Photo by Camilla Bundgaard
War jokes aside, we went to Deutschland.
Seriously though I’ve delayed this post for a while because let’s be honest Germans can’t take a joke.
Also because nothing frustrates a German more than being late.
I’m kidding by the way. Germans might be the funniest people I’ve met. My German teacher for one. She was fantastic. I mean given, the only things I remember were watching Shrek with subtitles and learning how to say, “take your clothes off”, but still.
Being in Germany was like being in an episode of Geordie Shore except with a lot more old people and 99 luftballons playing on repeat. Das Geördie Shore.
Upon first arrival in Munich, we went on a bike tour because apparently that’s the only form of transport in Europe. I think the bike tour guides were probably #contiki rejects because they knew next to nothing about german history and as someone who has watched inglorious bastards at least 14 times and also has seen a weird foreign film about star-crossed lovers and the Berlin wall – I classify myself an expert of sorts.
We went and had a fantastic Italian meal because what else would you do in Munich. Ruby who seemed to be wearing her one nice playsuit for the 8th night in a row got absolutely smashed off the one watermelon cocktail I had recommended. You know you’re dealing with a serious white girl wasted when your friend runs into a crowded beer hall yelling “DANK SHINE” thinking she’s thanking the locals. Pure class Rubes.
We met a guy named Hans in the beer hall who looked like every german guy that plays the piano accordion at every excursion you ever went on to the Cuckoo with highschool.
Hans spoke fairly poor English although it was no where near as poor us drunk ruby’s german. He did seem to get very excited every time someone mentioned Australia as he would raise his beerstein and wink at us whilst saying “hey hey…sydney harbour bridge…ayyyeee”.
Ps. Jenny From the Block had two full steins kegs full of beer and seemed to hold up much better than ‘dank shine’ ruby.
Also I’d like to take this time to point out that despite him name dropping it as many times as he did Grace Kelly in Monaco, #contikinic has absolutely zero idea where the blackforest is actually located.
Then we rocked up in St. Goar, which is in the Rhine Valley. If you’re unfamiliar with the Rhine Valley it’s the one they always advertise those cruises for on the TV where its like 60+ year old couples sitting on their balconies looking at the same bloody puddle the picturesque river stunning river for twelve days. I think those are like the menopause version of contiki. Also if that’s not a thing yet then I’m claiming it. Hot Flush World Tours (tours for the over 60s who want to spend their children’s inheritance on looking at historic stuff).
Upon entering the first gift shop we saw we were offered home-made peach schnapps which smelled like childhood (not because my mother gave me alcohol as a child but because I had some pretty serious withdrawal problems when she told me they’d stopped stocking apricot nectar juice at IGA.)
#ContikiNic led us to the quote unquote ‘original Birkenstock factory’ where everyone decided they would emulate my incredibly fashion forward dress sense by purchasing the exact same pair I had worn every day from day one of our trip.
Suffice to say the ‘original Birkenstock factory’ was about 2 square metres and only had about ten pairs of birks, which is nothing. Moy could open a more legitimate birk shop within her wardrobe. As per usual, cheers for the hype #conitkinic
Sidebar: My legs are now affectionately known as the blackforest. And no I will not shave them until my boyfriend shaves his 70s porn star moustache.
Speaking of the blackforest I led the team on a wild goose chase that ended in some fairly yummy blackforest cake that was almost as good as the $29.99 one you can get at Costco.
3000 dodgy alcoholic beverages from the 70’s inspired motel bar later and we got to spend the night listening to the imaginary completely legitimate and biologically plausible imaginary romantic conquests of Lad-Ben.
Although it didn’t culminate in a perfectly choreographed staircase musical sequence ft. Julie Andrews, my time in Germany was remarkably more memorable than anticipated and I’d rather go back there than relive another highschool slapdance performance.
So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodbye,