salzburg part two
Even though the bloke from the pub did something to allay my uneasiness about Lesbiangate , I wasn't feeling great about it. So I rented a bike, as a kind of soft punishment and but then went on to violate more laws -traffic offences. I did enjoy cycling around Salzburg. It's a lovely way to see the city, it's compact and easy to navigate. But what do you do when the cycle lane stops; some took to the pavement, others to the road. I was aware that I might be stopped for some infrigement and the rozzer would say 'Oh, you, last night, you're coming down the nick, mein mechen'.
I got lost while trying to return the bike as it was dark and a torrent of snow was falling which limited visibility to a matter of feet. Figuring it was better to die quickly in a traffic accident then freeze to death wheeling it along, I continued to cycle. Pretty stupid but that's the Irishman I am. Thankfully, I got back in one piece and decided to have a quite night. A few hours later a compromise was reached, I would allow myself to go out for one or two beers, just to be social. (Definition of social - seven pints and an unrecorded number of shots of varios types)
I met a bunch of pleasant Yankee doodles and managed to avoid political discussions in the main. But one shitkicker (US navy family spawn) reckoned the illegality of the Iraq invasion was all the fault of the French and that using phosphorous bombs is legal. Were do they get these jokers? Ever heard of UN mandates and the Geneva convention, you freak. At that moment I wished I had some of the deadly chemical and would have sprayed it on him in a confined space (so as not to hurt others) and see how he likes it.
On the upside, I met a very nice girl called Silvia. She spent time in Wexford as part of her language studies with a local family. God love her. Those boggers can barely speak English themselves never mind try to teach a sweet Salzburg girl. Also, I was quite ashamed to hear that she had to survive on a diet of lemon chicken burgers every second day with the intermittent days filled with ham, cheese and bread. A culinary experience any Mitchelin star chef would readily offer on the menu. But she did enjoy it and her Aunt married an Irishman too. Austro-Irish relations remain intact, for now.
It was good to return back to the hostel that night to find there were no new comers to the dorm. Two nights on the trot. Excellent. The hostel people were upset with me the next morning for three reasons; one of which was my late check out at 11am rather then 10am. The others will remain undisclosed. For legal reasons, just kidding, I don't want to tell, simple as that. Anyway, to each count, example 'You were meant to check out a hour ago!', I replied 'Terribly sorry, please keep the deposit, I am most disappointed with myself!' The princely deposit of 5 euro was lost forever.
No big deal, I wanted a little luxury so I checked into a hotel near the train station. I had intended on leaving that day but Silvia took me around the Christmas Market in the evening. There can be found all kinds of tasteful little things like candles, foodstuffs and trickets. It ain't Moore Street. I was only interested in the various types of punch drinks. They're like mulled wine. Very pleasant in the cold weather. Also, it was lovely to see the sense of community there with loads of people out in the Platz's just chatting and drinking the good stuff. Could of sworn I seen an Irishman try to sit on the edge of a large free standing bin, up ended it and then fell in it. So supple. It was full of the little paper cups the punch is drank from. Nice. Free booze. It was always going to happen. Seriously though, he was Austrian, and very drunk.
I got lost while trying to return the bike as it was dark and a torrent of snow was falling which limited visibility to a matter of feet. Figuring it was better to die quickly in a traffic accident then freeze to death wheeling it along, I continued to cycle. Pretty stupid but that's the Irishman I am. Thankfully, I got back in one piece and decided to have a quite night. A few hours later a compromise was reached, I would allow myself to go out for one or two beers, just to be social. (Definition of social - seven pints and an unrecorded number of shots of varios types)
I met a bunch of pleasant Yankee doodles and managed to avoid political discussions in the main. But one shitkicker (US navy family spawn) reckoned the illegality of the Iraq invasion was all the fault of the French and that using phosphorous bombs is legal. Were do they get these jokers? Ever heard of UN mandates and the Geneva convention, you freak. At that moment I wished I had some of the deadly chemical and would have sprayed it on him in a confined space (so as not to hurt others) and see how he likes it.
On the upside, I met a very nice girl called Silvia. She spent time in Wexford as part of her language studies with a local family. God love her. Those boggers can barely speak English themselves never mind try to teach a sweet Salzburg girl. Also, I was quite ashamed to hear that she had to survive on a diet of lemon chicken burgers every second day with the intermittent days filled with ham, cheese and bread. A culinary experience any Mitchelin star chef would readily offer on the menu. But she did enjoy it and her Aunt married an Irishman too. Austro-Irish relations remain intact, for now.
It was good to return back to the hostel that night to find there were no new comers to the dorm. Two nights on the trot. Excellent. The hostel people were upset with me the next morning for three reasons; one of which was my late check out at 11am rather then 10am. The others will remain undisclosed. For legal reasons, just kidding, I don't want to tell, simple as that. Anyway, to each count, example 'You were meant to check out a hour ago!', I replied 'Terribly sorry, please keep the deposit, I am most disappointed with myself!' The princely deposit of 5 euro was lost forever.
No big deal, I wanted a little luxury so I checked into a hotel near the train station. I had intended on leaving that day but Silvia took me around the Christmas Market in the evening. There can be found all kinds of tasteful little things like candles, foodstuffs and trickets. It ain't Moore Street. I was only interested in the various types of punch drinks. They're like mulled wine. Very pleasant in the cold weather. Also, it was lovely to see the sense of community there with loads of people out in the Platz's just chatting and drinking the good stuff. Could of sworn I seen an Irishman try to sit on the edge of a large free standing bin, up ended it and then fell in it. So supple. It was full of the little paper cups the punch is drank from. Nice. Free booze. It was always going to happen. Seriously though, he was Austrian, and very drunk.
posted by Ciarán at 11:59 a.m.
2 Comments:
C, reading your blog beats reading a book or watching a reality tv show! Its funny, its witty, its insightful AND its happening live -what more can I ask for?! Love it.
MORE ON SILVIA
Disappointed in lack of discription of the fair Salzburgian.
In fututre, remember colour of hair and eyes, and breast size.
Or they will never make this into a film...
Well done for keeping your lip buttoned with the Yanks, you opinionated gob shite! If you meet any more get them incredibly fucked and sell their pastports!
Take it EZ,
J
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