Germans and football: two hands, one belly

Football… My biggest nightmare. If you can make an educated guess, you know I wouldn’t write about this topic if it didn’t become a horrible reality. On the first day of our semester, I heard I had to do a filming project for RevierSport, a local sport newspaper. Filming isn’t really my favorite reporting technique  -you can’t be sublime at everything- but I can live with that. When the word ‘Fußball’ echoed through the room, my eyes almost began to rain. Unfortunately I could feel the common joy the Germans shared on that moment. That stupid game with one ball, a lawn and some muscled man in uniform really excites them. If you think about it, it’s the perfect scene for an erotic porn movie, sprinkled with some weird homosexual fetishes.

RevierSport it was. At least I didn’t have to do the project alone. There were four other football crazy persons to share my ebullience with. Since they all spoke German, it was really hard to understand what they were talking about. I tried to sneak away, but without success. Just smile and nod, Nick. Smile and nod... The tricky bastards kept on asking me questions, and I… just smiled and nodded. I made a splendid first impression again!

When we went to the RevierSport Headquarters for the first time, the project leader asked me a couple of questions. I reached the phase in which I knew I was able to confirm everything like a real German, instead of just answering in a non-verbal way. I confidently agreed with all the queries by saying things as “Ja, klar” and “genau”. The adrenaline that rushed through my veins really pumped me up, and the state of satisfaction and pride on that particular moment was a feeling to remember. While talking to RevierSport’s head of the online section, the team was showing him our plan about the structure of the online magazine.

After two minutes of intensive German talk, the guys  promised the Chief Executive a marvelous idea. It immediately got my attention, because I was curious too. Our project leader began to unveil the plan. Then he looked at me and said: “Nick, our Erasmus student, has never been to a football match before, so we’d like to film him when the supporters of Rot-Weiß-Essen integrate him in their fan culture. It will be funny and amusing. Exactly what we need for our magazine!” I was stunned, couldn’t say a word. Were they serious? Would I, the greatest football outsider of Europe, make an item about myself getting drunk on a local beer, singing extremist songs and going wild on the first goal? Well… I gave it a try.

 There we were; four real men, two giant cameras, an expensive audio set and I. As a moderator and protagonist, I had to talk all the time. My team obviously wanted to make a funny reportage: “Nick… In German please”. I was dying inside, but managed to talk that beautiful language for more than eight hours. Horrible. But since I’m media horny, I enjoyed it in some way. The fans weren’t that stupid as I thought they’d be, but the beer –it’s called Stauder- was almost undrinkable. The taste was harsh and really bitter. But the Essener people are proud of it, so I pretended it was the loveliest lager I’d ever had.

I learned some songs too. Not that there was much to learn ‘cause it was just a repetition of the same words ten times. The most lovely thing of them all was the passion with which the fans marched towards the arena. They wanted their team to win so as to party all night long. The atmosphere was amazing! When I entered the stadium for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the eight thousand spectators all yelling for their team. When the game began, It was obvious that the extremist core wasn’t really there to see the guys playing. They just enjoyed roaring songs, gobbling beer and fluttering their red-white flags. Such an enthusiastic crowd. I really got sucked into it. Although the score stayed 0-0, I savoured every moment of the evening. And the best part is that it’s captured on film. So… Check out the movie! The interesting part starts at 3:30! Next week I'll write a blog about the curiosities of German porn!

Germans, the toilet and I

Germans and personal space... These two concepts don’t seem to match, but it took me a long time to find that out. As a young, naive Belgian, my friends and teachers informed me about the distanced mentality of the people in the most powerful country of Europe. Some prejudices were born. “They are ice cold, hard as steel”, I thought. And in some way, I always believed I was right. During the first weeks of my stay in Gelsenkirchen, it was very difficult to integrate, because I could tell shop keepers really didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t able to speak their language properly. What did they expect? I came to Germany to become a rhetorical genius, not to steal their jobs… Even though they have a high salary, so maybe one day I’ll become an immigrant.

My first impressions weren’t that good, thus I decided to attend a party. It’s easier to make friends in a bar than talking to people in a grocery store. Sebastian, my flatmate, asked me if I wanted to go to a place called ‘Fuck’. I agreed, since it sounded really kinky. When we arrived there, a couple of beers were passed at the counter, some beautiful drunk women were coming in to seduce the jerks and a man was puking in the corner. It was wonderful. Just what I expected out of a bar with such a splendid name.

We had a great time, although the Germans were acting like we were invisible. After drinking a couple of glasses that were filled with the holy liquid, my bladder was ready to burst. Actually ‘explode’ is a better description. I ran to the toilet, pushed away some drunk guys and opened my zipper in advance. After a few seconds, I saw my final destination: the urinals. There were two of them, so that gave me the opportunity to choose. I’d never felt so happy in my entire life. Normally I’m not that picky, but the right one immediately jumped in the eye. It was love at first sight.

During that unforgettable moment of letting everything go, a sweaty guy with long hair and glasses came in. He immediately went to the left urinal, took a deep breath and almost had an orgasm because of the pleasant relief. After two minutes of shared happiness –our bladders were still half full- he turned his face to mine. In Belgium, that’s the most inappropriate thing you can do, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. I didn’t look back. After five more seconds I noticed that he moved the left part of his body towards the wall and that he was staring at my jewels. He smiled.  I felt raped.

But then the unthinkable happened: He started talking to me. It was a small talk about the lovely weather of the previous day, the sweet taste of Belgian chocolates and the extreme relief of the moment. I hoped that the endless stream of purified beer leaking in the men’s sink would come to an end soon, because I didn’t feel the need to socialize with this rather eccentric creature. After that satisfying moment, he started following me. It was clear he’d never met someone from abroad. We left, he waved.

I wasn’t sure if this was their way of communicating, but when we went to Trujillo some days later, I knew for sure that the water closet was the place to connect with others. Three urinals, a machine filled with toys you can only find in bedrooms and the smell of rotten fish. Not a very attractive picture, but you can imagine the atmosphere. I decided to pee in the left chamber pot. A few seconds later a drunk student appeared next to me… Not on the right, but next to me… He didn’t give me personal space. His arm was caressing mine. Not very comfortable when you’re holding something you can’t let go. He turned to me, looked down, smiled, opened his mouth and said proudly: “Look, without hands! it’s Free Willy!” He must have noticed that I wasn’t really interested in his stories, so he wished me a good night and shook my clean hand with his hotbed of bacteria. Great. My life was complete.

I can conclude that Germans are really nice fellows if they know you… or if they meet you at the toilet. Another possibility could be that I attract gay people. There’s only one certainty: when I drink beer, I’ll have to go to the loo. So no worries: many stories will follow!