So, an American guy walks into an Irish bar, orders a drink from the Serbian bar tender, decides to have some Schnitzel made by an Indian chef, then sits back to watch a soccer match on Sky Sports One.
If I'd had walked into the bar with a duck on my head, that might have been weird. Instead, it was just another night for me down at my local.
I wish that I had been able to see the Arsenal match on television, but instead watched Chelsea-Villa, which was boring, but worthwhile to see a draw. I had to settle for Arsenal highlights later in the evening, where I discovered they won 4-0 over Charlton. Impressively, I might add, at least from the highlights I saw.
As of 3 January, I'm a legal resident of Germany! Nothing like a little early morning trip to the main government office in Frankfurt to get that sorted out. Except for the fact that my colleague picked me up at my apartment in an Audi quattro, drove us all around until we found parking downtown and walked through the red light district to the visa office, the whole experience was remarkably similar to the one I had 11 months ago when I arrived in Valencia. Er...
It does not escape me that I've gone through the "change countries of residence" game twice inside of one year, but have still managed to scrape up a routine in a relatively short amount of time.
In a few minutes, I'll go freeze my ass off at the bus stop, take the train back to Frankfurt, buy a couple of things at the market, then head back to sample a little more cuisine from the Indian guy who cooks in the Irish pub. **note (Not to be confused with the guy from the Isle of Wight who worked in an Irish bar in Spain and served people paella)
The menu here in Bornheim tiene buena pinta, and besides, it's Karaoke night.
cheers
bryan
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