Sunday, August 16, 2009

Germany



Ian: This is the best felafel I've ever eaten. Halumi + salad + freshly cooked felafel + satay type sauce. I want to eat it again and again and again.



Ian: Tom's nagging me about the band blog via his iPhone.

Tom: Actually I'm calling Ian's Mum!



Ian: Show #1 was played in a place called Loophole. It was a former brothel apparently...which might possibly explain why the stage looked like a giant vagina.



Ian: Our hosts in Berlin for the first few days. This is Ben of Deloris and Camile of Camile. So they both play music under girl's names. These folks put us up, showed us the sights and lent me a bicycle. Oh and came to our shows, above and beyond the call of duty I think.



Ian: While I ate a selection of fresh fruit and vegetables, Tom ate this. Just kidding. I had the same delicious banana falvoured milk and a piece of cake. This photo doesn't really do Tom's custard burger justice. It was epic.





Ian: Venue #2. This is Madam Claude where we played a strangely sold out show. Note the floor/ceiling randomness. This was a great club and the crowd were so nice.







Ian: 'Yeah, I live in that place down by the felafel place with the epic suck face graff on the side, come pick me up!'











Ian: Berlin is a pretty ugly place during the summer.



Ian: We played in a great little cinema called Hor Bar in Hamburg. The people who ran it were great and the people who came to the show were friendly and hung out afterwards. If in Hamburg, play here.



Ian: WARNING the coming winter fashion in Australia could be something like this.



Ian: Tom shouldn't have too much trouble recognising his new suitcase on the baggage carousel. His old suitcase died a fast death on the cobblestone streets of Hamburg - pity, he was going to burn it as the finale of the next Sonic Boom!



Ian: If you like shitty hotel rooms and German desk clerks who scream at you in Deutch at 7:35am for asking where breakfast is served, stay at the Beefang Hotel in Hamburg. This place can eat a dick.

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