SO Elses Underwear
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In Someone Else’s Underwear my trip to the 2006 World Cup Stories and ramblings, bier reviews, football chants, drag queens, and a Football Beauty Pageant In someone else’s underwear My trip Here We Go Here we Go Here We Go to the 2006 World Cup. Is copywrite 11.06.06 Setting Off. PDX airport. 2006 by Abram Goldman-Armstrong. It Living in the afterglow of the success was hastily put together, so please of the North American Organic excuse typos. Brewers Festival which I’d co- organized, I watched the Mexico vs. you may contact him at Iran match in the Widmer pub in the [email protected] airport, drinking a pint of Hefeweizen. I am thrilled with the fact I won’t have It’s all here, the good, the bad, the to watch another match with American ugly. The drunkest of drunken commentators. moments, the beauty, the barley, the hops and the hopes. There’s football Day 1- Duesseldorf chants, journal entries and ramblings, First beer in Germany: Schumacher and nominations for the ugliest man in Alt- malty and solid with big modern football. Hopefully some of bitterness, and barley sugar sweetness. you will find at least some of it Welcome to German cuisine; even the entertaining. I took tasting notes on potatoes have roast pork on them as a 91 beers throughout my month garnish, proof that the Germans can’t abroad, the most notable are listed eat a meal without pork in it. The here. We’ll start at the beginning and city’s awash with fans of many work up to how I watched the final at nationalities, Japanese, Swedish, the Berlin Fan Mile in someone else’s English, and Czechs especially. Every underwear. shop, from the bakery to the bank has I’d like to dedicate this zine to Matt something football related in the Redhead, with whom I was watching window. World Cup fever is the US-Germany match in the 2002 everywhere. World Cup when I made the decision Train to Gelsenkirchen for USA- to go to the next one, and to the fans Czech Republic of Sankt Pauli, especially Imme, Mitje Rolling through the ugly Marshall Plan and Tonja, who made me feel so at outskirts of Ddorf on a trainful of home in Hamburg town. Thanks to English and Americans- it’s odd to everyone who hosted me or bought think that 60 years ago these would me beer, especially Tyke, Matze, and have been soldiers responsible for the Amy and Nick, and all the brewers devastation of the city. who took time to share their breweries Gelsenkirchen Bahnhof with me on short or no notice. I wander into town, and no sooner do I arrive, but I spot Dave Buhler from I really don’t have many complaints Elysian in Seattle, it’s a small beer about my trip. The blatant world. I stroll through the streets commercialism of the whole thing is where Czech and American fans rather disgusting though. Fuck Coke, mingle with Germans, Scots, Irish, and Anheuser Busch, and all the other people from just about every country corporations who have turned the in the tournament. I buy a pickle from World Cup into a marketing event. a vendor, and cans of beer. Americans know any songs, which comes as no surprise, though a few “stand up for the boys in blue” are managed. The American team, ranked fifth in the world plays like crap. They waste a player on every corner kick, pulling out two players to the corner, and winning none of their own corners. The Czechs play well, they have a unique two-heeled method slide tackling, which scoops the ball away nicely. The second Czech goal is world class, slamming into the net from 30 meters out. Getting a beer is hell, you’d think in a country known Dave Buhler for efficiency and beer, they’d have it have taken over a town square, sorted out, but such is not the case. singing a few songs and waving Lendog (Timbers Army living in scarves, the Czechs trade chants. Kuwait) and I spend a large part of the Everywhere knots of them are second half waiting for Bitburgers. bevvying up. Dying Robin and Ty at Hiberbnia Brewhouse for a piss, I wander into the Hibernia Brauhaus, though what makes it Irish I’m still not sure. Emerging from the jax, Ty and Robin from the Timbers army are propping up the bar. (When in doubt you’ll meet in an Irish pub). The barman exemplifies German metrosexual style. Well muscled in a tight We’re lucky enough to get them, as sleeveless top, with gelled up bleach- the Anheuser-Busch stalls outnumber blond faux-hawk, and striking blue the Bitburger ones 6-1. eyes, he pours me a half-liter mug of “The bottle deposit is the capital of tasty Hibernia dunkles, with a sweet the little guy” (from a free card in almost liquorice chocolate malt aroma, Berlin) and toasty flavor. After the match I collect the stadium The Match- cups, on which there is a Pfand or I’m in the rafters of the stadium, well deposit. An Indiana woman in the line not quite, but they do look fun to gets tired of waiting and gives me her climb on. The Americans don’t really cups. I walk away with €19, paid for famous, it’s got a perfect balances and my beer at the match. I love the stands up to the fatty, spicy blood deposits. I swap a Timbers Army scarf sausage. Hellers- (Organic brewpub) for a Minnesota Volunteers scarf. Kölsch- herbal hop aromas, with malt In Duesseldorf the next few days I backbone and some fruitiness, hop watch Brasil-Croatia on the MS flavour balances the malt which is Allegra, a restaurant ship anchored in almost toasty, a fullish mouthfeel. The the Rhein, with a pint of the Wiess (not to be confused with chocolate-brown bread malt flavor Bavarian Weisse) is a fresh unfiltered dominated Shluessel alt, and drink my version of the Kölsch with a zesty fill of alt bier from different breweries. yeast aroma almost like a Belgian wit, Schumacher and Fucschen, with it’s malty and hazy it is a testament to why big herabl/grassy hop flavor are my beer should not be filtered. favorites. I also have my first Astra, and fall in love with the short bottle (like Chimay, but cuter) and anchor and heart logo. 14.06.06 1.03 AM Sitting in the Laurelhurst Park of Europe (Hofgarten), just watched a couple swans run off a weasel-like animal by the pond. Köln/Cologne The whole city is one big jobsite, lucky thing I’m wearing steel-capped boots. Kölshes tasted: Gaffel- fluffy white head, pale golden color, malty and sulphury yeast aroma, rising bread aroma, and gentle biscuity malt flavor, with big round noble hops in the finish. Sion-skunky noble hops. Light bodied, almost lager-like cleanness in flavor. The menu says Alt niemals, basically “never ever.” Pfaffen- rocky tight white head, full golden color, 15.06.06 The Hops of St. Pauli (Hamburg) perfumey yeast aroma with ripe De Welt to Gast bi Frünn apples, European pale malt and a hint (Plattdeutsch version of WM motto) of strawberries, soft malty flavor, with “The jukebox played the Dubliners, medium almost full mouthfeel, great and the crowd all sang along, malt flavour, almost one-dimensionally Each boy and girl in that Hamburg malty, the hops don’t really come to bar knew the words to every song, the front. Kölscher Kaviar is a tasty, They most graciously invited me to spicy blood sausage. Pfaffen Kölsch is join their company. fucking amazing, I can see why it is so So I spent that night and the next helped many of the locals survive the three years with the fans of St. Pauli.” war. It was converted into suites for By the time the night was over, the media and politicans, as it was arrangements were complete, I’d a virtually impossible to demolish. squat and friends, a darlin’ girl, and a For the next match we went to the brand new football team,” Casa St. Pauli, a beer garden set up ---The Pilgrims. “Fans of St. Pauli” behind the St. Pauli clubhouse. The songs and stories of St. Pauli and the Hops grow like a weed in Germany, generosity of its fans are all true. We and I picked some off the St. Pauli ground, just outside the Hamburg Fanfest. Hamburg‘s Fanfest was the best in the country, with each of the 32 nations serving up their native Imme showing off Sancho autograph Imme showing off cuisines. From Portuguese grilled sardines, to Argentine beef, Costa Rican empanadas, to chocolate and coffee from the Ivory Coast, and salt fish from Trinidad and Tobago it was a mouthwatering smorgasbord. We watched the England-Trinidad and Tobago game with a few Trinidadians and a load of Scots, who joined me in the “TNT, dynamite” chant. Some of the Tartan Army lads said Sancho had met Imme, who used to be the fan organizer, because Katie wanted to know what kind of hairdye she used. Imme was wearing a Trindad and Tobago top signed by Sancho after an exhibition match played in St. Pauli before the WM. Imme is a social played for their local side (Dundee worker with St. Pauli, and had to take United) as well. Needless to say, the a blind fan home after the match, and press of English and German-English when she got back to the bar, Sancho fans outnumbered us greatly.