Part 31: "Jules & Jim" (the Road to Georgie Gold)
Jules & Jim. Constantine & Dave. Ocassionally (rarely) in your travels you meet a real pal who you warm to more than most.
Constantine, from some "kleine stadt" (small town) in East Germany, fitted this bill; an Engineer by profession, music-art orientated, altruistic and an all round good bloke.
I crash at his pad for a coupl´a days.
I allude to the classic Truffaut movie, "Jules & Jim" because - of course - it involves a mutual fascination with an enchantress named Lenore who we BOTH meet, simultaneouly whilst I´m cracking out tunes on the Friday nights streets of Karlsruhr (which, incidentally, means Charles´ retreat or Rest).
They love my music, the 3 of us go for beers at Radio "X", a music bar, and have a fine old time... And so begins a few days, a´la a Roman Holiday, filled with mucho mirth and a few melodramas/mishaps which includes my losing my wallet/I.D./credit card...and breaking my old faithful guitar!
(Lenore´s MOM, the Lady Monika, provides me with a new 6 string!)
The beautiful Lenore of course, is an Artist (like Natasha, in Paris); raven-haired, mysterious, vivacious, adoreable, and whilst she conquors both mine and Constantine´s heart, it is implicitly clear that neither of us will win her love beyond the parameters of the warmest friendship... And in this unique instance we are - maybe just 3 lonely people - happy in the concorde of togetherness and freed of romantic/sexual tension?
...During one interlude when Constantine is/has to leave for a business commitment, Lenore & I do the town, Lenore, pounding the Pilsners, matching THIS old War Horse, beer for beer, ending up at an old abatoir/slaughter-house, now converted into a Punk rock bar called, the "Alte HACKerei" (the old butcher´s shop/factory). And I dont really know how it worked out for Edgar Allen Poe (Lenore/died, probably...) but MY Lenore took suddenly ill/got drunk and began "barfing" (vomiting) in fine style.
Firstly, on the bar´s table (fortunately the place was dark and we were seated in
a corner/loud Punk music going on), so I run to the toilet, grab paper towels, return to table, but the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" has also "chundered" (Australian for vomit) all over the floor!
Back to the toilet. Get more towels. Rush back to the table.
BARF!!!
Lenore is pumping her guts!
(go get some more towels)
...Meantime, the other "Alte HACK-erei" patrons, several in number, wearing on & off Punk reagalia (Brit Union Jack flag tee-shirts/studs, etc) and the female barkeep (bleach blonde/anaemic) and 2 waitresses...seem little disturbed by Lenore´s plight; the latter, probably happy that I am cleaning up the mess!
...(Also) Meantime, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is kissing Wood/face down on the table, dribbling bile on the beer mats and the carpet of towels that I have provided, looking pale as death...and I´M taking her (wrist) pulse, telling the gawkers that "she´s my ex-wife/just flown in from L.A./ jet lagged/time zoned out/funny water, etc"...but am still astounded that NO-ONE really gives a crap...unlike in Denver (USA) where we´d be busted, Eighty-Sixed! -She´s 21, I`m her dad`s age, ergo, I go to jail for whatever the (summoned) ambulence/cop people can jam me up with!
Anyhow; nothing. And eventually, I relax (sort´a-kind´a), but when not semi-comatose/dribbling vomit, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is STILL unctuous, electively bolemic, whatever? -Let the Games begin!
ME: "Lenore, Sweetie? CARROTS & PEAS!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
ME: "Spaghetti meatballs!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Chicken Vindaloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Waterloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: (lol) "BOOG-A-LOO!"
Lenore: "BARF-BARF!!!"
And so on, Lenore, like an "at your command" Squeezy Doll, she barfs on que...a date from Hell turns into a Comedic fiasco.
Constantine?... Well, buddy, ya should´a been there!
Cheers!.....:)
c 2010. Cafe "Le Journal", Karlsruhr/ Marnia bar tending/davedelacroix/our man in Europe.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: Part 30: Down to the Wire
Part 30: Down to the Wire
BLOG NOTE: The rest of this Blog/Book falls - loosely - under the sub-title: The ROAD to GEORGIE GOLD...and will probably NOT be sequential...
(OK)
...As William Shatner (Captain KIRK) sings...via a "fun-ster" T.V. commercial: "Does anyone REALLY know what Time it is?"
Think David Crosby: "Almost cut my hair."
I, too, have gotta say...I´m really missing YOU (dear ones)
Since I
Have been gone.
The best laid plans of Mice & Men... & seasons´ change, finding me with a busted guitar AND...a wallet (I.D., pixs of my kid/daughter, credit card.... and one very lonely condom) which I lost in a night´s revelry, naked in my (spiritual?) penury.
The Blackberry (phone), the Motorola (phone), the laptop, the "fashion" wardrobe, the huge "wheelie" bag, all gone by the wayside.
Physically 30llbs lighter, too, in a brutal winter season where body fat is actually an asset!
The Dave Delacroix "weight-loss" regimen: Go hungry. BE hungry.
Trust me. Even with "liquid bread" (beer) you lose the Pounds!... Hopefully, without losing your mind.
Yes. I´m down to the wire...in the Cafe Napoleon, Karlsruhr, Germany.
Wish I was in MEMPHIS!!!
c 2ß10 dave delacroix/our man in europe
BLOG NOTE: The rest of this Blog/Book falls - loosely - under the sub-title: The ROAD to GEORGIE GOLD...and will probably NOT be sequential...
(OK)
...As William Shatner (Captain KIRK) sings...via a "fun-ster" T.V. commercial: "Does anyone REALLY know what Time it is?"
Think David Crosby: "Almost cut my hair."
I, too, have gotta say...I´m really missing YOU (dear ones)
Since I
Have been gone.
The best laid plans of Mice & Men... & seasons´ change, finding me with a busted guitar AND...a wallet (I.D., pixs of my kid/daughter, credit card.... and one very lonely condom) which I lost in a night´s revelry, naked in my (spiritual?) penury.
The Blackberry (phone), the Motorola (phone), the laptop, the "fashion" wardrobe, the huge "wheelie" bag, all gone by the wayside.
Physically 30llbs lighter, too, in a brutal winter season where body fat is actually an asset!
The Dave Delacroix "weight-loss" regimen: Go hungry. BE hungry.
Trust me. Even with "liquid bread" (beer) you lose the Pounds!... Hopefully, without losing your mind.
Yes. I´m down to the wire...in the Cafe Napoleon, Karlsruhr, Germany.
Wish I was in MEMPHIS!!!
c 2ß10 dave delacroix/our man in europe
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 29: High Noon in Hochenheim
Part 29: High Noon in Hochenheim
Stealin´ a train ride South I arrive in thee "metropolis" of Hockenheim, home to Formula One Racing, apparently...
Not getting much further than the Bahnhof (station) er, "kiosk" (smokes, beer, hot dogs)...a "dress Casual" standing - no seats/tables - affair...with ashtrays and access to the Bahnhof toilet (you gotta ask for the Sclussel/key) in the Deutsche blitzkrieg Winter weather, I while away an hour or 3 drinking Eichbaun Pilsner with the local 3 Stooges; Curly, Larry & Karl-Heinz who - fashion-wise - could have tried out for B-roles in the Coen Bros movie, Fargo.
"JA!"
....and speak NO English...but MIRRIAM does! (the kiosk manager)
Oh yeah... A trifle too hammered to hitch-hike (South) to Karlsruhr....or (pondering) weaken and jump back on the Bahn (train)...? THAT is the question!
YOU decide.
2010. davedelacroix/cafe napoleon, Karlsruhr/our man in europe
Stealin´ a train ride South I arrive in thee "metropolis" of Hockenheim, home to Formula One Racing, apparently...
Not getting much further than the Bahnhof (station) er, "kiosk" (smokes, beer, hot dogs)...a "dress Casual" standing - no seats/tables - affair...with ashtrays and access to the Bahnhof toilet (you gotta ask for the Sclussel/key) in the Deutsche blitzkrieg Winter weather, I while away an hour or 3 drinking Eichbaun Pilsner with the local 3 Stooges; Curly, Larry & Karl-Heinz who - fashion-wise - could have tried out for B-roles in the Coen Bros movie, Fargo.
"JA!"
....and speak NO English...but MIRRIAM does! (the kiosk manager)
Oh yeah... A trifle too hammered to hitch-hike (South) to Karlsruhr....or (pondering) weaken and jump back on the Bahn (train)...? THAT is the question!
YOU decide.
2010. davedelacroix/cafe napoleon, Karlsruhr/our man in europe
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: Part 28: FACEBOOK!
Part 28: FACEBOOK!
BLOGGERS, unlicenced (?) scribes, diarretic wordsmiths, literary rabble, or rappers (Dick's from Mars!)...I could go on...like Facebook friends:
"Let's Friend. Let's DE-friend!"
...who wouldnt give each other the time of day (even if their hair was on fire!) if they showed up in person and knocked on each others door...
Nobody has 300 friends, for chrissakes!!!
...dominate our superficial times.
In these (Our Man in Europe) travels, I have been pleasantly surprised or dissapointed by inter-net connections/lack of, when I physically-geographically made/attempted TO FB connect...and where/when I made NEW friends, socially; resorting to establishing Facebook friendship?.... -instantly devalued that union/connections Spiritual dynamic.
...AND!...in conversation with "real" friends who are ALSO on Facebook (or any inter net social network)...everyone concurs: Inter net social "reality" really DOES suck, yet everyone acquieses TO suck!
....During these present travels I have been in TWO, er...gunfights of note. It goes with the territory.
(Actually, it goes with being Delacroix)
Once in Milano, within the splendour of the Grande Centrale Stazione, where I slammed a persistant panhandler. He went down and - courtesy of that citadel/palazzo's pristine-polished marble floor - slid, spreadeagled, in classic Hollywood fashion, a good 5 yards...witnessed, I might add, by 3 Carribineri (cops) who, refraining from getting involved and/or singing a celebratory "Santa Lucia!", nevertheless signalled their unaminous approval.
Another time, in a bar in high Germany where I dropped a guy, pulling him off a high bar stool... Alas, I was in my cups, so - apparently - I knocked the guy out (his head hitting the floor), but mine did, too, so we were BOTH - equally unconscious - carried out on makeshift stretchers much to the entertainment of the vaguely bemused/alcoholic crowd.
I mention these two events in the context of cyber-spaces's superficial Social reality. In a knife fight...you NEED a knife!
(A gun is even better)
Life IS/can be, and perhaps SHOULD BE...wonderfully dangerous.
-Mornings, dawnings, epiphones, of course, at this point...become important,
Like Beethoven's 9th Symphony.
A sweetheart's kiss.
Or - critically - like Satellite TV/a Liquor Store (if you live in the boonies!)
The "sonambulism"
of how WE/ I
try to BE free,
YOU!
...reading ME!
c 2010/Schloss Ludwigshafen/dave delacroix/our man in europe
BLOGGERS, unlicenced (?) scribes, diarretic wordsmiths, literary rabble, or rappers (Dick's from Mars!)...I could go on...like Facebook friends:
"Let's Friend. Let's DE-friend!"
...who wouldnt give each other the time of day (even if their hair was on fire!) if they showed up in person and knocked on each others door...
Nobody has 300 friends, for chrissakes!!!
...dominate our superficial times.
In these (Our Man in Europe) travels, I have been pleasantly surprised or dissapointed by inter-net connections/lack of, when I physically-geographically made/attempted TO FB connect...and where/when I made NEW friends, socially; resorting to establishing Facebook friendship?.... -instantly devalued that union/connections Spiritual dynamic.
...AND!...in conversation with "real" friends who are ALSO on Facebook (or any inter net social network)...everyone concurs: Inter net social "reality" really DOES suck, yet everyone acquieses TO suck!
....During these present travels I have been in TWO, er...gunfights of note. It goes with the territory.
(Actually, it goes with being Delacroix)
Once in Milano, within the splendour of the Grande Centrale Stazione, where I slammed a persistant panhandler. He went down and - courtesy of that citadel/palazzo's pristine-polished marble floor - slid, spreadeagled, in classic Hollywood fashion, a good 5 yards...witnessed, I might add, by 3 Carribineri (cops) who, refraining from getting involved and/or singing a celebratory "Santa Lucia!", nevertheless signalled their unaminous approval.
Another time, in a bar in high Germany where I dropped a guy, pulling him off a high bar stool... Alas, I was in my cups, so - apparently - I knocked the guy out (his head hitting the floor), but mine did, too, so we were BOTH - equally unconscious - carried out on makeshift stretchers much to the entertainment of the vaguely bemused/alcoholic crowd.
I mention these two events in the context of cyber-spaces's superficial Social reality. In a knife fight...you NEED a knife!
(A gun is even better)
Life IS/can be, and perhaps SHOULD BE...wonderfully dangerous.
-Mornings, dawnings, epiphones, of course, at this point...become important,
Like Beethoven's 9th Symphony.
A sweetheart's kiss.
Or - critically - like Satellite TV/a Liquor Store (if you live in the boonies!)
The "sonambulism"
of how WE/ I
try to BE free,
YOU!
...reading ME!
c 2010/Schloss Ludwigshafen/dave delacroix/our man in europe
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: Part 27: "JA-JA!"
Part 27: "Ja-ja!"
Back in Deutschland via the ICE Train (Paris to Frankfurt-3 hours-220kms per hour) it's the end of November. Everyone is - financially - down to the wire. My return from filming/recording and almost DYING - that Pneumonia thing - in Paris couldnt be more ill-timed, party-wise.
The Schloss is bereft of its usual joviality. The KILLER PEAR tree is quite out of Ammo! I see little of the Count (Herr Graff, Alex von Ludwigshafen). The harvest , the October Wine fests are all stowed as a perenial memory. Barren fields & frigid forests wear their Winter mantle of snow. The Black Pearl (bar), my downtown Usingen office STILL sparkles - when Nicky bartends - but the Bier Garten is padlocked. A chill prevails, even after 6 whiskies and a frieght train of beer.
I "kick" sometimes (happy hour) down the street at "Jasmines Bier Stube" (with the lovely Jasmine; 28, gorgeous, Turkish!). Licher (is sicher) beers. Drink 10 and you find you've only spent 10 Euros!
Pity Paris wasnt so obliging!?
And, of course, the blessed church bells hereabouts, as - incidentally - I was cogniscient of in Montmartre, tone the hour, devotional times, and WHO (somebody) got married or kopped it!
November. Crueler than April.
Ask Guy Fawkes!
A particular evening of note, however, at the Black Pearl, witnesses a rare flourish of business/activity. The Count (Herr Graff, Alex von Ludwigshafen) and several of his courtiers/retainers, male & female, arrive, boisterous and full of "joi de vie".
It's infectous of course, as I, some farmers boys, housewives - staple publicum - also brighten and re-aquaint themselves with varied reasons for why they are sitting in a bar and getting hammered on a cold Winter's midweek night.
After the usual "tangos" (to the juke box) and several shots of Assbach rum, "die Swimming Pool cocktails, or whatever...and playing every - chewing gum for the mind - electronic slot machine, one armed bandit and "gauche" gizmos a typical bar provides (for custumers without a brain) one of the Count's pals suggests a a game of Table FUSSBALL.
The Count, plus one, 2 others forming the opposing team
"Positions, Gentlemen!"
-Money in the slot. Out pops the "fussball". The game begins. The Fussball table rocks!
BANG! WACK! SWIVEL-SWIVEL! -you've all seen this.
4 Germans, however, playing this game, is uncannily entertaining. Intense, "SEHR" intense, almost theatrical. Someone scores a goal then does a lap of honor around the table (to a chorus of SLOW hand claps). Shots (liquor) are bought, toasted, slugged, the play continues, a lot of "yatter", cheering, girls gather round, hoop-la, cursing, back slapping, etc.
At some point, I notice that the Count (Herr Graff) and his team mate are rapidly losing/being slaughtered...by the other two Bravoes, who hold nothing back in showing their satisfaction....AND....It is at THIS POINT - on the cusp of total, utter defeat - that the Count (Herr Graff) "emits" (?) the most loudest, the most pungeant, the most ODIOUS fart (known to man!)....where upon his own team mate passes out and crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes...and the once victorious opposition, turning yellow and green, respectively (odd?) wisely withdraw and concede the game.
Ja-ja!
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
Back in Deutschland via the ICE Train (Paris to Frankfurt-3 hours-220kms per hour) it's the end of November. Everyone is - financially - down to the wire. My return from filming/recording and almost DYING - that Pneumonia thing - in Paris couldnt be more ill-timed, party-wise.
The Schloss is bereft of its usual joviality. The KILLER PEAR tree is quite out of Ammo! I see little of the Count (Herr Graff, Alex von Ludwigshafen). The harvest , the October Wine fests are all stowed as a perenial memory. Barren fields & frigid forests wear their Winter mantle of snow. The Black Pearl (bar), my downtown Usingen office STILL sparkles - when Nicky bartends - but the Bier Garten is padlocked. A chill prevails, even after 6 whiskies and a frieght train of beer.
I "kick" sometimes (happy hour) down the street at "Jasmines Bier Stube" (with the lovely Jasmine; 28, gorgeous, Turkish!). Licher (is sicher) beers. Drink 10 and you find you've only spent 10 Euros!
Pity Paris wasnt so obliging!?
And, of course, the blessed church bells hereabouts, as - incidentally - I was cogniscient of in Montmartre, tone the hour, devotional times, and WHO (somebody) got married or kopped it!
November. Crueler than April.
Ask Guy Fawkes!
A particular evening of note, however, at the Black Pearl, witnesses a rare flourish of business/activity. The Count (Herr Graff, Alex von Ludwigshafen) and several of his courtiers/retainers, male & female, arrive, boisterous and full of "joi de vie".
It's infectous of course, as I, some farmers boys, housewives - staple publicum - also brighten and re-aquaint themselves with varied reasons for why they are sitting in a bar and getting hammered on a cold Winter's midweek night.
After the usual "tangos" (to the juke box) and several shots of Assbach rum, "die Swimming Pool cocktails, or whatever...and playing every - chewing gum for the mind - electronic slot machine, one armed bandit and "gauche" gizmos a typical bar provides (for custumers without a brain) one of the Count's pals suggests a a game of Table FUSSBALL.
The Count, plus one, 2 others forming the opposing team
"Positions, Gentlemen!"
-Money in the slot. Out pops the "fussball". The game begins. The Fussball table rocks!
BANG! WACK! SWIVEL-SWIVEL! -you've all seen this.
4 Germans, however, playing this game, is uncannily entertaining. Intense, "SEHR" intense, almost theatrical. Someone scores a goal then does a lap of honor around the table (to a chorus of SLOW hand claps). Shots (liquor) are bought, toasted, slugged, the play continues, a lot of "yatter", cheering, girls gather round, hoop-la, cursing, back slapping, etc.
At some point, I notice that the Count (Herr Graff) and his team mate are rapidly losing/being slaughtered...by the other two Bravoes, who hold nothing back in showing their satisfaction....AND....It is at THIS POINT - on the cusp of total, utter defeat - that the Count (Herr Graff) "emits" (?) the most loudest, the most pungeant, the most ODIOUS fart (known to man!)....where upon his own team mate passes out and crumples to the floor like a sack of potatoes...and the once victorious opposition, turning yellow and green, respectively (odd?) wisely withdraw and concede the game.
Ja-ja!
c 2010 dave delacroix/our man in europe
OUR MAN in Europe: dave delacroix: part 26: "Heiter bis Volkig".
Part 26: "Heiter bis Volkig".
....(This post should be, er... part 19....but, whatever)
...Touching on European travel, singing that 60's song: "Planes & boats & trains (keep passin by), are infact in abundance. The Euro "Greyhound" bus, too: the Euro-Liner...
Getting around is a logistical/fiscal no-brainer...and Europe - tansportationally - is most definitely "united", ergo, connected.
Yet, still being something of a Bohemian wanderer I must always - especially in Germany - opt for the Deutsche Craigslist type rideshare, the MIT FAHR ZENTRUM. There's an office/Buro - usually run by scruffy-ish student types - located in most German towns & cities. You sign up/e mail, chalk in your destination, kick in some gas money...and BA DA BING! - you're on your way! -usually with a coupl'a cool kids.
In my formative years, this was how - when not outright hitch-hiking - I always got around (I dont drive) and thereby established a network of friends - who more often than not - made frequent-repeat journeys that I could...
TIME OUT!
.... I'm beating off Summer bugs & flies here in the Schloss (Die Kastle von Ludwigshafen) garden...And have I mentioned the garden's "KILLER PEAR TREE"?
It's abundant fruit (the KILLER PEARS!) dont just mature then drop to the ground... They fire off the tree's branches LIKE MISSILES at great velocity...seemingly every time I walk by to dump organic trash/fetch fire wood or lounge nearby, drinking, thinking or attending to this book/blog.... But RARELY when any one else is around, whereby I have a really hard time conveying to the Count (Herr Graff) or any one else that this Pear tree is actually trying to kill me!!!
"Pard" my lapse of concentration, Denver/dear Blog supporters.
Where was I?
Oh yes. On many MIT FAHR ZENTRUM trips...I'd meet the most delightful people. Musicians, characters, regular Joes, future girlfriends, business folks.
One morable rideshare introduced me to a van load of "kunstlers", a travelling Theatre group - always in need of gas money - named Heiter Bis Volkig (Sunny to Cloudy) who were pure Fellini and with whom I toured for 3 months until, as they say, the money ran out. And once - I remember! - with a NUN; Sister...something: Maria, maybe.... BOY! Was THAT a bust!!? -Koln to Koblenz (60 miles, tops). It took 3 days. She drove at 5 miles per hour (no smoking), but she DID play guitar and "swore on a stack" that she'd appeared in a movie about an aeroplane!
Irish-German, I think...?
Anyways, so GO Europe! GO Mit Fahr Zentrum. And save yourself a buck or two.
FAST FORWARD 2 days: Frankfurt to Paris (France) in 5 hours. And, in this instance, driving through the night, I arrive in the City of Lights, step out of the car, say "Ciao, Mucker!" to my Mit Fahr driver-buddy, Wolfgang (a cross dresser from Leipzig) who drops me in a very deserted - early morning - Place de la Concorde, downtown Paris.
"Birds wings...rise noiselessly...into the sky... (Rimbaud)
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe
....(This post should be, er... part 19....but, whatever)
...Touching on European travel, singing that 60's song: "Planes & boats & trains (keep passin by), are infact in abundance. The Euro "Greyhound" bus, too: the Euro-Liner...
Getting around is a logistical/fiscal no-brainer...and Europe - tansportationally - is most definitely "united", ergo, connected.
Yet, still being something of a Bohemian wanderer I must always - especially in Germany - opt for the Deutsche Craigslist type rideshare, the MIT FAHR ZENTRUM. There's an office/Buro - usually run by scruffy-ish student types - located in most German towns & cities. You sign up/e mail, chalk in your destination, kick in some gas money...and BA DA BING! - you're on your way! -usually with a coupl'a cool kids.
In my formative years, this was how - when not outright hitch-hiking - I always got around (I dont drive) and thereby established a network of friends - who more often than not - made frequent-repeat journeys that I could...
TIME OUT!
.... I'm beating off Summer bugs & flies here in the Schloss (Die Kastle von Ludwigshafen) garden...And have I mentioned the garden's "KILLER PEAR TREE"?
It's abundant fruit (the KILLER PEARS!) dont just mature then drop to the ground... They fire off the tree's branches LIKE MISSILES at great velocity...seemingly every time I walk by to dump organic trash/fetch fire wood or lounge nearby, drinking, thinking or attending to this book/blog.... But RARELY when any one else is around, whereby I have a really hard time conveying to the Count (Herr Graff) or any one else that this Pear tree is actually trying to kill me!!!
"Pard" my lapse of concentration, Denver/dear Blog supporters.
Where was I?
Oh yes. On many MIT FAHR ZENTRUM trips...I'd meet the most delightful people. Musicians, characters, regular Joes, future girlfriends, business folks.
One morable rideshare introduced me to a van load of "kunstlers", a travelling Theatre group - always in need of gas money - named Heiter Bis Volkig (Sunny to Cloudy) who were pure Fellini and with whom I toured for 3 months until, as they say, the money ran out. And once - I remember! - with a NUN; Sister...something: Maria, maybe.... BOY! Was THAT a bust!!? -Koln to Koblenz (60 miles, tops). It took 3 days. She drove at 5 miles per hour (no smoking), but she DID play guitar and "swore on a stack" that she'd appeared in a movie about an aeroplane!
Irish-German, I think...?
Anyways, so GO Europe! GO Mit Fahr Zentrum. And save yourself a buck or two.
FAST FORWARD 2 days: Frankfurt to Paris (France) in 5 hours. And, in this instance, driving through the night, I arrive in the City of Lights, step out of the car, say "Ciao, Mucker!" to my Mit Fahr driver-buddy, Wolfgang (a cross dresser from Leipzig) who drops me in a very deserted - early morning - Place de la Concorde, downtown Paris.
"Birds wings...rise noiselessly...into the sky... (Rimbaud)
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 25: newsflash!
Part 25: Newsflash
...Having recently announced to the WHOLE WORLD via the world wide web (that www. inter-net thing) that I was dying - and indeed, WAS - of pnuemonia...in that hell hole, the St. Pierre in Montmartre (40 euros per night, no phone, free wifi, cause there wasnt any!..a concierge with selective alzheimers, a shit hole, but the room DID come with an ashtray!)...I can now, fully & quite candidly declare that, in furtherence of said announcement...subject to a 98% chance/danger of "mental derrangement", despite a full/total "physical" recovery...that the news of my imminent death (sorta-kind'a) was infact, er... a tad exagerated.
AH-TISH-OO!
Mark Twain & I are both fine.
c 2010 Kaiserslautern/our man in europe/dave delacroix
...Having recently announced to the WHOLE WORLD via the world wide web (that www. inter-net thing) that I was dying - and indeed, WAS - of pnuemonia...in that hell hole, the St. Pierre in Montmartre (40 euros per night, no phone, free wifi, cause there wasnt any!..a concierge with selective alzheimers, a shit hole, but the room DID come with an ashtray!)...I can now, fully & quite candidly declare that, in furtherence of said announcement...subject to a 98% chance/danger of "mental derrangement", despite a full/total "physical" recovery...that the news of my imminent death (sorta-kind'a) was infact, er... a tad exagerated.
AH-TISH-OO!
Mark Twain & I are both fine.
c 2010 Kaiserslautern/our man in europe/dave delacroix
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