Freunde

Note: Some of the names have been changed.
I am currently sitting in a plane from Dusseldorf to JFK Airport in New York, and am amused that Yesman, the movie which helped start this journey, is playing. When I last left you I was travelling to Berlin. I got into Berlin at midnight having had one of my trains canceled and the other stopped half way through its journey when a passenger became sick and an ambulance was called. I was to stay at a hostel named the Generator which unbeknownst to me was the largest hostel in all of Germany. The hostel can accommodate almost 1,000 people and on the day I was there it was completely booked. It was extremely cheap (10 Euros for one night) and clean. Yet the place annoyed me almost immediately. Replacing the atmosphere of backpacking twenty-somethings communally enjoying the taste of a new land, were rampant 16 year olds taking full advantage of their new found freedom (and alcohol). I left in the morning and had and less than pleasant exchange with a train official.

Every intercity train system is different and I was constantly having to quickly acquaint myself with the new systems. So I unknowingly bought the wrong ticket to the main station and when I was checked by an undercover train official I made a critical error. As a knee jerk reaction I had begun to, when being addressed in German, to say in German “I do not understand German.” This would invariably lead people to believe I could speak German and continue in German. And this is precisely what happened to me at that moment. “Oh so you understand German” said the official. “Well not really” I replied. I believe this killed any chance I had of playing the stupid tourist card. He asked for my passport. “You pay me 40 Euros” he said. I tried to explain that I did not realize that I had purchased the wrong ticket. “You pay now or I get the police” he informed me less than politely in broken English. So now he had my passport and was about to call the police. Great. So I grudgingly paid the 40 Euros ($55 American dollars) and was sent on my marry way.

This put me in a bitter mood which I am sad to say I allowed to get in the way of the beginning of my day in Berlin. To tell the truth at this point the constant travelling, the trains, the sheer fatigue, and more over the odd sense of solitude were starting to catch up with me. I wanted to go to Switzerland. In Switzerland at least I had a friend to visit and a place to sleep that was a neither a train nor a hostel. I left the main train station and decided to just start walking and see what would happen. Apparently I have the ability to get lost whilst walking in one direction on the same street. I walked for about a mile and a half and realized I was in the industrial area or at least the area for those who could not afford central Berlin. The only interesting site I saw was a bridge that had a memorial for the first person to be killed while attempting to cross the Berlin wall. I walked back from where I thought I had come and was surprised to find that nothing looked familiar and the station was nowhere in sight. I went into a gas station and asked the clerk in German if she understood English. “Of course” she said in an American accent. “Could you please tell me how to get to the train station” I asked (having forgotten its name). “Which one?” “The big one” I said. “There are no big ones around here” she informed me. And so I got directions to the metro and made my way back to where I had come (the place was called Habenhoff for interest’s sake). I walked out of the station again, this time in the opposite direction and this time found myself in the heart of Berlin with all its beautiful architecture and obsession (for the tourists I assume) with its Communist past.

I walked in front of a building that looked historic (I really should have purchased some guides) and convinced a passerby to photograph me jumping. Much of the rest of the day was passed in this manner, mainly me wondering and taking in the sights. I was mostly wondering in search of a wireless internet area which proved to be difficult. I was travelling without a cell phone so my laptop had become my only connection with the outside world.

After locating a spot after several miles of walking I went back to the station to wait. Luckily major European train stations usually double as shopping malls so I was able to find entertainment. I walked a little outside and saw a crowd at the park down the street. There was some sort of event going on which I found out was a marathon. So, I widdled away the last couple hours by watching sweating Germans running at high speed.
I got into Switzerland at 8 am to awaking in an almost completely empty train. My train was not supposed to be getting in for another two hours. I was dimly aware of that something had been said in German. I asked one of the leaving passengers what was going on. “Oh, the train is having technical difficulties and they don’t know when they will get it running again” he told me in a perfectly reasonable tone. “Ah” I said “so what are we meant to do?” “Stay here or try your luck on another train.” I glanced at my watch and remembered that I had a connecting train to make and that Karin was to be waiting for me in St. Gallin at 11:00 am. So I vacated the train a made a mad dash to the next train leaving for Zurich.

I actually made it to St. Gallin on time and was greeted with a hug by Karin. It was quite pleasant and slightly odd seeing Karin again. I had actually never been at all close with her in Australia though we seemed to get on okay. But as I had thought about it I realized that we had hardly spoken more than pleasantries when we had been been around each other. This is made it all the more awkward (at least for me) that I had befriended her sisters childhood friend in Israel and then gone to Ireland with her and had that fabled misadventure brining me to Europe, all without having told Karin until I was leaving Ireland. Karin, surprisingly, seemed to think nothing of it. She acted as though this was a common occurrence, and while she felt sad about how it ended, she seemed to think the entire notion was a rather sweet one. The first thing Karin did was to take me to a genuine Swiss espresso shop, taunting me that I had never heard of “Nespresso” and then took me to her flat where she did everything she could to make me feel at home. She introduced me to her flat mate and we went off up the rolling hills of St. Gallin to its lakes. This lakes were beautiful and filled with speedo clad Swiss. Next to was a Swiss folk band in traditional garb who seemed oblivious to the heat.

While Karin and her flat mate studied I occupied myself by walking through the park and taking in the beauty of it. That night we had dinner and talked of the good times back in Joondalup. Karin also told me of the series of unlikely events which led to her going to Australia. They seemed almost equally as unlikely as my own and once again led me to the eerie feeling that the universe was playing silly buggers with me. The next day Karin and her friend Sandy took me to the Santis mountains. This was my first time on top of a mountain and I found the few captivating. As Karin explained to me you could see five countries from the top. We went from a hot summers day bellow to brisk mountain winds and chill, I was happy. In the town bellow I was once again struck be the weird feeling I get when I step into a European town that looks exactly the mental iconic characterture of the country that I have always had in my brain. Every time it is unexpected but always puts a smile on my face. We went into St. Gallin which was almost completely closed because it was a Sunday but we found one open restaurant in town which, like everything in Switzerland, was laughably overpriced. We ate ice-cream and went back home I rested for a couple hours and packed for my trip back to Vienna. I was very happy that things had gone so well with Karin and I felt that this nicely made up for me having not seen Switzerland before.

I got back to Vienna the next morning and had an amusing episode of getting on the wrong train and winding up in a town in the middle of nowhere by the name of Hennersdorf. I had been led to believe up until this point that every town surrounding Vienna was picturesque and beautiful. Hennersdorf shattered this delusion. After two hours of I made it back to Gumpoldskirchen. It was a little odd because when I walked into Georg’s house I felt as though I’d never left. As I walked in his parents warmly greeted me. “Hello world traveler” his father said. I finally was able to relax after my 15 day adventure. I asked Georg’s mom what other sights I should see in Vienna and she introduced me to the artist Hundertwasser.
The next day I went first to the Museum of Modern Art (MUMOK) and then the Hundertwasser Museum. MUMOK really annoyed me. None of the pieces were newer than 30 years old and I really don’t think that anyone, without the aid of pharmaceuticals and a lobotomy, could call them art. It seemed to be an outlet for dead beatniks’ bizarre fetishes. The walls were lined with random scribbling on torn paper and the videos displayed were of close ups of exposed backsides and people covering themselves in tomato sauce. There was one piece of artwork which was obviously meant to be interactive (there was a giant console with buttons) yet when I went to use it I was screamed at. So I left for the Hundertwasser Museum.
Hundertwasser was a very strange artist/architect who believed that art and buildings should imitate nature. He believed this however to the point that many of his designs were functionally unsound. He designed the museum himself and while it was visually interesting, it was trying to walk through. Hundertwasser though it would be a great idea to make the floors mimic the nature so they were not flat. They curved in random and sometime sharp directions, leading one to trip quite frequently. The place was more like a fun house than anything else. But I did enjoy myself. Unlike many artists that paint in his style Hundertwasser was actually talented and could paint realistically if he wanted to, he was just enamored with the abstract.
I spent the next day preparing for Novarock. I really had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to see Madsen, Gogol Bordello and Die Toten Hosen. I left for Novarock on Thursday (a day early) with Michael and Natascha. The next day we were to be joined by Georg, Susanna and Thomas. The festival was located on a field out in the country and supposedly had 30,000 people attending. When we got there we had to park a mile from the entrance. The day was hot and we had to the colossal amount of items we felt we needed to camp with. The sun was beating down on us as we walked amongst the throng of people making their way to rock n’ roll merriment, many of them were already on in the throes of inebriation. We were meant to join with my old friend from Australia Christoph who was sort of the ring leader of this entire adventure. I phone him. “He Christoph where are you” I asked. “I’m right in front of the entrance” he said. “Oh great we are almost there. Is there going to be space for us to all camp together?” I said. “Yup my friends have already reserved the space we are right by the entrance. Call me when you guys get inside.” We got inside and I called him. Repeatedly. An estimate of 15 times probably wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He didn’t pick up. So we decided to find our own campsite. Despite the fact that we were there a day early the place was already packed.

We walked probably another half a mile and found an open area and set up our tents and collapsed. We were joined by two people who were to be our neighbors for the four days. They were Maria and Toby. They were friendly enough though a little on the odd side. Toby laughed constantly and I soon found it myself waking in the morning to his laughter. Also they claimed to not be there for the music but rather the people yet they just sat at our campsite hanging out with us the whole time. But still I liked them and they were quite helpful.

I could easily write several pages on the festival but instead I will simply sum it up. Austrians are very friendly in their rock festivals. I witnessed no violence what so ever not even in the mosh pit. I got to see Gogol Bordello which was amazing. The second day of the festival it rained and while my tent became cold and damp poor Thomas’s tent flooded completely soaking all his clothing. That night I discovered how hard it is to walk in one foot of mud whilst wearing sneakers. We just had a very good but exhausting time and now I will fast forward in time to the last night.

We were watching the Guano Apes when Natascha and Susanna came back from shopping, they were clad in Die Toten Hosen t-shirts. “I wish I had one of those shirts” I commented. “Then go buy one” said Georg. “I am out of money and you saw how long the line for the ATM is.” “You have to buy one it is part of the experience, just go now while everybody is distracted by the band.” So I went to get in line at the ATM. There was a line of probably 50 people. But I was determined to get my money and I just had to get my t-shirt. I later was told that this one of the only two portable ATM’s in Austria. I ended up standing in line for nearly an hour and a half. When I had gotten in line the sun was still up and by the time I was done it was quite dark out. The real problem with the line was blatant cutting and the fact that half the people were intoxicated. When I did get my money I ran to the merchandise booth and bought the only size they had left (large) and went to find the group. At this point Limp Bizkit was playing with the crowd an endless sea of people and I was without a cell phone, oh and the it was dark out. Yet, within ten minutes I found them. “Hahaha! I win! Thank you universe!” I shouted. They were noticeably surprised to see me. “We thought we wouldn’t see you again” said Michael.

The concert was excellent and culminated with the lead singer (a man of 45) scaling the light tower behind the audience and lighting a flare. The night was also sad in because I was to bid farewell to Georg and my new Austrian friends. At the end of the concert I walked with Georg and Susanna halfway to their car, before freezing to death, and we said our goodbyes. It wasn’t as tragic as many other goodbyes I have had to say for this time I was left with a strong sense that it would not be long before we met again.

I went back to the campground and realized that I had only the foggiest notion where Thomas’s tent site was. Thomas was to give me a ride to Neuss and let me stay at his place for two nights, he also had my backpack with my passport in it, and I had no cell phone. So in the cold dark I wondered in the general area I thought he was and after a half an hour stumbled upon the perpetually bitter Norwegian who was camping with Thomas and whom I had met once before in Australia. “Hey have you been wondering around looking for us” the Norwegian asked. “Yes” I said. “You’ve passed our tents like three times” he said in the manner one would reserve for speaking to a simpleton. I was too tired and relieved point out how irritating this was. So I found Thomas and we spent the night in a random tent that we had discovered quite literally flying around the festival earlier that day.

The next day Thomas, his friend Barbara and David (who I had also met in Australia), and drove to Bavaria. Bavaria was Barbara and David’s home and from there Thomas and I were to take a train to Dusseldorf. This was also my first time on the autobahn. I was freaked out to see Bavaria for real. It is a very beautiful area and I was delighted in by the fact that in the small town that Barbara lived was a tacky American West theme park. On the train to Dusseldorf I was engrossed in a book and ignoring the landscape of endless trees until I took a chance glance out the window and saw a vast stream dotted with ancient castles. It was a riveting sight of beauty and I asked Thomas where we were. “This is the Rhine Valley” he said.

We got into Dusseldorf went to Thomas’s house in his hometown of Neuss. His family was gracious and didn’t seem to take offence to the zombie-like fatigue I was showing. It was a little odd talking to his family because, while his mother and sister could both speak English, they refused to because they were too shy. This led to me conversing with them, they understanding everything I was saying, and them responding in German with Thomas translating. I spent the next day with Thomas going to the town’s museum and looking around and then got packed for my return trip. On Wednesday Thomas took me to the train station to the Airport and we said our goodbyes.
This basically ends my story of my trip to Europe. It was a great experience and I have no regrets. Admittedly it was often trying and on several occasions I did not know how I was going to go on, but I met many old friends and new interesting people and saw a huge amount in a very short period of time. It was definitely an experience. And know I ponder as to what my next trip will be.
Yours truly,
Ryan Messer