Travellings: Deutschland #23

I’m currently sitting in the airport lounge at Munich airport as I write this. You will be reading this long after I have touched back down in the Land of Tea and Crumpets.

Today, I had my last day in the Bavarian Beer Monster – last day of work, last day living in my lovely nest of a flat with the most wonderful flatmate I could possibly have wished for, the last day for a while with a few important individuals.

I’m very much aware that this will sound like an obituary. It’s not. I know it’s not. But it certainly feels that way at the moment.

I don’t like the whole saying goodbye. I’ve said this at the beginning of the year abroad when I moved out, but somehow this is different. I suppose part of me always knew that I would return to my parents and see them again. But non-family members are different. Some people move on, some find it too painful and simply distance themselves, and others you simply drift away from.

Which is sad. Yes, there were times when I seriously asked myself what the hell I was doing. I certainly doubted my sanity at several points throughout the entire year; not just the beginning, and there were times when I had regrets.

But I can also happily count a large number of firsts and amazingly good times, too. First time I was entirely responsible for myself; first time on a massive rollercoaster (thanks, Ben.), and first proper concert, among other things.

Not bad, really.

And now I’m coming back. Sadly my relationship with Munich has been a little rocky, and after several attempts to save it, we’ve decided to separate due to irreconcilable differences.

It’s been a blast, Munich, it really has. I’ve learnt a hell of a lot in a such a short time, and I’m certain that I will look back on my time here as an adventure.

And whilst I may not have allowed the people I left behind see my tears, it was certainly a different story once they’d gone.

On the other hand, there’s always Oktoberfest:

Morning after the night before
You know when you're little and you think your toys do the whole Toy Story thing? Turns out they've been growing up too...

Also, macht’s gut, München, und danke für den Fisch.

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Travellings: Deutschland #21/Inane Whittering #14

Apologies for the radio silence – and for the fact that I will probably end up posting a series of posts of various episodes from Roo’s adventures abroad (I’ve just made that name up, but it already sounds far more interesting than Year Abroad) and then may well end up with another dry spell – I will try to avoid it, but I do need a break from being witty from time to time…

The first blindingly obvious observation I would like to make is how sodding cold it’s gotten. During the day here in the rather bemusing Bavarian Beer Monster, it’s around -15 degrees at the minute. At night it drops between -20-25 degrees. Friday night dropped down to -27, apparently.

It’s enough to give you goosebumps on your goosebumps.

As a result, I now resemble an onion in terms of the number of layers I’m wearing; I’ve had to break out my Matrix coat (it’s woollen, floor-length and black) and I’ve been knitting all kinds of weird and wonderful things for my wardrobe.

So far, I’ve made neckwarmers, scarves and wristwarmers. My current project is a pair of thigh-high legwarmers.

Now there’s a mental image for you.

Pictures will follow.

(Of the finished products, of course – not random pictures of my thighs. That would just be weird. Anyway, on to saner ground…)

My other recent habit is baking. Now, this happened when I was feeling a bit blue and was in one of my moods where I just wanted to go home and curl up on the sofa with the cat. Now, seeing as that wasn’t possible, and I don’t have a cat, I decided that some comfort food was in order.

But what? I already have huge quantities of teabags stashed in my room (I kid you not, my current total is around 5 kilos of the stuff) and I have marmite for my usual marmite on toast pick-me-up. But for some reason, it just wasn’t enough. No amount of B vitamins and caffine were going to pick me up out of this particular rut.

The much-needed solution?

Scones.

Up until now, I have never made them. 2 minutes of googling revealed that they’re suprisingly quick and (theoretically) easy to make.

Explaing to my flatmate what a scone is, however, proved to be rather more challenging. Needless to say, there is no German equivalent for scones. The dialogue resembled something like this:

(rough English translation of the actual German conversation)

Becca: I’m going to bake scones.
Cathrin: Scones? What are scones?
B: *looks shocked* What do you mean, “what are scones”?
C: *blank look*
B: *with a look of disbelief* You’ve never eaten scones before?
C: *shakes head*
B: *somewhat agitated* B-but, you’ve not lived!
C: *bewildered and somewhat frightened look*
B: Okay, um, they’re about this big *gestures with hands*, and can be eaten sweet or savoury. Traditionally, you eat them with *upper class accent* “Afternoon Tea” and you generally make them with sultanas.
C: *look of utter disgust*
B: …or not. The sultanas are optional.
C: *look of relief* How do you make them?
B: Well, you kind of make a dough-
C: So they’re cakes, then?
B: Well, not exactly…
C: Ah, so more like bread then?
B: Umm, more of a cross between the two.
C: I get it – like Brioche.
B: No, no – nearly the opposite of Brioche. Scones are heavier and denser.
C: So they’re cakes then.
B: *noise of protest swiftly followed by resignation* N-yes, I guess you could say they’re like cakes.
C: So, what do you eat them with?
B: Traditionally, clotted cream and jam.
C: What’s clotted cream?
B: …you don’t have clotted cream here?
C: …I don’t think so.
B: ah. Think of double cream but thicker.
C: Double cream? You mean Schlagsahne?
B: *head in hands* …probably, yes.
C: So, you only eat them in the afternoon?
B: Traditionally, yes. But I some people who munch them for breakfast too.
C: *absolute bewilderment* You people eat cake for breakfast?
B: No, I didn’t say that, they’re not really cak-
C: You eat cake for breakfast. God you English are weird.

So, in a bid to demonstrate to my flatmate that 1) they are not cakes and 2) us English aren’t that weird, I had a go.

My first attempt looked like this:

scones with jam
My children, my beautiful NON-CAKE-like children.

Whilst being far from perfect, it’ll do. For those interested, the recipe is as follows:

For glazing
1 egg beaten with a little milk added

The dough
55g of cold butter
(a generous) 150ml cold milk
225g (2 cups) self raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

Optional
50g (1/4 cup) sultanas

Because you can’t seem to buy SR flour here in Munich, I used the following substitute (and didn’t add any extra salt as stated above): for each cup of flour, I added 1/4tsp of salt, 1tsp of baking powder and 1/4tsp of baking soda (Natron auf Deutsch).

On a important note, it’s best to have the ingredients as cold as possible – and it’s also better to have cold hands; you want to avoid melting the butter.

The first thing is to sieve the flour into the mixing bowl – you will need a big one for this. If you’ve not had to recreate your own SR flour, then add the salt and baking powder now. Then add the cold butter.

Come to think of it, this recipe can get rather messy, so maybe implementing the use of little people here would be a good idea.

You need to stick your hands in and combine the butter and the flour so that its consistency resembles that of breadcrumbs.

Yes, it will stick to your hands and get under your nails. The things we do for food, eh?

Once you have a lovely floury buttery mess, it’s time for perhaps my favourite part. You know when you have bangers and mash as a kid and you used to make a well in the potato and then pour gravy into it and create your own mashed potato and gravy volcano?

That’s exactly what you do here. Create a well in the flour and pour in the milk, brave the sludgy feeling and stick your hands in to combine it all into a smooth dough.

DO NOT overwork the dough.
Or they won’t rise :(

Once you’ve combined everything, roll the dough out on a floured surface so that it’s around 2cm thick, and then cut them out. I don’t have a rolling pin so have to use my hands and I don’t have any cutters, so I use a glass tumbler.

Then place your beautious creations on to a greased baking tray, glaze them with the egg/milk mixture and bung in a hot oven (preferably near the top) at around 180 degrees C for 5-10 minutes.

It will depend on your oven, but Holger (our oven) seems to enjoy burning things to a cinder.

Et voilà! You have scones. Eat with with jam etc and enjoy.

Except don’t be surprised, if, like me, you decide to snaffle several for breakfast/afternoon snack/out of boredom and then discover that your trousers no longer fit.

I learnt the hard way :(

Travellings: Deutschland #20 – The Jabberwocky and Das Nonnenturnier

Apologies for the lack of posts as of late, but things got rather hectic and then came along Christmas and New Year, which were naturally spent in land of tea and crumpets. I then got back to the Bavarian Beer Monster on Monday night and then spent the next day sorting my things out before returning to work for 2 days – today in Bavaria is a Bank Holiday, so I get to finally update this blog before returning to knitting and writing more of the Book of Roo (previously named the Wuzel and the Butterfly).

Shortly before Christmas, I discovered a German translation of the Jabberwocky. Actually, there are several translations, but the one by Christian Enzensberger is my favourite. For those of you who are unacquainted with one of the most frightening monsters of my childhood, the two versions are as follows:

The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

——–

Der Zipferlake von Christian Enzensberger

Verdaustig war’s und glaßen Wieben
rotterten gorkicht im Gemank.
Gar elump war der Pluckerwank,
und die gabben Schweisel frieben.

“Hab acht vorm Zipferlak, mein Kind!
Sein Maul ist beiß, sein Griff ist bohr.
Vorm Fliegelflagel sieh dich vor,
dem mampfen Schnatterrind.”

Er zückt sein scharfgebifftes Schwert,
den Feind zu futzen ohne Saum
und lehnt’ sich an den Dudelbaum
und stand da lang in sich gekehrt.

In sich gekeimt so stand er hier,
da kam verschnoff der Zipferlak
mit Flammenlefze angewackt
und gurgt’ in seiner Gier.

Mit Eins! und Zwei! und bis auf’s Bein!
Die biffe Klinge ritscheropf!
Trennt’ er vom Hals den toten Kopf,
und wichernd sprengt’ er heim.

“Vom Zipferlak hast du uns befreit?
Komm an mein Herz, aromer Sohn!
Oh, blumer Tag! Oh, schlusse From!”
So kröpfte er vor Freud’.

Verdaustig war’s und glaßen Wieben
rotterten gorkicht im Gemank.
Gar elump war der Pluckerwank,
und die gabben Schweisel frieben.

——–

I then found an entire website dedicated to the various translations of the Jabberwocky. So far, I have found the following Polish and French versions – there were several versions for the French, but Frank L. Warrin’sLe Jaseroque” I think is by far the best.

The website is unable to show all of the Polish accents, so I decided to put them in myself for those of you interested:

Dżabbersmok
Maciej Słomczyński

Było smaszno, a jaszmije smukwijne
Świdrokrę tnie na zegwniku wężały,
Peliczaple stały smutcholijne
I zbłąkinie rykoświstąkały.

“Ach, Dżabbersmoka strzeż się, strzeż!
Szponów jak kły i tnących szczęk!
Drżyj, gdy nadpełga Banderzwież
Lub Dżubdżub ptakojęk”

W dłoń ujął migbłystalny miecz,
Za swym pogromnym wrogiem mknie…
Stłumiwszy gniew, wśród Tumtum drzew
W zadumie ukrył się.

Gdy w czarsmutśleniu cichym stał,
Płomiennooki Dżabbersmok
Zagrzmudnił pośród srożnych skał,
Sapgulcząc poprzez mrok!

Raźdwa! Raźdwa! I ciach! I ciach!
Miecz migbłystalny świstotnie!
Leb uciął mu, wziął i co tchu
Galumfująco mknie.

“Cudobry mój, uścisńij mnie,
Gdy Dżabbersmoka ściął twój cios!
O wielny dniu! Kalej! Kalu!”
śmieselił się rad w głos.

Było smaszno, a jaszmije smukwijne
Świdrokrętnie na zegwniku wężały,
Peliczaple stały smutcholijne
I zbłąkinie rykoświstąkały.

If you’re a technical kind of person, I’m sure you’d find the parodies section highly amusing, particularly this version:

Browser Mocky, by “Abacus”

‘Twas busy, and the server tones,
Did beep and buzz all day,
All satisfied were the Netscape users,
And JAVA was okay.

Beware the Browser Mock, my client,
The contracts bind, the pages crash,
Beware Bill Gates, the software giant,
And all his monopoly trash.

They took their presentation boards in hand,
Long time they battled in court,
So struggled on the lawyer band,
Whining as their last resort.

Computer buyers stood aghast,
The Browser Mock, with exploiting ad,
Said that Netscape could not last,
And that made the clients mad!

Internet Exploiter! We hate you!
The browser market was taken back!
A cream pie flew; Bill Gates will sue,
But it made a triumphant whack!

And hast thou deleted the Browser Mock?
Come to my webpage Netscape friend,
And all the JAVA script will rock!
The joyful E-mail will even send!

‘Twas busy, and the server tones,
Did beep and buzz all day,
All satisfied were the Netscape users,
And JAVA was okay.

——–

Anyway, the reason for me mentioning the fact that I had found a German translation of perhaps my favourite poem is the conversation I then had with a friend of mine who told me not to confuse it with the Bavarian word “Zipfel”. “Zipfel” is the Bavarian slang equivalent to “knob” in English. So potentially to a Bavarian, one of the most fearful creatures of my childhood could theoretically be reduced to “knobhead”. He then went on to explain the etymology of the word “Zipfel” and its Mittelalt Deutsch roots. At which point I asked him how it was that he came to know the etymology of such a word – to me, it simply said that 1) he’s a bit weird, and 2) he simply has far too much time on his hands.

The explanation, however, was far more reassuring. He had to translate a medieval German text into Modern German whilst doing his degree. The text, I subsequently discovered, is one of the most bizarre, mind-boggling pieces of literature I think I have ever come across.

The text in question is “Das Nonnenturnier”, which translates roughly as “Nun tournament”. If you think the title’s weird, you wait until I tell you about the plot. I swear you cannot make this stuff up.

Maybe I ought to switch my area of interest from linguistics to literature?

So, the plot goes like this:

There once was a knight who was very popular with women because he was so well endowed. But because this was the only reason why he was popular, he became very depressed.

Now, at this point, I turned to my friend and pointed out that I know several gents who would be more than happy to be in that situation, and I am pretty sure that depressed is the last thing that they would become. But it now starts to get really strange.

In fact, he was so depressed about the whole thing and no longer wanted to be seen as a sexual object, OH THE IRONY. Us women are such users. he decided to lop the bloody thing off.

At which point I simply looked at my friend completely dumbfounded and uttered one word: WHY?

Now, although said appendage was no longer attached, women still wanted it and pursued the knight across the country.

Because, you know, as a woman, controlling my libido is quite frankly beyond me and it’s the only thing on my mind.

He then decided to hide it. In a nunnery. Up a nun’s skirt.

Now, I’m no expert, but I would assume that as a nun, hiding something of that nature up your skirt has several implications. Forget the hygiene issues of hiding amputated male genitalia underneath your skirt, think about the practical implications – mostly how you hide it up your skirt. Somehow I doubt you’d still qualify as a nun. Just putting that thought out there.

So now that the presumed “ex-nun” had decided to almost certainly break a few fundamental convent rules, the knight left his “Zipfel” under her skirt and went off to do heroic deeds and thereby become recognised for the heroic and exemplary individual that he obviously was.

Except the “Zipfel” didn’t like being under her skirt (funnily enough). So it told her and then ran off (Oh, did I forget to mention that this thing could talk and move independently?) – the resulting chaos being a battle-royale of sorts amongst the nuns when it came to light exactly what had been hidden.

At least, I think that’s a plotted synopsis. I stopped listening part-way through because I was laughing too much and my brain was in melt-down while it tried to comprehend the obviously drug-induced plot.

So, with that lovely mental image, I shall leave you all to enjoy your Friday evenings and hope you all have a relaxing weekend.

Preferably without nuns.

Oh, and for those of you who come across my site whilst searching for pictures of raccoons, here’s one for you crazies:

Sleepy raccoon
Sleepeh.

Travellings: Deutschland #19

Today has been one hell of a Monday. Apart from a few amusing news articles and yet another language howler which resulted in more hysterics and thereby proving that I should not be left to fend for myself in a foreign country, let alone be asked to work with people, I think I can safely say that today is not my day – albeit with an equine theme.

The first thing that made me spit out my water (because I left the sodding tea bags at home) was the discovery of this article on the BBC about ear guaging, or how to stretch an ear piercing until you can pretty much fit small animals through it. Which was fine and seemed perfectly normal until I came across this phrase nestled innocently amongst its neighbours:

“American rapper Travie McCoy and American singer Adam Lambert are also stretching devotees. British fashion expert Gok Wan is also partial to large wooden ear plug adornments but it is not known if these are being used to stretch his lobe.”

I would like to draw your attention to the second sentence and point out, that yes, this article is still live on their website. That’s a bit cheeky, Beeb. Cheekier than I would expect you to be.

I then (fortunately after lunch) came across following article on The Register, which discusses the use of certain equine bodily fluids as aphrodisiacs in New Zealand.

I dread to think what this is going to look like for anyone looking at my browser history. I swear to God I came across it entirely by accident.

I was later asked if I knew if it was possible to connect a Mac monitor to a Windows PC as an additional monitor. I then asked which connections it had, except I wasn’t sure of the word I was looking for and ended up mis-pronouncing the word for plug.

So instead of saying “Stecker”, I said “Stecher”.

“Stecher” means stallion, but of the human-kind – or, as dict.cc described it: “für einen Mann mit hoher sexueller Leistungsbereitschaft”. You’ve got to love German; I mean, in which other language do you know can two and three letters have such a profound influence over the meaning of a word/phrase?

If the example above doesn’t illustrate my point enough, then please carry on reading:

“Verhältnis mit jdm haben” (to be involved with someone) and “Verhältnis zu jdm haben” (to be related to someone).

Small letters, big difference.

German language: 4, Becca: 0.

Travellings: Deutschland #18

I don’t like Mondays.

To add to the general insult of being forcibly removed from my beloved bed when it was still dark this morning, I have also discovered that I’ve run out of tea. My main stash is at home.

Seriously. Words fail me.

Oh, and you know the year abroad has finally gotten to you when you start dreaming in German.

My head hurts :(

I think I’m off to stroke something furry.

Sushi, aka Misz. Cat-napping partner in crime extraordinaire.

Travellings: Deutschland #14 Shopping Lists and Enemas

Yesterday was the beginning of Oktoberfest, or Wiesn, if you speak Bavarian. I got home on Friday, absolutely shattered to find that Ben and co. had plans to get to the beer tents for 7 the next morning.

I had been looking forward to a lie-in all week.

As it turns out, I simply wasn’t up to it and ended up staying in bed to a slightly more human hour. I later met up with Alice, who has recently moved out and we ended up spending a stupid amount on clothes shopping.

(I would like to add that this was the first time in I don’t know how long that I actually felt vaguely feminine.)

This evening has resulted in another language howler. Except seeing as we were all so hideously over-tired, we ended up crying with laughter.

I was writing a shopping list, and wanted to say “bake”, as in “pasta bake”, which is “Auflauf” in German. Unfortunately there is also the word “Ablauf” in German, meaning “sequence” or “flow”. I ended up saying the latter word, at which point my flatmate corrected me and I proceeded to whinge about how unhelpful the German language is with all these silly prepositions that you can stick on the front of the word to change the meaning. I then proceeded to list out what I thought were random, fictional words; one of which was the word “Einlauf”.

Upon hearing this word, my Mitbewohnerin burst out laughing and asked if I knew what it meant and then wouldn’t (or couldn’t because she was laughing so hard) tell me what it was.

Thank goodness I typed it into an online dictionary and not Google.

Einlauf is the German for enema.

German language: 3, Becca: 0.

Travellings: Deutschland #13 ZOO

SO. We went to the zoo on Saturday and I spent the best part of the day (okay, the entire time) running around like the over-excited, hyperactive 5 year-old loon on E-numbers that I (not-so) secretly am.

If you had any illusion that I am in any way mature, intelligent or sophisticated, prepare to have said image shattered. Brutally.

If, however, you wish to retain said normal-if-slightly-eccentric image, then please look away now and skip this post.

First stop: PELICANS.

I cannot get over how “bah-humbug” these birds look. In a comical, if not slightly loveable kinda way:

Pelican
One is not amused.

Then we saw the bears, white mountain goats that looked really furry and cuddly (with the exception of the massive horns) and elk.

Then we wandered on a bit further and saw rhinos, sloths, and birds that looked suspiciously like fat white flamingos.

Then we met Dave:

Penguin
You have to watch the quiet ones. You never know quite what they're thinking...

Except Dave was being a tad boring. I didn’t go all that way to watch penguins playing musical statues. Though his mate Fred seemed to have more of an idea of things:

Penguin
*Refuelling in progress*

What we did go all that way for, was to watch this:

By which point I was being laughed at by the people I was with (who eventually got bored of my penguin soundtrack and buggered off) and I received strange looks from other people visiting – probably because I was more excited about the whole penguin thing than most of the children there.

There is also a second video of madness, and it would have continued, had Doriane not pointed out that the others were so bored that they’d moved on to a different section.

Honestly. How can you be bored with penguins?

The best bit? I was talking with a colleague today who told about something even better. In winter, if the weather reaches below -10 degrees Centigrade, the penguins are allowed out of their enclosure and you can go for a walk with them.

Edit: it would seem that I’ve been misinformed. The penguins used to go for walks, but have since moved in with each other and have decided by an overwhelming majority not to leave their enclosure anymore. Disappointed is an understatement.

This is even better than the time I discovered last Christmas (when we had all the snow in England) that Edinburgh Zoo has a PENUIN CAM.

After seeing the penguins, nothing was nearly as exciting, to be honest. We walked around and visited the elephants with their baby, and the giraffes, terrapins, zebra finches, ocelots, tigers…

And then I reached the kangaroo enclosure.

At which point I did the Skippy whistle and the kangaroo which was munching in front of me stopped, looked me in the eye and then started hopping over.

Best. Day. Ever.

However, my weekend gallavanting at the zoo and working 8-6 for the past 2 days has meant that I am now resembling this:

snoozing kitten
Arf.

So please bear with me whilst I recover from my excitement.
Daaaaanke :)

Travellings: Deutschland #12 Quick update

Apologies for the lack of whitterings, but things have been a little crazy and I’ve been a little under the weather.

Middle of last week I met Doriane at the station, who’s currently over looking for somewhere to live in Munich while she’s studying for the winter semester at LMU, and then (after being sent home with low blood pressure) I met Matt at the airport on Friday.

Saturday was spent at the zoo with Herr Ben and my colleague C, who very kindly agreed to come along and was most bemused with my antics at the penguin enclosure. I will write a longer post with video footage (oh yes, there are videos) and photos, otherwise it won’t do justice to the penguin enclosure zoo.

Sunday morning was spent watching Herr Ben playing football and being given a yellow card part way through. Tsk, tsk.

Oh, and I ended up making an absolute howler yesterday on the language front – so bad I can only sit here and laugh about it to myself. I had a phonecall yesterday from one of the heads of department who wanted to speak with my boss and asked for (rather quickly and in a heavy Bavarian accent) what sounded like her “Durchfall”.

He actually said “Durchwahl”, meaning direct number, not her diahorrea, which was a relief.

German language: 2; Becca: 0.

Travellings: Deutschland #11 Rematch Results

I went go-carting yesterday and woke up this morning with bruises up my spine and the following witty little ditty posted on my facebook wall from the rather full of himself Herr Ben:

“Becca Bourne, born to win?
Given the results, she might think it’s a sin.
She had shown promise and time to adapt,
But yet again by Ben she got lapped.

Credit though where credit’s due,
She mixed it with the boys and overtook a few.
Maybe next time round she’ll chance her arm,
What’s that old saying? Third time’s a charm.”

So whilst trying to laugh quietly enough so as not to wake my Mitbewohnern, it reminded me to write up yesterday’s results.

The most encouraging part of this is the huge improvement I made, so I’m now just a couple of seconds behind Herr Ben. So given how I have once again proven to be a quick learner, I reckon next time he’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get too complacent…

When we eventually got onto the track, it turns out that I was a) the youngest person on the track and b) the only girl/woman in the group starting off. We were driving for 15 minutes all in all, and the glorious times are as follows:

Go-carting Results Rounds 1 & 2

Lap       Ben1            Becca1           Ben2           Becca2
1            1:16.11        1:23.62          1:01.81      1:16.20

2            1:06.79      1:35.17          1:01.27      1:05.73

3            1:05.92       1:15.73          1:00.27     1:03.30

4            1:05.23        1:13.17         1:00.65     1:03.60

5            1:04.31        1:10.70         59.40         1:04.29

6            1:08.09        1:07.69         59.31         1:03.49

7            1:05.63       1:17.35          1:02.46      1:02.70

8            1:13.18         1:10.49         1:00.28      1:01.87

9            1:06.09                            59.80         1:03.06

10                                                   1:00.60      1:03.52

11                                                    59.75          1:02.81

12                                                    59.91           1:04.20

13                                                    1:01.08         1:06.3

14                                                    1:04.85         1:06.3

15                                                    1:04.85

(The last 2 entries for each column of the second round are exactly the same because the times on the print out are 2 laps amalgamated – therefore I’ve simply halved them.)

I would write these out in a table, but everytime I type out the html code, wordpress seems to cut everything out from the first opening tag. So you’re going to have to make do with this dodgy spacing, I’m afraid.

For the record, yes, Ben overtook me, but just before we went into the pits at the end of the 15 minutes, which is a huge improvement. The best bit? I overtook several people myself, some of them on the chicane, which I thought was quite an achievement.

The most amusing thing was the look on the other driver’s faces when I overtook them – one guy obviously couldn’t believe it and gave me what I can only describe as a “death stare” as I went past – at which I naturally grinned and waved. Bear in mind, I was the only girl, wearing wrist splints on both wrists and being rather scrawny, not looking like I’d be able to do much.

You sir, just got overtaken.

BOOM.

Travellings: Deutschland #10

SO.

Yesterday was 2 months to the day that I moved out here and to celebrate the auspicious occasion, I spent the morning packing and the afternoon moving my things about Munich with the help of Herr Ben, who apparently decided that it would be more of a challenge to help me move then it would be to race me on the go-cart track. Cheek. We’ll see later today, Ben – I have, in fact, been lulling you into a false sense of security…

Anywho, we left with the best part of my belongings around 3 and arrived at my spacious new box just after 4 and I signed the contract. The next task was to buy bedding. I have none – the last place provided it all. Fortunately 2 of my colleagues seem to have taken pity on me, so on Friday I was very kindly given a pillow, and on Wednesday I’m to receive a duvet. So all that was left was to buy a blanket for cooler weather (the duvet’s a summer-weight), some bedsheets and covers for my duvet to be and pillow.

Bloody hell it can be expensive.

The night before the move I was a little sad to be leaving my old box – it was cosy, if a little too small. Then I found a caterpillar on my bed (as I was about to get in) and then dealt with a mosquito ninja-style that was buzzing round my head despite the mosquito net over my window.

Then I realised that I had to get out, so it was fine and I had no qualms about leaving.

So I have gone from this:

My room in Dietersheim
The shelves on the left were my kitchen. The sink on the right was my "bathroom"/"kitchen sink" The bed's behind where I'm standing to take the photo.

to this:

My room in Munich centre
Behind where this picture's taken from is a balcony - it's a bit empty at the minute, but I doubt it'll stay that way for long...

I don’t know about you, but I call that a result.