Monday, 5 January 2004

Means nothing to me

Ah, Vienna!

Arrived safely at 6am Friday morning, to a friendly minus 3 degrees. After making my way through customs (takes about 5 minutes in Austria - they are quite relaxed about the whole security thing. It’s like, 'Hi, Osama! Come on in!') I managed to drag myself along the cold and windy streets, to Lilli’s humble abode. Couldn’t find my gloves at the train station, so I had to walk about 500 meters bare-handed, only to discover when I arrived at Lilli’s that they were, in fact, inside my beanie - i.e. on top of my head. Long haul flights do wonders for the brain cells.

Lilli has been doing a great job of entertaining me for the past few days. Yesterday we went out (despite horrendous weather) to the new art gallery and took in a little culture (Klimt, Shiele, Clee and most excitingly, Kandinsky), then went out for an obligatory schnitzel. My only criteria was that the schnitzel had to bigger than my head, a feat easily achieved not once, but twice over. Needless to say, I have a rather large doggy bag sitting in the fridge for today’s lunch.

Went out to a little club after afore mentioned schnitzel, where Lilli’s boyfriend was playing DJ for the night. Can’t seem to escape those DJs, no matter how far away I am. Anyway, Lilli's boyfriend is like Jack Osbourne’s identical twin (or at least, identical cousin). I am seriously not exaggerating. It took a while for it to sink in; initially I couldn't work out why he looked so familiar. Then it came to me last night, as I was watching him play. As you can imagine, I was unable to contain my hysteria, and managed to take several not so surreptitious photos to show you all when I get home. It is snowing its absolute head off here at the moment. Apparently it hasn't snowed this much in Vienna for years, so I am (naturally) convinced that it is all a lovely big show for me.

I have also had to move my wedding ring over to the right hand (where they wear it here) so as not to attract any unsavoury types. Last night, some tall guy with tragic 80s hairdo asked me if I wanted to dance with him, to which I replied ‘no thanks’ (of course), to which he replied ‘why not, can’t you dance?’ to which I replied ‘yes, but I don’t want to thanks very much’. It was all a bit stressful, until Lilli explained to me that being asked to dance does not really have the same ‘we can go back to my place after’ connotations in Austria. It is possible then, that my rejection of this poor man was horribly rude, but what can you do. It is also possible that Lilli and (her friend) Chi Chi (believe it or not this is a guy and he's not gay. His real name is Herbert, so one can fully appreciate the need for a nickname) were taking the piss in order that I dance with all kinds of weirdos at some point in the future. We’ll see.

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