From Africa To Russia

Get up and walk around Hamburg, nice town. Supposedly this is the city where my German ancestors were from. I see the Rathaus, the docks, the warehouse district. A German woman sits down with me at lunch at the Rathaus (I have currywurst and taters, fine meal for a boy), she is a hausfrau out to take pictures of the proceedings. You see, the students in Hamburg are demonstrating over some university money issues and the police are out in force to secure the peace, they have uniforms and trucks and water cannons and wotnot, to ensure that everyone plays nice. I tell her that in the US it is thirty grand a year or more, it is the same everywhere. She takes some pictures, then when the fuzz moves on, she continues the chase. I walk along the Elbe river, then up to the Bismarck monument, rest a bit then head out on the Reeperbahn, the red light district and obligatory seedy side of town. I immediately feel more at home. There is a pool hall, I walk in, a man with a gigantic growth on his face says they are not open. I find a dive bar, go in, a few locals and a manic blond German bartender are sitting around the place, drinking. There are two guys in the corner playing cards, one looks like a drunk walrus and the other is a smaller fellow, there is a chick that is basically white trash but is just hot enough to have an angry boyfriend who comes in every so often to yell at her and kiss her. She has her dog with her, the dog rules. He rolls around and chews on his toy. Next to the chick is a very old woman, who sits peacefully with her beer and stares out into space. Every so often the bartender has a shot of Jagermeister. He is feisty, he jumps around the place, gesticulating and telling stories. I drink beers like a machine and work the jukebox, playing all the English songs I can find. The others seem glad to have me there, and I am glad to be there. I sit and drink and listen to the sound of the German language, the sound of humanity around me. A guy walks in looking long-faced, with wet eyes – the chick tells me that he has had to help put a cat down that afternoon and is shaken up. I drink one for the cat. Well, I drink my fill and move on, reluctant to leave my newfound friends. I stumble along the highways and byways, through the acceptable parts of town, feeling anti-social and mean. What a bunch of fucks they all are, hiding in their ritzy apartments and fancy cars. I am embarrassed to be a member of the human race. I stop in at the turkish food stand again, grab another beer for the road, and go back to the hotel.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 18th, 2007 at 10:31 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.