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Day 2 - Getting in the right Gear
Tuesday 4th September
Compared to the UK, Frühstück (breakfast) in Germany is far more of an event. It was also a good place to experiment with my budding German language skills. Once our host had ascertained that our main holiday was going to be in the Harz region and we had no stout walking boots with us, there followed much merriment.
It also became apparent that, although we had planned to stay a couple of days and move on, our hosts had taken time off work and planned around a weeks worth of activity to keep us entertained, under the circumstances we changed our own plans to suit, given the trouble and lengths they had gone to.
My partner and I had taken the ribbing at breakfast on the chin (easy for me as I understood very little of it), then decided to go into town by bus and sort out our foot ware. The bus fare was pricey (but not as pricey as a single fare of £2 in London), the driver of the bendy bus was a sour chap who would have fitted in well driving an 82 into central London. I think he must have had a bad start to his day and carried on from there.
Oldenburg has a pedestrian shopping area and is very bicycle friendly. It was as well to keep your eyes peeled and ears alert for bike bells, as some of the walking areas were colonised by fast travelling perambulators who expected you to move as they came through. My instinctive reaction at first was to stop and try locate where the noise was coming from, this 'threw them of balance' once or twice :o)
It did not take long and we had snapped up a pair of walking boots and a pair of 'four wheel drive' suede shoes for me. My partners boots were bought later in the trip. The suede shoes were bought for a tenner! (£10), no way would you get decent quality shoes in London for that money.
I recommend Oldenburg if you are mildly shopaholic, there are plenty of unusual shops tucked away in winding side streets, plus if you can navigate back to the center, a wide choice of coffee shops and eateries a to rest tired feet and flop before the journey home.
Back from our successful footware expedition, a light tea was followed by preparations for table tennis practice. I had brought a couple of pairs of shorts (more in the hope of finding a beach up north than anything else), a pair of trainers, tracky bottoms and a football top with me. So stripped off and into the sports gear, I was met on the stairs by my host who exclaimed (in German) "No! No! You cannot wear that!"
I must have looked bemused at this point, thinking 'Surely my Arsenal FC away top is not THAT offensive,' then trying to recall if the Gunners had beaten any German football teams in the Champions League over the last few years. The penny then dropped...the top was mostly white and we were about to play with white table tennis balls!
Now at the local school where the club played their home games, I was introduced to the regulars. My host made final preparations before engaging in practice with me by donning a kamikazi-like pink bandana. I am a self taught table tennis player and a left hander, which can unsettle good right handed players, unfortunately for me I was playing another left hander who was technically superior and well practiced..
We high-fived after I had been outclassed and outgunned (a 3 - 0 drubbing in a best of five games) and I retreated to my towel and the solace of a bottle of mineral water.
My next opponent looked intimidating at first glance. Built like a brick outhouse and wearing a perpetual scowl. His English was as good as my German, so our initial communicating was done mostly by nod and gesture. He was an attacking power player (and right-handed) so suited my more defensive counter striking game. The pair of us went at it full throttle, both sensing we could win.
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