Germany, Germany, Germany… we got off to such a great start. My compatriots and I arrived quite by accident on the last day of Carnivale, surprised to see crowds of drunken Germans frolicking in the confetti–littered streets and pleased to see things had come down in price since the wallet–raping Paris and Amsterdam experience, but it wasn’t to last.
The apparently–spontaneous brass band singalong in the bierhaus was awesome, and the beer that I had once sampled in Australia and found disgustingly salmony was positively delicious poured from the keg instead of a can; its foamy head piled high like too much detergent in the dishwater. The €1 bockwurst–in–a–bun (I believe the rest of the world calls it a hot dog) was a great way to start the next day, and the cityscape stretched out ahead of us as we stood atop the tower of Peter’s Altar and waited for The Glockenspiel’s midday performance.
Then things turned bad.
OK, so The Glockenspiel wasn’t that great. Big deal. It was five minutes late for its own performance and sounded a little out of tune, but hey — really really really old glockenspiel. I’m a forgiving man. But coming back to my room at Jaeger’s Hotel to find my locker open and my iPod, video camera, and cell phone missing… now that’s worth a fuck.
Robbed. Stolen. Pilfered. Gone is my beloved Bailey, the long–serving iPod once signed by Sarah McLachlan; gone is my trusty digital camcorder with its seven fucking hours of holiday footage stored on seven mini–DV cassettes; gone is the Me First and the Gimme Gimmes live CD I bought after we missed their show in DC; and gone is Wiggles, my handy first mate, my Bluetooth–enabled T68i bought solely for the purpose of exploiting iSync back when iSync was something new and cool. The hardware can be replaced, the insurance company will see to that, and the data on Bailey and Wiggles can be restored from my computer (which was, thankfully, in my backpack and on my back at the time), but those seven hours of footage spanning two months of American holiday adventure? That’s gone. Gone gone.
Thanks a bunch, Munich. I’m going to Switzerland.