Bavaria. Booze. Bantz.

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Straubing.

Back in the Fatherland again for more lazy gallivanting, a week of Lidls, pubs, and killer insects. This is my seventh trip to Bavaria, so only a few new insights. I do quite like the place – it’s quiet (mostly), civilised (mostly), and people have manners (mostly).

Ice cubes.

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All of these goodies and no ice cubes. Tragic.

Why the dearth of them in supermarkets? Is this some ‘German thing’ in which they’re too ashamed to purchase the cubes ready-made, that the locals would rather be all labour-intensive and concoct the beverage coolers at home? Irritating.

Lidl. 

These convenience stores continue to be an experience. One can always unearth a wee treat in here, from cut-price protein bars to knock-off Jägermeister. I also admire the checkout staff; they don’t attempt to initiate pointless small talk when you’re more dishevelled than Jimmy McNulty during his peak Baltimore mishaps. They get on with it, which is how it should be done. British people suffer from an affliction: talking about the weather. It’s boring chat and you get no such gibberish from these Germans.

Mosquitos. 

These fuckers need wiped out regardless of the wider ecological ramifications. They attack O negative blood like those choppers in Apocalypse Now (1979) taking down the village to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. I’m a so-called ‘universal donor’ and this is how I’m rewarded – bites in double figures to my face, arms, legs, and arse. Charming. “Burn them all,” as Aerys Targaryen would have wailed.

Wheelchairs.

Where are the people in wheelchairs? In Straubing and Passau I didn’t see a single Ironside. Strange. Are they kept indoors or something?

Chernobyl connotations. 

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Lined up my midget e-cig with this and felt quite grateful I didn’t grow up anywhere near Ukraine circa 1986. I thought this snap quite the arty-farty creation; it will be doing the rounds on Instagram.

Overall, another cracking jaunt. I’ll be back next year for an Aldi blog.

 

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Conrad Schumann – life as an icon.

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Until the other day I thought this photograph, the so-called ‘Leap into Freedom’, was the criterion for liberty, no less. A cursory Google search (the snap came up in some morbid conversation about David Hasselhoff’s ‘Looking for Freedom’) says otherwise. The power of images is propaganda above all, the human story often discarded. It appears Schumann was the prisoner of *our* image, and reading about his life post-1961 – depression, solace in alcohol, his eventual suicide in 1998 – one can’t help but feel for the guy.

That primary life-changing decision with all its what-ifs, and he had to be reminded of it daily, us lot ascribing meaning to the photograph that wasn’t there, like we’ve owned his experience.

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20 years later.

I suppose the contemporary equivalent is becoming a meme and spending your life trying to supersede it.

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/the-leap-of-hope-that-ended-in-despair-1167101.html

https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/conrad-schumann-defects-west-berlin-1961/

http://100photos.time.com/photos/peter-leibing-leap-into-freedon

https://www.buzzfeed.com/audreyworboys/famous-people-from-memes-then-now

 

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Scott Monument, Edinburgh.

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Took this snap with a Tesco Hudl tablet hoisted on a wee micro tripod, crawling on the floor as some tourists stood bemused at my ‘antics’. It was during this moment that I recalled a troupe of Americans got stuck in the monument’s staircase on their attempted ascent to the top. It was Edinburgh’s own version of In Bruges (2008). What a hoot.

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Game of Thrones. Goodbye, my love.

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Eight years of Westeros drama, 2011-2019, with a godawful two-year hiatus between the 7th and final season. To accidentally appropriate a catchy verse in a recent Justin Bieber song, it’s been a hell of a ride (driving the edge of a knife).

Thrones was two-in-one TV, shades of history with splatters of fantasy, brutal realism and realpolitik – one got the sense of the intrigue at the court of Klemens von Metternich or Bismarck editing telegrams – with magic and dragons. And all if this topped off with booze, tits, and your occasional rape. Peak Thrones has to be season 4, for the superlative writing, the intricate balancing act between the intimate and the epic, Tyrion’s ‘fuck you all’ trial, and the sheer number of what-the-fuck-just-happened moments. It was literally astonishing.

Things went a bit downhill from season 6 on. It was evident the writers, having gone beyond the Martin books, had run out of ideas and sadly resigned the show to that of ‘experience’ – spectacle, hordes of extras, battle after battle. Which is fine, but the verbal sparring and power plays such as those between Varys and Littlefinger were sorely missed, so too was any sense of remaining mystery about the familiar ensemble – all their cards were on the table. It frankly became a bit silly. Not to bother, it’s partly because the bar was set so high for so long that the later episodes in the saga felt lazy despite being the most watchable bits of drama on TV.

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Summary thoughts:

  • What the hell was Petyr Baelish’s accent all about? It fluctuated from one region of the British Isles to the next depending on how devious he was feeling.

 

  • Tyrion got boring by the end. He forgot he had witty things to say, and it didn’t help that it was no longer a case of dwarf vs. everyone.

 

  • Ramsay Bolton was Joffrey on steroids.

 

  • Stannis Baratheon reminded me of almost every supervisor/manager I’ve had, displaying a facade of nobility, but will without compunction burn their own kin for a pay rise.

And every time I eat chicken I think of The Hound and Arya tearing around the countryside, psychos in arms. Those two were meant to be.

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St. Giles’ Cathedral – the High Kirk of Edinburgh.

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Situated on the Royal Mile and in its current incarnation dated from the late 14th century, I’ve walked past it roughly 6,000 times yet have never been in the fucker. My reasons are multifarious, but one of them is that I don’t enjoy the manipulation, i.e., architectural determinism, of it all. The splendour I can enjoy from afar. Some find a solitude in churches; I just have visions of the terror they’ve inflicted, and this presently includes the tractor beam that pulls in hordes of cretin tourists. Sorry not sorry.

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Arctic (2018) is your proper minimalist survival thriller.

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I was mightily impressed with this, and it’s most refreshing to watch a flick without a one-liner or a wooden numpty in a cape. No pointless dialogue, no heavy exposition, no pretensions; just life-and-death struggle in a daunting environment, and Mads Mikkelsen’s terrifyingly alluring cheekbones. What a strange occurrence those things are.

The movie reminded me of The Grey (2011) with Liam Neeson, except this one without a sadistic pack of looney wolves.

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Chernobyl – TV mini-series.

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Shot in Fabijoniškės, Lithuania, this 5-episode mini-series by HBO is a cracker so far (one episode in). It puzzles me how there’s not, to my knowledge, been a major TV series or film about Chernobyl until now. One wouldn’t expect this would come from the Russian slice of the former Soviet Union, but you’d think Ukraine (its ‘western-oriented’ regions) would have put something together.

Documentaries have been galore, the main theme that the disaster was indicative of the pitfalls of communism, and a metaphor for the swift end of the USSR in the Gorbachev era of glasnost and perestroika.

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This is mind-blowing, though, a real-life 28 Days Later (2002) with wild animals replacing the ‘infected’:

I know a good lad I met in Budapest, a fellow traveller named Paul. He’s the only person I’ve met who’s wandered into Pripyat’s Zone of Alienation with a Geiger counter. I have an epic image of him strolling about in a Walter White biohazard suit, with a beer hat atop the garb.

Further reading/viewing:

https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/reviews/chernobyl-review-episode-1-hbo-sky-trailer-watch-nuclear-disaster-cast-a8902986.html

https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2019/may/07/chernobyl-review-chaos-reigns-in-confusing-nuclear-disaster-epic

https://variety.com/2019/artisans/production/hbo-chernobyl-lithuania-nuclear-plant-1203208391/

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Leith Walk trompe-l’œil.

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The highlight of Leith Walk. This reminds me of the (probably apocryphal) pretend convenience stores North Korea parades for tourists. Except this cultural gem has actual real-life Buckfast, and reasonably priced, too.

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Globalization.

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My attempt at ‘conceptual art’. There it is, scanned continent pages of an atlas all messed up. I want my Turner Prize now.

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Thai Times.

Thailand July to OctoberRemnants of a rather bonkers epoch in Thailand. It was my own private version of Apocalypse Now (1979). Guns, booze, beaches, mosquitos, monuments, and 7-Elevens. Good times.

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