I booked my ticket the day before I travelled online through www.bahn.de. Simple to use, in English and German and providing timetables, crossovers onto buses, and so on. The prices offered generally come in two flavours: very early bookers (I’ve never been able to get one of these) and usual price. On some trains there’s a first class option as well. The thing is, the regular price is always available even if you book thirty minutes before travelling.

None of this “£20 two weeks before and £120 on the day” nonsense as we have in the UK. Experience tells me this results in a carriage full of reserved seats with three people occupying any of them when the train pulls out of London. Offices just pre-book all the cheap seats in case any of their staff need them. It’s cheaper than booking when they’re required.

So armed with all my details and a credit card, I forked out €32.90 for a 3-train/1-bus 3 1/2 hour journey from Bielefeld to Weeze Airport, the budget version of Dusseldorf. Compared to an early-booking UK train, this is marginally expensive but what you have to take into account is the reliability and swiftness of the journey. The only issue I had was that the ticket must be printed out, but as long as you’re prepared for this it’s fine. The printout even includes your detailed schedule right down to the platform numbers you arrive at and depart from.

Can you imagine booking three trains over a three-hour journey with as little as ten minutes to connect at each station in the UK? You’d be lucky to get from the first to the second without missing one. Here, no problem. The busier routes are serviced by double-decker carriages so there’s more chance of a seat, and they’re clean, tidy and much quieter than almost any train I’ve been on back home.

As you approach each station a tannoy announcement and an LED screen tells you where you’re about to arrive. No more leaning against the glass trying to read the platform sign that’s 20m away and at a slight angle.

The bus I caught from Melanie’s was dot on time. It dropped me in town exactly as scheduled so I had a chance to get lunch before I reached the station. The first train was bang on time and I settled down with Nelson De Mille’s Cathedral to read. Around 90 minutes later I hopped off to make my first connection. Referring to my printout meant I didn’t have to search departure boards for the platform number, just walking around. There I got chatting to an English squaddie off to visit some friends. He’s been stationed in Germany for quite some time and is thinking of settling in the south once he leaves the army. Good luck to him.

Of course, the train was on time though a little crowded. Twenty minutes later I arrived at stop two, changed to the (on-time) third train and shortly after hopped off at Weeze station. A 100m walk got me to the airport shuttle – price included in my ticket – and exactly as scheduled on the piece of paper I had in my hand, arrived at the airport.

Good grief.

We’ve had private and public rail services. We’ve had bidding wars. We’ve fined companies for being crap and thrown money at repairs and upgrades. Yet all we have to do is look a few hundred miles away and virtually every country in Europe puts us to shame. Even the Romanian trains were more reliable than ours, including the so-called “Gypsy” service.

Anyway, I’m safely ensconced at Weeze Airport awaiting my flight to London. I’m about to spend virtually every cent I have on a sausage roll and an orange juice so that I don’t have to withdraw any more cash. As far as dinky airports go, it’s nice enough. Plain, but shiny and clean. Nothing to do, no free wi-fi (not a surprise), and one overpriced bar/cafe but I’m only here for an hour before my flight is called.

Three hours from now I’ll be cursing the immigration staff at Stansted again…

Later…

I wasn’t. Breezed through due to the flight landing early so we didn’t clash with the larger flight that followed on behind us. Even the luggage dropped off the carousel in record time. I got to the bus stop for my easybus half an hour early and was allowed onto the bus before the one I had booked. Nobody checked my ticket (bah – £7.50 wasted) and the driver shot down the M11 and through London like a bat out of Hell.

The ninety minute scheduled journey took a shade over an hour and I tumbled onto first the Victoria and then the Northern Line down to Liam’s place in darkest Croydon. I was met by my host at the Underground station and we headed for the most important building in the area – Liam’s local real ale pub. We sank a couple of pints and a devoured two bags of salt and vinegar crisps. The things you miss when you’re away from home.

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Clockwork

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I hopped onto the number 24 and paid my €2.10 for a ticket into town, then sat down. It took me some time before I realised that everyone else getting onto the bus was validating their ticket in a little stamping machine. I’d not known about this, so by the time I got into the centre I had a ticket still valid for the next journey. I guess the driver couldn’t be bothered explaining to me that my ticket needed stamped and assumed I’d tyrow it away after I got off. Ah well.

Bielefeld bills itself as “one of the twenty major cities in Germany” and “the principal city of Eastern Westphalia“. It’s pretty enough, though as with many places in Germany a lot of the buildings date from the late 1940′s for some reason *cough*. There is a marked line between the old and new cities with the former having nice windy roads and the latter being all straight lines.

I checked out the train station so I knew where to go when I left the next day, and walked around to the Stadhalle Bielefeld which has what looks like an enormous empty picture frame erected on the grounds. I assume that’s what it is, but I can’t find any photos of it with a cavas or anything in place. I guess it’s used for exhibitions or displays.

From there, down a beautiful street lined with yellowing trees to the Sparrenburg Castle which is perched on a little hill at the south end of the city. It’s only small as far as castles go, but it’s a pretty building and is quite popular for wedding photographs. One happy couple were being snapped in various places around the grounds as I was there.

Again, I think I’ve picked a great time of year to visit this part of Germany as the leaves on the trees covered every colour from green to red, orange and yellow. I’m rather happy with some of my photos! The view over the city from there is nice, too, though the aforementioned trees do block the best view of St Mary’s Cathedral and it’s twin spires. There is one lookout that I think would provide a decent view of it, but it’s undergoing maintenance so I couldn’t check it out.

Back nearer sea level, I checked out the cathedral a little closer up and then took a walk around the older area before struggling to get some cash out of an ATM. Germany uses “EC” (Electronic Cash, I think) and some machine will point blank refuse to accept Visa cards. Of course, they’ll let you go through the whole process of entering your PIN, choosing the amount, asking if you want a receipt… then saying that you’re card is invalid. This is also the case when buying train tickets from the machines in the station. Rather annoying.

After an expensive lunch in McD’s (it was convenient), I walked up to the Kunsthalle (art gallery) where there’s currently an exhibition of stuff from loon and ex-Beatles-hanger-on Yoko Ono. There’s a charge to get in so I didn’t bother walking around, but it’s a nice building from the outside and one of the exhibits/pieces is on display outside – a hearse, or “coffin car”. As part of the display, you can be driven around the town centre for 15 minutes in a hearse. For €5 per person.

Essentially, this means you’re paying money to advertise the gallery. Sneaky marketing and I’m sure some muppet art lovers will fall for it. After the “intellectual” comments I heard from some idiots viewing the new cathedral windows in Cologne last year I’d not put anything past them.

And finally back on the bus again out to Melanie’s. Using my *cough* “recycled” ticket.

Oh, apparently Bielefeld doesn’t exist. It’s some weird German joke that I don’t understand, but I can tell you that it does. And though it’s not as cool as Cologne or as bouncy as Bonn (or as big as Berlin from what I hear), it’s a lovely little place. Nice for a stop-off if you’re in the area.

[Update - a nice person on CouchSurfing who lives in the area has pointed me to the Bielefeld Conspiracy article on Wikipedia. Apparently the town was accidentally / deliberately missing from a map published some years ago]

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Browsing Bielefeld

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I actually seem to know the touristy stuff in Dusseldorf better than my German companion so we set off to find the Designer Warf area near the tower. Easy, obviously, as the aforementioned tower stands like a huge pointy… tower as a landmark.

Of course, this doesn’t take into account Dusseldorf’s insane one-way system which makes Glasgow and Leeds seem positively logical by comparison. And believe me, they aren’t.

After half an hour, we’d driven within 200m of the tower twice, crossed a bridge and navigated a tunnel system then ended up somewhere from where we couldn’t even see the damn tower on the skyline. At this point, we stopped for brunch at a bakery.

One last try. And we lucked out. After spotting the correct tunnel somewhere, Melanie got us to the Warf area, we parked and got out. I’ve been here before and I didn’t have my camera on me, so check out the pics from my earlier visit. I didn’t add them to my post from last time.

After our mission was complete, it was time to head towards Bielefeld. There’s not a huge amount in the area according to my host, but one thing worth seeing was the Externsteine, so we headed there. It’s a large rock formation stuck in the middle of a nice foresty setting that’s been used by many groups of humans over the millenia, and for a variety of purposes.

For those visiting, you can get a bus there or drive up. If you drive, it costs €1 to get into the car park. Walking around the Steine themselves is free, but if you want to climb up them it’s a small fee of €1.50 for adults. There’s a pretty view from the top, and one has an interesting old chamber that’s now open to the elements. Melanie translated what a schoolteacher was telling his class.

Way back when, this chamber was used for giving sacrifices to Pagan gods. Also, one of the walls has a circular hole carved into it. On the day that Summer turns to Winter, the sun fits into this hole exactly. So essentially it’s a big one-day calendar. With added blood and guts.

A large carving nearer ground level shows Christ being taken down from the cross along with an image of a wilting tree. This, apparently, indicated the overthrowing of the old Pagan gods by Christianity and dates from a period in history when this kind of thing was going on a lot.

As a result of that, Himmler and the related branches of the SS took an interest in the site. The old Nazi government were rather interested in all things occult, Pagan, supernatural and so forth – Raiders of the Lost Ark has some small grounds in truth! The sad upshot of this is that every so often, a handful of skinheads will decide they want to celebrate something here and cause a fuss.

The Steine are quite a sight, and I love the bridge that links one rock with the sacrificial calendar room. The surrounding grounds are also quite beautiful. I think I caught it at just the right time of year as Autumn is in full swing and the trees are more orange than green.

Our touristing complete for the day, Melanie drove us to Bielefeld and gave me a quick recce by car. Back at her place (pretty much a worksite, though the rooms that are finished show this will be a wonderful place once it’s all done), we lazed for a bit and then ordered dinner in. We were both exhausted and as Melanie had work the next morning, we turned in early.

It says a lot about how tired I was that despite having free, fast internet to go wild on I was asleep by 22:30.

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Revisiting Dusseldorf

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Things to note when making a long-haul journey. In fact, primarily… make sure you have enough stuff to do. I’d left my spare novel in my hold baggage so I started to worry what would happen if I finished the one I was reading. Fortunately, between snoozing and reading newspapers I managed to spin out the time.

I flew with FinnAir and they were OK. No individual screens for the videos, so EVA Airlines still wins my prize for best long-distance flight. A shame that was way back in 2006 and I’ve not had a comparable aeroplane since. It was a moderately filled flight, so I had a lot of room and the meals were as good as in-flight meals get.

There was one upset as we neared Helsinki after almost 10 hours of flying. One Thai gentleman a few rows behind got rather ill all of a sudden. Judging by the mass exodus of people from the seats around him, I think this may have involved a degree of “splosh”. Fortunately, the cabin crew saw to it swiftly and he was OK.

Other than that, I fell asleep during the recent Indiana Jones film though managed to suffer through Kit Kittredge though I don’t know how. Bad as Crystal Skull was, Kittredge was like a feature length episode of The Red Hand Gang. With hobos. And yet I couldn’t nod off to spare myself.

With my sanity barely intact, we landed at Helsinki-Vantaa Airport where I had a fairly painless swap onto my connecting flight. The only slowdown was the annoyingly thorough security check. Welcome to Europe. As is not uncommon, my laptop bag went through a second scan, I assume as it’s full of cables and stuff. I’ve still never been cautioned or queried about the half-empty toothpaste tube that’s always wedged in the front pocket.

It must be the only location in Finland where you can’t get free wi-fi although there are three companies competing for your cash to use a paid-for service. As ever, I didn’t even look at the pricing and just folded up my laptop and waited. Fortunately, due to some good scheduling, I only had an hour or so to wait for my flight to Dusseldorf. As far as airports go, it was OK, but nothing special. They start to look the same after a while.

Despite it only being a 2-hour flight I was fed a meal which was good as I’ve not bought a thing foodwise since I left my hostel in the morning. I also managed to cram in an hour’s sleep, waking just before we landed.

We touched down at Dusseldorf International at around 20:15 local time and I reckon my body was at around 23:00 with all the sleep I’d managed. Hopefully this would offset some of the jet lag. I had no immigration to deal with as I’d had my passport checked at Helsinki, so it was only a short delay before I picked up my rucksack and made my way to the connecting train station.

Here’s a hint – make sure you have change before buying a train ticket. The machines will only accept EC cards, 5- and 10-Euro notes and coins. The ATMs at the airport will only dish out 20-Euro bills. Fortunately, a woman behind me had two 10′s which she helpfully swapped.

An announcement came out over the tannoy which I didn’t understand. I did, however, pick up the body language of the other passengers – delay. Thankfully it was only ten minutes and by 22:00 I was stood outside Dusseldorf Hauptbahnhof waiting for Melanie (who I met at this year’s Graspop) to come and get me. A shame that Chris – my CouchSurfing host from last year – couldn’t make it.

With no further ado, she showed me to the hotel she’d sorted, I dumped my bags and went on the very important search for the bar area. Dusseldorf claims to be “Europe’s Biggest Bar” due to the number of alehouses in one small location, though I think Norris McWhirter would have had something to say about it.

Needless to say the only problem we had was picking one out of the variety of offer. Eventually we settled on an outdoors place with a very pretty barmaid and stared sinking the first of far too many “Alt”s. Two bars and much beer (and a few shooters) later, we staggered back to the hotel and crashed out.

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Big long hop

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At 10:30, I was on time for check-in on the coach. Here’s a warning… Eurolines are OK. But despite booking through them, I was on a “Euro Buses” (I think) coach instead. As a result, I had to pay an extra Euro for my rucksack. When I complained, the driver got out a battered A4 sheet stapled to some card with the details of the luggage charge in three languages – none of them English.

Bizarre thing is that I swear this has happened to me before. Something similar happened when Hans and I were ripped off by a taxi driver and his mate in Mumbai (at least they’d laminated their sheet which they used to fleece us). But I have a niggly memory of being charged for luggage carriage in Europe before. Yeah, it was only a Euro but it’s the principle.

Anyhow, the journey was pleasant enough with some nice weather and scenery. I watched another Dead Zone on my PSP and read some more of my book (Elephant Song by Wilbur Smith – rather good). We passed through a couple of other cities on the way in, including a drop-off in Liége. Which I can tell you is definitely not designed for coaches. Brussels hove into view later than planned due to traffic, but it didn’t feel like I was late.

I walked down to the 2Go4 hostel where I’d stayed last time. In fact, almost exactly a year ago when Marina and I attended last year’s Graspop. As ever, the welcome was warm and the place was clean and busy. I had been lucky to get a bed as Hans had been kind enough to keep badgering them until they assured me a spot due to a cancellation. A very busy hostel and justifiably so.

After dropping my stuff we headed straight out for some food (kebab was quick and easy) and a walk around. We took in the usual touristy stuff like the town hall and the Mannequin Pis. Bizarrely when we got to the little fella having a wee, few people were looking at him. Instead, eyes were focussed on a woman trying to rescue her kitten from a window ledge.

Lowering a basket with food in only succeeded in having the cat tip the basket over, pinch the food and eat it on the ledge. D’oh. Eventually he found another open window and – I hope – would have been found by office staff the next day.

Walking back towards the town hall, Hans dropped a few cents into the hat of a human statue. “Have a photo!” he shouted, so we did. One each. Cool. Then “Give me two Euros!” resulted in a firm “no” and us walking off.

A word for anyone planning on doing the whole statue thing. If you want money for photos – ask first. Not after. It’s far more polite.

We located the Delirium Bar which serves over 2000 beers and enjoyed a cheeky one each followed by ice cream from an nearby stand. Hans was exhausted as he’d had a couple of early mornings and I wanted to catch the footie so we walked back to the hostel where I got online while he had a snooze. Spain beat Russia to go through to the final, which entailed the entire Spanish population of Brussels driving arond town beeping their damn car horns till the silly hours. Who’d have thought Brussels had so many Spaniards?

Our plans to go out again kind of tailed off when we both realised we were still tired later on. We’d need our strength the next couple of days so had a moderately early night after chatting to our roomies for a while. Tomorrow, Graspop beckoned.

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Back in Belgium

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I was actually awoken around 10am by my mother ringing me to tell me a credit card had arrived. No huge deal aside from the fact that I didn’t get to bed until after 6am. Grr. So I spent the day online, popping downstairs for a rather nice chicken and chips lunch.

Evening came around, and one of the lads in the hostel – from Mexico – volunteered to walk into town with me to watch the first half on the big screen. You’d have been hard pushed to miss coverage. Every food or drink establishment had at least one screen available, with chairs outside and waitress service so you didn’t miss a moment. Those that didn’t normally have a screen had borrowed or rented one and fitted it in somehow.

As I said, Frankfurt has a large Turkish ex-pat population as can be easily told by the number of kebab shops around the station area. Great places to eat, by the way – cheap and large portions. This mix resulted in a fantastic atmosphere around the large screen area. Flags, face paint, chants, singing, all variety of shirts, hooters, horns, whistles… Just great.

There was limited room in the area immediately in front of the screen which was enclosed. Entry seemed to be free, but we opted to stand outside on the street from where we could see more of the crowd as well as having a decent view of the screen.

Turkey scored first and half of the crowd went wild. The Germans tutted and looked at their feet, the Turks waved those flags and blew those horns, dancing and cheering. Early days though, as Germany equalised before the end of the half. This time the flags waving were of three colours and Teutonic voices were in song.

As the whistle blew to end the first 45 minutes, we walked back towards the hostel where the game was being shown in the communal area. On the way, I picked up a McD’s – and hopefully wouldn’t end up in the same condition from it as the guy who was slumped unconscious over one of the tables with his head in a burger box. Strange as he was actually still upright, being in a little booth thing. See the photo around here somewhere for an illustration.

Back at the hostel, the atmosphere was buzzing as Germany took the lead and were pegged back again by Turkey. Obviously the hostel owners were home supporters and going mad with each German attack.

Then, seconds from the end of normal time, Germany popped in what was to be the winner. Despite an injury-time free kick, Turkey just couldn’t pull back again and the Germans went through.

During the second half, the picture kept vanishing which caused a lot of frustration to the home fans. It turns out it was something to do with a huge thunderstorm over Vienna which was killing the signal. It certainly made things tense when you had no idea what was going on for a couple of minutes!

With the game over, I headed upstairs to bed. After virtually no sleep the night before, I had to get some shuteye. I’m glad I had earplugs as the winning fans were speeding around the city in their cars, horns blaring, until after 3am.

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Germany 3 – 2 Turkey

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I woke around 9-ish as Hans had told me his flight from Darfur was landing at 7:30. I’d checked the buses from the airport and that would mean he’d get here at 9:30. Time for some breakfast before he got to the hostel. As I was spooning cereal into a bowl, I heard a familar voice call out “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hans’ flight landed at 6:30 – he’d given me the times based in Darfur – so he’d caught an earlier bus and already walked into town, realised that most people were still asleep and come back to the hostel. There’s not a whole lot to do in Frankfurt, so he was pretty glad to have someone to hang out with while he tried to stay awake after the long flight.

We chilled for a while and caught up before walking into town for the briefest of looks around. My sunglasses broke but as luck would have it, I was right by a street-seller selling cheapies at €4 a pop. Big, tight-fitting, passed the head-bang test and mirrored. Spot on. Hans picked out a film to watch later, we grabbed some food from one of the market stalls put out for the day (sausage and fried potato – really good and only €3) and walked back to the hostel.

There was a free football game being organised that afternoon and people were just gearing up to head off for it. I’d been pretty ill the last couple of days (nothing too bad, but let’s just say I was very careful as regards passing wind… as it wasn’t always wind), but felt up to a bit of exercise and counted myself in. Hans went off for a lie down while the staff organised drinking water and underground tickets for us (all paid for!).

I got chatting to a few people on the walk and during the game. As you’d expect from a cheap hostel near a major transport hub, the mix was quite impressive: Mexican, Australian, Kiwi, Brit, American, Canadian, German, Italian… The game was good, but hard work in the baking heat and humidity. After an hour or so, a bunch of locals asked if they could join in and we ended up with something approaching 15-a-side, though this varied as people dropped out periodically to top up on water.

One of the hostel staff video’d things occasionally and it should pop up on YouTube at some point. At time of writing, it’s not there yet, though the user account to check out is HostelFrankfurt.

Update: here ’tis…

When we got back, a cold crate of beer was placed on a table for the footballers – again, all free! There was enough for two bottles each and they were welcomed, believe me. Hans resurfaced and hadn’t gone to see a film after all. He’d misread the timetable and the film he wanted to catch wasn’t showing on a Tuesday. Instead, we walked out and picked up dinner from a Turkish take-out nearby. There are lots of these – Turkey seems to send all it’s emigrants to Frankfurt! Good for us as the food’s pretty cheap and filling.

The rest of the evening was spent chatting to a load of other residents, and a short wander round the city at night and through the red light district (always a laugh). Hans’ bus was booked for 5:30am so he went to bed and I stayed up with an American and two Aussies chewing the cud and drinking Wild Turkey and Coke.

My sleep pattern was obviously skewed badly as I was still chatting away when Hans woke up for his bus! I eventually had “breakfast” at 06:00 and went to bed. Then struggled to sleep in the heat.

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Frankfurt again

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I’d been told by several people that hitching in Finland and the other Nordic countries is pretty painless and quick.

They were wrong. Certainly on this occasion.

Part of my problem was a dicky stomach, probably from enjoying myself too much over the previous few days without enough food or rest. Then the weather turned for the worst. Not just a little drizzle, but heavy downpours, scheduled for just when I was preparing to stick my thumb out.

After an hour, I threw my hitching notebook in a bin as it was soaked through. The next number 10 tram took me to the central railway station and I asked about public transport to the airport. Tourist Information told me I would have to get a bus or train to Tampere, and then another bus out to the airport. Tight for time, but just posible with some luck. Thing is, I was sure there was a direct bus from Helsinki so I asked again at the train ticket window.

The incredibly helpful woman there informed me that, yes, there was such a bus and it ran two times a day to fit in with the flight schedule. The one at 17:15 would get me to the airport just as check-in opened for the Frankfurt flight. It’s 2 1/2 hours and €25, but dry and comfy and sure to mean that I wouldn’t miss the flight. She also printed me out a full timetable, details of how to read it, and a map of where the bus picked up from.

While I was outside looking for the actual stop I spotted the 615 to Helsinki airport that I coudn’t find the other day. There are two bus parks at Helsinki railway on opposite sides of the building! After 10 minutes I still couldn’t find the stop for the service I was after and decided to get indoors and out of the rain until closer to departure time.

This I did and used the time to send off the usual postcards. At 17:00 I went back outside and looked again. This time I saw the right bus coming into view. It slowed down and pulled up at the other side of the square, away from the other buses. Had I not seen the bus itself I’d never have found the stop. The driver was fine and didn’t ask for any cash so that was even better.

I settled in, watched some Dead Zone on my PSP, listened to music, read and dozed on the trip up to Tampere.

When the coach arrived, a young woman jumped on board and yelled “somethingfinnishIdidn’tunderstandtickets25Euro!”

Ah, she wanted money. Thankfully I’d withdrawn cash as she wasn’t taking Visa. So I didn’t get the ride for free. Well, this is RyanAir after all.

RyanAir fly from terminal 2 up at Tampere Airport and… well. It’s the worst airport I have ever seen. It looks like a handful of pre-fabricated shells bolted together. Electric cabling is “tidied” out of the way with cheap guttering, paint is flaky, advertising posters are nailed directly to the walls, there’s nowhere near enough room for the crowds queueing, security takes an age, there’s no space at the departure gate… It’s horrible. I mean, I’ve been to some ugly, cramped, crappy airports, but Tampere really takes the biscuit.

Thankfully, due to the awful queues, by the time I got to the departure gate I only have 10 minutes to wait until boarding. I would like to point out that the staff themselves were exemplary from the check-in people to the security officers. It’s just the airport that sucks.

The flight itself was uneventful apart from some “mild” turbulence that felt like being shoved through a tumble dryer that was taking its own trip along a roller-coaster. The sunset as we headed south was magnificent – a burning, fiery red. And sadly on the other side of the plane so I couldn’t get a picture.

Frankfurt-Hahn was a different kettle of fish. Clean, bright, spacious, efficient, wonderful. Within 20 minutes (I think – my watch stopped working just before the plane took off) I was reunited with my rucksack and on the €12 coach to Frankfurt proper.

I knew which hostel to head for as I’ve been here before and checked myself in. A quick internet check and then bed to get up early and catch Hans arriving!

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Not the best of weather

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Again I will start with the thank you’s as I do regard them as the most important things. Birte and Jörn in Essen; Antjé, Jana and Niko in Gladbeck – thank you all. The latter group probably a little more simply as they didn’t have the first idea who I was when I arrived. Manfred, my host in Röetgen a short while ago, had called them to say a friend was coming up and in need of a bed. They had no idea about the Walk or where I’d even met him. They thought we’d met in England as he worked there for some time about two years ago! So basically, they didn’t know me from Whatsisname – the guy from chapter one of the the Bible. The guy with the apple fetish who could speak Parseltongue.

Also an additional thank you to my Essen hosts for the books before I left. I now have space in my rucksack as I’ve been dumping novels when I finish them and to finally get hold of some more English texts is a real help. Perhaps it’s rather apt that one of them is Tony Hawks’ Round Ireland With A Fridge – about a guy who takes off on a silly journey for no real reason and wonders how he got himself into it… yet meets wonderful people and does amazing things on the way.

Right, well. My aim was Gelsenkirchen which is twinned with Newcastle. Annoyingly, I didn’t walk past any signs declaring this as I really wanted my photograph with one. As I entered Gladbeck later on I saw copious signs advertising their affiliation with Enfield but this wasn’t really the same.

I did, however, get to do the stadium tour in Gelsenkirchen. The local team are hugely well supported and doing quite well this season. FC Shalke04 have a great history, pretty much dominating the sport in Germany around the 40s and 50s. More recently, they’ve been marginal underdogs yet their fan base is unwavering. All matches sell out, flags and so forth are on display all over the region and pubs fill with those unable to get tickets each match day. A bit like Newcastle under Keegan, really. It’s a wonderful feeling and walking through the area, especially on a match day, does bring those memories and emotions back.

My aims here were to see the stadium on a tour and also to see the game on the Saturday, preferably at the stadium. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do the second one. Well, I could, but it would have cost me around £50 for the cheapest ticket I could get my hands on.

I settled for the £5 (€8.00) stadium tour instead. Birte helped me book it as the staff there don’t speak the best English in the world and prefer non-German speakers to book by email. Details of the tour are on Schalke’s web site. If you can get a German speaker to help you then that’s best – there is a lot more German content on the site than English.

It’s a magnificent ground and one of only two in Europe that store the pitch outside the stadium on non-matchdays. I watched a fair bit of the shifting process when I was there and it takes four hours each way to move the turf in and out on a huge platform. Friday evenings in, Sunday mornings out. This allows more light and rain to reach the entire area and frees the inside of the stadium up for concerts and the like during the week. I’m sure the investment in technology to move the grass will pay for itself very quickly with the added revenue – and they don’t have to replace all the grass all the time like so many stadia in the UK.

I mention that first as I walked past the “externalised” pitch on my way to the museum where my tour was to begin. The staff there were lovely and even kept my rucksack behind the counter while I was guided around. As the tour is in German only – they don’t do other languages unless you book a private tour which is really expensive – I approached what looked like the youngest (and I confess prettiest) member of the group and asked if she spoke English. I, of course, got the usual “a little” response followed by an almost work-perfect translation of the entire tourguide repertoire and a long conversation afterwards. I wonder how much English someone who speaks “a lot” knows?

Regardless, thank you Kathleen – you were a wonderful translator. Best of luck with the studies!

We were taken round the area where the pitch was being “inserted” into the stadium, one of the pump rooms where beer is stored and delivered to the multitude of kiosks, the terraces, the restaurant, the area where people are interviewed immediately after the match, the chapel, the media room, the really posh and expensive seats and pitchside. The only thing I was expecting and didn’t get to see were the changing rooms. You always have those images of tours where they take you in and all the shirts are hanging up, but it wasn’t to be. I think the fans on the trip were a little more disappointed than me!

The figures are amazing. The amount of beer sold each game is typical of what you’d expect of the Germans, but when they clean the beer line they flush out thousands of litres of the stuff and dispose of it! They should just keep it for the next match featuring an English team. We’d drink it regardless.

During matchdays, the really posh seats have a lunch included and it’s always something from the region or country of the opposing team. A nice touch. Mind, for these seats you could be paying 21,000 Euros a season… The boxes run to hundreds of thousands depending on where they are, but can be used for any event at the stadium, not just the footie.

Another thing is that for league games, terracing is allowed. This has been outlawed in the UK for many years now due to the usual nanny state regulations. The same ones that, in very recent years, have had clubs turf fans out of grounds if they don’t sit in the seats they’re allotted and instead choose to stand to voice their support. Lunacy. This terracing is only for league, though. If the ground is used for European or international matches then seats are bolted in place. This makes the capacity float from just over 60,000 to just under 40,000 if my memory serves. A huge difference in income for the club. Having said that, a terrace ticket for a home game is a measly 11 Euros.

For some more bumpth, here’s a link to the stadium’s own portrait page. I’m particularly impressed with them hosting a concert, a football match and a US football match within 96 hours!

The tour round was fascinating and worth the price, especially as it included entry to the museum (itself usually 4 Euros). I wandered around there for some time with Kathleen translating the labels before we both had to set off. Her for a friend’s house and me to my hosts.

I was a little late getting to Gladbeck, but Antjé and the family didn’t mind and I sat and talked with Antjé and Jana for some time. Jana’s hoping to study English at university (good luck – even I would struggle with that!) and filled in the gaps in her mother’s otherwise excellent English. Antjé’s a quick learner. Little phrases and so on that I mentioned one day would be used by her the next!

My bed was a comfy mattress laid down in the loft and was more than adequate. Much better than trying to pitch a tent anywhere in this area anyway – it’s all concrete and houses! Dinner, also was great. And Jana is an excellent baker – I ate far too much of the dessert!

Niko arrived home after we’d had dinner and turned out to be a complete football nut. He plays for a local team and supports Arsenal and Dortmund (I think – my memory is hazy on the German team). I don’t think we talked about anything other than football for my entire stay. Nice collection of pets as well – the geckos are lovely but I’m still not all that keen on tarantulas.

On matchday, Antjé dropped me off at a bar. We shared a quick drink before she had to go (Germans drink a mixture of beer and Coke – weird…) and I sat surrounded by fans in blue and white who went wild as Schalke thumped Arminia Bielefeld 3-0. My schnitzel with pepper steak at half time was absolutely delicious as well.

In the evening, Niko and his girlfriend invited me out clubbing – some of their friends wanted to meet me which was flattering – but I had to make a start in the morning, though I was really tempted. It turned out to be a good decision as he didn’t get back until 4am!

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Footie madness

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A short trudge up the road got me to Essen where I was to stay with Jörn and his girlfriend, Birte. They turned out to be great company and we spent far too many hours talking when I could have been touristing! Still, the weather wasn’t that great so no big deal.

I did take a trip out west to see the Gasometer, the largest in Europe which is now a tourist attraction. You can climb all over it, inside and out. At 117.5m at the peak, it’s a hell of a view and awful for anyone with vertigo. Inside is even worse! From the viewing platform on the 10th floor, it’s almost completely dark aside from a scattering of lights. As you come in from the outside stairwell, you can’t even see your feet so it’s like you’re floating in space. Very unnerving.

The exhibition downstairs was quite interesting. A lot of satellite photos of various landmarks, cities and so forth. A shame that the copious notes next to each one were in German.

I failed to find the time to visit the nearby UNESCO protected abandoned mine, which is a shame. But it gives me something to do on my next visit. I spent three evenings and some of the afternoons talking to Jörn and Birte while being ridiculously well fed and watered, which was just as good a way to spend the time. I was also given free reign on one of the spare PCs to get this blog updated and to move the 1000 Miles one to a new home with a new design. The joys of being hosted by a true geek!

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Essen M

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