A relaxing day of recovery after yesterday’s madness. Out for an early morning walk I was approached by a young Australian couple who asked me very s-l-o-w-l-y did I know where McDonald’s was – trying not to laugh I put on my best German accent and replied, “Ja, down zere and to ze left”. They bought it but here's hoping we don't meet again in Munich.
The morning was spent swimming in the lake and reliving the magic of the Socceroos first victory. In the early afternoon we headed to a local winery for some wine tasting where I was joined by Carol who I’d met our first day at camp, Casey who I met back in London at a small gathering for pre-tour drinks and Barnesy, a mate of Boris’ who had flown in to Frankfurt for the first game - wisely avoiding the coach trip over.
Whilst we downed the various samples Barnesy shared his horror story from K-Town… slowly making his way down the steps from the stadium a guy behind him asked what he thought of the win. In his forthright way he replied, “It was absolutely brilliant”, etc etc, then finished with, “...and at last we’ve got a guy in charge who knows what he’s doing!” They shuffled further down the steps and the friendly stranger drew alongside him – it was none other than Frank Farina, the very man Guus Hiddink had replaced as Socceroos coach!
Late afternoon was spent enjoying a beer with two retired German couples Carol had got to know during our stay. Both couples had lived at the campgrounds for over twenty years and didn't speak English. Neither Carol nor I speak a word of German but this didn't seem to matter as we all engaged in an international version of charades for forty minutes or so.
In the evening it was decision time again. Unfortunately for the bar manager his TV had packed it in so each game looked like it was being played during a ninety minute nuclear explosion. His offer of two free kegs nearly swayed us but in the end colour television won out and a large group of us headed into town for a big night.
On our return it soon became clear that an even bigger night was being had by those who had stayed behind. The bar manager had hired a local musician who did cover versions of everything from Pearl Jam to the Beatles on his organ with a karaoke backing track, all performed in perfect broken English whilst wearing a Liberace-style outfit covered in sequins.
People were dancing on tables, sitting on rafters in the marquee roof, falling off chairs and the entertainer had arrived at the peak of his music career. Not willing to start his descent, he gave at least nine encores(!), each time announcing “it is very late and people are trying to sleep so we have to end now (crowd boos and shouts “noooo!”)… ok, I’ll do just one more song to finish then we go!” Two or three songs later the process would be repeated. The show was finally over around 2am and the campgrounds would never be the same again.
Along the main road through camp there are a number of archways (see pic). Strung between each is a series of wires with vines growing along them. On the way back to my tent I passed a guy who appeared to be standing against one of these wires, presumably feeling a little seedy. It was only when I passed him I realised he was actually asleep, supported by an arm hooked over one of the wires – yes indeed, it was a big night at Bad Duerkheim.
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