Friday, May 13, 2011
Sylt - Pronounced Zzuult
A lot of the rural German roads have been repaired.
A lot of times.
As I said in my previous post, we decided to go to Sylt, a northern island is with its 95 square kilometers the largest of the the North Frisian Islands. Situated 11 km away from the main land in the North Sea.
This means you got to put your car onto a train.
This was definitely a new experience for us.
It is done with the usual German efficiency.
Last time I was on a train was in 1974, when I had to do my military service.
Lots of cars. We asked why a train, and not a roadway.
There were a few mumbled answers, like impossible .
Real reason is because the islanders want to make it difficult for the plebs to pitch.
We lived on an island for eight years and in the caribbean it's called the caribbean crab mentality.
The sea side from my van on a coach, rumblin' along.
Arrival after about three quarters of an hour.
FrankenFurter ridin' a train.
You know, the train had an emergency brake.
Being the responsible person I am, I did not pull it.
I did think about it though, but I am sure I would be nailed.
It's called age and responsibility. Sigh.
Sylt has got the typical tourist trap shops. Not bad at all, though.
It's got a nice vibe, and the people are oh so German.
Sylt beach front. You would not get me in that sea for frackall.
Sort of down town.
I don't think Sylt has much sunshine, because all the people were on that side of the arcade baking their balls and all.
The shops on the shaded side had no customers at all, except some Eskimos.
Parts of the island have this desolate west coast feel.
I think there must be some howling storms here during winter.
One of the many things Germans do well is design things .
You got admit. this beach chair is really kiff.
And neatly made to. Check the ones in the background.
And if there is not a gallery with Zimbabwe shit in it.
OK, I'm being mean. The sculptures were actually very good.
But expensive is not the word.
I always wonder how much the muna that actually made it, got.
And trust me that sculpture might be made of soapstone, but is is a boatload of work.
Don't ask the price.
They even got dunes there.
This was the campsite that our resident genius got his car stuck.
Brand new with excellent ablutions.
And on that subject, there is a wild swing between the quality of the shower and toilets from campsite to campsite in Germany.
From the fracking awful to the absolutely brilliant.
The closer to a city center the worse they are generally.
In the countryside they seem to be much better.
And naturally the prices are higher near the city. From 18 to 30 Euro.
Tonight I am blogging from Dusseldorf. I am still trying to catch up on my real time blogs.
Anyway I have just finished a Grafenwalder Gold beer and I am about to open a Krombacher Pils.
For my SA readers, this is about R18 for a 340ml bottle.
But that's not the worst gouge I have come across. In one hotel, in the Hague, they had this mini bar and a normal can of beer cost 5.40 euro.
That translates to around R700 for a dozen.
I like Germans and Germany.
They more in your face than the Dutch.
The country is efficient, clean and neat.
Not to much clutter.
Dusseldorf is a nice city, much like Pretoria was like in the 80's.
Both the Netherlands and Germany are wired to the hilt.
Fully internet connected, full of bright young things and crabby old folk.
Don't know why, but the old folk seem more crabby to me than say, American old folk.
But I like the internet connectivity.
Very important to Anne and I.