Saturday, December 17, 2011

Fun Times in Germany: Part 2

Hola, my lovely blog readers! 

Oh! Can I tell you a kinda funny story? 
You have no choice in the matter. Skip ahead if you must. 
Ok, so one time (don't you dare say " band camp...") I said "hola" to my friend. I say "hola" all the freaking time by the way and then he, of course, replied with: ¿Cómo estás?
Me: Just because I say "hola" doesn't mean I want to speak in Spanish. 
Him: [Gives me that familiar weird look]

Just something that randomly popped into my head. 

Ok, I have some excellent news for you, but before I embark on this next little European episode of my life I just want to tell you I'm not jetlagged anymore... at least I don't think I am. I wasn't tired at 13:00 today, so that is a good sign and I do not currently have a splitting headache. 

Christmas Market in Germany:
That's not me. That mouse is too ugly. 

Yes, so, I will actually go into detail about this Christmas market I went to on my first day in Germany this time because I sucked at it last night and basically almost collapsed onto my keys, which, you know, luckily I didn't otherwise my post would have looked something like this: "iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiflmeeeeckkk/ncvhu87yyyyggh" 
And yes, if you are wondering if I actually tried this out, meaning if I actually collapsed onto my keyboard (with my head that is) to see what it would look like... yep, I did. 

So, I loaded up in the car with Uta to go to this Christmas market thing. I can't say if I was tired or not. I really don't remember. I would imagine so since I'd been traveling for most of that day, but I seriously don't remember. 
Wait! I don't think I was. 
Um... nevermind... I don't remember. (Like I said earlier. Gosh!)
Lena came with us. Lena almost always goes with Uta in the car
Demented sheep photo I thought I'd add for your entertainment. 
(Remember Lena? She is Uta's dog. Oh! Hold on a minute here. This is going to be a much longer parenthetical sidenote than you originally thought it was going to be. Lena generally goes with Uta, not only because Uta loves her to death, but because Lena likes to jump on Uta's bed when she is out of the house. Now you are probably wondering why she doesn't just shut her dang door to stop Lena from coming into the house. This is a great question. Well, here's the thing... Uta has this hole in her wall that leads to the living room. Right now there is this cloth over it, but eventually it will have some sort of savvy swinging doors attached to it. And here is the other thing. Uta told me that Lena "loves to roll in sheep shit," so obviously her lying in Uta's bed can't make things smell good. That is why Lena comes with Uta. I bet that the whole rolling in sheep shit was all part of her diabolical plan to forever ride in the car with Uta.)
Hahaha... This even looks like Lena and Anton! :)

Other than the smell of the sheep-shit doggy in the back the ride to the Christmas market was quite enjoyable. It was dark and absolutely freezing. Uta's car's temperature said 0 degrees Celsius. Um... that is too cold for me. I like the warmth. Actually, it's really my back who likes the warmth better. Sometimes when it gets really cold I can feel each and everyone of my screws drilled into my spine (like that description? if I made you cringe I've done my job. wahahaha... yes I am evil... my friends tell me this on a daily basis.).
This is what I would look like if I was a cat. 
The roads were sort of narrow and it was pitch black--oh yes, I did mention it was dark before I mentioned it was cold. Good. 
The market wasn't all that far away. 
And what is interesting is that these Christmas markets are in residential areas. 
Well, we parked the car in some muddy area and then crossed the street. Holy moly it was FREEZING!!! My nose began to hurt and started dripping with snot because of how cold it was getting. But once we entered the market, entered the large mass of people, it started warming up and things were a bit more tolerable as far as the temperature was concerned. 
As I mentioned before Uta and I met up with her boyfriend Klaus who only speaks German, so she had to translate for the both of us. She mostly spoke to him though and I was totally ok with that though because I was looking around and had a fun time people watching. This market was so cool. It was just all the locals gathered together with a bunch of booths with different foods and cool homemade gifts for Christmas. 
I remember it being especially crowded too. 
German Man. 

There was a lot of hearty laughs from large German men with thick hands cusped around plastic cups of hot wine and as I said yesterday the hot wine was a very popular treat. 
Uta got two cups.
The lines there were awful. I have to admit that they kind of sucked at organizing that line. I got pushed around a lot while waiting for Uta to get her cup refilled. 
Unlike coffee Hot Chocolate makes you smart...
Again, like I said last night, Klaus (super nice) bought me a large cup of hot chocolate. I love hot chocolate by the way. SO SUPERIOR TO COFFEE... just saying. 
He also got me a wurstel, which is basically a hot dog in other words, BUT a far superior hot dog than our pathetic American hot dogs (I'm really enjoying using the word "superior" tonight aren't I?). 
My mouth is watering just looking at this bad boy. 
Oh can I tell you a funny story please? It involves a hot dog. 
Well, my friend and her boyfriend are vegetarians and sometimes they get teased for this. Not so nice right? I know. Well, one time they were at this barbecue and they obviously got veggie burgers. Well, this dude sat down next to them, about to chow down on his hot dog, but before doing so he told her boyfriend: Guy vegetarians are gay. 
My friend: Really, because that phallic piece of meat you're about to shove into your mouth seems way more gay than him eating a veggie burger. 
Hahaha. I LOVE that story. My friend is awesome. :)

So back to what I was originally talking about... Klaus also got me this treat that Uta told me I HAD to have. Yes, once again, like I said last night, it is this thin pizza-like crispy crust with cream, a little bit of cheese (a strong tasting cheese I don't know the name to), some ham or maybe it was bacon (hmm... I don't remember this, my apologizes), and onions (dun, dun, dun... [like my ominous sound effects?]). 

Yes, now we're about to delve into an interesting little confession of mine and here it is: Sometimes I am too nice for my own good. 

Ok time for a story... 
Little Mandy. 
This is the short tale about a little eight-year-old girl name Mandy. 
Mandy was at her aunt's house one week and her aunt made some yummy mushroom soup. Yummy to other people that is, for Mandy loathed mushrooms. Loathed them almost as much as she loathed clowns. Mushrooms were devil food. Food to help you get other food out of your stomach. Food you'd stuff down your brother's throat as a form of torture. Food you'd... wait a minute it wasn't even food! Anyhow, like I said, she didn't like these wretched things called mushroom. 

But here was the thing... her aunt made this soup specifically for her. I mean, yes, her aunt would eat this too, but she MADE it for her niece. This was someone Mandy loved and she didn't want to hurt her aunt's feelings by saying: No! Don't you dare make me eat that. Mushrooms are disgusting! I can't have mushrooms!!! What the heck is wrong with you????
This is basically how I felt. 
Nope, instead little Mandy grit her teeth, smiled politely, and devoured that soup. She wanted to finish it off quickly so she could just be done with that wretched beast. Afterwards she downed her glass of orange juice in order to get ride of that nasty grey, mushroomy taste lingering and burning like acid in her mouth and at the back of her throat. As she was gulping down her glass of Florida's Natural her aunt picked up her bowl and said five of the world's most gut-wrenching words you could ever possibly imagine: I'll get you some more. 
Whiskey tango foxtrot?!?!?!?!?!?!
Because little Mandy sucked down that bowl of mushroom soup and smiled and even threw in a "yummy" in there her aunt, of course, thought she enjoyed the soup and would LOVE to have some more.
This was basically my reaction...
And boy did she ever fill that bowl up to its ridiculously tall rim. 
Mandy politely smiled at her aunt, peered down at that grey, clumpy mush of doom, gulped, and suddenly saw her life flash before her eyes. 

End of story time.

Back to the Christmas market onions of doom. 
Now Amanda... ok I'm going to stop talking in third person now... Now I was standing before this delicious looking treat, except for one thing. 
My worst nightmare. 

It was loaded with onions... and not just any old, stinky onions, like those cute tiny fingernail clippings that are lightly sprinkled on a meal... no, no, no... these were massive GERMAN sized onions that had "Death to Amanda" written all over them (I hope you imagined me yelling that sentence out in the deepest voice I could possibly muster). 
I stared at these onions, already knew how their yucky tasting, slimey, yet crunchy bodies would feel in my mouth. 
My stomach tightened.
Uta was waiting patiently for my first bite. 
She was my friend. Someone I cared about and Klaus had spent money on the treat. I HAD to eat it. 
Now here is an excellent question that may or may not be popping into your head at this very moment: Amanda, you idiot, why didn't you just pick the damn onions off?
Me: Umm, great question. Not sure. I was thinking that'd be rude and I was in a different country where I didn't exactly know the whole rules of etiquette.  

So, basically, other than those blasted onions the treat was good. 

Hahaha. Oh man... I want to tell you something else I found funny and worth mentioning in this post. (Side-note: By the way... it is so much easier and more fun to write when I am not ridiculously jetlagged!) So Uta is sort of obsessed with roasted chestnuts. 
Ok, well not "sort of" she is super duper alley-ooper obsessed with these babies. She bought a little, white, crinkled paper bag of them and demanded that I try one. 
You know me... I tried one. Expecting delciousness and... sad to say I wasn't all that impressed. I mean they weren't disgusting and devil food like onions or mushrooms, but I guess I just didn't really like the texture. They were warm, soft, and kind of mush-like. Uta thought I was crazy. She kept telling me that I must have had a bad one and made me eat like 5 more. I swear to you. She kept thinking I got a bad one. It cracked me up. But luckily they weren't that terrible, so I kept agreeing to try another one to see if my mind would change, but, um, it didn't, so sorry Uta. 

Oh yeah! I got to tell you another thing. 
So there was this... hmm, how do I describe this thing?
Well, it was kind of like a marry-go-round, except not and I know that this may make your brow furrow, but just go with me here for a second. Um, it was this circular thing that went round and round and it had a bunch of different little bikes on them that these little kids could peddle, but there was this main bike that was actually the source of the spinning. The main bike was peddled by this guy who might have been in his late twenties. Parents paid him like a euro (I'm guessing) for their kids to hop on this thing and spin around for like five minutes.
Told you. He's in there though...
I have a picture of this thing, but if you remember (maybe you don't and that's ok because it was a while ago that I mentioned this), my camera broke a bit and I've been using my iPhone to record my journeys, so my picture is just a chaotic mess of blurred swirling lights. 
Anyhow, what I really wanted to mention here was that I think this man peddling this contraption was a pedophile. Now he didn't touch the kids at all, but he would wink at them and smile at them in this really creepy way that made my pedophile siren go off. Now here's the thing... I never knew I had a pedophile siren in me. He must have awakened it ("awakened" sounds SO wrong, but I don't mean it to be and it's the only word I can think of right now). Now, I haven't met many pedophiles in my life--I mean, not that I know of--but this guy totally came across as one. 
There you have it. 
I just had to tell you about Mr. Creepy Peddling Man in His Late Twenties. 
Hmm... I type in "creepy bike man" into Google Images and this is what I get...?
People were sneezing and coughing a lot at this market and the thing is Klaus had cancer and is in remission and he couldn't be around people carelessly sneezing and coughing into the icy air without covering their dang mouths. Grrrrr! Huge pet peeve of mine! Also, when it is cold and I am just standing around, not really moving, my back starts aching. Aching is no fun. So we said our goodbyes and left for the car with the sheep-shit smelling puppy in the back. Lena. 
It was amazing how much colder it was leaving the crowds. 

Wow! I wrote a lot tonight and lucky for you... didn't constantly complain about being tired. Yay! Ok. Well, I will write about what happened the following day for you tomorrow. It involves Amanda (there I go talking in 3rd person again) wandering all by herself in the Black Forrest. 
Oh wait! I have one more thing to tell you. In the guest room where I was staying Uta had this picture of my mom that looks SO much like me it is crazy! 
Here is the room I stayed in. 
My bed. Ahem, my, uh... messy bed. 
My laptop on the coolest desk ever!
Ok that is it. 

97 days, 22 hours, and 15 more minutes!!!
Goodnight my friends. I am going to read some more Hunger Games tonight, but before I do that I need to polish up my book some more because this long, crazy hair of mine is getting rather ridiculous and desperately needs to be chopped off. 

Adios! :)

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