Back to the UK : Part 2 - Warrington-ness

Giant Dirty Buttplugs

Warrington

Whilst a dislike of Warrington was never a part of why I moved to Berlin, I did become a little less fond of the place after my recent visit.  Its not that its a particularly bad place (apart from the humongous Chav population and weekly stabbings/glassings in the town centre), but I came to realise that I've started taking everything in Berlin for granted.  The idea that I can get to pretty much everything I want within 10 minutes walk/tram seems normal and this simple thing is not possible there.

But, Warrington isn't without its highlights.  For instance, look at the picture at the top of the blog, someone actually thought that they would be a good idea!

The main high street is as dead as it looks here.

But, in the shopping mall, they do now have some nice (cheapo) German shops.

But, I was not in Town to see the sights.  The plan was to meet up with a friend for a coffee.  So, off I went to Starbucks and was greeted by this.

Now, I think this picture sums up Warrington quite well.  OLD people.  (plus, look at the guy on the far right, they are the only people that should wear a flat cap, old grey haired men.  This is why I will never buy one until I am at such an age.)

A little further down the main high street is this memorial fountain for the bombing in '93.  Look at it, why would anyone walk down here and think, yes, this is obviously a hive of activity, I'll bomb that.

The town centre is where most people go out to drink, so of a Friday night there are a gazillion people mulling around, bumping in to each other looking to start a fight, in such lovely establishments as these

If only the sign was meant for everything. 

A 90's bar.  Indeed.

Shopping

After the brief reminiscence in the town centre, I had a chance to visit the Trafford Centre.  A colossal cheese turd of a place (which is quite good for shopping in).  Just look at it.

Only after having quite a break to I find myself now asking, "Why did they design the food court area to look like a ship?".  It must of all seemed natural when I first went, now it just seems a bit mental.  (plus, I believe the 'gourmet burger kitchen' is anything but such a thing).

But, the place is full of a ridiculous number of shops.  And, get this, more than 2 or 3 of them contain clothes for adult males!!! OMFG!!!  As in, I could, if I wanted, not look like a chav!  I got slightly overwhelmed with the choice and bought lots.  (if you can't read inbetween the lines, what I'm saying is that Berlin shops are a giant sexist conspiracy theory, clothes for women and stripy topped youths only!)

But, then, upon walking out, I had this cheese slapped in my face.

That is "The Great Hall".  Full of painted concrete and the set piece from close encounters of the third kind.

In conclusion, as Part 1, there wasn't as much choice as I remember there being.  It was better in a few ways, but not the place of all that my rose tinted glasses remembered.

Back to the UK : Part 1 - Food

A little Background

As a few of you may know, I was recently visiting the UK for the first time in 18 months, back to the town where I grew up and lived the vast majority of my life (I have an aversion to referring to it as home now as it no longer is).  The reason for this was not the greatest in the world in that my Dad died a couple of weeks back, so I was there for the funeral and to see family and such.  As this has never been a blog about such personal things, I'll leave that there.

The Spindly City of Liverpool

Englandish Foods

So, the only upside to this turn of events was that I got to go back to England and do two things.  One, to buy all the glorious amazing English food that one cannot buy in Berlin.  And Two, to reflect on how good/bad England is and how much better/worse things are when compared to Berlin.

One of the first places I visited is the cathedral like expanse of the giant Tesco 'extra' (no, its fine, just make the font of the e bigger, don't capitalise it, that would be silly)

The 'extra' being how absolutely fooking huge the place is.  Now, in my mind, this place is a magical wonderland of absolutely any type of food that you could possibly ever want.  All housed in one giant, blindingly white, overly well lit place.

Why so Yellow and Blue?

And, to a certain extent it is. I walked around, marvelling at the huge number of isles.  The huge variety of bits n bobs that you can buy.  All the while thinking, well, kaisers and rewe back home aren't like this.  They're tiny by comparison and have nowhere near the choice.  Which is true.  But, and its a giant bulbous butt, although there is more selection, its mostly more selection of the same things.  So, 40 types of tomato sauce rather than 10, 8 different makes of apple juice rather than 2, giant isles filled with crisps from every manufacturer but mostly of a stock few flavours.

All in all, a bit of a disapointment, rose tinted glasses and all that jazz.  But, that is not to say there weren't things that were better.  The drugs section is ridiculous when compaired to a pharmacy here.  Let me give you a little comparison :

Paracetamol
UK = €0.22
DE = €2.90

Ibuprofen
UK = €0.24
DE = €4.50

How is it that drugs in Germany are allowed to cost so much when they can obviously be produced for much less?  Is it price fixing or do the pharmaceutical companies have to jump through 10 or 20 extra hoops and pay extra taxes?  Either way, one needs to give ol' Aunty Merkel a little slap round the chops.  (plus, this isn't even mentioning the Tesco's own Claritin for €0.80, here €5 upwards).

The gluten free section did have a couple of things that you can't get here (read, naan bread and lovely cake), but there were equally less of a selection of pre-made bread.  The drinks section was pretty much the same, except for the fact that you can buy decent Polish vodka in the UK.  Even the international foods section wasn't quite as good as I remember it being, apart from a few extra Indian ingredients (which you can get here if you look hard enough), it was about the same.

But, perhaps I am missing the point.  All of these things WERE available under one roof.  In the UK I could go to one place and get pretty much everything I wanted (even if it was a 15 minute drive away).  Here, I have to go to a couple of extra places.  But on the flip side, there are no really huge supermarkets nearby and smaller shops thrive, meaning you can get all those little obscure things that a place like Tesco would never stock.  Now, sure there are things in the UK that I can't buy here.  But, the reverse is true, and the number of these things that I can't get here is far less than it seems like it is.

In the end, I think its a state of mind.  Yes, I could be pissed off that I can't get some british wibbles or wobbles here.  But thats like getting pissed off because I can't get decent american hash browns here, I don't live in America.  I don't live in the UK anymore, of course there are a few things missing, but its a choice whether to pine for what you can't have or embrace what you can have.

Chips and Curry

Saying all that (and somewhat having ranted away with one's self and blown a giant gripe load), there are things outside of the world of Tesco.  For instance :

Ahh, something I truly miss, and perhaps its better that I do, Chips and Mushy Peas.  If I moved back the UK now, I'd be as wide as tall in the space of a few months (possibly).  I know, I could buy a deep fat fryer, potatoes and such here, but, well, it just wouldn't be chippy chips.

On another night, I ventured out to southern Manchester.  To a little aladins cave of neon and piss soaked streets (imagine a red light district, but replace the brothels with Indian Restaurants) :

Rusholme.  The smells of the food are glorious.  The scroats and scallies walking around, not so much, so we quickly rushed to my favourite place on the street, Mughli.  Basked in the sumptuous interior and without haste, ordered some poppadoms (why is this word spelt differently depending upon where you are) :

and some luscious Fresh Mango Lassi.

Which, rather oddly, came in a brass cup.  The mango lassi was good.  The popadoms were heavenly, fresh, large and crispy.  Not like the weird, super thin, 'spicy' dry puppadom efforts that most places seem to sell here.

Alas, the Chicken Karahi that I ordered, whilst looking delicious, was rather bland and tasteless.

Reminiscent of the curries I've had here.  Leaving me wondering whether my taste buds have just died from excessive vodka tasting.

The keema pilau rice, though, was absolutely every bit as good as I remember it being.

(it didn't look like diseased maggots in real life,

thats just the picture)

So, again, things were good.  There were things that I can't get here and they were yummy, but all in all it wasn't as much of a difference as I remember it being.  There were downsides to the nobhead filled streets of rusholme aswell as upsides.

Whilst I do miss these things, if I know suddenly moved to Canada I could revel in the delights of Poutine and Timmy HoHo's, but I'd miss Eisbein, Würst and having 20 coffee shops within 5 minutes walking distance.  And if I then moved again, I'd miss all things Canadian.

My point being, the past is the past, get over it and move on motherfuckers.


Coming up in Part 2, reflections on the town of Warrington and shopping in the cavernous Trafford Centre.

PS. Seeing this van made me not want to eat Doner Meat, it should be 'produced' not 'manufactured'.

The Order of The Ampelmen

I was out wandering the streets of Berlin the other week, as I am oft to do, when I noticed something.  A little startling discovery of the "that so simple, why didn't I realise that before", but with some profound implications (ok, not really).

You see, when you are walking around, you often need to cross a road.  These roads have cars on them, driven by mostly oblivious people at high speeds.  To solve the dilemma of whether getting to that cafe is worth risking your life for, the forces that be created something called Traffic Lights, to curb these maniacs, and then ultimately ampelmenn to aid in ones crossing.

So, I'll be stood there, marvelling at the crossroads in action, looking across the road at three separate ampelmen.  The first of these is for my side of the road, the second for the tram tracks and the third for the opposite side of the road.  Now, what I've found is that often, the amplemann on the far side will turn green first.  Leaving me stood on the opposite side thinking "WHAT THE FUCK!! Why do those motherfuckers get to start crossing the road before me!!!  by the time mine changes and I get over there, that one will be on RED!!!!!".  And this has often happened, leading to a little camp jog across the offending lanes.

Now, what I'm about to impart may be one of those things that everyone knows that has somehow bypassed me (there seem to be a few of these).  And it is this.  That the crossing is designed to cross on the right hand side of the road!!!  The green light in the direction of traffic changes first!!!  Crossing on the left, is just a silly thing to do and mostly pointless.

Not having noticed this earlier may be due to complete stupidity on my part, or the fact that I come from a country where people do everything on the left first (escalators are a pain in this regard, up is left, down is right!!), or simply that there are far more important things to think about and I've devoted very little mental processing to this.

Either way, 21 months of Germanic living and not noticing this to aid in my road crossing is just ridiculous.

Commenting

Irritation is clicking around on the settings of one's blog, clicking on the 'Comments' menu and discovering that for some reason the site hasn't been notifying me when I have comments, for about a year.  This wouldn't be such of an issue if for the past few months I've had a podcast shortage only to find out that in February I was recommended a lot of new podcasts.  *shaking fist in air at the curs-ed interwebs*

High Chair

There are two things which trouble me here (well, maybe trouble is a strong word, puzzle me enough to take a picture and give me something to write about), one, why would you put high chairs outside your cafe.  And, two, if you were a human who saw said high chairs, why would you sit on one and start texting on your phone.  Wouldn't you realise how odd you look, towering over people, adjudicating their walking abilities.

Deutsching

In other news, I have started a German course at the Goethe Institut.  Originally I'd gone to the language school you can see at the top of the photo above.  I had done a test and been told that I had to start at the complete beginner level, A1.  Seeing as I'd done many many months of studying beforehand, this fact irked me some.  Ahh, these people are moronic dipshits, I thought to myself.  And it turns out I was right.

Upon registering at the Goethe Institut I was giving a test.  A much more intensive one and a little more than the "here's 15 questions on a badly photocopied peice of paper" I got from Parlando.  So, after many questions, a written text part and an interview they concluded that I am level A22 (which is Level A2 - Part 2, before you think I'd just jumped a whole 21 levels).

I'm now 3 weeks into the course and its going quite well.  There are a few things that I haven't studied before and the teaching method for these seems to be "well, you should know it, its easy, why can't you understand it completely from my 55 second explanation in German".  But all in all, I'm getting somewhere with my German, actually using it and practising it with people.

My 2010 in Randomness

2010 - A Year in Random Clips

People are Wank with Numbers

Background Rant

A little background first.  I've been learning German on and off for around 2 years now, and have thus far progressed about as far as you'd expect if you'd studied for a month and a half.  This is due to a few things really, the shite-ness of language schools (from my first 2 week experience of not learning anything and paying lots of money for the privilege), a lack of people willing to practice my awful, slow stilted German with and the complete ineptitude of the two, separate, private tutors I hired earlier this year (ok, and there may be a generous dollop of personal lazyness in there too).  Oh, and the fact that I hate language purists and the grammatical rules to which they pray, if the other person I'm communicating to understands what I am saying along with all the subtleties that I'm conveying, then language has done its job.  (I could write a whole blog on this subject, but suffice to say, language should be able to freely change depending upon how its best used, not kept the same for the simple reason that its the way its always been done)

But, after not really getting anywhere with studying German, I gave in and pledged my balls to the great grammar god.  So, this resulted in a generous spurt of learning was way back in 2010, 3 months of studying for at least an hour a day from books, cd's and the monotonous Rosetta Stone, plus multiple lessons and a spattering of German TV and Film watching.  All of which got me to the point where I know a hideous amount of grammatical rules and could answer all the questions thrown at me with relative ease.  What I did not learn though, was how to speak the language.

So, I gave up and ignored learning German for 5 months whilst I pondered my next move.  Now, I understand the need for grammatical rules, but they are not my whole learning world so I am going back to focusing on the simple idea of practise.  The idea now being that I'll go to a language school again, learn and then practice with my fellow students of the same level (ie. willingness to speak at my level with patience).

Number Wankness

Which brings me to (what I thought before that rant) the main reason for this post.  Numbers seem to be confusing for most people.  Especially when it comes to money.

Whenever I've talked to people about going to a language school two things usually come up :

1. The best one to go to is the Goethe Institut.
2. The most expensive one is the Goethe Institut.

I already knew the first one so I took the second as read, everyone says it, so it must be correct.  The problem is that when you look at it properly, its not, not by a long way.

First, lets look at it from the perspective of the disinterested or pleb like :

• Parlando - 4 Week Evening Course = €104
• Logo - 10 Week Evening Course = €320
• Die Neue Schule - 8 Week Evening Course = €220
• Sprachenatelier - 4 Week Evening Course = €100
• Goethe - 8 Week Evening Course = €609

Now, what I imagine happens in most peoples brain is this : "OMGZZZZZ!!  WTFFF!!!  609 is a way bigger number than all of the others!!!!! they're so like freaking expensive!!!!" and thats it.  End of story.  Bigger number = more expensive.

But then, if you use this brain thing that some people have, you can break them down :

• Die Neue Schule - 8 Weeks, 4 lessons per week = €220 for the course, €10 enrolement, €30 books = €8.12 per lesson.
• Logo - 10 Weeks, 4 lessons per week = €320 for the course, €30 books (this is a guess, they don't list the price) = €8.75 per lesson
• Parlando - 4 Weeks, 4 lessons per week = €104 for the course, €79 books (wtf?) = €11.44 per lesson.
• Sprachenatelier - 4 Weeks, 4 lessons per week = €100 for the course, €50 enrolment = €9.35 per lesson.
• Goethe - 8 Weeks, 10 lessons per week = €609 for the course = €7.61 per lesson.

It puts Goethe as the cheapest, the next closest charges for new books every level at €30 a pop.  With Goethe they're all included.

So, my conclusion.  People are turd with numbers.  There is nothing that complicated about them, its all very basic stuff.  Alas though, I think most people in the world are like this guy.

It Begins

What I'm talking about is this.

For those of you that don't know what the word Feuerwerk means, you're a moron, just look at the pictures and think of what it sounds like.  Now, for those of you that are wondering why I'm dedicating an entire post to such a thing, let me educate you.

You see, I have experience of fireworks in 3 separate countries.  America, where they have a giant shitfit of fireworks ballsing into the sky for July 4th.  Its all very organised and controlled by official officials as America mostly is.  Making it limited to a small number of areas, but the result being that those areas seem to contain an inordinate amount of explosives.  ie. big and fooking loud, as America has been known to be.

In the UK, where our giant firework spew is on November 5th, Bonfire night, where we also tend to burn giant effigies of a guy that died hundreds of years ago, which has the effect of making the night quite macabre (picture standing around a giant bonfire, eating sweets with one hand, holding a sparkler in the other, going 'ooo' and 'ahhh' at fireworks exploding over head and at the same time as all this joy and frivolity the representation of a man being burned to death plays itself out slowly off to the side).  As its the UK, things get a little more violent and dangerous, people tend to have their own fireworks which they let off in their gardens and occasionally fuck up and/or purposely fire into the streets.

Now, this may sound a little scary, but in the UK its not really.  You are in little danger of being shot at or hit by fireworks (unless you have a friend who doesn't get that rockets need to go in a tube and not straight into the ground, thus making them explode in said garden).  A little bit more edgy, but all well and good.

Then we get to Germany, and more specifically Berlin.  I don't know what happens to the German psyche for New Year, or what events have happened in the past to generate this social tumour, but basically, a lot of people here go homicidally insane for New Year and start firing fireworks at each other in the street.  Literally.  I'm not exaggerating.  Now, I'm thinking (and hence bringing up the other two countries first) that there isn't really another time for fireworks here, all that pent up rocket firing and exploding joy.  Its like the city has gone without for a year and goes freaking mental jizzing fireworks everywhere without any regard to basic safety.

So, tomorrow night, all over the streets there will be fireworks going off in the streets.  Last year whilst riding on the tram they were being fired at the tram, exploding on the windows.  Walking anywhere is a nightmare of constantly looking for things landing near you and dodging flying rockets.

I don't understand it, and its not fun, but its ok really.  Its just Berlin.

Thoughts on a Berliner Wintertime

I find myself rather enjoying all the snow again this year (at least for the time being, if it sticks around for 3 months I'll change my mind) and after the acquisition of a 1tb USB3 external hard drive (ie. big enough to contain everything I have ever done in my digital life), have been spending lots more time traipsing around to cafes with a laptop in tow.  I know this may sound slightly obvious, but theres something to sitting in a cafe surrounded by strangers, all babbling to each other, that makes working away on a computer a little more palatable.  Its not exactly more social (I'm not exactly babbling back at them) but has the feeling that there are infact other humans in the world.  Something that can easily be forgotten when working from home often.

*Nerdness*

The best part of all this though, is the hard drive itself, it leaves me thinking, why didn't they invent USB 3 years ago?  Why have we had to put up with USB 2's interminable speed (if such a word can be used).  I now have an external hard drive that is every bit as fast as one's internal ones, meaning syncing with the laptop is now a delightful breeze.  Bliss and Portability abound.

*/Nerdness*

I was today working from this place (they have lewd drawings on the ceiling)

drinking this (noms)

when, looking out of the window, I saw this

Yes, someone actually removing the 2 inches of ice from the pavement.  Bravo!! I thought.  Then I realised he was just clearing the pavement next to the tram stop.  Wankola!  But I have seen some paths cleared in the snow at various points around the area, so there is hope.  Just maybe, maybe, they've got their arse in gear this time, purchased a few of these rather simple looking machines and are actually not going to just pour useless gravel onto the ice rink of a city.

Just to the right of this, there is a building under renovation.  A little trick that the builders/owners do to make a little more money is to rent out the space on the front of all the scaffolding, therefore irritating people greatly, especially the ones that have to live across the road.  Now, the actual content of it doesn't bother me in the slightest, as I'd prefer to be outside of the advert than in it (beaches suck ass), but this must be really cruel to those desiring a sunkissed life :

Poor people.  Evil ad agencies.

I've also noticed that people have a real tendency here to just stick random art based crap everywhere

Its awesome.

Why is this dog sat there?

Silly dog, you're not a car!

Elsewise today, I bought a Christmas Tree (proper tree, not one of those plastic efforts) and various bits of christmas tat.

Top Ass

I went for a little wander around the Kollwitzplatz "Eco" Christmas Market yesterday.  For the most part it was pretty wank (unless you want to look like a giant knitted hippy), and I'm not too sure what was so Eco about it, the tat was the usual tat.

But, I did spy these in one of the "Eco" stores

Now, yes, I know, ha ha, they say Top Ass and in (albeit Americanised) English that is funny (well, yes, it really is).  But why are these type of cards so obsessed with peoples posteriors? In England they are called :

Now, for those not of English learnings, to "Trump" is to pass wind from the rectum.

Just makes ya think don't it?

Square Red Boxes

What are these and why are they all over the city?  I do get the overwhelming urge to stand in the middle of one whenever I see it, but to no avail.  Its not a better view of anything.  I can't hear anything more.  I'm not transported off to an alien spaceship.  Just bupkis.

Someone has gone to a bit of trouble to walk around putting them down (I think I've seen about 10 or 20 of them so far in most sectors of the city).  But WHY?

Though, the sky did turd a huge heap o snow last night so theres not much point worrying about it until they re-appear in 4 months along with a gazillion preserved dog land mines.

Back to the Winter

The first snow fell the other day, signifying (at least in my mind) that start of a new winter.  Quite why snow coming does this for me, I'm not too sure, as it never actually fell much in the UK to start off winters there.

So far its just a slight smattering of snow, lame snow that only wants to stick to cars and has a distinct oversion to staying on the ground (unless that ground is road works, they put a special coating on their equipment so that they have an excuse to leave everything for the entire winter).  Nothing that has gotten in the way of traversing the city.  Nothing as bad as it was last year when there was a permenant 2 inch thick layer of ice coating 95% of all walking surfaces.

I've heard its going to get just as bad this year.  But that isn't such a big deal, I'm going to buy some boots, problem solved.  What I'm not looking forward to is the chorus of whinge that will be hurled by most other human beings.

I know I've writen about it before, but it still bugs me.  I get that complaining sooths the soul, its cathartic and nice for the most part.  But the constant, endless, incesant whine I don't quite get.  Surely people are just making themselves more misserable with the bitterness?  If you walk around insisting that everything is shite and its going to be for the next 5 months, surely you're going to have a bit of a wanker time of it?  Shouldn't you just enjoy the fact that you can now wear hats (in summertime, one can't look as dashing as this)

Scarfs are all around, big coats etc.  A whole new wardrobe to wear!  Maybe its that people don't understand the basic principles of dressing themselves.  That the more layers of clothing you put on, the less you feel the cold.  It sounds simple enough, but judging by how cold people get when outside, they musn't be able to fathom it.

Plus, when its now, there are christmas markets to be raided.  The first of which was done last night.

Lots of walking around, looking at the (mostly) pap that people are selling, sniffing food that smells like its only fit for a dog (and seeing happy humans scoffing it down like rabbid wolves) and drinking lots of gluhwine (yum).  Last nights treat was a little bratapfel, cooking apple for those not deutchly gifted, most tasty indeed.  Even if it did smell of wet dog (yes, there was quite a dog theme going on in the nose).  And witnessing what passed for a hot chocolate in such surroundings (a bottle of chocolate milk that had been heated in a drab grey barrel).  I did get a nice cup from it though, and I don't even care how chintzy or lame it is.

But, again, its another year where I'll have to live with the fact that I'm one of the few people actually enjoying the cold and snowy fun.


PS. If you're going to put up an English sign, at least learn how to speak good England first.

New York - Day 7 - The Bliss of Hashbrowns and Seat Bedding

The Best of the Breakfasts

As most of you may know, I'm not much of a breakfast person.  I tend to just skip straight into lunch as its usually only 2 to 3 hours after I've awoken.  Yes, I know, metabolism and most important shite of the day I hear you scream, I simply care not for it (although if I start getting up early, I may).

Thats be the grey dog.

It was the final day and I'd spied something that seemed rather tasty the day before in the wonderful Grey Dog, Hash Browns.  Oh yes.  Now we got some approximation of hash browns back in the UK, but they were more like a potato and onion based turd log that you reheated.  I'm talking about real hash browns of the kind that are rarely seen outside the shores of America.

And, as much as I prefer the service here in Berlin, its nice to say "Can I get some bacon with that", and it arrives.  Although why its on another plate is beyond me.

The coffee was quite good too, a 7.5 out of 10 on the NYCS.

More Random Wanderings

I then had around 4 hours until I had to leave for my flight.  What with having seen everywhere I want to in New York and not enough time to see any of the further out places, I went for a wander around the Meat Packing district.

Fun, but by this stage of the journey, I'd had enough walking around streets aimlessly.  So, I thought to myself "Fuck this, its time for Tu-Lu's".

Ah, if only I could drag this gorgeous amazing baking goddess of a woman back to Berlin with me.  I ate two cup cakes and bought some cookies and brownies (slipping them into one's bag for some Berlin munching).

The final visitation was Irving Coffee again, one of the few places where it was comfortable enough to sit down and relax reading a book.  I tried coffee with raspberry syrup this time, it curdled the soya milk again.  After a lengthy chat with the owners, and some experimentation, we discovered its the acid of the syrup that does it, not the heat as I'd thought for the past few months.  Useful knowledge to have.

 It did taste a bit spank though.

So I read about cold fusion for a while, and then left new york.

Seat Bed

Although, I did arrive at the airport way way way too early.  Getting on the plane though, I saw that it was pretty empty and tried to snag myself 4 seats to myself.  Unfortunately, 2 girls turned up and kicked me out of them (schiese!).  But, I caught the airplane woman (I believe they're called Air Crew now) and mentioned it to her.  She then called me over as soon as the doors were shut to give me 3 seats to myself.

 To my right.

To my left.

Awesomeness abounds.  Well, apart from the meal that is.  It was a little lacking.

There was some flying.

Then some sleeping on my makeshift bed.

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