Les Misérables

45. See Les Misérables

12 hours since I left the theatre, and I am sitting here conducting the soundtrack into thin air at my desk, unable to concentrate on anything else.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!

Six weeks shy of my 30th birthday and I have finally been privy to the wonder that is Les Misérables, enjoying its own 30th year on London's West End.

How did it come to take me so long? I have known much of the music from various choirs, orchestras, singing lessons and piano books across the years but had never seen them put together. I missed the opportunities when it, on rare occasion, would be performed in Adelaide.

In 2012, I refused to watch the movie featuring Russell Crowe and Hugh Jackman. I wanted to see it on the stage first. I didn't know if I would like it, but dammit, I wanted to see it.

By 2014, I had crumbled, and watched the [abomination] of a movie. Now I had a fair idea at least of the plot and how the music I knew so well fitted into the story line. I read as people complained that there was no speaking in the movie, and shook my head at the stupidity of humankind.

Fast forward to arriving in London in June 2014. Here was my chance: Les Misérables was performed on the West End, every night, and had been for 30 years. And I waited. I waited for discounts and special deals which never came.

When it came time to write my bucketlist for the last few weeks I have left in London, I put Les Misérables at the top. Dan and I had been saying for the longest time that we should use his theatre tokens on Les Mis, but we continuously forgot to take them into the city to buy the tickets.

Finally the day came. Tickets had been purchased a few weeks before, seats D 1 & 2. My day at work was less than ideal, but I was looking forward to that evening. I rushed out of work towards a restaurant near the theatre, blathering away to Dan about how excited I was and occasionally breaking into song.

On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
 
The Queen's Theatre is a beautiful theatre right in the heart of the district. I was worried about Stall seats because I often struggle to see past people, but the stage was high enough that the people in front did not obscure my view.

The show
From watching the movie, I had a sort of idea what the plot was, so I wasn't going in blind to the story line. Les Misérables is quite a complex narrative spanning multiple narratives across many years, culminating in Paris in 1823 with the uprising of the French Revolution. If you don't already know the general story line, then this blog post is probably not for you!

To be fair, I couldn't really remember what happened. And so I watched with baited breath and anticipation as the plot continued to unfold. We had the understudy for the main character Jean Valjean and honestly, he was so incredible that I felt it was a disservice for him to be the understudy.

Javert was a suitably stiff and stoic character, with a permanent frown whose staccato tone punctuated his unwavering commitment to hunting down Jean Valjean. The tragic Fantine grew higher and higher in my regard, and I loved the beauty and relaxed aura she possessed at the very end when she returned to Jean Valjean. Cosette felt a little over performed, but still possessed an incredible soprano voice and Eponine, the beautiful Eva Noblezada who I had seen previously in Miss Saigon, was wonderfully heartfelt for her rendition of On my own.

I giggled a few times throughout - not least because of the Master of the House, the wicked and immoral Monsieur Thénardier and Madame Thénardier and the small moments of comic relief are truly a relief in this ultimately tragic tale.

Conclusion
At the end of the show, after joining most of the crowd in a standing ovation, I turned to Dan and said,
"Can we see it again? Like, now?"

I have now spent all morning listening to each of the songs again, desperate to commit the words to memory. Les Misérables has now joined my list of favourite musicals, and has gone from a show-I-guess-I-should-see to a show-that-I-must-see-again-and-again.

Til next time,
xx

Nordic Odyssey Part 1: Stockholm

19. See the Northern Lights

The driving force behind the Nordic Odyssey was the desire to witness the dancing sky, the Northern Lights, the Aurora Borealis.

And dance the sky did.

Our adventure spanned 9 full days and 9 nights travelling over 2700km through Sweden and Norway, right up above the Arctic Circle and back again. It was truly an experience of a lifetime and one of the most amazing holidays I have been on to date.

Friday 12 February

STOCKHOLM
We arrived very late at night and so made our way directly to our accommodation. The air outside was cold, the icy ground slippery but there was little to no snow to be seen. A flake or two fell like dandruff from the sky, but that was all we would see of the white stuff that night.

Saturday 13 February

STOCKHOLM
As we had trudged towards our accommodation the previous night, I had stopped to adjust the gigantic backpack in front of a coffee house selling a delicious looking cream pastry. We promised to return the next morning for breakfast, after we picked up our 24 hour Stockholm travel pass.

We had a big day of activities ahead of us, and the travel pass turned out to be invaluable. Not cheap, but it paid itself back within a couple of journeys: throughout the next 24 hours we were on and off the trains whenever the fancy took us. Scoffing the delicious pastry topped with cream and apple sauce, we headed to the nearest train station.

"It looks pretty out there, let's get out!"

We were on our way to the Ericsson Globe when we spotted a pretty scene out the window of the train. It was cold, but all sunny blue skies. The scene infront of us was a partially frozen lake with large shards of ice and pretty houses up on a hill.

Also, the ground was covered in snow.




Sufficiently photographed out, we hopped back on the train, just to get out 2 stops later when we saw another pretty scene out the window. This time, we had to walk down quite a steep (and slippery) hill until we reached the bottom; a dock, a ladder and...what's that on the lake? Footprints? Is the ice thick enough to stand on?

I perched myself on the edge. Rested my feet on the ice. Three...two...one and I was standing! Both Dan and I had a go at wandering around on the thick, frozen ice, but a couple of little splintering noises had me back on the jetty quick smart.
 

We walked along for a short way, and watched someone skiing along the other side of the frozen lake. They must have been off to the shops!

Time to get back on the train and head to the Ericsson Globe. A little miniature globe scales the side of the giant globe, and inside this mini orb we were offered a slightly different aerial view of Stockholm as it is a little further out from the city centre. We could see the frozen lake we had just tap danced on and all the pretty red rooved houses.
 

Next stop on our itinerary: Ikea. The one thing (other than the Northern Lights, of course) that I was adamant to do in Sweden was visit Ikea. Back in Australia, I was obsessed with Ikea having lived so close to it: I had become sufficiently brain washed. Dan, however, had never been to one before so naturally it was time to start with the largest one the world - and where the phenomenon began.

It was huge. We took some embarrassing photos outside before making our way straight to the restaurant (we would never have made it through the whole store without sustinence!)
 

And guess what that sustinence was? Swedish meatballs, of course. Swedish meatballs, that delicious gravy and of course: lindenberry sauce. I was in heaven. We wondered what the strange white drink everyone around us appeared to be drinking, so Dan went to the dispenser to collect a glass for us.

Milk.
It was milk. Not so strange after all, but definitely a moment of cross language confusion!

The Ikea store was massive, and not particularly well laid out. There were mezzanines within levels, and mezzanines within mezzanines but I am quite sure we managed to see everything in the end. We sat on comfy and garish couches, we imagined how the pouf would match the rug in our imagined home. We spun on office chairs and wrote obscenities into the children's calculators.

After spending at least 5 hours exploring the store, we made it to the ground level and out, having purchased only a thermos. In the outside store, we grabbed some chocolate and snacks while we organised where to go for dinner.

Dinner had to be a viking restaurant. Using our transport pass, we hopped back onto the trains and back into old town. We walked through the door and a large blonde man greeted us. As we did not have a booking we would have to leave by a certain time. "Was this ok? And what are your names and where are you from?" he asked us.

We wondered why he asked, but gave him the information he required. The next minute, we were standing on a set of stairs, full to the brim viking restaurant laid out before us.

"Please welcome..." he boomed, "Sasha and Dan from Australia and New Zealand."

The room erupted in cheers and hollers as we decended the stairs, and we, visibly embarrassed, crawled into our seats in the middle of a long table. Is this because we didn't book? We soon realised, however, that every time a new table were seated they were introduced, and each time we joined in the whooping and applause.

So, it's not a secret that Scandanavia is expensive. It's very expensive. Eye-wateringly so. So when we looked at the menu, we were glad we weren't particularly hungry. We ordered mead (of course!) to be drunk from our chalises, a pot of mussels and a meat selection comprised of reindeer heart, bear, moose and more.

In case you wondered, reindeer heart is very strong and gamey and probably my least favourite of the meats. Stabbing our dinner with our viking implements, and regaled by traditional music - it was an excellent evening.



We began the wander back to our hostel, stopping to take night time photography and generally be irresponsible throwing chunks of ice into the river. It started snowing on us, and we giggled and played in the snow all the walk home.

Sunday 14 February

STOCKHOLM - KIRUNA
We checked out and stored our luggage at the station before setting out for the day. Today we wanted to explore the old town and the Djurgarden. It was much colder today, and the sky was white and grey. Despite the 3 pairs of socks, my feet remained cold. No matter! That's what snow does.

As we walked towards the Djurgarden, we passed the Palace and had a peek inside.

"OUT OF THE WAY" I heard from behind me, and promptly jumped further into the path of the guards stomp marching their way past. Oops, it was the changing of the guards. We followed at a safe distance (to avoid being shouted at again!) and watched the ceremony of the guards.

On the outside of the palace, the steps had been converted into a skiing ramp and children young and old were practicing their technique. I thought this was particularly cool - you'd never get a skiing ramp on Buckingham Palace!

After a warming coffee at the entrance of the Djurgarden (which is a very large public park filled with museums), we set off to explore. And it was beautiful. The landscape was white, the trees were stark black and white, the sky was white. The occasional bit of colour popped on the horizon; a little house here, some orange reeds there and us of course, in our bright purples and reds.




Dan had been here before, and wanted to show me a rather rudey statue. We had a look through the statue park and indeed there was a very sensuous, naked, sprawled lady statue looking a tad cold in the snow.




All of this wandering was in aid of reaching the Vasa museum. The museum is solely dedicated to a ship, but not just any ship: an almost fully intact 17th century ship that had been salaved and restored and now offered a fascinating insight into the people of the time over 300 years ago. Hilariously, the ship sunk within about 10 minutes of its launch as it was too top heavy (the king demanding Extra Cannons! But not being able to account for it in the design...) but due to the cleanliness of the water and the lack of tide, the entire ship sat at the bottom of the sea perfectly preserved.

Our cameras fogged up in here having come from the very cold into the very warm, and so a lot of our limited time was spent trying to get the lenses clear. However, I found it completely fascinating and soon they were calling for us to leave.

We had a few hours now before our overnight train to Kiruna, so we returned to the entrance of the Djurgarden, ordered - you guessed it - meatballs!, had a few beers and then went back to the train station.



One the way back to the station, we discovered a free outdoor iceskaing rink. Honestly, some of the things about this country are just so amazing - you definitely wouldn't find free rinks or ski slopes in London! We watched one girl effortless skate and twirl, and a boy try to impress her but ultimately fell over and embarrassed himself. It grew quite cold, and so we continued on.

We chose to catch the overnight train to Kiruna as it would be a different experience for me, a chance to look at the pretty scenery and basically covered transport and accommodation For an additional £4, we were able to upgrade to a cabin. We waited in the cold for a little while but soon enough our train approached, and we boarded.

Our cabin was adorable, and perfect. Two bunk beds that could be folded away into couches, hidden storage at every turn and the best bit: our own tiny toilet and shower. We made ourselves comfortable and decided to go check out the restaurant car (the food carriage).

Ok let me set the scene. I'd made myself comfortable.
"Can I do this barefoot?" I asked Dan.
"Absolutely, it should be the next car."
So barefoot and braless, and I threw my shawl over my shoulders and pottered to the end of the carriage and, between the two of us, we hauled open the two very heavy doors dividing the carriages.

Not the food cart.

"It must be the next one," Dan said, and we continued on.
And on. And on.  About 6 cars down, we found the food carriage. I threw Dan a look as filthy as my bare feet.

"We're here now, we're buying something," I said, and got us a couple of pizza slices, continuing to throw Dan [now mock] filthy glares.

It was after midnight now, so once I mustered the energy we made the [barefoot] trek back to our room to settle in for the night.

***
Part two sees us waking up above the Arctic Circle, well on our way to Kiruna and the next leg of our Nordic adventure.

xx

Part 1: Keeping up with the Sadashain's

There are many things that have happened in the last...ahem...6 months that I haven't written about because, well, I've just been so busy doing said things that I haven't had a chance to write about them!

This is now going to be a brief round up of all the interesting things that have happened in the last 6 months over a couple of blog posts.

Historic adventures

Underground Steam Tube
Before the tube was the tube as you know it, steam trains used to run the length of many of the underground lines (which would have been particularly smokey). They were replaced with the streamlined ones you see today. A few of the old vintage trains are still in working order, so on this day Dion, Dan and I rode on the Metropolitan line in a vintage locomotive and wooden individual carriages.

It was a lovely day out - I didn't understand the terminology flying over my head, although the small boy in our 8 person carriage made me smile with his Sunday Best white shirt and tie, expensive camera, miniature tripod and a head buzzing with questions and acronyms.

Thames Cruise
Before it started to get really cold for winter, Dan and I went on a paddle steamer excursion out to WWII Maunsel Forts. The Tower Bridge had to open to let us under as we were so tall, and we waved at all the people on the top!

Not every one can say that the Tower Bridge had to raise for them. Along the way we saw many different parts of London as we snaked up the Thames out to the open sea, stopping particularly for a look at the Forts. They were used in WWII to help defend the UK and look like strange War Of The World metal creatures in the middle of the water. On the way back, the Greenwich Mean Line laser was shining bright, as we passed back and forth across the time zones!

Bonfire night

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot.
We see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot! 

Guy Fawkes night is a big deal in London, with many parks and counties organising fireworks and a bonfire. Dan and I went to the one at Wimbledon as it was convenient (and I went to the Ally Pally one the previous year). The ground was a complete muddy mess, but the sky was clear.

We watched through the fence the fireworks for the kids show, and then entered for the adults show - so effectively got two shows for the price of one! Once inside the grounds, we discovered that there was no alcohol at the event - and we had been looking forward to something warming us up! We did stumble across one small stall selling mulled wine, and their line was ridiculously long. We grabbed a couple of wines over the evening from there, but it was largely a dry event.

The bonfire was lit and its glow enormous - my face was legitimately burning. Afterwards, the fireworks lit up the sky to current pop music, and so Guy Fawkes was celebrated.

Aldwych Station
A ghost tube station that is no longer in use and, while used up until the 1990's, had been barely modified since it was built in the 1890's. The lifts were still original turn of the 20th century, and we learnt how the station was used in both World Wars as bunkers.

These days it is open occasionally to the public for tours, but mostly used in movies and TV shows when they need to depict the London Underground

Sports

Rugby World Cup
The final two teams in the World Cup were New Zealand and Australia, the children of the Commonwealth. The Brits were pretty unimpressed that all of their various countries had been knocked out, and now it was down to the rowdiest two.

Tickets to the grand final were of course impossible to get. Dan and I and a few friends found someplace that was screening it - for £5 you received entry and two drink tokens, so we figured if the atmosphere was crappy then at least we could take the beers and leave! It ended up being a pretty decent atmosphere, and of course the Kiwi's won, but Australia put up a good fight to make it quite a tense game.

I say all of this like I knew what was going on. Dan spent the game giving me a crash course in what the hell was happening on the big screen. Thank you!

Soccer..I mean..football
One of my London bucket list items was to see a football game. I became increasingly aware that it was difficult to get tickets to games, especially anyone big. I really wanted tickets to Arsenal, naturally, the most difficult of them all.



As fate would have it, Dan's brother Jeremy is quite a fan of Arsenal and has been to almost every game since he's been living in London (in the suburb of Arsenal, of course). He managed to get us tickets and, donning my borrowed Arsenal t-shirt and scarf, we made our way into the stadium with 60k other fans.

It was a sunny day, but freezing cold and we had an excellent view of the field. I thought it was a good game as it was close and edge-of-your seat, but apparently Arsenal were playing pretty poorly. None-the-less, they won! 2-1 (thank god). And there was much rejoicing. Jeremy kept us up to date on which player was who and what they were good at, so I feel I received quite a rounded education.

Returning to the station afterwards was slow progress as 60,000 people piled back onto the streets and onto the tube stations. We weren't in a rush, so we just trundled along with the crowd.

***

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Keeping up with the Sadashian's: Shows, small trips and culture!

xx

Germany Part 2: On the road to Berlin

When I first decided I was going to Oktoberfest, I started formulating a plan to stay in Germany and continue travelling, with the intent of discovering more about my family history. 

Fast forward a few months, Oktoberfest was a month away and I had nothing booked. This was mostly due to my Summer of Fun ruining me financially, but in the end I pulled it together, booked some accommodation, in the end staying in Germany for 10 days. This is the rest of that story, after I left everyone in Munich.

Monday 28 September

DRESDEN

I did not envy everyone about to undertake the 18 hour coach ride back to London, but I had a fairly sizeable journey ahead of me. It was going to take 6 hours and 3 trains for me to travel from Munich to Dresden, and I settled in as best I could.

Oktoberfest, to say the least, had ruined me. I was exhausted. How I managed to coordinate myself to change trains and platforms a few times is beyond me. I finally arrived at Dresden Neueustadt and started walking towards my hostel which was only 15 minutes from the station.

About 49 seconds down the road, my phone battery died. By now it was almost 10.30pm, and I was not willing to wander the streets this late at night. I returned to the station and started waiting for a taxi. After a long while, no taxi arrived, but I noticed a gentleman had also been standing at the rank the whole time I had been. I struck up a conversation, as I am wont to do.

"Hi there, do you speak English?"

"Yes, yes," he replied, looking up from his smoke.

"I was wondering...as there aren't many taxis - when one comes along, could I please share it with you? My hostel is right around the corner but I don't know how to find my way there in the dark."

He agreed, and we started chatting. He was actually Norwegian, but had married a German girl and now spends his time between the two countries. His son had lived in Australia for some time, and we talked about all manner of things. An age later, a taxi finally pulled up. I tried to explain that we would do two drop offs, with me first. I think it was understood well enough, even though the driver didn't speak much English. We wended our way through the back streets of Dresden, my taxi companion commenting that this was a very nice area, "very trendy." 

When we pulled up at the hostel, I shoved some money towards my taxi friend and he repeatedly refused to take it, and so I thanked him profusely and gathered my things, ready to bunk down for the night. 

Inside my hostel, the night staff were changing over and so I had to sit for a while. When it was time for me to check in, both the boys behind the counter engaged in conversation. "Sasha. That's a boys name! And Oelsner...that sounds..."

"Yes, my dad was German," I replied, sleepily filling in my form.

I stared at the form in confusion. "Um...Oktoberfest has given me brain damage. What year is it?"

The boys looked at each other and said, "2015."

"Oops," I said embarrassed, and crossed out the 2013's I had written in all the fields, replacing it with the correct year. 

Oktoberfest really took it out of me. I didn't even know what year it was.

Tuesday 29 September

I was still exhausted, but I got maybe 5 hours of sleep and felt remotely refreshed. Today I would go into the old part of Dresden and tomorrow I would explore the new part of Dresden (where I was staying). After deciding €4 was excessive for bread and no ham for breakfast, I ventured out into the world. I stopped at an (overpriced) cafe and ordered a Vitamin C juice (because I desperately needed some goodness) and some pancakes as I attempted to map out my day.

In the end, I hopped onto the tram like the lady at reception had told me to do. I had my change in my pocket and I was ready to buy my ticket. On board, I couldn't see anywhere to pay. I noticed the locals sitting down and so I did the same, thinking maybe someone will come along (as they do in Adelaide). A few stops later, no one came along and it was time for me to get off. Well, that was a win. But also very lucky, because I had heard that in Germany they can be particularly nasty if you don't pay your fare.

I walked across the bridge in the bright, clear sunlit day, taking my time as I basked in the view of the old buildings. I realised I didn't know what any of them were. A tour bus was parked on the side of the road and I enquired how much it would be. If you recall, I had my bag stolen at Oktoberfest and so I lost quite a lot of money. I had a little bit on me, but was loathe to spend it if I didn't have to - and I was to get my pay the following day. I decided the tour would be too expensive and used my rapidly-getting-crumpled map to find my way around.

I spent quite a bit of time in the Zwinger, as it had gorgeous green grass and an amazing fountain. I tried to enter one of the rooms. "May I zee your ticket please," a lady asked as she approached me. "Oh..I ..er...thanks!" and turned tail and walked out. I had simply wandered in - I never found out if I needed a ticket or not.

I visited a number of historic sites, took my photos, and then sat in a sunny spot to learn the history of what I had just photographed. I climbed the church tower as I like seeing cities from above and had my lunch in the market below. Each German city, I was to discover, had market squares where wurst and bier and all manner of food and goods were sold. I marvelled at how many people were drinking beer on a weekday. Don't you need to be at work? I thought to myself.  Excitedly, I saw a few stalls selling kartoffelpuffer. 

Say it with me, kids. Kartoffelpuffer.

I learnt this word when I was studying German in highschool and it instantly became my favourite German word. It is a potato cake type thing with large amounts of apple sauce. I had to have one. It didn't blow my mind, but I am happy to say I have now been kartoffelpuffed.

It was now mid afternoon and I was barely able to stand. I found a mall and had a small wander before slowly making my way back to the hostel for a lie down. Oktoberfest really took it out of me!

I had a much needed nap, and while I could have stayed in bed forever, I figured I should probably get something for tea. On the map was recommended a German place serving traditional food and so I opted to go there. At the last second, I piped up to a boy in the room, "If you don't have any plans - do you want to get some food with me?" A moments hesitation (I thought - what have I gotten myself into?) and he agreed. His name was Florian and he was a soft-spoken German metal head.

His English was stilted but he became more comfortable the more we talked (and once we'd had a beer). At the restaurant (it was candle-lit, which was a tad uncomfortable!) we were finally served and I had - of course - the schnitzel. I was very excited. We drank beer and talked until our food arrived, upon which time I had a small panic attack because my meal was enormous. The schnitzel was very nice - simple, with lemon juice, and it was on a bed of what looked like 19 potatoes. 

There was no way I was ever going to be able to finish all the potatoes, so I gave it my best but ended up having to call it a night. At one point, I told him that in Australia, my family were the only ones with our surname. He looked confused. I said, "Here in Germany, it seems like Oelsner is about as common as a Jones or a Smith!" He laughed and agreed, saying it is a very common surname in Germany. 

Strange, especially how there are no others in the whole of Australia. Also strange, as our family had been under the impression that it was not such a common name. 

Two beers and an enormous meal later, I was ready for bed. 

Wednesday 30 September
DRESDEN - LEIPZIG

PAY DAY. I let myself have a pretty lazy morning before packing my things and checking out of the hostel. Leaving my luggage there for later, I was going to explore Dresden Neumarkt this morning and then catching a train out to Leipzig that afternoon. This morning I wanted to find Pfunds Molkerei, famous dairy shop with a gorgeous interior. On the way, I grabbed a delicious and enormous breakfast of fruit and yoghurt and bread and jam and it was exactly the nutrition I needed.

The dairy shop was just around the corner, with quite a few people standing outside taking pictures. I had heard it was the most expensive dairy shop in town, so many people just went there to photograph the incredible porcelain work that adorned all surfaces. As it was PAY DAY, I was feeling happy to splurge and so I went inside. A massive array of cheeses and chocolate was presented to me, and I looked closely at the wares while taking sneaky photos of the interior. In the end, I bought a few bits of chocolate and for myself, a tasting plate of cheese. Mm...cheese.

Dresden Neumarkt is the trendy side of town, and there were quite a few op shops that had been listed in the area. I spent a little time looking at them but didn't find anything either to my taste or within my price range. On my way back to the hostel, I stopped at a large park to eat my cheese selection and watch some kids play frisbee. 

By now, my phone had completely died and so I returned to the hostel to charge my phone a little. While there, I checked the train timetable and realised that a train left in approximately 25 minutes and it was considerably cheaper than following trains.

The hostel was 17 minutes walk from the station, so I quickly paid for my ticket, gathered my things and walked as fast as my little legs could take me. I made it there in a good 13 minutes with my powerwalking and waited, sweating, for the train (which happened to be about half an hour late).

LEIPZIG

The train to Leipzig was uneventful and I alighted into a large mall, which I spent about an hour perusing (it was pay day after all! Although my only purchase was some german dark chocolate). My hostel was easy to find and very nice, and I checked in a collapsed.

Why did I go to Leipzig? I was considering this trip to Germany to be a small pilgrimage to find out more about my German heritage but pretty soon into researching for the expedition I realised that I wouldn't have a lot of luck in the country itself and was probably better off using Ancestry.com. However, I still wanted to visit Leipzig as it was the town that my father was born in and I wanted to find out if I'd get a bit of a feeling from the place.

What I did find in Leipzig was a soaring re-appreciation for classical music. I had not known that this town had played host to many composers, and I spent my first night (eating German McDonald's with truffle sauce) organising my classical music route for the morrow. On the return to my hostel, I walked through the main square and could hear a familiar piece. Around the corner was a string quartet and they were playing beautiful classical and well known music. I threw some euros into the violin case and stood back to watch and appreciate.

Back in my hostel, the cold I was coming down with blast into full swing. I chatted with an American boy until he bored me quite considerably, and then a very interesting girl joined our room, along with an English boy, and we spent some time talking until I couldn't keep my eyes open any more.

Thursday 1 October

Bach. Wagner. Mendelsohhn. Schumann. Many composers were represented here and so today I wanted to try to visit all of their states, street names, museums, houses and the like. I found myself very close to the Bach Museum so even though I didn't have any breakfast I went straight there. I was a little surprised by the  €8 entry fee, but sucked it up since I was there already.

Bach is actually my least favourite composer. This was a belief passed down from my piano teacher who did not like his music. However, we both conceded that technically, the pieces were brilliant, and educationally, they were essential, but overall, just not particularly inspiring but I still did play a lot of Bach throughout my youth. I know this view point will not sit well with everyone, but each to their own, yes?

To be honest, the Bach museum was the kind of place you stay for quite a long time just to get your money's worth. I did do a little sneaky, though, and took a couple of photographs in the do not photograph section of true, original handwritten scores by Bach himself. I enjoyed the handwritten scores and scribbles - standing there trying to decipher what I was reading - knowing full well that I would never have been able to compose something as intricate on the spot.

After the Bach museum, I wandered past the respective Mendolsohhn and Schumann Houses but both also required an entry fee and I was getting mildly frustrated having to pay entry to everything in Germany. I decided that the next stop would be the Classical Instrument Museum, and along the way I stumbled across a gorgeous little cemetery in which now resides the families of Wagner and Schumann.

I spent more time than I care to admit wandering through this cemetery, the gravestones places sporadically, and whole blood lines buried beneath long, vine-ridden walls. It was beautiful in the early autumn oranges and reds and yellows, and serene.

I discovered the Classical Instrument Museum backed onto the cemetery and made my way inside, once I had my fill of centuries-old gravestones covered in moss. I was the only person inside the museum, and a little old lady (who spoke no English) followed at a slightly-uncomfortable distance behind me. I was particularly interested in the evolution of the piano and marvelled at the insides of many a harpsichord and pianola. The string instruments bemused me too, such as 6 stringed cellos - I found it hard enough to play when it only had 4 strings - and a whole manner of weird and wonderful instruments.

Once I was finished here, I was allowed to go upstairs and have a bit of a play on some of the instruments. They had a piano that was entirely plastic coated so you could see inside at the mechanics of the strings and the pedals. The young man in charge of the room showed me how to use an old organ which created bird songs, water running and other manufactured sounds simply using air.

I was starved by now, and so made the decision to head my way back to the hostel as I was exhausted and had seen as much as I wanted to see. I approached a stall and ordered…something. I had a few minutes until it was ready, and so I grabbed  beer. Soon my meal was ready and I looked at it in dismay. I realised what I had ordered, in my haste. Blood sausage. I thanked the gentleman and took my meal and beer to the nearest table. I attempted to eat the blood sausage while listened to a german man on the stage singing. Every now and then, he would break into an English song…

Love is in ze air,

Everyvere you look around.

Love is in ze air…

The blood sausage grew cold, my beer grew warm, and so I downed the remainder of my drink and walked quickly away from the half uneaten food. No matter, it was an experience! On the return to the hostel I grabbed some strawberries dipped in chocolate and called it an early night.

Friday 2 October

LEIPZIG - BERLIN

I slept in a little bit and checked out just on time. My train wasn't until after midday, and so I made my way slowly to the station, slowly ate some food, and checked my train app. That's funny, it's not updating. I panicked, and went to the info desk to ask about my train. The gentleman behind the counter just looked at me wide eyed and motioned that he didn't know English. I was in a wi-fi zone, and so messaged Dan who suggested turning it off and on again. Oh. Yes, well, that fixed it.

The train journey was uneventful and I arrived in the crazy Berlin station mall. It was a gorgeous sunny day when I meandered my way along the river, past the Brandenburg Gate on my way to find our hostel. I say 'our' because for this leg of the journey, I was joined by the lovely Daniel, who was to be flying in that evening. Berlin was somewhere I had wanted to visit for a while and was a city that received mixed polar reviews. I didn't want to visit it alone as I had heard it was a party town, and I invited Dan to join me so we could explore the city together.

After my phone conveniently died and I found the hostel, I collapsed in the room - which was awesomely upgraded into an apartment! I was so stoked, and after a short relax made my way back out onto the streets. We had been recommended to visit the Reichstag building but one had to get tickets in advance. They were unfortunately already sold out for this weekend. However, if you were willing to wait in line at the ticket booth there was a chance you could get a few of the remaining tickets.

First I walked in an exit and was quickly ushered out by security guards. I asked about getting tickets for the Reichstag for tomorrow, Saturday, to which I was told it was a public holiday and to join the queue over there. Public holiday? What? I guess that explains all the music and concerts and posters I've seen, I thought to myself. I joined the back of the queue.

The queue grew slowly behind me, and the young lady in front of me turned and asked if I was travelling alone. "Yes," I replied, "Well, no, I have been, but my boyfriend will be joining me this evening in Berlin. What about you?" And with that, we struck up a conversation. At one point, I quickly ducked out of the line (Hold my place, please?) to ask a staff member if it was possible to buy a ticket for someone else, with the answer being yes. Back in the line, Sarah and I passed the time chattering about all manner of things. The line moved rather slowly, and we were there for a good hour.

Soon, it was my turn to enter. Only one of the terminals was occupied, the other having been vacated for a short break just before I walked in. I went to order two tickets for the Reichstag, only to be told that I needed some form of photo ID for Dan - either his passport or his drivers licence - neither of which I had. The lady told me to shut the door, and quickly made out the pass for him and myself based on his date of birth and full name. This was against rules and I was very grateful.

Sarah was waiting outside after I had collected my tickets, and together we made our way over to the Brandenburg Gate to see what was going on. A stage had been set up and there was all sorts of rock-classical music playing, with bright lights starting to show up as the sun was setting. We grabbed a beer and a currywurst and Prost! we cheersed to being in Berlin. As the sun set, it got colder and colder and I had left my winter coat in the hostel as it had been such a sunny day. We parted ways and I wandered back to the hostel to change into warmer clothes, before meeting Daniel at the Berlin Station (complete with German beer in hand, of course!).

I gave Dan the Sasha's Tour of Berlin (which was very brief and mostly consisted of "That's a cool looking thing over there…"), and as we wandered past the Reichstag we realised it was covered in lights. There were posters all along the fencing and we could read 25 Jahre Deutsches Einheit. 25 years German…one…heart? Dan grabbed up his Wordlens app. Unity. Wait…was the public holiday on the morrow the 25th anniversary of the reunification of East and West Germany?

We applauded our good luck for being in Germany on such a momentous weekend, took a lot of photos of the Reichstag lit up with historical photos and wandered back to the Brandenburg Gate, which by now was completely alight and watched until the end of the performance.

Saturday 3 October

We slept in a little and ended up missing the first walking tour we had booked, but luckily they were free so we opted for the second one. A quick breakfast of - you guessed it - jam berliners (simply so I could say Ich bin win Berliner - I am a jam doughnut) before being harassed by wasps, we quickly departed for the Brandenburg Gate to start the free Sandeman's walking tour.

There were so many people doing the tour, we were split into three groups (and I think we got the best guide!) He was half Dutch half American, and spoke fluent basically everything. He had a fantastically dry sense of humour and was extremely knowledgeable - he had gone to Berlin a decade previously for a holiday and never left. 

He explained all about the Brandenburg Gate, Pariser Platz and the statue atop the Gate. We wandered underneath a hotel canopy, henceforth known as the "Blanket Hotel" - where Michael Jackson famously (and dangerously) dangled his baby Blanket out the window.

We stood in No Man's Land, and I felt a chill. The space between East and West Germany. The place where any who had stood little more than 25 years previously would have been shot on sight. We wandered through the stone blocks of the eerie, thought provoking and quiet Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, before moving onto the Nazi Luftwaffe (Airforce) building (which would then become the Communist headquarters, and which today is, of course, the Berlin Tax Office - and they say German's don't have a sense of humour?). One theory as to why this building remains standing today is that when the city was being bombed, pilots needed a point of reference from the sky.

A quick visit to a portion of the Berlin Wall that is still standing - sections remain all across the city - before a quick explanation of the Trabant (or trabi) car. This car was manufactured during the Communist era and ended up with a waiting list of 13 years. 13 years to wait for a car. We wandered past Checkpoint Charlie but did not stop - it looked like a tourist trap and was overrun with kitsch. Our guide explained that 25 years previously, tours could come to this place, erect a ladder and let the tourist peek over to see Checkpoint Charlie.

And there we were just gawking at a big poster. How times have changed, and in my lifetime!

After Checkpoint Charlie we made our way to the Gerdarmenmarkt, housing two enormous churches and the Konzerhaus, before rounding the corner to the Humboldt University. Here our guide ended the tour with an exceptional explanation of how the Berlin Wall fell. It was a story I hadn't actually heard, and I was shocked, amazed and impressed that history could be changed within the space of six hours and due to (luckily!) the incompetence of one person. Brava to him, though, as he set the wheels in motion to begin healing Germany.

The tour was over, and I was starving and so we sat in the square to have a bit to eat (and a strange pink beer with a straw) and then made our way through Museum Island and to the Berlin Radio Tower. We ummed and ahhed about going up the tower, but decided for now to forget about it.

Hopping on a train, we popped up in the far East Berlin where the last of the days sun was splashed on the Berlin Wall - the graffiti gallery. I was fascinated by the artwork here. 

One section of the two walls was still standing, and this was the thinnest portion of No Man's Land along the stretch - no more than a few metres wide. We were exhausted, so we sat with our backs against the Berlin Wall and relaxed for a few minutes by the river.

Sitting here, we made the snap decision to go up the Berlin Radio Tower after all, so we jumped back on the train, back to Alexanderplatz and into the queue for the Tower. Here, I happened to get wifi reception and discovered that our hostel had put us in the wrong room, and could we return to pack up our things otherwise they would pack them up for us. I was livid, and fuming, knowing full well that they had done exactly that, but I tried really hard to not think about as there was nothing that could be done at this point.

It was about 2 hours before we could go up the tower, and we peeked at the market in Alexanderplatz. We realised, with a giggle, that this was in fact Berlin's Oktoberfest, and it was a far cry from the one we had experienced in Munich. I, as usual, was pretty hungry but I couldn't decide what to eat. We saw a girl carrying some kind of giant basket filled with sausage and chips and decided instantly that was what we were to have. A currywurst basket, with the bread basket edible once the innards were gone. YUM. Next stop: beer. I was desperate to have a shot of jager whilst in Germany, so I ordered a half pint and a jager shot each and we settled down in some chairs to wait until our turn up the tower.

Whilst sitting, Dan and I slowly came to the conclusion that these Paulaner glasses were in fact pretty sweet. Good quality, heavy, and would make a nice matching set… the little klepto's came out in us as we sacrificed the €2 deposit for each glass and stashed them in our bags. Steins seemed to start from at least a good €30, so these were a bargain! ;)

Back at the tower (and our glasses confiscated for the time being) we took the glass elevator up up up (my ears popping) until we reached the top floor. The view was lovely and we could see fireworks going off at the Reichstag. We stayed for a cocktail before making our way back to our hostel.

I was a little bit angry at the staff at the hostel, unfortunately it was the cleaning lady who had nothing to do with it. I'm still pissed off that they went through our things and sent me an email to let me know - they had my number - but I'll just leave this here and won't say any more about it!

Sunday 4 October

We checked out and took our things back to the Brandenburg Gate. This morning we were going to meet a family friend of Dan's for a coffee and a catch up. I had gotten tickets for the Reichstag for this afternoon at 12.15 as any earlier ones had been taken, but after the coffee we wandered past to see if we should join the line.

Luckily, they just let us through early - at about 11.30am, and in the end it was a good thing they did as we spent much longer here than we had expected to! A quick and very painless security check later (considering I had all my luggage from the previous 10 days) and we were in the line to be led into the parliament building.

The Reichstag has a long and varied history, but was not at any time occupied by the Nazi regime. It was bombed, or burned down, or changed structure. These days, it has a dome atop (akin to a dome it had back in the day) and you can go up there to see 360 views of Berlin. The views here were better than from the Tower, and I was incredible impressed.

You could walk around the Dome, as well as walk inside and up the Dome. It was a fantastic modern structure with mirrors and harsh blues and lines, making for a wonderfully industrial feel. We spent a long time here before looking at our watches and realising we should probably make tracks.

There was one last thing I wanted to do in Berlin and that was have a photo in a Photo Booth. Back at the Brandenburg Gate we found one, practiced our poses and SNAP FLASH SNAP FLASH, we had our print-out on a commemorative 25 Jahre paper.

***

I had a torturous plane ride as my cold caused my ears to block up, which left me writhing in my seat in pain and discomfort. Upon landing, I couldn't really hear, and luckily the border security were lovely and didn't take long about dealing with my passport issues. We were at Southend Airport, which was a way out in the sticks, but the train journey back to London was also a breeze.

Germany, I spent 10 days with you and it was an incredible experience. I found you more difficult than I might have expected - I feel I have traversed other countries easier without knowing the language. I also felt shamed at every turn that I, with German heritage, could not read, write, understand or speak the language and have endeavoured to go forth and learn it. Your food was a mix of utterly amazing and dear-god-what-is-that, and your beers have given me an appreciation for the hoppier beverage. I learnt nothing about my background but reinvigorated my love for classical music.

Thank you, and ve shall meet again.

Auf wiedersehen!

xx

Germany Part 1: Oktoberfest

13. Go to Oktoberfest

This one is a no-brainer. I don't need to write a lengthy discourse explaining my reasonings for wanting to attend Oktoberfest in Munich. 

Statistics time, kids! 

100% of people who had attended previously told me that it was the best weekend of their lives. 50% of those said they would go back every. single. year. The other 50% said they couldn't go back as their livers have never recovered. 

I fall into the 'would attend repeatedly' category. And so without further ado: Oktoberfest.

This is that story. That very drunken story.

Friday 25 September

I arrived at the BritBound Base a little early to wait for Dan and because I wasn't sure when we would be boarding the bus. Heading inside, the Base was already a hive of activity; a production line of crossing my name off the list, giving out a goodybag (complete with condoms and panadol), handing out a Britbound bracelet and, of course, being thrust an icy cold Fosters beer.

Never have I been given a beer on arrival of a tour before. Yes, yes I know it was Fosters (and turned out to be the second - and third - Fosters I've ever drunk) but it was a very nice touch for our entry into the world's biggest beer festival.

There was much excited babbling as those we already knew were welcomed and new friends were introduced. Finally, we gathered our things to board the bus. The bus attempted a 95 point turn in the small alley, eventually gave up, and so Dan and I ran to get the best seats we could onboard.

Some of us were one beer deep, others about 6 or 7, and so the poor onboard toilet got a pounding during those first two hours of our trip. Despite many protestations from the driver, too many had begun early and their bladders already weak: the toilet was filling up fast. In the mid-afternoon, we were able to get on the ferry and stretch our legs for a while. The White Cliffs of Dover, now the third time I've seen them, faded in the distance as we pulled away from England towards Calais, France.

Our path took us from England through France, across through Luxemburg (can I technically say I've been there? I did physically stand on Luxemburgian ground) before cutting into Germany and down through to Munich. The bus ride was as unpleasant as I anticipated, what with rowdy people being rowdy (excuse me while I go put on my old person diapers and find my zimmer frame), and unwanted movies being played. I didn't sleep, and by about 8am, 18 hours since we first departed, we arrived at the camp site that was to be our home for the next two nights.

Saturday 26 September
It's been Saturday 26 September for a while now, as I was awake for the majority of it, but by now it was time to begin the adventure. I was attempting not to be grumpy from my lack of sleep, slightly worried about how I was going to make it through the day but endeavoured to put on a happy face and I knew once I was all made up I'd be feeling sprightly as can be.

Most important part of the day happened first: breakfast. We headed into the breakfast tent and piled up our plates with scrambled eggs and sausages, lining our stomachs for the onslaught of beer it was about to endure.

We wanted to get to the Oktoberfest grounds as soon as possible, and so the majority of us forwent the 8-minutes-of-hot-water shower and opted for a man-shower tops-and-tails instead, deciding we were going to be covered in beer soon enough anyway! I gently unpacked my dirndl, my gorgeous petrol blue skirt and apron with busty blouse and wiggled into it. I plaited my hair "German" style, piled makeup on my face to remove the bags under my eyes and stepped back. I felt good. I felt beautiful. These Bavarian's really know how to make a lady look nice. My dirndl was the perfect mix of sexy and conservative, coming to my knee but showing off an amount of bust I didn't even know I was capable of achieving.

Enough about my exquisite bust. We haven't even made it to the Oktoberfest grounds yet. Dan looked fantastic in his lederhosen, bright red shirt and hat, and a quick look around showed just how beautiful all the ladies were and how dashing the boys. A first busload went - those who hadn't bought an outfit before-hand so we caught the next bus a few minutes later. Most of the Britbounders piled onto this bus, teeth chattering from equal parts cold and excitement.

We were ready to get our beer on!

Off the bus and we started the walk to the grounds. This walk would be replicated in reverse many hours and beers later. And there it loomed before us. Oktoberfest, Munich. The best way I can describe it from first glance is the Royal Adelaide Show, only free to enter and better in every single regard. But you kind of understand my drift. Followed our esteemed leader and aficionado Jake, we tried the Paulaner tent to no avail - no spare seats or tables at all, inside or out. We walked next to the Schottenhamel Spatenbrau tent. No room inside, but there were tables (quickly filling) outside in the beer garden. We grabbed three tables back to back and made ourselves comfortable.

BIER!

A waitress very soon approached us and asked us what we would like. A little obvious, don't you think?

BIER! FÜNF BIER!

Ok, we probably didn't shout it and we probably didn't say it in German, but the first round on our table was sorted in under a few minutes of sitting down. An even shorter time later, it seemed that the beers arrived, all heavy steins and foamy head. To begin with, on our table sat Jordan, Erika, Pat, myself and Dan, later to be joined by Jordan, Jeremy, Cynthia, Josie and Kim.

PROST! we shouted, and smashed our enormous steins together with a satisfying chink, taking special care to look directly into everyone's eyes deeply - there was no way I was going to risk seven years bad sex. I took my first sip. I was strangely impressed. Not too beery, I thought to myself, I could get used to this.

Here it all becomes very simple. For the next 9 or 10 hours, we sat at our tables and we drank. We drank litres of beer. We danced. We sang. Some of our party on adjoining tables were kicked out for being too rowdy (possibly the same ones as on the bus?) and they ended up with some Oktoberfest stories of their own. At one point, it was time to eat when Dan and I realised we had completely forgotten to.

Let me tell you a little bit about the pork knuckle. I'd been recommended it, and so it was my first choice off the menu. As Dan and I weren't overly hungry, we decided to get one to start with and share it. Let's just say that the Germans know how to do pork. This was a thing of beauty. A masterpiece, and it wasn't only beer-goggles saying this. The pork knuckle came with a potato dumpling and some fantastic gravy, and it was devoured in very short order.

Across the whole day, I managed to put away 4 whole litres of beer, a fact I am pretty damn proud of considering I don't drink beer. In other words, that was the equivalent of 8 beers. I'm not very big, so this had a reasonable effect on me. Every time we ordered a beer, there was a chorus of, "Sara! Can I please have the sharpie?" and Sara would throw her texta towards us so we could mark our tally on our arm.

Towards the end of the evening, Dan realised his wallet was missing. We searched everywhere for it, looking underneath all of the surrounding tables and asking those who had taken over our old tables. Extremely unfortunate, but it was completely gone. Dan took it well, but as it was getting late anyway we decided to head back to the camp ground on the shuttle. We had a short walk around the Oktoberfest grounds but I for one was pretty damn stumble-y. We somehow navigated back to the bus (one was in the process of leaving and kindly stopped in the middle of the road for us) and back to our tent amongst hundreds in the camp site.

At this point, we realised that our shower tokens had been in Dan's wallet. To have hot water at this camp site, you had to pay for a shower token, which would give you exactly 8 minutes of hot water before becoming icy cold again. We went to the Topdeck tent and they kindly gave us another two shower tokens which we would use the next morning.

By now it was time to collapse onto our air-mattresses and await the impending hangover.

Sunday 27 September
HUUUUUUURUURRHRHRHRHHGHGHGHGHGGGGG.

In case you don't know what that is, that's the sound of someone vomiting violently. In the middle of the night I had heard someone being sick strangely close to my head, although it wasn't Dan or myself. I figured someone had thrown up on a tree nearby, but all was to be revealed in the morning.

We got up early because today we wanted to get a seat inside one of the beer halls. This meant getting there closer to 9.30am, instead of the 11am we were the previous day. It was damn bloody cold, and I had my first shower since Friday with my hot water token, applied a generous amount of makeup, and made my way to the breakfast tent to line my stomach again.

I soon learned that the painful hurling I had heard the night before was our tent neighbour Ryan, who had been unfortunately unwell inside his own tent which he was sharing with Jeremy. Jeremy, unable to do anything about it, managed to find himself a spare tent. Perhaps it was Ryan's plan all along to have a tent to himself? It explained why it sounded so close...because it was right next to my head.

I marvelled at how little hungover I felt, although I did not feel completely chipper. Another night with a significant lack of sleep, plus a significant amount of beer, plus the significantly early start and Sasha was a little worse for wear - although it could have been significantly worse. After stuffing as much food into myself as possible, the troupe who were capable of gathering early jumped on the bus (Thomas coming sprinting straight from sleeping in his tent to the bus) and we were off to do it all over again.

This morning, there was less singing and more groaning on the journey in. I for one was glad when it was over as the motion of the bus was not helping my belly. We made a beeline for the Paulaner tent and this morning we found ourselves a table pretty easily. The Britbounders in this group took up a table and a half and quietly ordered our first round of beer for the morning.

9.30am.

I Prost'ed as heartily as I could muster and took a tiny sip of my beer. I crinkled my nose, exclaiming this is a beerier beer than yesterday's beer! I wasn't sure how I was going to go. Looking around the table, some of the boys were tucking into their beer; most of the girls looked slightly pained.

Half a litre down though, and the vibe changed. Being inside the beer hall was completely different to outside and, while I'm glad to have experienced both, inside is definitely the place to be. It was not long before the room was filled to capacity, and capacity was approximately 8,500 people (sitting, and I'm quite sure more were crammed in). Soon we were singing rowdy songs, and shouting prost! and singing the cheers song (over..and over..and over again!):

Ein Prosit, ein Prosit

Der Gemütlichkeit

Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit

Der Gemütlichkeit.

OANS! ZWOA! DREI! G'SUFFA!

Every few minutes some brave (or stupid!) soul stood up on their bench, stein raised high, to the thunderous applause of the entire tent. This was the challenge: Finish the litre stein in one go. If you complete (and in good time), cheers and respect from your fellow drunkards. Fail, and you will be boo'ed and shamed for all eternity. Until the next person attempts it, anyway.

We had a couple of successful attempts on our table, which I am proud to say!

The afternoon proceeded in a similar - but crazier - manner than the previous days. Beer. Lots of beer. A pork knuckle of deliciousness. A pretzel. At one point, I chatted briefly with the Germans on the table behind us. "My name is Sasha," I said, to which the reply was always "Sasha? That's a boys name!" and laughter.

At some point of the evening, I discovered my handbag had been stolen. I looked everywhere for it. Inside was my purse (approximately €120), Shazza the meerkat, Little Joe, Dan's mascot, my brand new selfie stick that had been a gift, my phone power charger and some other little bits and pieces. I was extremely upset, but thanked small mercies that I had given Dan my phone, which housed my ID and bank card.

That will teach me for being a drunken idiot, dancing on the table and leaving my bag unattended in a room full of even more drunk and less pleasant strangers. I was upset, but decided I wasn't going to let it ruin my night, and so I ordered another stein and got right back up there on the table.

While we were dancing on the table, every now and then a beer waitress would tap us on the legs and angrily tell us to get back onto the benches. When she had passed, we were right back up on the table. Beer was spilled. Beer was drunk. Songs were sung. Dances were danced. Hugs were given. Smiles all around as the room buzzed with drunken electricity.

This day, I had again managed another 4 litre steins according to the sharpie markings I had drawn onto my arm. In actuality, I think it was closer to 5 as I may have purloined an odd stein that was unattended (perhaps the owner had been forcibly removed?). You snooze you lose, buddy.

At some point nearing the end of the evening, I went to the toilet and came back to find that everyone had called it a night. Probably rightly so! Dan and I started to wander off when we thought to check Lost Property on the off-chance someone had turned in his wallet. I don't remember how we found out where Lost Property was, or where it was, but we made our way there and it was not long before we were at the front of the queue.

To cut a long story short, the man behind the counter returned with Dan's wallet. "NO WAY." We both exclaimed very loudly. Dan detailed all of the things inside, including his McLovin' ID. The man asked how much money was inside, to which Dan replied About €100. Turns out it was €180 and we were left wondering if it ended up with more money inside than to start! He had to pay €34 to have it returned (an act of goodwill, I suppose) and we rejoiced.

On a whim, I asked if a red handbag had been turned in and I almost cried when I saw the man return with my (strangely limp) red Hedgren. Unlike Dan's good luck, my bag had been almost entirely stripped; money gone, Shazza and Joe gone, selfie stick gone, juice pack gone. The thief was kind enough to leave me my deodorant and lipstick and my handbag was a good AU$200 so I wasn't entirely unhappy. I still couldn't fathom why someone would steal a meerkat and a puppy dog and wondered what sick people there are in the world. Maybe Shazza and Little Joe staged their own disappearance, took the Euros and selfie stick and ran off into the world. Maybe I should look out for photos of the two of them!

It was almost time for the last shuttle and even though we wanted to ride the ferris wheel, it would be cutting it a little bit too fine. As we walked out of the Oktoberfest grounds, we bid it auf wiedersehen - hopefully not for the last time in our lives!

Monday 27 September
Gurgle. I did not feel well this morning. We had to be out of our tents and packed by 9am. This was a struggle. We had not eat enough over the course of the weekend. I had only eaten 2 breakfasts, 1 full pork knuckle (2x halves) and half a pretzel. That's not quite enough for 9ish litres of beer.

I would not be returning to London with the rest of the crew on the coach, but staying on in Germany. It was a minor debacle finding a place to store my luggage, but it was achieved, before we were all packed onto the coach again for a very small tour of the city. Naturally, I ended up sitting infront of the person who was sick on the bus, and many others were not feeling well, and I was supremely glad when the bus journey was over and I could breathe fresh air again.

The walking tour was uneventful and unremarkable; we ended up in the town square underneath the massive clock tower on the new town hall, and here we were left to our own devices. Dan and I decided we would stick around for the glockenspiel display. While we waited for 11am, I realised I hadn't booked my train ticket to Dresden, and I didn't have any money left thanks to my stolen wallet. Dan kindly lent me some and we booked my tickets then and there for later that afternoon.

After the little characters whirled and the bells chimed to mark 11am, we wandered over to the Hofbräuhaus, the biggest beer hall outside of Oktoberfest. I for one could only muster a fizzy orange drink and had absolutely no inclination for a beer. We had some food and bid the Britbounders adieu; we wanted to check out the Oktoberfest grounds one last time for a look in Lost Property for Shazza and Little Joe and a go on the ferris wheel.

This was the first time we had seen the grounds in the light of day. It was a Monday so it was more subdued than the weekend but it was still a hive of activity. And much bigger than I realised. We somehow found our way back to Lost Property, but the line was ridiculous and so I made the call to abandon.

From up on the ferris wheel, you could see the whole of the grounds, the masses of rides and the enormity of the beer halls. On the right, you could see the Alps in the distance. It was a bittersweet way to end an incredible weekend.

From here, I made my way to the train station to continue on with my adventure, but that is a story for another day.

***
Oktoberfest, what can I tell you? You were exactly what I expected. My expectations were oh so high and you turned out to be precisely what everyone had said. I was sleep deprived, food deprived, dehydrated, hungover but so very happy.

I never knew I was a beer drinker until now.

Til next time, prost!
xx