Part 13: Whale-Fish!
No one game is more under stated than the gentle, relaxing game of Bowls (Boules, Petanque). Forever big in France, I see my old Frieburger (German) friends have all grown into - what I thought was - ostensibly an old man´s pastime, chucking heavy metal (a clue?) balls around in a sand pit or barren patch of dusty ground.
CLONK. CLONK.
At the Freiburg GANTER Pilsner-beer, ´bier garten´, it´s positively a religious ritual.
CLONK. CLONK.
Here, several years ago, these guys would have been paralytically drunk, chasing Hilda, or, hungover, sipping jugs of milk, reading Wittgenstein, at the nearby bar, the WALFISCH (Whale-Fish), which, presently open, lies empty, with ceiling and walls studded with bones, skulls and the like; on the juke-box, the band Motorhead, probably, blasting to the people vacuum.
CLONK. CLONK.
But here, in the GANTER bier garten´s relative tranquility, the fast fading light of a Summer´s eve, gnats dancing under the elms by the banks of the Dreisam river, the lads, playing away, chucking those ball-missiles around, raises my own safety concern level...with every CLONK.
And yet, content with my beer and happy to be among old comrades, I surmise, people get old...or older, activities mellow, new wives, new - lesser intensive - lives. And having children, as some have, are always the great maturer, sometimes destroyer, especially of young provincial men´s lives and dreams.
...Thus I find (CLONK!) a tribe of friends whose raging youth, now ebbed, still clinging to the Pack, the Group. Some are rich, some, not so. Still the most intellectually provocative, are the financially challenged, who still talk well but need to collect our beer garden glasses for the return deposit at the distant garden bar... CLONK!!!
Still, it´s been a brilliant and idyllic German Breisgau Summer´s day, so I bid my ´adieu´s´ till we all meet later at the Heavy Metal bar of old, the Walfisch, and on departing the Bier Garten I - not quite unexpectedly - hear a loud CLONK, a loud piercing SCREAM and hue and cry.
An ambulance, with all it´s bells and whistles blaring, sirens past me before I even get 500 yards!
c. 2010. Freiburg I. Breisgau/ our man in europe/dave delacroix
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 12: I am a Zimmermann
Part 12 : I am a Zimmermann
It would be remiss of me, having left Germany via Freiburg I. Breisgau and then travelling up and over the width of Switzerland not to write something of note....
In Frieburg, due to my all black clothes and Stevie Ray V. leather floppy hat, the locals confuse me with a Zimmermann,
"Das dar... ist ein Zimmermann!"
"Make way! Hier komt... ein Zimmermann!"....
(No. Weŕe not talking about Bob Dylan....and if you´re an idiot, please google, under "Z")
....Which, honestly, from a point of social respect, I quite enjoy... As...sometimes with a loaded wallet, sometimes NOT! -courtesy of those swines at Capitol One (Whatś in YOUR wallet?), this trip-holiday is punctuated by hairs and scares with ye olde Cap One Credit card...though, up to this point, not ruinously.
Zimmermanner are, of course, respected travelling Artisans as indeed. am I, so I enjoy the courtesy and recognition given by the German "cogniscenti", the Deutsche Dudette and Dudesters!
Freiburg (Freetown), established in the 1300´s as a free trade city. Even back then, I guess, there was a Ross Perot (Ross who?), olde world buildings, cobbled streets, "trad" German (Bavarian) restaurants (Schnitzel-City!) checkered with Shish-Kebab kiosks and a ZOO of streets musicians, buskers and entertainers, even a troop of Russian soldiers - in full uniform in the Summer heat - doing the Ruskie Cossack fandango!
Pur-leeze!...
My mind wanders... I´m supposed to be teaming up in Paris in October with my American Music-film crew...
Can y´all bring me some SELSIN BLUE anti-scalp-itch Shampoo...
Some Habernero Chillis...for my "on the road" curries...
And...remember that extra SAMSONITE "wheelie" bag I brought...full of prophylactics?
Well, so far?... Itś been a BUST!
2010, Sept. our man in europe/dave delacroix
It would be remiss of me, having left Germany via Freiburg I. Breisgau and then travelling up and over the width of Switzerland not to write something of note....
In Frieburg, due to my all black clothes and Stevie Ray V. leather floppy hat, the locals confuse me with a Zimmermann,
"Das dar... ist ein Zimmermann!"
"Make way! Hier komt... ein Zimmermann!"....
(No. Weŕe not talking about Bob Dylan....and if you´re an idiot, please google, under "Z")
....Which, honestly, from a point of social respect, I quite enjoy... As...sometimes with a loaded wallet, sometimes NOT! -courtesy of those swines at Capitol One (Whatś in YOUR wallet?), this trip-holiday is punctuated by hairs and scares with ye olde Cap One Credit card...though, up to this point, not ruinously.
Zimmermanner are, of course, respected travelling Artisans as indeed. am I, so I enjoy the courtesy and recognition given by the German "cogniscenti", the Deutsche Dudette and Dudesters!
Freiburg (Freetown), established in the 1300´s as a free trade city. Even back then, I guess, there was a Ross Perot (Ross who?), olde world buildings, cobbled streets, "trad" German (Bavarian) restaurants (Schnitzel-City!) checkered with Shish-Kebab kiosks and a ZOO of streets musicians, buskers and entertainers, even a troop of Russian soldiers - in full uniform in the Summer heat - doing the Ruskie Cossack fandango!
Pur-leeze!...
My mind wanders... I´m supposed to be teaming up in Paris in October with my American Music-film crew...
Can y´all bring me some SELSIN BLUE anti-scalp-itch Shampoo...
Some Habernero Chillis...for my "on the road" curries...
And...remember that extra SAMSONITE "wheelie" bag I brought...full of prophylactics?
Well, so far?... Itś been a BUST!
2010, Sept. our man in europe/dave delacroix
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 11: The Valkyries
Part 11: The Valkyries
The tranquility of the late Summer´s dawning sun would give no warning. Children, innocent, gathering in the village school yard, quite oblivious. And the local Priest, administering some repairs to the venerable church, the Postman, half asleep, treading his small route, the Butcher, posting his daily specials of salamis and cold cuts, even the county Bus driver, lumbering, almost casually, squeezing his pre-analog (!) vehicle through pre-renaissance streets, whilst Artists hereabouts, not even close to awakening!... Yea! Nary a Soul was, indeed, wary of OUR arriving on our MOTO GUZZ1 1100 cc. with Panzer-like side-car, ascending into Italy from Swiss alpine heights, Nico, "der Kaiser biker", leather clad, goggles, helmet, and yours´ truly, similarly attired, though capped - in lieu of a spare lid - with WW1 German spike-army helmet, enthroned in the bikeś sidecar with bags, guitar, smoking a "rollie", clutching the black boom-box, Wagner-blasting: The Ride of the Valkyries!
Perhaps some outlying farmer, or some poor Shepherd boy, tending his flock with a cell phone, catching our progress, had telephoned ahead to give warning? -but no! Like lambs to the slaughter, we swooped down upon the ancient village of (name withheld due to film rights negotiations) and raising a ruckus, demanded the village´s lone cafe-bar to open and satiate our rabid thirst!
"Buonjorno, y´all! Campari and Soda. A Bloody Mary! Any nice girls ´round here?"
2010, sept. sent by Deutsche computer, near the town of...our man in europe: dave delacroix
The tranquility of the late Summer´s dawning sun would give no warning. Children, innocent, gathering in the village school yard, quite oblivious. And the local Priest, administering some repairs to the venerable church, the Postman, half asleep, treading his small route, the Butcher, posting his daily specials of salamis and cold cuts, even the county Bus driver, lumbering, almost casually, squeezing his pre-analog (!) vehicle through pre-renaissance streets, whilst Artists hereabouts, not even close to awakening!... Yea! Nary a Soul was, indeed, wary of OUR arriving on our MOTO GUZZ1 1100 cc. with Panzer-like side-car, ascending into Italy from Swiss alpine heights, Nico, "der Kaiser biker", leather clad, goggles, helmet, and yours´ truly, similarly attired, though capped - in lieu of a spare lid - with WW1 German spike-army helmet, enthroned in the bikeś sidecar with bags, guitar, smoking a "rollie", clutching the black boom-box, Wagner-blasting: The Ride of the Valkyries!
Perhaps some outlying farmer, or some poor Shepherd boy, tending his flock with a cell phone, catching our progress, had telephoned ahead to give warning? -but no! Like lambs to the slaughter, we swooped down upon the ancient village of (name withheld due to film rights negotiations) and raising a ruckus, demanded the village´s lone cafe-bar to open and satiate our rabid thirst!
"Buonjorno, y´all! Campari and Soda. A Bloody Mary! Any nice girls ´round here?"
2010, sept. sent by Deutsche computer, near the town of...our man in europe: dave delacroix
OUR MAN in Europe: dave delacroix: part 10: "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Graf!"
Part 10: "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Graf!"
On tour - as it were - in Europe, life becomes a micro-cosm, adventures, beginnings and endings fly by, fast forward, hello-goodbyes, whilst the "good" goodbyes... always kill you the most. And saying "Auf wiedersehen" to my gracious host (the Count) Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen - who will drive me to the train station - makes goulash out of my blood, leaving me sizzling with emotion.
The Schloss, too, O venerable hospice! The bells, the bells! And the birds and the bees and all of the "Tannus" nature (bugs and all!) wild and free: Elysium!... For these are the (holy) days for which every vacationer pines, far from the hurly-burly of modern tourism.
It´s time to leave has I have gigs to the South in Freiburg I. Breisgau, by the Black Forest (Scwharzen-wald) and thence to Italy.
After several farewells to the folks of Usingen and friends of the "Schloss", the Count and I hit the road then stop atop a nearby hillock for a reflective view, the car is loaded with my gear plus a crate of Bitburger.
Drinking and enjoying a late afternoon cigarette, a church bells tomes from the distance and the sun´s embers coal-fire frame this land of golden crops. A short distance away a farmer drives a tractor, almost monotonously, pulling along some vehicle laden with hay.
In the short time I´ve been here...I´ve feasted, played concerts, formal and informal, have sat around camp fires by day and late into the night, swapping ideas and speaking of all things with the local "cogniscenti", and yet;
"Old man Reilly was right, Dave." says the Count. "We Artists come and go. We make Music, we speak Poetry, we philosophize!... "Aber", it´s a different light we shine on these...these Edens."
He pauses...his dark eyes, either tearful or glistening with a quiet terror. Then, sighing, "...But only the farmers have won."
I would wish for the film-soundtrack of that great Western movie, "The Magnificent Seven" to kick in!
Extinguishing his half smoked cigarette, the Count, Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen, walks determinedly back to the car:
"We ride!"
2010, dave delacroix/ Merzingen/our man in europe
On tour - as it were - in Europe, life becomes a micro-cosm, adventures, beginnings and endings fly by, fast forward, hello-goodbyes, whilst the "good" goodbyes... always kill you the most. And saying "Auf wiedersehen" to my gracious host (the Count) Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen - who will drive me to the train station - makes goulash out of my blood, leaving me sizzling with emotion.
The Schloss, too, O venerable hospice! The bells, the bells! And the birds and the bees and all of the "Tannus" nature (bugs and all!) wild and free: Elysium!... For these are the (holy) days for which every vacationer pines, far from the hurly-burly of modern tourism.
It´s time to leave has I have gigs to the South in Freiburg I. Breisgau, by the Black Forest (Scwharzen-wald) and thence to Italy.
After several farewells to the folks of Usingen and friends of the "Schloss", the Count and I hit the road then stop atop a nearby hillock for a reflective view, the car is loaded with my gear plus a crate of Bitburger.
Drinking and enjoying a late afternoon cigarette, a church bells tomes from the distance and the sun´s embers coal-fire frame this land of golden crops. A short distance away a farmer drives a tractor, almost monotonously, pulling along some vehicle laden with hay.
In the short time I´ve been here...I´ve feasted, played concerts, formal and informal, have sat around camp fires by day and late into the night, swapping ideas and speaking of all things with the local "cogniscenti", and yet;
"Old man Reilly was right, Dave." says the Count. "We Artists come and go. We make Music, we speak Poetry, we philosophize!... "Aber", it´s a different light we shine on these...these Edens."
He pauses...his dark eyes, either tearful or glistening with a quiet terror. Then, sighing, "...But only the farmers have won."
I would wish for the film-soundtrack of that great Western movie, "The Magnificent Seven" to kick in!
Extinguishing his half smoked cigarette, the Count, Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen, walks determinedly back to the car:
"We ride!"
2010, dave delacroix/ Merzingen/our man in europe
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 9: A Snake in June...
Part 9: A Snake in June...
From out of no-where, a great Summer storm blows in - from the Rockies, probably - forcing me to cancel an outdoor gig of music and bonfires/pagan exhibitionism in the Tannus forests; actually, quite near ROMAN Saalburg. (ref: euro-blog/part2: Saalburg, when it Sizzles!)
See? We Barbarians are still in evidence!
With nothing else planned and a let up in the rain, the Count (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) and I decide to attend the Usingen "bottle-grill-nacht", a commercialized County Fair; beer stalls, Wurst (hot dog) stands, trinket sales and what-not, and a stage that features a really bad Bayeriche (Bavarian) electronic-music trio, who, on their final - interminally long - last set, depart from the German and crow out: "Usingen, Say YEAH! Usingen, Say YEAH!" -a portion of the fair-goers responding.
Both the Count and I are physically sick; the Count, unpopularly so - representing the local nobility - conscripted into serving the Hot Dogs!
...Moving along.
Later, we run into an old Black Pearl bar habituee, name of "Reilly", and join him in Apfelwein and end of County Fair reflections, sitting on bales of straw, strewn around the fairground site for just this purpose.
He (Reilly) is an old Soul, an ex world traveller, now retired; Usingen, his place of birth.
He had - on my arrival - remembered me from a 2003 visit and we had always gotten along famously, our life stories, a shared book.
In his brackish (yes, brackish) English, he said: "Dave? What do you 'make' here? This is the farmer's land; their farms, their families, their crops, their cattle... I too love your music, but...here, I think is not for you; here, only the farmers win; only the farmers can...won?"
Needless to say, Reilly imparts this with all good reverence, toasting the Count and myself with the rich, local Apfelwein.
The following day finds the Summer storm still lumbering across the sky, making travel plans uninviting and the "Schloss", damp and cold.
There's an old Wood stove in my chambers so I give myself a refresher course in how to make a good fire; pop on some www.myspace.com/davedelacroix tunes on my laptop and "liberate" some Sec and a bottle of Gonfalone Chianti from the wine cellar.
Reilly is right, of course. But... to quote Jack Nicholson's JAKE GITES' "Chinatown" character: "When you're right, you're right. YOU"RE RIGHT! -and You're Right!.... Now, quit messing with the Venetian Blinds! -I just had 'em installed!"
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
From out of no-where, a great Summer storm blows in - from the Rockies, probably - forcing me to cancel an outdoor gig of music and bonfires/pagan exhibitionism in the Tannus forests; actually, quite near ROMAN Saalburg. (ref: euro-blog/part2: Saalburg, when it Sizzles!)
See? We Barbarians are still in evidence!
With nothing else planned and a let up in the rain, the Count (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) and I decide to attend the Usingen "bottle-grill-nacht", a commercialized County Fair; beer stalls, Wurst (hot dog) stands, trinket sales and what-not, and a stage that features a really bad Bayeriche (Bavarian) electronic-music trio, who, on their final - interminally long - last set, depart from the German and crow out: "Usingen, Say YEAH! Usingen, Say YEAH!" -a portion of the fair-goers responding.
Both the Count and I are physically sick; the Count, unpopularly so - representing the local nobility - conscripted into serving the Hot Dogs!
...Moving along.
Later, we run into an old Black Pearl bar habituee, name of "Reilly", and join him in Apfelwein and end of County Fair reflections, sitting on bales of straw, strewn around the fairground site for just this purpose.
He (Reilly) is an old Soul, an ex world traveller, now retired; Usingen, his place of birth.
He had - on my arrival - remembered me from a 2003 visit and we had always gotten along famously, our life stories, a shared book.
In his brackish (yes, brackish) English, he said: "Dave? What do you 'make' here? This is the farmer's land; their farms, their families, their crops, their cattle... I too love your music, but...here, I think is not for you; here, only the farmers win; only the farmers can...won?"
Needless to say, Reilly imparts this with all good reverence, toasting the Count and myself with the rich, local Apfelwein.
The following day finds the Summer storm still lumbering across the sky, making travel plans uninviting and the "Schloss", damp and cold.
There's an old Wood stove in my chambers so I give myself a refresher course in how to make a good fire; pop on some www.myspace.com/davedelacroix tunes on my laptop and "liberate" some Sec and a bottle of Gonfalone Chianti from the wine cellar.
Reilly is right, of course. But... to quote Jack Nicholson's JAKE GITES' "Chinatown" character: "When you're right, you're right. YOU"RE RIGHT! -and You're Right!.... Now, quit messing with the Venetian Blinds! -I just had 'em installed!"
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Monday, August 16, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 8: "Riders on the Storm".
Part 8: "Riders on the Storm."
Never put me in the front seat of a Taxi. Always...in the back.
It's late, having performed a Gig at Usingens Casablanca Music Palace; bar closing time, on the cusp of dawn.
"Gute nacht, Achim!!" (the Casa's charming owner)
Our Taxi driver for this evening; a farmer's wife-country girl:
"Where you go?"
...And I look at "mein chauffer", Roxanne (?); OK, Helmut! And with a wink to the lads and lasses crammed into the back seat, say: "Ich lieber dicht!"
The "great white" (big fella/girl) considers this for a moment, and without actually blinking an eye, says:
"Merzhausen!"
(Peels of laughter!)
Of course, "then"... I really AM in love.
(O Bitburgers! O Bitburgers!)
It's been something of a hectic past day and night. The Count's (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) girlfriend, Udith, I've conscripted to be my "Agent de Livre" for a token 20% of all future earnings from Music & writings, which, on reflection, causes me some concern...as I already owe 20% to my Editors; Miss J. de Lorca (in the USA), Miss J. Manley (Australia), my Accountessa: a whopping 50% (also in the USA), investors, Patrons, etc., leaving me wondering just HOW I'm gonna pay the bills!...
OOPS! -yup. Tourist info;
"sur la route".
-Fricken Castle, on your left.
Camel Ranch (in Germany!), THERE! -right there!
Fachtwerkhausen, all over the place.
-ZOOM!
Roxanne/Helmuts zips us by!
Using-Merz, on the cusp of dawn.
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Never put me in the front seat of a Taxi. Always...in the back.
It's late, having performed a Gig at Usingens Casablanca Music Palace; bar closing time, on the cusp of dawn.
"Gute nacht, Achim!!" (the Casa's charming owner)
Our Taxi driver for this evening; a farmer's wife-country girl:
"Where you go?"
...And I look at "mein chauffer", Roxanne (?); OK, Helmut! And with a wink to the lads and lasses crammed into the back seat, say: "Ich lieber dicht!"
The "great white" (big fella/girl) considers this for a moment, and without actually blinking an eye, says:
"Merzhausen!"
(Peels of laughter!)
Of course, "then"... I really AM in love.
(O Bitburgers! O Bitburgers!)
It's been something of a hectic past day and night. The Count's (Herr Graf Alex von Ludwigshafen) girlfriend, Udith, I've conscripted to be my "Agent de Livre" for a token 20% of all future earnings from Music & writings, which, on reflection, causes me some concern...as I already owe 20% to my Editors; Miss J. de Lorca (in the USA), Miss J. Manley (Australia), my Accountessa: a whopping 50% (also in the USA), investors, Patrons, etc., leaving me wondering just HOW I'm gonna pay the bills!...
OOPS! -yup. Tourist info;
"sur la route".
-Fricken Castle, on your left.
Camel Ranch (in Germany!), THERE! -right there!
Fachtwerkhausen, all over the place.
-ZOOM!
Roxanne/Helmuts zips us by!
Using-Merz, on the cusp of dawn.
c 2010. dave delacroix/our man in europe
Friday, August 13, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 7: "Mein Blauer Himmel"
Part 7: "Mein Blauer Himmel"
The Gypsy Kings are blasting out their "Arabesque" via the jukebox, including "Bambolay-oh!", which - I surmise - hungover or not, would even inspire a Dominican Mother Superior to attempt the Lambada.
I'm holding the fort/ship in Usingen's Black Pearl bar - meticulously abiding by the "Code" - with leggy blonde barkeep, Gaby.
Just we two, mouthing every Spannish musical syllable and word, equally oblivious as to their content.
...Funny kind of day... Finally figured out how my new credit card works; finally figured out the Laptop's net-surf stick, the inter-net signal/lack of one.
In the community I wave to the odd soul...at the local market/beer store. They wave back; this I could get used to...amidst the "Tannus" Summer charm.
Initially, these parts were an alien world and on arriving, clad in black leather jacket and Stevie-Ray leather hat, promenading and viewing these "Fachwerkhausen" hamlets and Usingen Stadt itself, I must have appeared somewhat like Steve Martin's Todd Wilkinson character: the New York hood, relocated to no-where's Ville in the Witness Protection programme; the movie: MY BLUE HEAVEN....he, looking like a fish out of water.
"Hi, Mr Wilkinson!" hail the kids, cycling by his surburban tract housing home.
"Hi, Kids!" -he replies, standing - zoot suited - in the garden, posing with his lawn mower; DOH-ish, exhuding upper New Jersey confusion.
-As here (in Usingen):
(Me) "Guten tag!"
The locals: (in Deutsch) "Git the frick outta here!"
Ja-ja. It takes a while. Soon, the locals find out who you are, who you actually know here (the Count), then the invites gusher forth; swimming parties by local lakes, bonfire parties deep in the forest, BBQ's. Suddenly you're a flash in the pan-EDWARD SCISSORHANDS and EVERYONE wants a piece of you for their Social showcase.
Whilst the party lasts you WILL have fun, you MAY fall in love/and are bewitched.
So? SNIP-SNIP! ...."I'm WIV ju!.... NO! I DON'T mean, 'I'm WITH you', I mean: I AM WIV JU!"
...I make a note to pinch myself sometime soon, but meantime, savor these Salad days and all it's incumbent spiritual ephemera.
Valentin, Ivan, Horst, Udith, Nadine, Marius, the Count (Alexi) of course, Mikail, MAIKE "und alles" say "Hi!" to Denver, USA....whilst one is reminded of the Monty Python comedy sketch: "Can we call you Bruce?" -because for the life of me, I've REALLY searched but I can't find ANYONE with names like Steve, Bill or Janice!
"Prossit!"
Aug (I think) 2010, Usingen
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
The Gypsy Kings are blasting out their "Arabesque" via the jukebox, including "Bambolay-oh!", which - I surmise - hungover or not, would even inspire a Dominican Mother Superior to attempt the Lambada.
I'm holding the fort/ship in Usingen's Black Pearl bar - meticulously abiding by the "Code" - with leggy blonde barkeep, Gaby.
Just we two, mouthing every Spannish musical syllable and word, equally oblivious as to their content.
...Funny kind of day... Finally figured out how my new credit card works; finally figured out the Laptop's net-surf stick, the inter-net signal/lack of one.
In the community I wave to the odd soul...at the local market/beer store. They wave back; this I could get used to...amidst the "Tannus" Summer charm.
Initially, these parts were an alien world and on arriving, clad in black leather jacket and Stevie-Ray leather hat, promenading and viewing these "Fachwerkhausen" hamlets and Usingen Stadt itself, I must have appeared somewhat like Steve Martin's Todd Wilkinson character: the New York hood, relocated to no-where's Ville in the Witness Protection programme; the movie: MY BLUE HEAVEN....he, looking like a fish out of water.
"Hi, Mr Wilkinson!" hail the kids, cycling by his surburban tract housing home.
"Hi, Kids!" -he replies, standing - zoot suited - in the garden, posing with his lawn mower; DOH-ish, exhuding upper New Jersey confusion.
-As here (in Usingen):
(Me) "Guten tag!"
The locals: (in Deutsch) "Git the frick outta here!"
Ja-ja. It takes a while. Soon, the locals find out who you are, who you actually know here (the Count), then the invites gusher forth; swimming parties by local lakes, bonfire parties deep in the forest, BBQ's. Suddenly you're a flash in the pan-EDWARD SCISSORHANDS and EVERYONE wants a piece of you for their Social showcase.
Whilst the party lasts you WILL have fun, you MAY fall in love/and are bewitched.
So? SNIP-SNIP! ...."I'm WIV ju!.... NO! I DON'T mean, 'I'm WITH you', I mean: I AM WIV JU!"
...I make a note to pinch myself sometime soon, but meantime, savor these Salad days and all it's incumbent spiritual ephemera.
Valentin, Ivan, Horst, Udith, Nadine, Marius, the Count (Alexi) of course, Mikail, MAIKE "und alles" say "Hi!" to Denver, USA....whilst one is reminded of the Monty Python comedy sketch: "Can we call you Bruce?" -because for the life of me, I've REALLY searched but I can't find ANYONE with names like Steve, Bill or Janice!
"Prossit!"
Aug (I think) 2010, Usingen
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
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