Chapter VI

In which Josh enjoys a surfeit of raw fish, follows an evening playing with fire with an utterly wet celebration, has an outing to Koblenz and experiences a cinematic taste of home.

Firstly, I should like to apologise for the inordinate delay since last I wrote. This is primarily due to the fact that I have, of late, had little access to the internet, having been a-travelling. Such apologetic sentiments thus expressed, here follows the somewhat belated entry:

The first noteworthy thing to happen since I last left off was a meal at a local sushi restaurant, to which I was invited by Sam, her German “buddy”, Olivia, and her friend. It was actually a jolly nice affair, the restaurant much akin to Yo, Sushi!, but *all you can eat*. Naturally, I gorged, particularly when it came to the jelly cubes at the end. It was great to meet new Germans, and Sam informs me that I immediately endeared myself to Olivia by pointing out how much a particular dish looked like boobs. Think snowballs with a dollop of red jam on top. Sam, Olivia and I sat on one side of the bar having a good old chin-wag, whilst Izzy (who also accompanied us) sat opposite with the friend of Olivia’s. This friend went by the name of Roman, which tickled me endlessly, calling to mind as it did some sort of moustachioed porn-star. As Izzy had never tried sushi before, the pair spent the evening alternately daring each other to eat ever more unusual things, resulting in some priceless grimaces of Izzy’s, as she endeavoured to prove her “ladyballs”.

Once we had finished, in serious danger of falling into food-comas, we staggered out onto the street. Here we loitered for a further forty five minutes, discussing our respective languages’ rude words. Izzy dazzled with an impressive miming of “bollocks”, to my ever-helpful contribution of “Eier! Eier!” Olivia was particularly taken by “minge” and “face like a smacked arse” (once we’d made clear that I wasn’t saying “smack tahss”) and departed with Roman, assuring us that she would be lying in bed tonight thinking about “meench” (i. e. minge). Obviously, that comment made my evening (oooh, matron!), and we that were left adjourned to New Mintons. I really am a creature of habit and have a major fondness for the establishment.

Following a not inconsiderable length time convincing Pippa that the Germans do not, in fact, celebrate Bonfire Night, we English folk became most melancholy. In order that we mightn’t miss out, we therefore resolved to have our own little ersatz celebration. Given the limited likelihood of our getting away with the construction of a bonfire, complete with burning Guy and a backdrop of fireworks, we settled for prancing about with sparklers: 80 for €1.98. Very reasonable. In deference to British custom, this was followed by much wine and revelry. Sadly, toffee apples didn’t feature as planned, as I forgot to pick up apples and didn’t foresee toffee oranges ending well for us.

The Thursday of that week was one of the Erasmus students’ birthday, so I deigned to make an appearance. However, the clubs were all full and the event was, for me, a bit of a damp squib. I shall therefore breeze over the event here.

Much more enjoyable was our Saturday, utilised for an outing to Koblenz. Even though the weather was drab to say the least, we had a jolly good time and took the cable-car over the Rhein (which we didn’t get round to doing when I went with the family Booth). It afforded us a really fantastic view of Koblenz and the local landscape, and gondolas are always fun. This is particularly true when you get a bubble to yourself and can vocally slag off the people passing in the opposite direction. To crown it all (having also done the shopping), we had lunch at Nordsee and got fish & chips! It was even served in a little faux-newspaper cone, and although there was no vinegar and the fish was more like four small fish-cakes, I found the repast eminently satisfactory.

Loathe to call an end to the day there, we went to the cinema to brave German-dubbed Skyfall. We got a voucher for slushies (whatever the German equivalent of the fanta freezy-thing we have at home is) and the cups were AWESOME! They were about a metre long, with a twisted body and a straw. “Oh, hallo new pre-lash receptacle!” You were even trusted to fill them up yourself, so, being British, we filled them, drank them and filled them again to get our money’s worth. The film itself was actually brilliant, with lots of sexy bits and fisticuffs. A further plus was all the scenes in London; I’m not going to lie, tears of nostalgia sprung to my eyes as they drove through a scabby lower high-street. The dubbing, which had been my most enduring reservation ahead of seeing the film, unsure as I was whether I could cope with a German Dame Judi, was, as it turned out, excellent. They really seemed to have made an effort to cast voices which fit the faces; seldom the case with dubbing, I have observed. Two particularly fantastic bits in my view: James: “What makes you think you’re my first man?”, and Kincaid, after shooting some villains: “Welcome to Scotland!” Needless to say, the audience missed the joke and the row of Brits pissed themselves.

This weekend was spent frantically packing and readying myself for a little trip over to England (I miss me my peeps!). Oh, and also cheating the washing machines into letting me do my washing without paying. The journey over to England was horrific. Well, so saying that, it was actually very straight-forward and went off without a hitch. The problem was essentially the fact that it started at half two in the morning. I am writing this as I approach Oxford on the coach, you see. The sleep-deprivation and lack of food seems to have affected me, as I have (utterly inexplicably) got Peter Rabbit’s Got a Fly upon his Nose stuck in my head.