Chapter XI

In which Josh celebrates Weiberfastnacht and is orally examined.

Since the last blog entry, the social scene was somewhat slowed down and tamed by the impending exams, so free-time was spent largely going to town (where I spent the money normally earmarked for alcohol on clothes and a new laptop case), coffeeing with the Germans or helping the girls out with their revision. This I did by organising translation practice seshes and Gender Studies evenings, where feminist or queer-themed cinema was watched and discussed. This newfound level of organisation and productivity, so unusual for me, stemmed primarily from my using up of February’s internet allowance in the first two weeks. This was largely due to me rediscovering the Oxford VPN and celebrating my new proxy server with an iPlayer binge… So productive had I become that I went and did work in the library! However, it shows how infrequently I have heretofore used the facility that I managed to bugger my shin against a recalcitrant turnstile in the foyer because, over here, they put the way in on the right-hand side.

 Due to our varying levels of hermitry, we decided on the first weekend to go to the cinema and watch the new Tarantino film, Django: Unchained, which had only recently been released in Germany. The others were shocked to hear that I had never seen a Tarrantino film before, but I actually found it to be very good, particularly the soundtrack. It was, however, slightly unnerving that Christoph Waltz did his own dubbing for the German sync, as he said all of the American place names in a thick, John Wayne style accent (presumably how he speaks in the original), which was confusingly at odds with his otherwise completely normal German.

After the film, the others were tired and decided to go home, but Sammy and I felt ourselves to be in desperate need of a drink, and headed to the Lange Theke. I’d not actually been for a good few weeks; the last time I was there I was still seeing Stefan. Lydia came over for a good old gossip, for which she has an hilarious penchant. She’s such a sweetie, and had even printed us off a photo each from the Karneval outing and written a little message on the back, which I found really touching and thoughtful.

Rita was also working that evening and joined us for a chat. At one point I recounted an anecdote which began with me being drunk, only to be interrupted with “Josh!? You? Drunk?” Slightly awkward when the barmaid thinks you’re an alcoholic… She even started joking on that she was like my doctor, and I had barmaid-customer confidentiality: “If you’ve been here drinking, and people come asking after you, I tell them: ‘No, he doesn’t drink; he’s not been here.’” We were going to go and see Trier’s Prinz Ralf there on Tuesday, as they were planning a little knees-up for him, but in the end it started snowing heavily again, and the House of Common’s debate on the Equal Marriage Bill was going on, so I decided to stay in and follow that instead.

I’ve also been spending a lot of time with Heiko, and although he’s not too into Fasching, he invited me round to his for a pre-drinks on Weiberdonnerstag, and a couple of the English girls ended up tagging along. Earlier that week he had told me that he wasn’t to bothered about dressing up, and when he asked me I just returned a rather non-committal noise, to which he rejoined: “Oh, shut up! You love dressing up! I’ve seen your photos!” He evidently gets me even better than I had thought…

Perhaps foolishly, I assumed that the above exchange sufficed as confirmation of my intent to dress up. Heiko, as it turned out, was not expecting this and sweetly started fretting because he didn’t have anything to wear. We eventually convinced him that it didn’t matter and silly sunglasses would do. The town had been closed off around the train-station earlier that day, and Heiko told us that it was because of a bomb scare; at least this time it wasn’t because of my bag… We had a really nice time at Heiko’s, and he got to know the girls a bit, which was nice, and we moved on to the Lange Theke after that. The staff were thrilled to see us (they recognised Heiko too, from the times I’ve brought him there of an evening), even getting out, at our request, the infamous Cow and Clown, with which we had rather a lot of fun, as we quaffed Viez and did round after round of Saurer Apfel shots, before the cow was taken on a triumphant progress round the pub. The jukebox was only to be used for Karneval hits, which sent us right back to the bus a few weeks before, although Heiko managed to break it, disregarding this instruction. I tormented him over that for a while, naturally. 

There was a really lovely, party atmosphere, with the toilet brushes strung across the ceiling being a particularly fine touch, in my opinion. We even met the policeman (from Lommersum) again, and I had a photo taken with Lydia, followed by a big group one, which really seemed to make her day. She showed me all the photos from January which she’d stuck up, saying she’d give me a couple more when she took them down. I also had a photo with Rita, which Sammy also joined, but looks a bit like she’s photo-bombing, as Rita sorta ignored her (c.f. photo, below). Awkward… 

We eventually tore ourselves away from the Lange Theke, Viez and seemingly endless rounds of Saurer Apfel and headed to Villa Wuller, which is a house/techno club. It was jolly good fun, even though the DJ was a bit shit and was playing a really underwhelming set. I wanted to increase my buzz, so headed to the bar, knocked back a couple of Jäger shots and ordered a rum and coke. To give you a picture of the (abandoned-petrol-station-y)  vibe, upon ordering the rum and coke, I was given a bottle of coke, told to drink it down to the ratio I’d like, and was then to give it back and have it topped up with rum. Needless to say, we had a really great time partying there, with its dense crowd, swinging chandelier and exposed-brick walls. However, we eventually tired of it and departed in search of vittles. It was at this point that we realised that Jen was nowhere to be seen. Initially assuming she’d slunk off, it actually transpired that she was just absolutely blotto, stood swaying by the cloakroom. We decided that it was for the best to bundle her into a taxi. As it turned out, she was a bit short for the fare, so Pippa and I gave her an arbitrary collection of coins, which, thinking back, cannot have been enough, although she got home without incident, other than the taxi-driver’s insistence that she sit in the front.

Having safely discharged ourselves of Jen, we headed down to the Hauptmarkt in pursuit of the aforementioned noms. Somewhere between leaving Villa Wuller and getting Jen into a taxi, Heiko had swapped his jacket for Sammy’s penguin costume, and despite his earlier protestations of ambivalence towards dressing up, he was most certainly loving life in that outfit. It worked its inevitable magic and had soon turned the new wearer, like those before him, into a five year old. But credit where credit is due; he did make an adorable penguin.

After the obligatory drunken pizza-gorging (this time at Kebap Haus), we got talking to a motley cohort of Germans outside. Needless to say, the conversation was unusual, with the topic of rudely-shaped vegetables featuring heavily in my recollections. We spent a rather long time out in the cold, of which I was unaware due to my vodka jacket – or lashmina, if you will – and it turned out that all of us had wanted to leave for some time before our eventual departure, but had thought that everyone else was really into it. Heiko and I retired to his flat in town, parting ways with Pippa and Sammy. It was certainly a nice end to the night, but we didn’t end up rising until half-past two the following afternoon, meaning that I didn’t actually leave until around four, as the light was beginning to fade. This was largely thanks to Heiko’s sickeningly good hosting skills, not allowing me to leave without having breakfasted on porridge, fruit and coffee. In contrast, when he stays over at mine, he’s lucky if I have food in and he’s offered toast and black coffee. Bafflingly, he mocks me for considering buttered toast to be a perfectly acceptable – and normal – breakfast, not being convinced by toast with “nix drauf”, yet happily eating jam and cheese sandwiches… Staying over at Heiko’s did, however, provide me with the opportunity to indulge in a good old-fashioned black-tie walk of shame.

Once the revelry of Weiberfastnacht was over, the following week saw the advent of – dum dum dum dummm – exams. I only had three exams, which I mainly took so as not to feel left out, as they count for nothing for me. Translation was incredibly straight-forward (as expected). Otherwise, I had my Gender Studies oral exam on the Wednesday, which was rather painless; I simply got my Judith Butler on (thank you, Deb Cam) and rabbitted on about Maria Stuarda (an Early-Modern German tragedy). Professorin Dr Geyer was suitably impressed and gave me a 1,3. In way of a brief clarification, German marks range from 1-6, with 4 and above being a pass. Each numerical bracket is then further differentiated into, for instance, 1,0; 1,3; 1,7. The lower the number, the better the mark, so my 1,3 was the 2^nd highest possible mark (and the highest awarded amongst the ten or so people taking the exam, including a native German-speaker). My Die deutsche Sprache in Raum u. Zeit (affectionately nicknamed Althoch)  exam was also a delight. The lecturer, who is a total babe - so passionate about her subject, and best of all called Claudine - appears to have taken a shine to me, by which I am very flattered (and relieved), particularly given the fact that I had been worried that she had lumped me, as a British student, into a bracket with English Tim, who also takes the lecture and seems unable to go a single week without making a tit of himself. I am mortified on his behalf every time. Anyway, given my choice of topics of discussion, Professorin Dr. Moulin commented that I appeared to be a fan of Phonetics & Phonology.  Back home it is in fact - as I informed her - my jam; this pleased her and we had a really enjoyable chat about the vocalic and consonantal features of Althochdeutsch (“Old High German”). She even stopped halfway through to have a discussion “off the record” about later developments relating to Neuhochdeutsch, which was not on the course, which I found flattering. The exam ended with me being given a 1,0 and having a little chat about holiday plans.