Over the long weekend I visited Cologne (Köln) and Bonn. I had lived there in 2003 and it was now first time I had returned. When I originally moved there, it was my first real adventure, my first proper solo travel and for all intents and purposes the first time I had lived out of home. Initially shell-shocked, I gradually acclimatised and by the end, although I hungered for Australia, I was knew I was going to miss the place.

So now I arrived back, five years later and looked upon the same scene with more world-weary eyes. It was a bit of a head-spin to see things that were so familiar, such as the house I used to live in, but now so distant. Not much seemed to have changed, although shock-horror, Bonn now has a Starbucks. The weekend was very enjoyable and I even managed to get severely sunburnt after falling asleep on the grass at the Fischmarkt in Köln. Surely a metric of a holiday’s success is the level of sunburn?

I happened to be there for a lover’s tree festival of sorts (the proper name of it escapes me). It happens every year, and is particular to this area of Germany. What happens is a bloke and his mates drive out and chop down a tree, bring it back to the city, decorate it with streamers, attach a sweetheart’s name to it, and tie it to a pole, or somewhere close to her abode. Typically, some amount of beer is involved in this whole exercise, as is the German fashion. While the trees go up – cable-tied to street poles or whatever sturdy fixture is at hand – other lads are running around pulling down others’s trees for shits and giggles, or to reappropriate for their own sweetheart. Thus, the original owner often has to stick around his tree late in to the night to make sure no-one steals it. He has his friends and liquor to keep him amused, and apparently girls parents will often come out and give the boy some beer. In the morning, the girl awakens, and promptly judges the boy based on the tree (yes, size does count) and the artistic sensibility of the decorations.

This year, being a leap year, the roles were reversed. Girls were supposed to put up trees for the guys, although quite a few guys were still hard at work, judging by the names on trees around the city.

Turns out the BahnCard that arrived unexpectedly wasn’t quite the bumbling bureaucrat oversight I thought. It seems as though I signed up for an annual BahnCard – reissued every year. As DB didn’t have my Australian address, they didn’t get the bill to me (but managed to get the card here somehow). A couple of days ago I receive a letter from some debt collectors in Germany wanting blood. With the promise that they’ll arrange for the collection of said blood even in Australia.

So, cost of card plus debt collector’s fee plus international transfer fee: AUD$180. Having a stupid railway discount card with a bad picture and wrong name that you can’t use: really frickin’ annoying!

P.S. thanks Miriam!

Rhys Arkins has his Europe photos online.

Over this weekend there was the Pützchen Markt a local fair/festival of sorts. Apparently the largest of its kind in Rhineland. I decided to go via bus on Friday night straight from work, armed with my camera. As I was pacing back and forth at the bus station I heard the sound of singing. Cor blimey, I thought – there are roving gangs of singing gypsies in these woods (our campus is surrounded by a thick forest). Then the bus came hurtling around the corner and lo and behold it was full of intoxicated gentlemen. I initially thought the bus had come from the Markt, but as we journeyed on it was apparent that no, we were indeed headed towards the Markt, these guys however were ‘priming’ themselves by way of the keg balanced on the back seat. After several rounds of deafening songs the bus pulled up at our destination. The first task for these gentlemen were to surround the nearest tree and – as we say in Australia – siphon the python.

The Markt itself was good fun – had a lovely atmosphere, subdued Polizei presence, lots of blinkenlights, sausage and beer. It also featured some very serious looking ride attendants and lots of damn dirty carnies. You know: small hands, smell like cabbage.

More photos

“They’ve revamped the airport completely now it looks just like a nightclub – everyone’s excited and confused”

- They Might Be Giants – i>Man, It’s So Loud In Here

Perhaps in an effort to shed their staid public service image, Deutsche Post have gone all out in their 163m high Post Tower tower. It’s a giant Christmas tree. Every five minutes it changes colour randomly, with neat transitions between them. For example:

Apparently the neighbours aren’t too keen on it, with it casting a blinking coloured glow over a large portion of Bonn. When you get close, you’ll notice the staff cafe also has a disco effect. I took a short video of it (4.08MB). The video I took of the tower itself changing wasn’t very impressive because I was too close, another night perhaps. I added some night pictures of the tower in the photo section.

Some photos from a cruise on the Rhine. Overcast and foggy early until afternoon, but some sun peeked through the clouds eventually. Quite a pleasant journey.