Thursday, July 22, 2010

Back Story

17th April 2009
Another day at work, I thought. A surprise waited for me as I walked in the door. I was handed a notice telling me that I was no longer required, I could pack my things and leave. "Thanks A LOT" I thought, bitterly. They also handed me a lot of money "Ooohh, thanks a LOT" I then thought, happily.

17th June 2009.
Two months of kicking arond Cardiff looking for jobs was taking its toll. I was already feeling that the well of Cardiff's entertainment had dried up again and I needed pastures new. Bitterness eminating from co-redundantees and from many friends the country over who had also lost their jobs was overwhelming. Britain was not a nice person to be around, kind of like the person at the party who told depressing stories about their financial problems and their dying mother all night while you desperately tried to have a good time.

8th July 2009
I moved out of Cardiff and bought a one way ticket to Italy. I met up with my girlfriend of six months in Rome, spending a couple of days there before heading to a sparkling beach resort-town in the Lazio province. We scorched in the sun for the next few days. Not good at dealing with so much sun and so many people on the beach (The beaches in Wales are rarely busy because it's freezing), I was grumpy and hot the whole time. This wasn't good for my relationship.

17th July 2009
Suffocated by the heat of southern Italy, I headed up to Venice. My girlfriend flew home to Germany to continue university and the supposedly romantic city of Venice hardly felt so. I didn't feel particularly free in a relationship and getting drunk with a Dutch guy and jumping in the canals over a two day period was a whole load more fun than a week on the beach with the girlfriend.

19th-26th July 2009
From Venice I decided to head to Eastern Europe for a look around. Despite the gorgeous places we saw and the fun people we met, I wasn't having a good time. I was feeling trapped and unable to enjoy myself completely, I had to end my relationship. Several days passed and I had travelled as far as Budapest. Over that period I made a few phonecalls to my girlfriend in Germany, the first call began with "We have to split up" and the final call ended with "Okay, I'll move to Germany to be with you". Quite a remarkable turnaround, I thought.

1st August 2009
I had a few drinks with some close friends in London, my flight to Germany was in the morning and I wasn't going to see them for a while. I was excited and a little worried as to whether I was doing the right thing.

2nd August 2009
I woke up with red wine smeared around my lips, a banging headache and an alarm clock that had been on snooze for the previous three hours. I'd missed my flight. The day was delightful and we lazed around on Clapham Common meeting people and then throwing frisbees at them.

3rd August 2009
I tried setting off again and this time avoided absorbing (too much) wine. At 11:45am I arrived in a small corner of Germany to begin a new life.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Zurück, Bitches.

So, over a year of inactivity (Barring an outburst at some eggs) and having probably been removed from numerous 'Favourite' lists, I've returned.

"Why the inactivity?" I can hear one guy shout from the back, straining to be heard over the seething crowd who through lack of any official organisation have started trampling a elderly neighbours flower bed. There's no quick answer to that question, but I'll start by announcing that I'm now living in Germany. This wasn't caused by a faulty sat-nav system nor by a freak tornado flinging me across the English Channel (The 'Sleeve' Channel to anyone not English speaking).... no, I came here for the most irrational of all reasons, a girl.

In a little under three weeks I will have lived in this little corner of Germany for 12 months and therefore, a year. A week into my arrival, armed with little more than Ein (1) through to Zwanzig (20)*, I registered at the local burgeramt, bought a 'Teach yourself German' book and then promptly introduced myself at the local Irish pub.

So began another adventure, one which I'll let you, dear Reader, join in from now on!

I case anyone has forgotten, I look like this when I'm hungover. Kinda.




*At present I can now count as high as fünf und zwanzig (25).