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Published: October 22nd 2007
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Lads night out in Hamburg
Uwe, Sven, Martin, HJT, Mathias and Jorn After finally dragging myself away from Amsterdam with a heavy heart I found myself back in Germany, this time in Hamburg to catch up with friends I had made while trekking the Colca Canyon in Peru, Jorn and Ingrid. Once again the red carpet was rolled out for my arrival, almost to the point where I couldn't help but blush. I will be so deeply indebted to my European friends by the time my travels are over that I may well need to train and maintain an auxiliary staff of helper monkeys to adequately repay the favour if any of them come out to visit Australian shores. In all seriousness, I have experienced some fine hospitality in Australia many times, but my experiences in Europe have literally left me speechless on occasion. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if I was to merely provide a mattress and a few slices of toast with vegemite in the morning after what I have been treated to over here. To do so and think that I had fulfilled my obligations under the "travellers' code" would be rude and inattentive, verging on negligent.
On my first night in town,
Let's groove
HJT and Jorn Jorn and I headed out to Sternschanze (the nightlife hub of Hamburg I'm told) to meet up with his mates for a lads night on the town. We had a quick stroll through the red light district on the way to the bar, and while I noticed a number of similarities with that of Amsterdam, I also observed a clear difference in the etiquette of the lady workers in these parts. In many cases, they were far more aggressive in their efforts to procure clients. There were those who sat behind the windows winking and blowing kisses to passersby, but there were also others who would come up and grab your arm on the street and try to harass a transaction out of you.
Initially, I thought that I could escape their clutches by indicating that I couldn't understand them with a simple "no Deutsche". The ploy backfired however, as most of them were actually bilingual and would then begin to pester me in English. My ingenious response to this was to pretend to be Spanish and claim "no hables Ingles". Most became exasperated at that point and moved on to another target, but one particularly persistent lass asked
As the night drew to a close...
I was in better shape than Jorn me to prove it by saying something in Spanish. "Donde esta el bano?" I asked (I actually did need to go to the toilet). A heartbeat later I realised to my horror that she had cleverly hoodwinked me by asking a question in English, thereby testing to see if I really understood what she was saying, and I had taken the bait. Confused and beaten, I resorted to plan C and turned and ran away like a startled fawn. The rest of the night was brilliant, and some of the banter between Jorn's mates was absolutely priceless. Who said that Germans were humourless?
Though Hamburg is a pretty city with some bright nightlife, the best times during my stay in the city came when hanging around with my hosts. When the three of us weren't solving all the problems of the world (well we thought so anyway), Jorn and I were locking horns in spirited competition of one form or another. Comprised of chess, "Early Settlers" (a German board game), go-karting, Texas Hold 'em poker and trivia quizzes, we developed a new combination of events which will hereafter be known as the 'Hamburg pentathlon'. After his despicable display of
The good side
On the banks of the Elbe River poor sportsmanship on the go-kart track in Arequipa, I was eager to exact revenge, albeit in an honourable, sportsmanlike way.
Given the regrettable events in Arequipa, the blue ribbon and most hotly anticipated leg of the Hamburg pentathlon was undoubtedly the go-karting. To make things even more interesting, we agreed that the loser would have to write an ode or a hymn to the winner, which would be published on this blog. As if there wasn't already enough pride on the line. Though my nerves were jangling throughout the entire 20 minute race, I claimed a stirring one second victory and earned the following:
"One Second" by Jorn Harder
Yes, there are persons in history,
And there are moments in the galaxy,
That make the world stop turning for a second.
A second - all angels hold their breath
Staring and wondering,
How glorious and impressive that certain moment is.
The discovery of America, first man on the moon…
Heroes - if you know what I mean.
True heroes make such meaningful seconds in world history.
And Harley Thomas is a true hero.
Angels are still holding their breath
The other side
Directly opposite the previous photo on the Elbe when they hear his name.
So say it once more: HARLEY THOMAS.
He beat me the poor and dusty J.H.
Whose name isn’t worth to be written down,
At the Kartbahn of Hamburg,
And the second that will change the world from now on,
Is the second he was in front of me.
Dust on my head, and glory to the man.
Say his name one more time, and burn a candle
(and stick it in your ass while you are thinking of him)
HARLEY THOMAS
I have never before had such glowing tribute paid to me. I'm not sure whether I was more touched and humbled to have such a poetic ode penned in my honour, or to have been likened to "a nice piece of furniture" by Jorn later that evening. Both had me choking back tears. Perhaps it was the welled-up emotions that led me to play some reckless poker on the final night and afford Jorn a resounding victory. I would like to think this was the case, but in the cold light of day I must admit I was outfoxed by a superior mind. By day Jorn is a Judge (obviously the legal system
Rematch between bitter rivals
Go-karting showdown between Jorn and HJT works differently in Germany from Australia as I doubt we have any 30 year old judges), and I think his vocation may well have proved the decisive factor in the outcome of our final battle of wits. After repaying spectacular hospitality with childish gloating, the tables were turned and justice was served.
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