Let’s talk about Germany.
As I mentioned in my last post, it was an easy-yet-interesting entrance into Europe. Toothless custom man was cool. The guy dressed head-to-toe in Harley Davidson gear was cool. The couple who pushed everyone out of the way to get to the luggage carousel were cool, because they had mullets and that reminded me of
my family Australia, BUT they were screaming at everyone in German so it reminded me that yes – I had taken that big step, and I had landed on European soil.
My first night there was honestly, a bit of a blur. I spoke to about three people at the Circus, where I was staying. That would be the Circus Hostel, not the Circus as in I ran away to join the circus. and they were for real, all named Jan. I put it down to jet lag, but the next day, I saw them all again. With their name tags on. *shrug*
So this place I was staying? They LOVE the Hoff.
Not in the way EVERYONE loves the Hoff, but they serrrriously love him.
Like to the point where they have this shrine to him in their basement…
…and a petition to get their street, Weinbergsweg, changed to “David-Hasselhoff-Strasse”
AND did you know that the Hoff was solely responsible for bringing down the Berlin Wall?
The love ran deep. It would’ve been so endearing if the expression of their affections wasn’t so… intense.
Coming up next entry:
– Why are Germans so attractive?
– Am I standing on a runway? And,
– Schnitzel: an art form.