Europe Itinerary
Kangaroo and Spyware
Bienvenue a Geneve
Au Revoir Geneve
Der Zug nach Berlin
Off to Poland
Poland Poland here we come, where everything’s cheap cause you’re all poor
Another Pfortzeim
Gaudy Pleonastically Superluous Tackiness
Olsztyn and Gdansk
Berlin
Where have all the vowels gone?
A Ribe! A Ribe!
Guf!
Frozen Cappucino Time
Lauingen, Wangen, Blevio and the festy train
Et in terra pax

The photos can be found at www.ormondchoir.org
New gallery production in progress

After the idyllic lakeside environment of Blevio and our pit stop in Como, we trained to Bologna. We had an hour to look around the town before returning briefly to our accommodation to have a shower and get changed, then head back into town for our concert. After half an hour of mumbling how utterly stupid this plan was, and wondering what we could possibly see in Bologna in less than an hour, we headed in a random direction in search of coffee, and coffee we found. Specifically, caffee coretto. John, Kate and Martin ordered three such concoctions, blaming their inability to speak the language on the fact that it came ‘con Grappa’. Well, the complaints instantly stopped and a state of lesser Nirvanadom was reached. We continued on and found a delectable gelati haunt, wherein the raspberry yoghurt sent us into a similar state of bliss. Hmmm…. life turned from being crap to awesome in a matter of 15 minutes. Go Italy

As we returned for our Statzione rendezvous, we encountered Liz who had come up with a ‘good idea’ for a new plan. It was precisely the one Jon had suggested hours ago, which had been shut down. We were to have an early dinner then go straight to the concert in the church and return to our accommodation afterwards. We returned to the restaurant next to the awesome yoghurt gelati, where we were allocated up to 25 Euros to spend each. Considering most dishes were 7-10, this was heaps . So we enjoyed a leisurely dinner, wherein many courses were ordered and ‘taxed’ appropriately.

After dinner, we headed to the church via bus, warmed up, and sang our last concert, letting the warm Italian air float around our gowns for the last time; enjoying the ‘freedom’.

We had been told that a feast awaited us afterwards. Thankfully, the congregation was also invited, so they managed to eat all the food we were too stuffed to possibly devour. And no, I don’t have an aversion to occasionally splitting infinitives or using ‘and’ to start a sentence with.

Learning that our accommodation was in Whoop-Whoop, we rushed into the street to find a Bottleshop to purchase the necessary supplies for a final night’s celebration. A dry evening just wouldn’t do! We found a bar that met our basic needs: the ability to speak English and the willingness to sell us bottles. All in all, I walked out with 8 bottles of local red, for about 7 people. Not too shabby.

Returning to the hostel was an experience best not described. The sheer… hatred of such appalling organisation cannot be expressed through words. Instead, I am going to do something uncharacteristic and shut up and not whinge. I can do this with the benefit of knowing what came afterwards: Rome was so utterly fabulous that it blew away this temporary blemish in my future desire to travel. Of course, talking to Rosie for an hour when I got to the hostel, and then sipping a few quiet glasses of red also helped

On two hours sleep, I went from complete sleep to on a bus in 15 minutes flat. Not a bad effort. I didn’t set my alarm properly, but thankfully (for once) a client rang me at the exact time I needed to get up! I’m glad I left my phone on at least! I even got a shower

We waited at the station for the train to Rome, which was 40 minutes late; not bad by Italian standards. It was quite a comfortable journey, with much 500 playing to be had. We arrived at Roma Termini, constantly checking our pockets to make sure our wallets were still there. In my case, I was almost willing someone to try and take it, as it had nothing but Euro coins and a Papua New Guinean 50 Kina note, which looks just like the old $50 Australian ones. I think that’s ‘cos we minted them though We split up to go to separate hotels (yes, read that again: HOTELS – woohoo!) in opposite directions from the station. We seemed to be split roughly according to age. Our group (the ‘oldies’) went with Douglas and headed to the Seiler Hotel half-way between the station and the Colosseum.

We ended up sitting on the steps for about half an hour, as Douglas negotiated with the receptionist, who had basically given up our rooms to higher-paying customers. So we were eventually sent off to a different hotel in taxis, with the promise of reimbursement by the hotel at the other end. Thankfully a staff member was outside as our taxi arrived, so she took care of the paying. Another car paid and presented the receipt to this new hotel for reimbursement. 15 minutes later, a lengthy argument ensued between Kate and the hotel over this event. The receptionist claiming she had paid 3 taxi’s, Kate stating that they had paid 1. You don’t win such arguments against Italians.

The rest of us feasted on divine gelati whilst Kate argued, then headed to a take-away pizza joint. Remove all images from your head, this was divine, and served in about 30 seconds flat. Why can’t they do that here?
We then headed to our third stop in 50 metres, for an espresso. A great start to the (now relatively late) afternoon! A quick stroll later and we were staring across a busy street at the Colosseum. Wow. Now I felt like I was ‘home’. Caecilius est in horto and all that. I can only imagine what Pompeii would feel like…

We skirted the Colosseum, disappointed to find it was closed for the afternoon. However, our primary destination was the forum, where Jon had promised to take us along the road less travelled. We wandered through the forum, attempting to get a sense of its former grandeur. It was quite different to what I expected. I guess the Rome I know is 2,000 years old, so part of me expected to see white cloth and purple sash amidst a crowd of Praetorians. Still, the sense of grandeur is not diminished. Blur your eyes and you can almost see the marble of the Senate and the bussle of everyday commerce come to life.

After immersing ourselves in the forum, we ventured to the Palatine; the location of Augustus’ imperial palace, now in ruins. This was a great move, as there were hardly any people up here. The ruins were extensive; like something out of Narnia or Return to Oz. We walked through the palace gardens and imagined ourselves Caesars. Bring out the egos!

Before returning to the hotel, we had a brief respite from our arduous journey through Imperial Rome at the edge of the palace gardens overlooking the Colosseum whilst receiving cricket updates via sms. Such a fine juxtaposition of worlds

We were all keen to experience true Italian dining that night. Nothing presented itself on the walk home, so we asked at Reception for the ‘non-touristy’ eating district. It became apparent that the helpful instructions we were then given were in fact for the most touristy bit. We decided the best thing to do was to thank her for her advice and send Kate down when she returned, to seek a different answer to the same question. (If the two were on speaking terms by now, that is). When Kate returned, she did so bearing news. She and Cindy had found a promising restaurant in their shopping travels and perhaps more importantly, remembered where it was! So a group of us headed into town and found the desired alley.

Leonie and I walked into the second restaurant in the street and requested a table for 9, which was promptly organised. The only trouble was, there were 7 empty seats. It seems the others had decided the first restaurant – the one I had eyed off on the way down – had captured their noses, so we hurriedly abandoned our table, hoping we could escape before the waiters noticed! I am so glad we did; the night that followed was nothing short of awesome.

We ordered with impunity, creating a culinary feast beyond our wildest dreams. Every single person was ecstatic for hours on end as we drank and ate our way into the night. The restaurant was all but ours. Price was no concern: it was not an expensive restaurant, so we ordered dishes without further thought. The vino di casa flowed, and it was good. Much merriment ensued. Quite simply, I have never enjoyed a better meal with a better group of people. To Kate, Jon, Cindy, Martin, Leonie, Lizzie, Lauren and Jim, I thank you all for being there to provide the most perfect end to any trip imaginable. Warm are my memories and fade they shall not.

It is here I leave this entry, suspended in the celestial state in which I left Rome and somehow drifted back through KL to Melbourne and a life more ordinary. All that remains now are fond memories, average photos, and 2.25L of limoncello. More than enough

Signing out,

David.

Evidently there has been a lack of blog posts lately for which I can only offer excuses From Luebeck, we and our second concert in Travemeunde Strand, we travelled to Lauingen for two days. Lauingen is only 20kms or so from Wertingen, where we stayed pre-Berlin.

Loclan and I were once again billeted with Rosi u. Johannes in Hochstaedt (near Lauingen). Both of us spent the next two days in absolute bliss. According to Leonie, I had an aura. I won’t deny it; the two days in Lauingen have been the best all tour.

The experience was somewhat surreal. Meeting us at Hochstaedt station were (inter alia of course) my billets from both 2 and 4 years ago. I was hoping to stay with the last billets again, as we had such an enjoyable and social time two years ago. Rosi came up and grabbed Loclan and I, paused briefly to enquire as to where Tim was (we stayed with him last time too) and whisked us away to their house 5 minutes away. We were informed we would once again be hosting a BBQ, and that Meg, Bel and Leonie would be joining us with their billets. I was apprehensive: not for any personal reasons, but for the fact I knew there would be a million sausages and I was already full from chocolate and idleness on the train! (Sorry, food mention again!)

Well I was right. Johannes cooked up a storm of Wuerste: my favourite being the Weiswurst. We spent many hours talking – thankfully mostly in English – and sitting back enjoying the serenity of the place. The cafe-style outdoor heater was turned on and we basked in its radiant glow drinking fruit cocktails and eating Tiramisu-like cream until about 1130, when the girls all looked like they were about to fall asleep. To be fair, so did Loclan and I, but at least we both managed to get up the next morning whilst it was still breakfast time. The girls slept until 1230 or so! Slovenly!

I had suggested a bike ride the previous night and all decided it was a good idea. The girls’ billet accompanied us and we rode (drove, as the Germans insist on saying) to Dillingen (about 10ks there) over rough potentially tyre-popping terrain to a well-earned ice cream creation at the Eiscafe.

We consumed a variety of Eisbecher; mine a Waldbecher consisting of many fresh berries with strawberry and vanilla ice cream and lots of cream and sauce. Hmmmm… Delicious The next best thing after pure gelati!

We rode home and prepared for our concert at the Hoechstaedt Scloss with the local choir Calypso. They managed to pack the room to standing room only, at which point we began with some madrigals. Calypso followed with their 3 pieces on the program, plus 2 unannounced mid-concert encores. Calypso sang a different Wade in the Water piece which seemed much cooler than ours. They also sang a Les Mis medley, so negative points for that. (Do you hear zee people sing?)

After the concert we returned home to a lovely small dinner of fresh Norweigian salmon, which Johannes had caught himself. It was definitely the most tasty salmon I have ever had.

During the meal, I received a message from Martin requesting our presence at the After Party at Marianne (the Calypso conductor)’s place, along with instructions (jokingly) to bring ‘the hot daughter’. So with little persuasion required, we set off with Ania to a night of bad singing, plentiful booze and much fun. Claire was loud as usual at the piano trying to convince everybody she’s not just an alto but a soprano too. Hindzy was trying something similar. Not convinced by either effort.

I spoke with Karin (my billet from 4 years ago) at some length, which was nice, and eased the slight discomfort at being stuck in between contentious billeting arrangements!

After much folk singing, ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ made a pointed appearance and the party wrapped up pretty quickly. I went home and slept well.

The next morning we had a typically huge breakfast available for us, at which Johannes produced the most delightful jam jelly, containing ‘Quitten’ – whatever that is. I now have two large jars of it in my ever-expanding suitcase!

We left Hoechstaedt longing to return. Once again our billeting experience had been divine. Loclan is in the fortunate position of being able to return more readily with his base in Heidelberg for the next year. Still, unlike MacArthur, I shall return!

We took a private bus to Wangen, where for the first time in recorded history the choir neither stayed in the cramped youth hostel nor had a massive bitchfight in the soprano section. There were, however, some similar elements.

We stayed in some kind of Monkery (deliberate diminuitisation) with incredibly short and unstable beds and a complete lack of hot water. I managed to find the hot water system but did not find the fuse box necessary to fix it. Showers in the morning were not looking pleasant.

We wandered around town for a few hours, including a pit stop at a cafe where I enjoyed Weiswust and Apple Strudel. I rested for a while before heading out to the concert in what had just become semi-torrential downpour. Determined to make it by the agreed time of 7pm, we set off with umbrellas in a thunderstorm (so smart that) before taking refuge at the first corner. We wouldn’t have bothered if the message to turn up later had actually been disseminated. And seriously, sticking a metal rod into the air in the middle of a lightning strike would probably be preferable to pissing Douglas off in Wangen, where for the last 3 trips he has gone apeshit. That didn’t happen either. Things certainly are changing.

After our concert, which was sung quite well, we headed to dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner. Our table got in early with the orders and filled our starving stomachs with delicious pasta.

We had fun interpreting the unfamiliar and unfortunately short wine list, before deciding on the cab sav. Note to self: ‘Cabernet Sauvignon’ pronounced in French is comprehensible to a German waitress: ‘The cab sav thanks’ is not.

The meal turned into a pleasant evening of sipping red wine and talking about uni, work, life, the universe and everything. We ran up a rather large bill despite our meals being paid for. I still have to sort that one out with Adit. Well worth it though.

We returned to our accomodation and partied on. (Well, I drank water) The evening was going well until an insensitive comment had Meg in tears. It is a shame to see ordinarily nice people upset someone thus. I guess it is also an example of generally fragile moods at this stage of the trip. It is, however, pleasing to see the rallying of friendship in such times, which is after all the most important thing.

I went to bed earlier than the rest of the late night crowd in a vain effort to get a better night’s sleep. We needed to rise early for a 930 train (with a bit of a hike across cobblestones to get there), so the lack of sleep and hot water took its toll. Many of us were extremely tired on the train to Blevio (Como); so much so that I didn’t even feel like playing 500!!!

The train to Como was comfortable. Loclan, Tom, Kass, Meg and I had a cabin to ourselves. I scored with a free opposing seat and the fully reclined seat option, so was able to spend some of the trip catching up on some much-needed sleep.

We arrived in Como to find we were still in Switzerland. We had assumed from the scenery and immersion in Italian architecture and culture that we were well inside Italy. Europe is wonderful like that.

We walked across the border with little interest by the officials in either us or our passports, despite being required to walk through the customs house.

We had a private and typically Italian bus waiting for us, into which 27 people squeezed with luggage. We took the ’scenic route’ to Blevio on the other side of the lake to our accomodation, which was set in the side of a hill with beautiful views. The sleeping arrangements were bad mattresses on the floor, so I guess you have to take the good with the bad.

We spent an hour or so wandering around the hillside, finding a small jetty and swimming opportunities ourside the church. I decided against a dip, but Tom A-Y was in there without any hesitation.

We wandered around looking for a cafe or ice-cream, before I decided I didn’t want either and just headed back for a shower. The Europeans don’t know how to do showers. If they insist on using those stupid hand-held shower heads, at least provide somewhere to attach it.

We sang a light music concert to a fairly packed church. My Soul’s been Anchored had me in absolue stiches, as we struggled to sing it at a much lower pitch given by an incorrect starting note. I just couldn’t help but cack up. I guess you had to be there.

After the concert, we headed back to a supper of cake and some wine. One sip of the wine was not enough to prevent me from pouring myself a full glass of white; two, however, was enough to stop me drinking it.

A random we met at the concert turned up with 3 bottles of wine which he offered to us. We gratefully accepted and he proceeded to open the first bottle of sparkling burgundy. Well, the European penchant for unchilled beverages was finally punished, as the bottle basically exploded all over him and our table. I jumped out of the way, saving my white shirt in the process. The random Italian was not so lucky, ending up completely drenched. It is fairly unfortunate to end up covered in purple juice and having to clean it up when you were trying to be generous. Still, I call it a victory for chilled beverages worldwide.

I retired early, deciding not to partake in skinny dipping at the pontoon. Thankfully, I was not awoken by anybody returning and enjoyed a comfortable night’s sleep despite the paperthin single sheet bedding and 20 other bodies in the same room.

This morning began with Simon’s inappropriately early alarm, set a full 150 minutes before we were required to present at the bus stop 25 metres away. Oh well, I guess there wasn’t much hope of a sleep-in in such an environment anyway.

As we waited at the bus stop, we were amused by Italian construction processes. I wish I had footage of the perfectly executed reverse 15-point turn by a cement mixer up a steep mountain road.

The bus arrived in typical Italian fashion: late, and not what was promised. We were expecting two busses to accomodate 24 bodies and suitcases. Naturally, only one arrived. As for the lateness, that can be accounted for by the fact that Italy has its own timezone: GMT+1+x.

We spent an hour in Como at a delightful cafe, soaking up the atmosphere. Here, for the first time, I felt like I had actually hit Italy. I decided that if dinner tonight was another el-cheapo fest, I would head off to find decent Italian cuisine on my own. Despite not having much money, there is a time and a place for stinginess. During only two days in Italy is not it.

I was extremely glad for ordering so much: una pizza proscuitto e funghi, uno cappucino, uno cafe del freddo e 3 gusti gelati. (Please don’t correct my articles; I don’t know Italian). Lunch was supermarket folly at the train station in Milan. Despite it being provided by central funds, I was extremely glad for having eaten earlier. I was again somewhat disappointed at the now habitual lack of efficient time and people management issues which meant we were unable to venture into Milano centrale, but I was content in the memory of my last trip; particularly the wonderful lunch wherein two glasses of wine set Jim off and prompted a rather amusing drunken horde e-mail.

I was unable to use my phonecard in the payphones, even after inserting coins. The same thing happened in Germany, so I suspect their website lists the wrong numbers. I guess that will teach me for buying something from a website full of spelling errors.

We are currently on board the train to Bologna. Unfortunately today is not a Eurail day, so we are stuck in the stinky, hot second class wagon. When you spend 4-6 weeks travelling wuth concerts at the end of each day, things like this make a big difference. You notice every minute on most second class trains and arrive tired and sweaty. Ones without restaurant cars over lunch periods increase the pain, but not nearly as much as 3 hour train trips without a toilet. Daft.

I am still undecided as to what to do in Rome. I recall during my 3 days in Florence 4 years ago not queuing up for a single attraction. Instead, I wandered around the city, rwfuelling on gelati as necessary. I think a similar prescription is in order. Cafe-hopping certainly is a memorable way to enjoy a city. I know there is so much I want to see I can’t possibly fit it in if I try, so I’d rather take a different approach and just come back. Besides, I still need to see Pompeii and Mt Vesuvius.

Caecilius in stinkytrain sedet.

We are currently in Luebeck, in northern Germany. We sang last night in the Waldkirche (Forest Church) in Timmendorfer Strand (beach). I got a lift back to the youth hostel as my back was killing me, then had pizza with Jacob. OK, so this wasn’t going to be about food… much As the others arrived I found out there had been some minor panic in our absence. Liz thought the car we were in, which contained half the choir’s backpacks as well as Tom K, Jacob and me, would just be transporting us to the station. However, they drove us back to Luebeck (probably 25 minutes away) instead. With Liz’s bag. Full of tickets. So there was some minor consternation and hurried phone calls as the backpack was transported BACK to Timmendorfer Strand so that the choir could catch the train back to Luebeck. They just made it, apparently. Whilst this was happening, I was blissfully unaware and tucking into my Hawaiian

My back seems to have recovered (which it is doing quickly now thanks to chiro) with the aid of a back massage and many drugs. So today I have been walking around the town with Kate, Kass and Meg. We visited the Gummi Bear shop – seriously cool! I walked out only 10e poorer. Such restraint! We then ventured to a cool music store, with awesome gifts and heaps of musical score, etc. We need more shops like that in Australia. I bought some cool cards – I will scan them in when I get home!

The coolest thing about Luebeck has been our personal tour guide Kristin. I’m not exactly sure how she came to meet us, but it appears more or less random. She showed us around the old church in the centre of town which was bombed during the war (1942). The weather has been very Melbourne-esque, so the church stop also doubled as a shelter from the weather. We then had lunch at a ‘traditional Bavarian restaurant’ wherein I had Schweinshake – a hock of pig with mashed potatoey-goodness, sauerkraut and dark beer sauce. We had an enjoyable lunch and then bid Kristin farewell until our concert tonight.

Hopefully we can now go back to the Marzepan place for ice-cream and more marzepan. Apparently this is the place where it was first made. The store has all sorts of marzepany creations, all of which call out to be purchased.

Anyway, thus far a thoroughly enjoyable day in Luebeck and not enough time to describe it properly.

Food: marzepan
Music: Durufle
Puzzlehunt: no news

P.S.The ice-cream at the Marzepan place was a let-down

Guf is the strawberry marshmallowy stuff they put on top of your ice cream here in Denmark. In Soro it is particularly good. I couldn’t help but marvel at the concept of the ‘half scoop’, which allowed me to try 10 flavours spread over 2 cones for about $8.50 Bargainous

We are currently preparing for our concert by sitting around and doing nothing: very reminiscent of the ‘hurry up and wait’ mentality of Cadets! Loclan is helping Tom with his German pronounciation; something that should have happened during choir camp, were there one.

The ice-cream man is open until ‘not less than 10′ tonight, so I may need to pay him another visit.

Yes, this post was entirely about food. If you’d had the ice cream here, you’d understand why…

Flavours:
1: caramel, cappucino, rum & raisin, white choc chip, nougat
2: mango, strawberry, raspberry, orange and champagne sorbets

I write this brief entry on board a Danish train to Soro; the place Danes love to hear us attempt to pronounce, but unhelpfully seem to have a dozen ways of doing so themselves.

The concert in Ribe cathedral went quite well, quite possibly helped by the biggest pizzas I have every seen; at least twice (possibly thrice) the size of the old pizza hut Bugfoot ones. 5 easily fed the entire choir (26 inc. Douglas at that point) with probably a pizza’s worth of wasteage. There was also much Church hack. I think we need to award Jim his KGF – Knight Grand Fromage of the Order of the Hack.

Nightwish rocks. If only I hadn’t left my iPod updated I might have had Oceanborn to listen to as well as the rest!

Mood: COOKIE STARTS WITH THE LETTER C!!!

Out of the consonants and into the vowels, our journey has taken us to Denmark; a land where even the locals tell you not to bother learning their language!

I am billeted with James again, with a lovely couple in a small town just out of Toftlund (something starting with A – I’m such an observant traveller!). Alice speaks excellent English and Deutsch. Her best friend Annie is an English teacher. Adit and Hindzy are staying with her. Yesterday she needed to go to the dentist, so we took a half-day trip to Germany. It is apparently much cheaper there. Whilst there, Jim and I found a giant Chess Set. Unfortunately no transfer chess was had, but we did have a game, which I (probably customarily) lost.

Last night we sang in Toftlund to a familiar audience. Jacob sang 3 pieces (very well) and we finished with the Hammerschmidt Freuet Euch as an encore.

After the concert, we enjoyed the customary Nachspiel (or whatever the Danes call it – ours used the German) at which small group music was performed. It was 2 years beforehand that Fresco first performed, so Kass and Zoe were celebrating that.

We went home quite early – our billets seemed tired and eager to leave. I guess that stopped us consuming too much wine

This morning was spent sleeping in – aaaah, the luxury . Jim went for a ride in the afternoon, whilst I stayed back and spent time talking on the phone, MSN and burning my photos. Very relaxing. There was only one bike and it was too hot to do anything anyway :p

We sing tonight in Ribe; in the oldest cathedral in Denmark. I have visited it and the town previously in 2001, whilst staying with Cindy and Lucy with a lovely elderly couple. I recall the tower’s excellent view over the town, and its numerous stairs. I should climb them again for fitness’ sake (but won’t :p)

People appear to still be getting on well. Hopefully I will be able to upload some photos soon. Unfortunately, I have been stuck with fairly primitive internet connections thus far. I hope Lauingen changes this! (It should also provide excellent beer and sausages!)

Mood: subjunctive (groan)
Music: The wheels on the bus…
Food: apparently I write too much about this – it’s only because I was expecting Polish food to be terrible and it wasn’t. No, I am not obsessed! :p
Business: almost sorted
Looking forward to: signing up for an unlimited GPRS data plan upon my return!

DRK

After a decent pizza, the obligatory small group stuff made an appearance, before a generally poorly-remembered Bach fugue for Brent’s sake. We moved on to a pub, where everybody else resided until 4am. I left at 1:30. Thankfully the beer was terrible (Weisen), so I wasn’t tempted to drink much (I gave up after half a glass).

The next morning was a bit of a sleep-in, thanks to Kate’s continual delays in setting off for Potsdam. We eventually made it and got to SchloߠSanssouci around 2:40pm.

We wandered around the impressive gardens for an hour or so, stopping to admire the mock-Oriental tea house, which was a dome-like structure comprised of a central room with 4 alcoves. It looked like a fairly decent place for a cup of tea. Rosemary would arrive by stagecoach with a parasol, of course.

Not having time to explore the interior of the Orangerie, we returned to Sanssouci for our 420pm guided tour. The palace consists of only 12 rooms and was designed for pleasure and entertaining, rather than for matters of state. Frederik was a bit of a scholar and a Francophile. Voltaire even lived in residence for a number of years. One could certainly picture oneself pontificating in such an environment, particularly whilst overlooking the fake Roman ruins situated such that they could be seen through the Kasier’s bedroom window.

We left Sanssouci and returned to the Zoo station to check out dinner options. We found a decent-looking Chinese place (the pwice was wight), wherein we later had dinner with Kat, Kate F-P, Hindsy, Francyne, Adit and Lauren. Much food and merriment was had, after which we ambled across to Quasimodo biergarten. Again, I piked early, but not before hearing about an ice-cream place in Glenferrie Rd which will make you up your own custom creations – like Suga for ice-cream. Why Kate failed to mention this in all our ice-cream discussions is beyond me, as is why she chose to do so 10000 miles away. Sigh.

This morning we left for Toftlund (via Vojens) in Denmark. We are currently on board a fairly average German train. Thankfully it is not a huge day travelling.

Mood: exhausted!
Music: I can see the lights in the distance coming in the dark cloak of night. (All Souls Night, Loreena McKennit)

We arrived in Olsztyn yesterday after

– well, that was yesterday’s effort. Thanks to 9 hours on the train back to Berlin, this should be a little longer.

In Olsztyn, we stayed in a Polish 3-star hotel. By God did it feel like 5. ROOM SERVICE!!! So much has changed since the festy days of Koczalin (sp?). After spending an hour at the internet cafe sorting out the unfinished survey, I headed back to the hotel to enjoy a meal at semu-Western prices. Unfortunately, Liz said we would have to have the cold buffet as there wasn’t enough time to order before we had to meet for pre-concert travel and warm-up. Cold buffet says she? Stuff that says I. After racing around Osztyn for 15 minutes, desperate to find some ‘real food’, I chanced upon the ‘Gourmet Cafe’, wherein I found two piles of menus – Polish and French. Great start. Anywhere with an exclusively French menu has to be good.

I enjoyed a good steak – nay, an excellent steak – at this Gourmet Cafe, with a creamy mushroom sauce and fries. Of course, it may have just been my 2-week absence from steak that made it so good, like the Ingham frozen deluxe chicken on Survival Camp (’97). But I doubt it. My taste for steak is well trained.

I raced back to the hotel, amidst Cluedo-esque speculation as to where I had actually got to. Nice to feel wanted We headed to our concert, whereupon we were greeted by a POSTERA CRESCAM LAUDE t-shirt and some random polish guy wearing it. Like all Polish(*), he never stopped talking.

We sang an acceptable concert (my voice had finally recovered), and returned to our hotel with a few detours – unsuccessful attempts to find Lody (ice cream). Nestle ice cream (and all their products) are incredibly popular in this country. It’s a shame they’re no good.

We eventually found our beloved Lody, about 500 (200 according to ever-optimistic Polish estimatuon) metres away from the Hotel. However, it seemed that this Sklep (shop) had been converted into a Bottleshop, as symbolised by the chain across the supermarket exit registers. Some incomprehensible combination of semaphore and mispronounciation ensued, whereupon one member of our party was finally admitted into the Sklep’s sanctuary and permitted to purchase immitation magnums. Lody never tasted so good. (undoubtedly a result of the hereby-dubbed ‘Ingham Effect’).

I returned to the hotel room and decided to flip through the TV stations – all 56 of them. Channel 37 was quite interesting. It featured a tv ouput of someone playing a Total War-like computer game, with commentary in Polish. If only there were an English version with Civ 3, I might have found more than temporary amusement. Instead, I headed to the bath to defestify and purge myself of Polish dirt. This was only marginally effective, most likely due to the use of Polish water as the cleaning agent.

We departed Olsztyn and headed to Gdansk, aboard the restaurant car of course. I would rather not describe our afternoon in Gdansk, as my enjoyment thereof was significantly hampered by incompetent organisation and communication. We did manage to find good pizza though . I ordered a large, with extras and 2 drinks and walked out 40zl poorer – or about $16. Not exactly bargainous, but oh so needed

Our concert rocked. We sang amplified to an audience split between a small grandstand (does that make it a petitstand,smallstand or just a stand?) and the other side of the river, whereupon one found 3 ships, waterfront restaurants and bystanders. We sang the light music program reasonably well and in sunglasses . We should have done some Blues Brothers!

After the concert, we headed back to the hotel. Thankfully, I was with Meg and Kate who knew where to get off the tram. The others in the previous carriage were not so lucky and faced an additional 20 minute walk. Nyer! :p

We hung round in Hindsy’s room drinking (me with my highly intoxicating Swiss cordial!!!) until I was too stuffed and went to bed.

Despite sleeping like a log, I awoke tired and ready for a day’s sleeping on the train. Unfortunately, I have this annoying habit of being incredibly tired until the PRECISE moment I board a train. I need to work on that.

I have made the mustake of not travelling in the restaurant car for this journey. The lure of an empty carriage immediately in front of us and the fact I had already stocked up on Skleppy goodness meant in a moment of temporary insantiy, I chose not to sit in the restaurant car. Well, let’s just say I will be looking forward to the next leg of the trip, where hopefully I won’t be stuck on plastic moulded benches with 3 others to remind me of the lack of space. I should have foreseen this (slaps forehead).

That is all for now. I may post again on the next leg if I am inspired by the relative luxury of the Bar Wars.

DRK

Mood: less than amused
Music: Ghost Love Score (amidst ‘My Top Rated’ on my iPod)
Finances: not looking forward to my gprs roaming charges ($400?)
Business: all sorted
Comfort: v. Low
Choir Friendliness: pretty good
Adjective originality: minimal

DRK

* I should like to qualify this statemen but I won’t

We sang an afternoon concert in this place; Martin and I compensating for the enormous accoustic by shifting our dynamic range to a binary ‘loud’ or ’stupidly loud’. Whilst the cantoris soprani were subjected to a constant bellowing, I doubt our efforts made it a quarter of the way into the space. Kate’s top C’s, however, had no issues conpletely enveloping the space, even if it meant we had to communicate through lip-reading afterwards.

The choir had a heavy drinking session last night. Kat and Hindsy ended up significantly worse for wear. I didn’t touch a drop as I’m attempting to let my voice recover.

We are now on the bus back to Torun, whence we head to Olsztyn to sing another concert. Tomorrow is Gdansk, followed by our long-awaited return to Berlin.

Mood: excited
Complaints: Polish single-ply, recycled toilet paper (and only one roll thereof)
Positives: Claire’s web of wool, which saw everybody complimenting each other. Very nice to see, and such a change from previous tours.
Music: Nightwish – Over the Hills and Far Away (and Wishmaster Live)

Poland is so cheap.

Signing out,

DRK