That time of the year rolled around again: Erlanger Bergkirchweih.
This beer guzzling phenomenon can also be referred to as the event many a teenager(and sadly or maybe not so sadly many non-teenagers) save up for all year. This magical fest is everything it is hyped up to be. Starting with the long walk through sun kissed fields carrying one or 3 crates of beer, running into too many people you know and sharing a Klopferle with them, eventually you somehow make it to the music and German “Tracht” infused party. I can’t even explain it. It is amazing. And somehow I always manage to spend exuberant amounts of money there along with every other person attending. It is amazing. That is worth repeating a hundred times.
You will lose everyone there. You won’t have service. Your phone will die. You will fall off the table you’re dancing on at least 4 times. The music will be too loud. Then the music won’t be loud enough. They will play “Summer of ’69” too often, yet never often enough. You’ll fall in love set to “Sweet Caroline”, then forget who you fell in love with and move on to the next table full of random people who are bound to be your best friends within a song and a “Cheers”. And you will drink a lot of beer.
Italy has had its woes. It has had its ups, it has had its downs. Julius Caesar, the Roman Empire, the Renaissance, Pizza! All major ups if you ask me.
Now I feel like they are going through one of their slightly “downer” phases. Decades of Berlusconi and his completely legitimate political regime have torn down the frameworks of a well functioning country to the likes of a toddler running a trigonometry course(alright that might be a bit dramatic). All despite the ever-present high sales of Gelato, they are suffering from the stagnant development or rather entirely ceased development of their economy.
I travelled to Italy with my sister and got to experience the world according to Italy firsthand. Where I thought there might be worries about nearly non-existent labor force growth and the fall of production in their nation instead only offered one true woe on the minds and in the hearts of all active and law-abiding Italian citizens:
If you have ever met me or looked at a piece of printer paper, you will know that I have a skin tone comparable with a freshly painted hospital wall. Might as well be a color palette for “Say Yes to the Dress” or a standard upon which you can determine the freshness of snow. You get the point.
Coming back to my original argument, it seems as though Italy could be contemplating many a grand conflict in their society yet it seemed they had replaced all of this energy supply with relinquishing many variations of warnings that I am quote as “bianco as milk”.
Never in my life have more people prior to me even greeting them let alone learning their name and favorite current Netflix show of choice handed me sunscreen and pled me to use it. 7 days of this and I felt like I was on my third grade field-trip to Yosemite all over again with every parent chaperone smothering me in what can only be described as pure zinc.
One time my sister and I wanted to take a canoe out and were stopped and told we couldn’t go out unless we covered ourselves to protect our skin. AN OLD ITALIAN MAN DICTATED MY SPF AND RECREATIONAL-WATER-ACTIVITY-OUTFIT. I know this isn’t the United States of Amurrica but I still have freedom of sunblock-usage right?
In retrospect it was actually very sweet and attentive of the Italianos. And hey at least I didn’t get a sunburn and technically I boosted their economy by investing in enough sunscreen for a small Albino army. You’re welcome Italy and also thank you for being so caring.
The weather has been unbelievably NOT German, and by that I mean the sun has been shining and I have not been forced to wear the IKEA blanket version of a mammoth’s hide. So, we decided to drive to a lake nearby and lather ourselves in sunscreen. Alright mainly me. Ok it was Zinc Oxide, but otherwise I would look like *this* today. Yeah, there’s nothing there because I would be in a hospital somewhere, under a heavy dosage of Vicodin and unable to man any photographing device.
All in all the lake was very pretty and it was amazing to lay around in daisy sprinkled grass.
After purchasing a new pair of summer shoes, I really think the next step is a new boat or water vessel of some sort. After all, what are feet if they’re not going to take me somewhere? Like a sailing competition or the 1600’s?