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(This story is to be read with the context of our situation in mind. People who have not been with us find it actually very difficult to appreciate … )

Part 3 - Chapter III - Wadlopen - or there and back again.doc

 

As they say in deutche: DAS IST GOENEN BIE WERIE LONG EINDIEDE UND VILL NOTT MEIKE MATSCHE SENSE

Hello again fellow conspirators, revolutionaries, smugglers, grocers and damp impalas (sorry Camillu and co. I hope I didn't breach any copyrights there)

i invite you to have a quick attempt at reading the third and final instalment of the long tale that was July...

Before I start recounting this yarn, I'd like to thank God and Jesus Christ for permitting the facts that i am about to refer, to enter my long-term memory before they could be definitively erased by the xenocompounds that assailed my cerebrum.

Let us begin:

Following the ultra-destructive, debilitating and extremely funny birthday party that we had, as you might all already know by reading chapter II, all we had left to do here in Amsterdam was to waited for the multiply scarred and papillomically-decorated ryan to descend from the slums of Valhalla and join us in our quaint little town, that we recently purchased from the Dutch government for the meagre price of a sack of premium Maltese potatoes...and renamed it Amsterduck.

He did come, ja mgharraq l'hu ( = that drowned one) and I decided it was time to break routine and take him around with the help of my colleagues les maltais or as we now call us, die maltijs...we did so and we quickly got bored coz we didn't find lying to Ryan about the monuments and buildings that much fun anymore. Plus the twinkle in his eyes when he saw smoke coming out of "bars" or when he gazed at transsexual prostitutes told us he was looking for a different kind of entertainment, so we renamed Amsterdam to New Babylon and transformed ourselves and him into a hybrid race of hyperbeasts and binged on anything, be it food, drink, or other, stopping only to check our email....I now ask permission to proceed with an account of one such binge....ok thanks...

 

- I -

It all started when me, grandmark, and dRYANus went shopping for food after checking our mail. We all knew what we wanted and that's what we got so we were happy. Just to give u an example, mark bought chicken. The rest of us got sick of eating birds so we bought saprophytes. Grinning with anticipation we rushed home. Mark cooked his fowl, but our salad was to be consumed cold. it wasn't the first time I had tasted Hawaiian hors d'ouvres and i liked it very much, but others, who I shall not mention their namEE, didn't LLike it AAt all. IINN fact thEEy hated it so much they instantly morphed into something like a contorted cypress in the wind with sour face and a jutting-out tongue...not a pretty sight i tell you. But we wanted to go out so we did our hair in curls and sortied towards the park, coz it’s pretty at night and there is a statue of a bear. We arrived there and amidst the moaning of bad flavours and stopping for petty canine conversation we had a nice walk around its periphery since the centre was graced by the presence of very calm still stagnant yet rippling dark yet mirroring water populated by ducks/geese/swans/boneless chickens that all reminded us vividly of grandmark's dinner. That's when things started to degenerate at a fast pace.....in a good way!!! I don't know if it's in the medical curriculum, but rippling is contagious and those vicious ducks kept on answering our mating calls, those stalking impetuous swimming bitches...anyways, to cut a long story short as someone once said, we were transported into a previously unseen episode of the Love Boat, where i was alternating between the doctor and gopher, and dRYANus was the bartender (to give u a clearer picture of how Ryan actually looks like when you're drunk I attached a pic).

Anyway, Ruth was, I think, part of the ship cos she kept spinning, and Elaine and grandmark were an old couple trying to spark their eon-old relationship, Elaine being the old man who kept on asking for cigarettes since he was short of them in jail. If all this is not making sense to you, think of how WE felt about it!!!! The night proceeded and we met various individuals who spotted us in a vulnerable state since our only anchor to reality abandoned us to our destiny in the park. Tall dark figures kept on addressing us in long-drawn Dutch litanies that apparently just meant "good evening". We recognized the fact that hanging out in the park at 3am when you are hopelessly intoxicated is not a good idea so we instructed captain Stubing (who by the way works at a burger king branch by Muntplein) to veer the ship towards home, and this we did. we got home safely, or at least our bodies did - our minds were still away fishing and after seeing the brightness of neon, appreciated the greenness of a Marks and Spencers plastic bag and taken turns to visit the loo rollercoaster, it seemed that love boat was over. After the popular maritime series, our mental TV stations decided to broadcast a movie based on a Buddhist-catholic myth about the chocolate-god Shoarma and the archangel falafel who decide to make a new holy trinity situated across the street in the house of the old naked man whom we named Gopindah...this went on for hhooooooouuuuuuurrssssss!!!! no actually it lasted about 1 hour after which we realized that we needed sleep so i loaded my blowgun with sedative darts and shot them at each of my colleagues including myself...BLOOM!!! Down to the ground we were dreaming of the bartender on the love boat giving us the ok sign saying "CIN CIN" and falling to siesta...

 

- II -

The friday after we were to have a party at our place in which each got one's own typical national food. Since we couldn't agree on how to make bigilla and Ryan’s continuous ranting and raving about timpana finally nauseated us, we decided to bet safely on classic: HOBZ BIZ-ZEJT and we bought roundish dryish crackers and goat cheese, or at least the closest to the real thing we found at the store named after our benefactor who fed us regularly and who is called Albert Heijn(hi Albert!!!)...

The Spanish brought tortilla (Ħun pocito espacial tambien!) and made sangria. We had our own booze (not Maltese tho, coz the little that was left was gonna be saved for Denmark), and we proceeded to indulge once again in a famished gastrohepatopulmonary orgy, playing drinking games that made us discover dark secrets about others and listening to Jaundice, Anaemia, Cyanosis, Clubbing and Oedema talk loud crap. Needless to say, we got sloshed to death, some more than others, and we had casualties lying on the sofa in complete cataplexy or in bed.

The next morning we were to go to Groningen to spend a weekend there and participate in a traditional walk, which is called the…Wadlopen….

 

- III -

After the Nijmegen flop, we promised ourselves and the local committee that we will do our utmost to attend the social programme event this time, and we did wake up very fresh and on time…at least most of us did…. someone decided that it was a gRReat idea to go downstairs and pUUke on TTHHe neighbour/landlord’s doorstep in a rich display of vegetable chromatographical muck (using mainly the colour red)…after lots of misunderstandings about which station to go to, which train to pick and at what time, (which I shall not go into coz this email is growing steadily to gargantuan proportions), we made it to Groningen central station, where we met a very lovely girl whose name ends in –ike. I tend to disagree with Ryan who claims that her name is Enrique, since she lacks the huge unsightly mole on her face, and has no stubble either…anyways, she leads us to her home which was a really cool house in the middle of this nice student town. We went to see the martini tower, which is really cool if you have a really cool pacemaker, and if you have noone farting in the narrow stairway (I’m still undecided whether it was actually mark or Sjoukje). Plus you can get to ring bells inside the tower to produce the worst of the best cacophony I’ve ever heard. After the tower we went for a couple of beers and Belgian fries, then we went back home. She (__ike) was nice enough to let us use her bathroom and shower (thank god, Shoarmark didn’t decide to drop one of his anal bombshells), and Raquel shot straight to bed and made one of her disappearing acts inside the sheets. After everyone freshened up we were to go to dinner in this place of non-logic, which is both a fitness club and a gourmet restaurant (I say gourmet, coz they give you massive plates with little in them, but lots of salad on the side). It was a nice dinner, but what was nicer was what followed…le night out!!! Kick ass bars are to be found in Groningen!! Cheap ones too!!! After our share of even more Belgian beer (which was kind of ironic since Belgium is across the country from Gronigen), we went to this multifloor, multimusic Irish pub…what a vibe ladies and gentlemen!!! Wot ein vijb!!! I enjoyed myself thoroughly in there, even though my back froze after someone poured something cold down my back after I managed to bring the party down to a halt with a display of poetry in motion that just demanded universal applause, including the bartender. Insomma we went home after a long while, so we could wake up for wadlopen.

Let me take a minute to explain what the Wadlopen is. Wadlopen is a walk, which the locals do up north in Holland. The destination is usually one of the islands off the northernmost coast, and it is done when the tide is out. We were instructed to wear stuff we’d all to glad to get rid of after, since they were going to be covered in smelly cakey sticky mud and marine debris. So there we were, with our 15 gilder shoes (˜Lm3/˜1350 ptas.), bad shorts and monti t-shirts, ready to follow Dick wherever he took us. Oh yes Dick!!!! Dick was our professional guide, since we needed to know when to get back before the tide deals us a wet form of lethal destiny. He’s a tall lean old man with white beard and penis constantly pointing at Ryan, complemented with avalanche seeker pole. Apparently he mud-walks 5 times a week, so with Ryan by his side and us trailing behind, we set off towards the unknown. Seconds passed before two maltese individuals fell forwards into the mud. Grandmark, dRYANus and myself were still standing. Not to worry though coz more casualties were to follow. Mud has a beautiful quality of getting stuff stuck in it. Thus one has to have technique when walking through it…AND NOT STOP FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER!!!!! That is why I got extremely vexed annoyed and pissed off when dRYANus and Shoarmark decided to have a photo session right in front of me, forcing me to stop to wait for them to pose. Everyone seemed to grow taller right in front of me. I was starting to think it was some kind of flashback before I looked down and noticed my rapid progression towards the underground. Where were my knees!!!! I was delighted to say the least when I was pulled out, but I figured that paying 15 gilders for those shoes wasn’t such a great deal after all. At least I managed to redeem them from the abysses of scheizer. After a while noone seemed to have shoes anymore, but gigantic chocolate clogs, and I think they call it Wadlopen as a sort of onomatopoeia due to the funny walks and squelchy fartsy sounds. Sounded just like Shoarmark having a rough day in the VU toilets. We waded and waddled and wadlopened amidst basking sea worms and fornicating crabs and stuck ships in the stench of sewage and the blazing sun for hours, entertaining ourselves with others falling, and the shrieking Japanese girls (my favourite, personally) until we managed to get back to base. We rinsed off, turning water opaque, had lunch and prepared to set off home, and unless baby blue and white sneakers sparked off a nostalgic shiver down one’s spine, throwing away what we had to throw away. On the way back home by train later that day we started realizing our sunburns, some more than others, actually me more than others to be precise I turned ignition-red in a t-shirt pattern around my torso and neck, and my calves were red and white in patches where there was mud…I became an albino lobster with a port wine stain….hmmm pretty sight? No…

 

- IV -

To everyone’s relief I am getting to the end of this tale. The last days were dreary and filled with goodbyes, packing and last-minute shopping. Ruth and I had to go to Malta; the rest had to move outta the house for the couple of days before Denmark, cos they were about to sell it…coming back to Malta was strange indeed. Getting out of the plane was like walking through the stargate with the drastic change of air density, and I also appreciated the great time I had even more. It’s kinda sad actually being back in the heat. If in July I was a rat in paradise, now I’m an angel in a sewer. I still get drunk with my friends every day, watch stupid movies, and laze about, but it doesn’t feel the same, and I feel a thousand tons heavier in this weather. Showing people the photos was a blast though!!!! Especially my chocolate extravaganza pictures. I am very proud of those!!!! Looking forward to having scans from other people who own similar photos coz I want them from as many angles as possible J.

I guess this is the end then. I was discreet enough to omit certain things, like tell you that whenever names weren’t mentioned there was a subliminal capital letter code to be able to read the names, or the story of when Ruth, Elaine and the Spaniards dragged us to a bunch of gay & lesbian clubs to be able to feel comfortable with themselves, or the times when Mark binged too much or flew in front of a tram, damaging his knee, or that it was actually Elaine who fell first in the wadlopen, or the fact that Ryan has officially become a smoker but is too stingy to buy cigarettes so steals our tobacco to make pseudopathetic attempts at rolling cigarettes in vain almost incessantly, and many more things that the others asked me not to say, so I will respect their wishes. Like every good movie, a cast of characters is appropriate so here goes, in order of appearance:

Jeremy J. de Bono – as himself; archangel Falafel, dr. Adam Bricker; Gopher; red neck; Biff Debris; chronicler

Mark Fiorentino – Grandmark; Shoarmark; the one to blame for Chernobyl; anchor of love boat

Ruth Attard – Vegan; infernal jukebox; spiller; various parts of ships (including a test run on a canal)

Elaine Cachia – Cat molester; cypress tree; guest star on the love boat

Alvin – Contact person

Zachary – Temporary housemate from finland; philosophical statue

Stijn Verschuren (I believe) – Fixed native housemate; cook; DJ; fryer of brains; Conan o’ Brien; uncle Meat

Thijs/Matthijs/Lotte/Linda/Henrik – guest appearances as themselves

Marjolijn – guest star in schutter and VU; M.ein

Raquel Costa – Spaniard; hyperhyper; party partner; personal assistant in magnificent display of poetry in motion that froze Groningen; only person who beats Ruth in diuresis; needs to pay attention to closing doors.

Swavek – Polish = pole up ass; can freak you out just by starting a conversation

John (jannis) – Greek; great at disappearing; funny as hell (in more ways than one)

Miriam – Catalan #1; very nice but never really conversed with

Mario – Pseudocatalan; Ruth’s bodyguard

Eduardo – Catalan #2; seems to have a minor, more enjoyable version of suavek’s condition, but nice guy

Karin Feddes – benefactor esp. to the maltese (xxx); trendsetter; M. zwei; to cut a long story short, mmmmmmmm!!!

Simone – guest appearance in many social programme events; M. drei

Dr. Rob Steer – as himself; Dr. Lobster

Dr. van Dusseldorp – as himself

Trash guy at VU Zeikenhuis – who the hell knows!!!?

Saskje & Inga – as themselves

The secretaries – as themselves + grandma of kid named Jeremy

Karin Huisman – guest star in episode 435: waterbiking

Roland – erm…to avoid a violent death by a compatriot I will abstain from commenting

Hossam – pseudoegyptian/Kuwaiti/Canadian/boq

Eefke – as voice of Eefke

Ryan Giordmania – as himself; Isaac Washington; Ma Baker; Fudgepacker 2000; new image for Rizla+

Sjoukje – guest appearances; sms vampyre; session photographer in wadlopen; failed contact person at wrong stations at wrong times; one of 2 suspects in martini tower incident

Belgian tourguide – as herself; M. 4

Groningen Crew: ___ike – as herself

Pauline & Hank – as themselves

Fleur – as herself; M. 5

Silvia – as herself

Tokiko & Yuki – as themselves

Dick – dick

Pavel – as himself

The fellow greeks – as themselves and concubines of each other

I have obviously obviously failed to recall everyone or didn’t try to attempt spelling names, so I ask forgiveness. Furthermore there was no makeup artists, dolly grips, best boy grips, catering, etc. and as with every good movie I shall end this with the main song off the Original Soundtrack….

THE END

 

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'

Devi usare un pollo, devi usare un pollo
Se me la vuoi tastar

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Devi usare un pollo
Se me la vuoi misurar
Devi usare un pollo
Se me la vuoi tastar

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Guarda che se la mangia(4)
E mentre se la sta a pappa'
Chiedimi che cosa fa
Se la sta a succhia'

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Devi usare un pollo
Devi usare ... se la vuoi misurar
Devi usare un pollo
Se me la vuoi tastar

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'

Come on baby
Come on baby, suck my fire!
Oh yeah

Guarda che se la mangia
Tengo na minchia accussi'
Guarda che se la mangia
Mentre se la sta a pappa'
Chiedimi che cosa fa
E' chiaro! se la sta a succhia'

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Guarda che se la mangia
Guarda che se la mangia
E se la sta a pappa'

Darling, darling, darling
Look at your sister
Do something like that, thanks

Devi usare un pollo
Devi usarlo per misurar
Devi usare un pollo
Cosi' me la potrai succhiar

Ooh, you both suckin' stereo
Jesus

Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia accussi'
Tengo na minchia tanta, tengo na minchia tanta
Tengo na minchia tanta

 


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