How wonderful. My grasp of french clearly knows no bounds. It's been so long dear readers. Fear not, I have been keeping you in my thoughts where ever I go and in what ever I do. My account of life in france and european sexuality is long and complicated. Filled with many a climax, so to speak. No no no. Not those kinds of climax's. Silly filthy minded friends of mine. So where to begin? Where to end? Shall I start at the end and work backwards or start in the middle and branch out haphazardly? So much indecision here my brothers. Too much indecision. Incapacitated by indecision you might say. How very heavy indeed.
So my brothers. Here I am. Sitting in my small room in france. I have recently returned from what can only be described as a completely Austrian fuck show with two fellow Cobras. None other than Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiillon MCEVOY! and 'I said Phil, Phil, Phil the Drill....' Wow wee. Fun was had I must say. After boarding six different trains and spending 24hrs traveling I arrived in St Anton am Arlberg. Google it. Google map it. So this is a very small Austrian town that is home to many Austrians and many more tourists. Mostly europeans. Swedes, Dutchies, Norway people (Yes Graeme I know it's NORWEGIANS), Germans and of course French, spanish and Slovakian. The story really gets going when I finally arrive at the train station in St Anton to be greeted by our two fellow cobras who I have already named. Straight into the jol. I pre-empted the evening by drinking a few cold Heinekens by myself on the train. Sad some might say. Foresighted I say. Dil and Phil were, of course, smashed at this stage. The surreal situation of walking through a tiny Austrian town on a friday night did not go unnoticed. Wow wee was it a pleasure to see these two gents. Of course, in true weather man style, I brought some much needed snow with me. Back we strolled to Dil's apartment. Now I have met some strange people in my life but nothing quite prepared me for the array of bizarreness that I was greeted by when I entered that small stuff flat. Hell's teeth. The first person I meet as I come walking in is Dil's boss. Basically a Nazi. Those people that tell you that anti semitism is dead in Germany/Austria are lying. There are thousands of closet Nazis. Runnin' around, kickin through the snow. But this china was bald with a big gold ring and Marlboro reds. Now my greek ancestry has given me some very handsome looks but along with that comes beautiful curly hair and a well established nose. To an Austrian you might as well be wearing a sign around your neck that says: Hey! Fuck you. So I didn't really get such a good vibe off him. But neither did Dil. Dil has been struggling for months with this psycho. Those are different stories for a different time.
Down we descend into the windowless world of a gappies apartment. Dil, like few others, has managed to hook himself up with a great job. He's a breakfast chef at a local hotel. He works from 06:30 to 13:30 everyday. Yet still he trooped on. His apartment was free and his expenses were limited to snow boarding gear and dinners. Anyway, I digress. So down the stairs we go. Dil is giving me a good go on the house rules. Snowboard boots outside etc. Washing up. Put on clothes when strolling around the apartment etc. He's become incredibly domesticated that young man has. Very admirable. He's not living in the state of squalor I had imagined. When we get downstairs I meet Reino (Pronounced Rhino). He is a small wispy haired chap with a greying beard. he's at least fifty five but claims to be ten years younger. Not a chance bro. Everyday he strolls around in loose old man vest and denim shorts. These denim shorts come just below the knees. For shoes he dons beige socks in jesus sandals. Helluva vibe. You could imagine him being one of the ous who turned in jews in those small towns. Dil digs him though so we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "I grew up in Austria." Cool, so did Hitler. Anyway. That's Reino, the quasi landlord of the place who lives above Dil's apartment. Sharing Dil's humble abode are three Slovakian girls and one raging homosexual called Dion from Indonesia. Along way from home he was. Let's start with the more colourful of the four roommates. Dion. Dion, Dion, Dion. What a character. Dion moved to Vienna after some serious drug problems that he had in Bali. You name it, he's done it. It got to the stage (and this is from the horse's mouth) that drug dealers refused to sell him drugs. Drug dealers with consciences, not something I'd heard of before. Ag well anyway. So Dion moved to Vienna and got married. To a man of course. He's been working and living in Austria for a good few years now. His husband actually came to visit us a day or so later. He was a middle aged Austrian man. He wore glasses and I am sure he had a tertiary education behind his name. His name was Johan. He looked like the kind of man who worked as a lecturer, not the estranged husband of a thrity one year old gay indonesian drug addict. Heavy days. Basically Dion told us that the two of them were no longer in love and they could bang anyone they wanted. Jeez. We had quite a few great chats. Later I was to learn that Dion found me quite handsome. Put on the gayest asian accent possible and repeat this sentence after me: Bug is soooo handsome. Quote unquote. said to Dillon Mcevoy two nights after my arrival. The door stayed locked for much of the rest of that trip. Just joking I banged his lights out. Just joking again. Or am I? (Cue strange look from Mugatu to Claud his assistant after giving him a dairy coffee). Weird. Ness. So now we have our final three characters. Th three slovakian girls. You'll remember that Dillon Mcevoy mentioned that he was sharing a flat with three or four Swedes, conjouring images of all night orgies, pink panties and jaw dropping scenes that made you jealous and scared at the same time. Well I can safely say that none of that is going on. It's so far from that. Too far from that from Dil's point of view. Two of the three were not so hot. The one is quite hot but I think she has her eye on Reino. Alas poor Dil. But they were very sweet girls and very accommodating. Monica was especially nice to me. She gave me baked treats and on one occasion bought me an iced tea. She also had a severe addiction to vodka which I won't get into.
So there you have it. i've described the characters and now for the events. Oh there is one more legend to be spoken of. He's a fellow UCT graduate and goes by the name of Raj. Absolute champion. he is going to start work with old Phil in the not too distant future and popped over for a holiday before the proverbial nine to five gets going. So the four musketeers then. Most nights followed the same sort of pattern. By a cheap case of beers then go out and throw ourselves around. Pissing off landlords and boss's in the process. Each day myself and Phil would hit the slopes for some 'epic powder runs bru'. Well I tell you what. The Austrian alps are regarded as the most dangerous avalanche country in the world. Most people, by most I mean everyone else except for me and Phil, carried a little peeps around. A peeps is a device that sends off and electronic signal to alert the authorities to your whereabouts in case you get stuck in an avalanche. For four days Phil and I risked our lives by jumping into the abyss. Nerve wracking at times but awfully exciting. The most eventful excursion had to be crawling under a net (the net was in place to stop people going down a very rocky, steep death slope. We unstrapped our boards and slid down. It entails holding onto rocks and then letting go to slide a few feet and hope to god you are able to stop before you slide over the edge. If you go over the edge it's bye bye baby. Anyway. Phil drops in first and is caught by the thick snow on the edge of the precipice. I hand the snow boards down to him. Which he catches to my immense relief. Then I come down. I let go of the rock too soon making my fall that little bit longer and faster. Phil had to throw himself in front of me to stop what could have been a rather bleak highlight to my trip to Austria. Thanks Phil. Needless to say the mission was worth it and we enjoyed some very delicious untouched snow for a few hours. Everyday continued in this vain. Dil would generally join us after his stint in the kitchen for a few little bunny hops and the odd mid- slope scuffle. Joyous times.
Come Tuesday though my luck ran out. Our final jolling night was to be spent doing some ridiculous taboganing down dimly lit roads on the mountain. AWESOME. We got really smashed before and spent the cable car trip up singing old cobras change room songs. Forty feet above the ground. Definitely the Cobra's most extreme change room session thus far. After some merry making we reached the top and proceeded to fly down hill. I wasn't going to include this but I won. There it is. I did. I pipped Dil and our Australian mate shea at the line. Sorry. It's a fact though. Coincidently the Austrian Olympain taboganist, Claus Rodler, happened to be eating dinner at the restaurant at the finish line when he saw me come flying in. The last four hundred meters or so. In short, he approached me singing my praises. He was having dinner with his agent and mentor, Ulli Stingingleider, at the time. Both said they had never seen such natural talent before. both were on their phones to dignitaries on the Austrian athletics board. They were demanding I be offered a green card asap. However I declined their offer a life time buckworst supply because I swore I would return to South Africa to become my country's first ever winter Olympian. A dream I have had since a very young age. Anyway.
So after all these shenanigans we proceeded down hill. Both literally and figuratively. on the way down we decided to play the fool in little snow field. This entailed big hits and general merry making. in the hullabaloo I lost a show. Oh where oh where has my little left shoe gone? That's a question that still hasn't been answered. We searched for many minutes. Alas she cried! It was gone. Onward I tramped all the way to the night club, barefoot and disconsolate. I was devastated. Anyway, Raj kindly offered me the services of his left Adidas slop. You know the kind with the little bumps and the velcro straps. Everyone knows someone who used to rock those with socks to get-togethers in like standard four or five. I know a few people. Pete Haw maybe? Graeme Steen? Although Graeme Steen is awfully partial top a velcro strap he wouldn't go that far. So our night went in the general direction of most nights. I awoke the next morning to a severe hangover and one less shoe. This was a serious problem as I had to return to france that night and french and swiss train stations aren't exactly conducive to wearing one shoe. Rather dirty. Anyway. So we went and had another look in the field. Still no shoe. Still no luck. To make matters worse I had nought but ten euros to my name, no airtime and no battery on my cellphone. Heavy days. I had to survive 24hrs of train tripping in said state. NOT IDEAL. Not ideal in the slightest. No ways Jose. No money for to buy me food, no money for to phone a friend to pick me up at the end of the line. No phone to receive reassuring messages from my loved ones. Just a half filled iPod and a massive book to keep me company. And keep me company they did. Those were some very long hours my friends. I am glad to say I have returned to Biarritz in one piece but I looked like a complete fool walking through major cities in europe wearing my right shoe and one very white hotel slipper. Rather comical I must say. I had a good laugh at myself. I think most of europe had a good laugh at me too. I was carrying a snowboard so I put on a little limp at times and I think I may have got away with it. Why is that guy wearing a hotel slipper? (Cue limp) Oh, must have hurt it snowboarding. He's cool. Fuck he's cool. You'll see. By tomorrow most of europe will be cruising around in one shoe and one hotel slipper. By stocks in hotel slipper manufacturers. trust me. It's about to go through the roof.
Anyway. So here I am. I've got practice tonight. I've got a smile on my face. I know, that as a Cobra you always take that special spirit with you. I also know that where ever I am in the world there will more than likely be a fellow Cobra to take you in, feed you, bed you and give you that much needed beer.
Until next time dear friends, ALWAYS TAKE THE WEATHER WITH YOU!