single venue known only to those that craved coffee.  Coffee that wasn't made from a machine programmed to make something resembling coffee.  Coffee that was made by a skilled practitioner of barrista arts using only the freshest of beans supplemented by milk squeezed from a cow and not boiled at ultra high temperature until all resemblance of milk is lost.  On this particular Saturday Annika and I went in search of the legendary Caffe Fausto.

We found it after a brief search on the internet.

Finding it in the real world was on little bit harder and involved a bit of a ride.  Caffe Fausto ist ein sehr kleines Café.  It literally only has two small tables and it is really a coffee retailer that happens to make the occasional coffee rather than a café.  None the less the coffee was very good.  The best I have had in Germany.

That night we had Berndt and Verena over dinner.  Berndt and Verena are friends of Christoph and Tanja, the owners of our apartment, and they are part of the lease agreement.  Not only do we get their apartment but we get their friends as well.  A good deal I think.

Hands free on the Fixie in the Englisch Garten

Sunday had us breakfasting with Melanie at Cafe Schwabing.  The day was so nice that the three of us decided to go for a short ride.  We headed North through the Englisch Garten with no real objective or destination in mind.  We finally left the park and headed up the West bank of the Isar until we found a bridge where we crossed and started heading back.  We stopped at a small lake and spent about an hour sitting on the grass in the sun, dangling our feet in the water and watching coots trying to make lots of little coots.  We left thinking that a cold beer would be just the thing to round off the afternoon.  We had barely ridden 200 meters before spying a small Bier Garten nestled in the trees.  Providence had smiled upon us

Do you want a Han? No thanks I'll go Solo. (Carlos Spicey Wiener)

I am listening to my music collection at the moment and the song Labour of Love by Frente came on, this song is unique in that it has a recorder solo in it and it brought to mind one of my fondest memories from my uni days.   At the time I was "sort of sharing" (I was romantically involved with one of his house mates [not Chris]) a house with Paul "the finger" Dalton.  Paul really liked this band, consequently he had dug out his old recorder from school and taught himself to play the solo.  I remember being in awe of him as he forced us to listen to Labour of Love whilst joining in on the solo.

Another moment worthy of note and a testimony to the sheer creative brilliance of the man was when Paul found his old skate board helmet and discovered that if one wore it back to front one could see out of the two holes conveniently located in the back of the helmet.  This mere fact, coupled with a bit of imagination, would render the wearer of the said helmet with an uncanny resemblance to the main character in the cult classic Robocop.  This resemblance could be further reinforced by donning a wetsuit and walking around the lounge room with a mechanical gait.  The final nail in the coffin, the coup de grâce as it were, was when one paused their portable CD player at the start of the staccato drum solo in New Orders' Blue Monday.  With the aforementioned in place it was simply a matter of walking with a mechanical gait into a lounge room of unsuspecting house mates, turning dramatically, pointing the portable CD player at the dumbfounded house mates and saying those timeless words "Dead or alive.  Either way you are coming with me." then releasing the pause button.

This performance would render the viewer speechless, as if transporting them into the movie itself.  If it had been recorded and uploaded to Youtube it would have made top 10.  That is a fact not an opinion.

Der Wein ist schlecht

Some advise to all my friends and family.  If any one ever offers you a glass of Van De Kaap (selected vineyards) 2010 Shiraz from South Africa you should punch them in the face immediately.  If you can retrieve the bottle and smash if over their head all the better.  Unless they are a naive but well meaning friend then one must gently, but firmly, remove the bottle from their possession and empty the contents down the nearest lavatory all the while explaining to them that your friendship is perilously close to being dissolved.  If they are a close friend they will understand.

The good and the bad

I have a confession to make .  Whilst these entries appear chronologically I don't always write them chronologically.  In a lot of instances I start an entry and post it some days/weeks after the event.  I do this for many reasons but the main one is to annoy the few readers that I have.  However today this is being written in real time as it were.  I am in fact sitting on the balcony in the sun wearing nothing but an old pair of reg grundies, my laptop is on my lap and a fresh beer by my side.  Annika is asleep on the day bed, tuckered out after a long ride down the river Isar.  There isn't a cloud in the sky and spring has rushed into the year.  It seems that last week everything was stark a leafless and now there is green everywhere and birdsong is the order of the day.

Some wild boar piglets that we saw later in the day

The bad.  For a little while the fixie has not been feeling right.  There has been some play in the drive train and because all my tools are still on their way to München I have not been able to investigate any further.  I finally bit the bullet and bought some spanners so I could pull the back wheel off and check the bottom bracket.  Sure enough there was some play, no bearing rumbling just a bit of movement. 10 minutes work to fix if I had the tools.  I didn't so I went to visit the bike shop across the road.  Despite having the best bike workshop I have ever seen they didn't repair bikes that they hadn't sold.  The next one gave me the same spiel.  By this stage I am getting really pissed off.  I take it to a bike mechanic and tell him that the cup on the bottom bracket needs tightening.  He has a look and tells me he doesn't think it is the cup, takes the bike and tells me I can collect it in 3 days at 1pm.  At the nominated time I go to collect the bike and he tells me, low and behold, he has tightened the cup on the bottom bracket and also mentions that the self extracting caps that I have on my cranks are not good.  I don't really understand what he is talking about but soon discover he has cross threaded the caps on both sides of the cranks rendering them useless.  For f**k sake.  I can tolerate incompetence in someone with no experience but when a bike mechanic cross threads not just one cap, but both of them, you have to wonder.


The good.  As I previously mentioned spring is here and today we decided to go on a cycling adventure.  Christoph and Tanya have kindly left us a load of books, including many cycling tour guides.  We opted for the tour down the Isar.  München is simply brilliant when the sun is shining, there is no other way to describe it.  The down side is that all the Müncheners agree and as soon as the sun is out so are they.  Our ride involved negotiating our way through thousands of pedestrians and cyclists.  Whilst one can say that the Germans are good drivers the same can not be said of their prowess on the simple bicycle.  If you own a road bike and want to stretch your legs for a bit then wait for the coldest, wettest, most miserable day before venturing out.

I am pleased to say that I upset at least two people during our cycle adventure.  The first was an elderly, well dressed lady cycling through the Englisch Garten.  She had some sort of problem with her shoe/trouser/cerebral cortex which meant that she did the balancing act of devoting 50% of her attention to riding her bike without hitting any of the thousand other pedestrians and cyclists and 50% of her attention to fixing the problem with her shoe/trouser/cerebral cortex.  I assessed the randomness of her route and decided to pass on the right leaving me the option of going bush if things got out of hand.  At the same moment Annika rings her bell causing the old duck to focus on the more important matter at hand, which was riding her bicycle.  She dutifully moves to the right only to get a little fright as the black fixie rushes past.  I copped a mouthfull for that one.

The next one wasn't quite so exciting but was so typically German that it made me laugh.  We were much further down the track and the crowds had thinned out.  The town planners had rather thoughtfully provided both a cycle path and pedestrian path.  I liked the light and thought it would make a good photo so stopped to take a picture.  I thought the better photo would be from further back from the way we had come so decided to turn around and ride back.  There were some cyclists coming in both directions so I decided to turn and ride down the pedestrian path which only had an elderly couple on it.  I copped a mouthful from the bloke for riding on his path.  His wife told him to pull his neck in.  I just laughed to myself.

Perth has the beach München has the Isar.  As soon as the sun is out half the population makes their way to the Isar to sun bathe, BBQ and socialise.  A few even brave the water, which can best be described as spanner cold, meaning that it really tightens your nuts.  That is a metaphor that only half the population can relate to.

The move

It is the end of March and our lease has expired on our short stay apartment so over the last couple of days I have been moving our meagre belongings up stairs to our new and much nicer apartment.  For a while I had been feeling guilty thinking that I had brought more clothes with me than Annika.  I had travelled with the larger suitcase as well as a suit bag.  Today after having moved all of Annika's clothing upstairs I have vanquished all the afore mentioned feelings of guilt and can once again stand proud.

In Germany an employee is entitled to a days paid leave, over and above one's holiday entitlement, for moving house.  So Annika took Friday off so we could move and clean the old apartment.  It was all done by midday and successfully handed back to the owners.  As our belongings from Australia have been delayed we have found that we are short some of the basics, such as plates, cutlery, bed linen, towels and pillows.  So we decided to head back to Annika's parents place to collect some of our wedding presents and beg some additional stuff from them.  It was Karina's birthday and the family met in Jena to have dinner.  Dinner was standard Deutsch but of exceptional quality and it was really pleasant to have a typical meal that was really well prepared.  After dinner we went to the Planetarium to watch a rock presentation IMAX style.  Jena is home to the oldest Planetarium in the world.  Unfortunately the long day over came me and I slept through some of it, including most of Phil Collins, which was a blessing in disguise really.  Knowing how much I dislike listening to Phil Collins my lovely wife thought it would be amusing to wake me up for a song she knew I really hated.  Luckily for me the soporific effects of Phil Collins quickly had me back in the land of nod.

Saturday had us getting up late then and sorting through the belongings we wanted to take back to München as well as a quick trip to Sömmerda to buy a set of spanners and some new sunnies for Annika.  That afternoon Tobias's parents came over for coffee and cake and we were joined by Annika's grandparents.  Oma and Opa gave me a belated birthday present.  A much appreciated bottle of 12 year old Single Speyside Malt.  It is ironic that the best scotches I have ever drunk have always been in Germany with Annika's Grandfather.  Later in the afternoon we went for a drive in Tobias's hire car.  He had requested a medium sized car but they had up graded him to an Audi A6 which he thought was too big.  There was a 3 series cabriolet in the lot so he asked if he could take that.  Why not was the answer?  So Tobias and Karina got a 3 series cabriolet for the weekend and of course we all got the chance to feel the wind in our hair and the sun on our face.
Looking at the photos you can see that there is a fundamental difference between men and women.  I would have framed the whole car in shot.


Saturday night found us playing board games with Annika's mum & dad and drinking too much.

On Sunday we heard the sound of a motor bike and looked out the window to see Annika's Uncle Ziggy starting up his old BMW R1000LT to go for a ride.  He has been unwell recently and it was good to see him up and about, especially good to see him getting out on the bike. 

The train hit 230 km/h on the way home.

Pia hat uns besucht

Weisswurst Früstück

Pia came and stayed for the weekend.  What a wonderful thing for her to do.  She had to fly to London to work in the London office and decided to finish her trip with us in München.  We were very excited to see her as she was our first international visitor.  She arrived Friday night and we caught the train out to the airport to meet her, having first prepared her room and made sure the fridge was well stocked with Chardonnay.

To welcome her to München we decided to treat her to a Weisswurst Früstück.  This is the quintessential Munich breakfast and consists of Weisswurst, Bretzeln all washed down with a big glass of Weissbier.  A great way to start the day.  We then decided to go for a walk.  The weather was fantastic for the days leading up to Pia's arrival and shit house for the time she was here, so instead of seeing München under clear blue skies she saw it under grey clouds with rain. None the less we did manage to enjoy a brief moment of sunshine in the Englisch Garten over some beers.  I was keen to show Pia München's primo break but unfortunately the surf wasn't up that day and she had make do with her imagination and my vivid descriptions of monster standing waves with wicked tubes.

Next stop was the Altstadt where we wandered around taking in the sights and sampling Kustenbraten in the Victualin Markt followed by coffee and cake in Dalmyr.  Dalmyr is like the Boatshed back home only more upmarket.  By the time the cake was settling we were all ready for home.  We had a brief respite from eating before heading out for an early dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner from where we live.  The highlight of the meal was when our waiter, who had been surly to us all evening, emptied a whole bowl of mussels down the back of one of the diners pants.  We left the restaurant and caught the U-Bahn to Olympia Platz.  We had tickets to see Jamiraquoi and they were playing at the Olypiahalle.  We soon joined the throng of people making their way inside.  Once settled in our seats I went and bought a round of biers. That's right, this is Germany the country where you can get arrested for NOT drinking at public venues.   The cover band were playing original 80s music, if that makes sense.  They were called Penguin Prison and they sounded like a mix of Thompson Twins, Spandau Ballet and, dare I say it, Madonna.  Keep an eye out for them, they could be destined for mediocrity.

The Germans really dig their concerts.  When Jamiroquai started playing almost every one stood up and danced.  Grooving in front of their seats.  Which leads me to the next observation.

Picture a man, mid forties, a belly, slightly balding, wearing bifocals complete with string around his neck, his keys conveniently yet securely clipped to his faded denims via a quick release key holder.  He is alone in the crowd and he is, with out doubt, the biggest Jamiroquai fan in the universe.  On the outside he may look like an advertisement for contraception but when that funky rhythm starts to play he has no other choice but to stand up and shake his thing.  There is no stopping the unstoppable funk machine, except the need to occasionally disappear to the bar to refuel his dance engine.  And he is in the seat next to mine.  My view of the concert was interspersed with a flailing arm punching the air and the occasional shower of sweat.  It was only after the concert had finished did Annika reveal that there were spare seats next to her and that I could have given the funk machine the room he obviously craved.

The next morning had us breaking our fast at Cafe Schwabing.  [Breakfast is an interesting word.  It is more commonly a noun however it can be a verb and I believe it maybe the only trennbare verb in the English language (please correct me if I am wrong).  The German language has loads of trennbare verbs.  They were introduced in WW I to confuse the English.]  After a seemingly brief pause we went over to Melanie's flat for coffee and cake.  The Germans love their coffee and cake. Before too long we were making our farewells and heading out into the cold wet day to go to the Augustine Bier Haus for a typical Bayerisch Sunday meal.  The Augustine is a great venue.  The Hofbräuhaus maybe more famous in München but it is jam packed with Japanese and American tourists being fleeced while they mistakenly believe they are experiencing a traditional Bayerisch Pub.  The Augustine on the other hand is jam packed with Bayerns sitting at long wooden tables drinking fine bier and eating dead animals by the bucket load.  There was even an ompah band a few lederhosen to be seen.

That pretty much sums up Pia's gastronomic whirlwind tour of München.  It was really lovely to see her and I enjoyed hearing a familiar accent for a while.

Abendessen in dem Park

It was such as nice afternoon that we decided to take a bottle of wine, some cheese and sausage into the park and enjoy the last of the afternoon's sunshine.  I think we may have started a trend.  I could read the faces of the various people that we passed on the way to our bench.  We received many approving smiles and I feel that most were thinking that it was a truely good idea and wondering why they had not thought of it themselves.  A glorious afternoon sitting in the sun enjoying a glass of a fine Californian Zinfandel

Schloss Kufstein mit Freunden

The town of Kufstein viewed from the Schloss

Soledad is my class mate and she is from Argentina.  Her boyfriend, Christoph is Deutsch and they live just around the corner.  Today they invited us to come with them on a short trip to Schloss Kufstein.  They have a car.  Having friends with their own car is a good thing.  I had forgotten just how much freedom the common old auto-mobile can give a person.  München is a great city but sometimes it is really nice to head further a field.

Sole and Christoph picked us up at the leisurely time of 11am and we headed into the Alps.  Christoph took us the scenic route out of München, hampered by weekend traffic and some major road works.  However it wasn't too long before we were screaming down the E45 heading to Austria.  The E45 is road I have travelled many times now as it leads to Austria and Italy.

The day was schön.  Schön is the third most important word in the German vocabulary, coming third to genau and gerne.  I don't know what any of them mean but you can hold a whole conversation with any German national with just these three words.  If a random German stranger engages you in conversation and you want to annoy them just nod and say genau at any opportunity.  When they finally finish look them in the eye, shrug and say "Ich spreche kein Deutsch" and walk away.

In the grounds researching the history

Any way we found das Schloss in the centre of town right where it was meant to be.  It was an interesting old building with the usual defensive measures.  I was struck by how long the entrance way was.  Until recently there was only one way into the castle and this was by a long covered path that zig zagged up the cliffs.  Every 10m there was a spot where heavy timbers could be dropped into slots carved into the walls thus forming an impromptu wall. The other thing of note was the well had a winch that was operated by a running wheel.  Just like the ones used by hamsters looking to shed those unwanted kilos only much bigger. Big enough for a couple of blokes to stand in and operate.

Es regnet

It has rained today for the first time since we moved here.  In fact it has rained the whole day with what can only be described as English rain.  That steady persistent, just a bit stronger than drizzle, type rain.  At least the sunset was nice.

The view from the western side of our apartment

I went to the doctor again today because I was woken up last night with gout.  It has been over 4 weeks now since it started.  The first two weeks were pretty bad but then it started to come good and I could walk without too much pain.  However the joint still remained swollen and slightly painful to touch.  Last night it flared up again and today I was forced back in to limping around like a cripple.

I saw a different Doctor this time and she didn't mess around.  She took some blood gave me an injection in the arse and prescribed some strong anti inflammatory drugs.  The whole process was quite entertaining because her English was not so good and my Deutsch was woeful.  I am not fussed by the sight of blood as long as it is not my own and ever since I had an episode with a person that couldn't quite get the needle into my vein no matter how many times she tried,  I now prefer to be horizontal when my blood is being extracted.  The conversation that accompanied that particular instance went along the lines of.  "Whoops missed it. I'll try again.  Nope not that time either.  Hang on I think I've got it.  Oh no!"  "What?" I enquired.  "The vein has collapsed"  At this point my consciousness said "Bugger this for a game of soldiers" and stepped outside for a breather.  I came to with this particular angel of mercy slapping my face trying to bring me round.

The tour de München

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück liebe mich

Zum Geburtstag viel Glück

The right place at the right time, although the sign ruins it

Cultural experience Nº4 with my German class was a walking tour through München.  Sounds good but there is a problem.  The guide only speaks Deutsch.  It is a testimony to the effectiveness of the language school that Soledad, class mate and new friend, and I could actually understand the gist of what was being said.  I have to admit that it took a lot of concentration and sometimes I would prefer just to look around rather than follow what was being said.  All in all the tour was good and I went to a few places that I had not yet seen.

The highlight of the day was the late lunch I had after the tour.  A few days earlier Annika had introduced me to Krustenbraten at a particular stand in the Victualien Markets.  Krustenbraten is a slice of pork, with some crackling in a bread roll.  So what! I hear the cry go out across Australia, Tis nothing but a roast pork roll.  To which I reply You poor misguided fools.  When it comes to roasting pork the Germans have got world beat, even the Chinese with their roast pork belly must bow their heads in collective shame.  Krustenbraten is a 1 to 1.5 cm slice of lean pork, seasoned to perfection, roasted till it falls apart at the slightest hint of mastication, topped with perfectly salted crackling, not too hard but with enough crunch to savour it's texture; all sandwiched in a crisp white Brotchen.  That is all I am going to say about Krustenbraten.

Cafe Schwabing

There is a café close to where we live that I particularly like.  It is in danger of becoming our Harvest Road substitute.  The food is good and the coffee is good by German standards.  We have been there for breakfast on a number of Sundays and I have had lunch there with my class mates a few times too.  This photo shows a typical breakfast.  Annika as the healthier option. I choose spiegeleir mit bratkartoffeln because it reminds me of the corned beef hash served at Blue Waters Cafe in Cott.  I wonder if I can convince them to put fresh sweet corn in it.

A favourite moment

Sometimes I lose track of why I write these entries.  They are meant to be a record of things that are important to Annika and I, not just things that may present well to another reader.

Tonight we went to yoga only to find that it was closed due to Fasching.  Annika was really disappointed as she had been looking forward to it, I was more pragmatic about it.  It was a lovely evening and we strolled up the street looking in windows (shop windows not the windows of peoples apartments).  On the spur of the moment we decided to have a drink in small Italian bar/restaurant.  I don't know why but it was the perfect thing to do.  We shared some red wine and then because we were enjoying it so much we ordered a plate of antipasto.  The restaurant was perfect, I have tried to find another word but this one fits too well.  We will go back for a meal one day.

Karneval Tuesday München

On returning to München I was surprised to find that the school had decided to finish classes early that day and hold a little Karneval party.  They generously provided the students and teachers with Prosecco and Berliners.  The plan then was to head into the centre of town for the street party.  To give you an idea of how easy bicycling in München is consider this.  The students left on mass to go to Marienplatz.  They took the U-Bahn and I rode my bike.  I was there 10 minutes before them and it cost nothing.  It took a bit of phone coordination to find each other but we got there in the end.

The usual suspects from my class quickly lost sight of the others and congregated around the first stand selling alcohol.  "Let's get some schnapps!"  Some said with much enthusiasm.  I always love playing this game.  "What? You mean like strong liquor.  I don't think I should."  "Go on it will be fun."  "Well just one then..." (Suckers)

 

Harry and I going all gangstar with Feigling.  Yo

 We wandered amongst the revellers enjoying the enthusiasm of the crowd.  Occasionally seeking refreshment and sustenance.  Eventually Harry insisted that we find somewhere that we could sit down and drink some beer.  Being the street wise Münchener  that I am I managed to lead every one to the only quiet bar in the centre of town that day.

The beer forest

Karneval Monday - The big Kahoona

The wooden spoon brigade

The daisy nipple float

Colour

More colour

A smile in the crowd

Distributing the lollies

The society of gynaecologists

The crazy Bumble Bee dancers

3 hours of continuously showering

3 hours of continuously being swung on the end of a davit

Monday was our last day in Köln/Bonn and had us heading into Bonn to watch the Rosenmontagsumzug.  Literal translation is Rose Monday Around Train and means the Rose Monday Parade.  The day was very laid back compared to our other Karneval adventures.  We packed our bags loaded them into the car and drove to a U Bahn station then caught the train into the centre of Bonn.  We arrived just at the start of the parade.  I climbed up onto a switch box next the U bahn entrance, this gave me a good vantage point to take endless photos.  The lighting wasn't ideal and I was shooting into the sun for most of the time.  However I took loads of photos, some of which are posted here.

We watched the parade for almost 3 hours.  This gives you some idea of how long the procession was.  For 3 hours we were passed continuously by floats, bands, dancers and clowns.  Conscious of the time we left before it finished and caught the train back to where the car was parked.  Birgit then dropped us the airport and before we new it we were touching down in München.