My Eurovision shenanigans in London

Having time off between hospitality jobs, I decided do a Parks and Rec styled ‘Treat Yoself’ week and live in luxury (at least whatever luxury my pitiful paycheques would afford me). I slept in till 10:30 every day, watched endless amounts of Buffy on Netflix, soaked up the sun on London rooftops and ate so much delicious food.

I spent most of this week by myself, simply enjoying my Andytime, but this was all inevitably going to reach a climax with some good old fashioned Eurovision shenanigans alongside friends and a bunch of strangers.

So with some Eurotrash music on in the house and a heap of delicious Broadway Market food sprawled out on the kitchen table, I got myself prepared for the night ahead. And as every Eurovision party should be a dress-up party, I began to put myself together.

Donning my lederhosen I bought for Oktoberfest in Munich last year and a cool red cap turned to the side like some 90’s white rapper, I thought I looked schmick. I called my look ‘Traditional German Rapper’ and attempted to bust some German rhymes around the house (thankfully I was alone for this disgraceful display).

This foolishness ended once my friend joined me for a few drinks and soon we finally mustered the courage to leave the house in our costumes (she was wearing a red wig, tiara and fur vest over some regular clothes but I was expecting more elaborate costumes to be at the party). We Ubered around the corner to the Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club and got ourselves pumped up, ready for some silliness.

Getting out of the Uber, I was immediately faced with a line of hipsters who were too cool to wear anything but their black ripped jeans and corduroy shirts. The most dressed-up people I saw had merely smeared some glitter on their cheeks. Why am I wearing a lederhosen?!?!

I should have known Brits don’t do this. Too proper and this crowd is definitely not gay enough for this to be ok. Whatever, they are the ones who didn’t dress up for a Eurovision party. They are the fools even if they clearly think otherwise. So my friend and I ignored the judging looks and giggles and strutted, yes strutted, to the bar. Cider! I need Cider! Or Beer! Just Booze me up!

I soon forgot how I was the odd one out in this large crowd (oh how this is not such an unusual occurrence for me). I took a deep breath and a big swig of my Bulmers and prepared myself for Conchita (At least she’d appreciate my efforts, right?).

As the show began on the two large projectors, I could see how perfect the venue was. An old dirty pub, with that typical bar/club sticky smell which seeps into all your clothes was decked out with European (and Aussie) flags and a stage right up the front.

Out stepped the hosts, one 30 something year old guy who had so much fake tan on it looked as if he’d tried to, well you know, be very racist. He was trying just that bit too hard to be funny but as the night went on, his tragic failings at Terry Wogan sarcasm were entertaining in itself. The other host was a curvy blonde lass in a tight sequin dress which made her look a bit like a drag queen – so this was perfect. Unfortunately, she barely spoke and just stood there watching the show with a microphone in her hand. But their presence wasn’t necessary. What was on the screen was more than enough.

   Conchita was flying through the air, three necessarily stunning hosts were saying something I couldn’t hear over the crowd and then all the fun began. Well I must admit it was a slow start with Slovenia being a bit meh and France being absolutely dreadful. But the Israeli boy band’s performance created uproarious love and dancing. And so the party was finally started. The buzz built from there. It peaked again and again with Serbia’s super Eurovisiony song with back-up dancers wearing all white with masks, wind machines, dorky characters and an amazing costume change which came out of nowhere. YES!! This is why we love Eurovision!

The beautiful Swedish performer came up later and showed who all the gays were in the bar as (I kept an eye out) as he sang his cheesy song to the gushing Austrian crowd. And then Australia joined in on the fun and Mr. Sebastian kicked some butt. The song perfectly fit into the Eurovision world as the whole crowd found itself singing along right from the get go. Woop woop.

The rest of the performances are a bit of a haze as I had been drinking copious amounts of booze and was sweating like crazy in the cramped hot space. But once they finished, the DJ took over as we all swayed and danced along to ABBA, Kylie and Mariah while the people of Europe voted. Now even more perspiration ensued as I realised how difficult it was to dance in a lederhosen. There was surprisingly more energy input required to pull off my… ‘moves’.

But the counting soon began and I found myself cuddling up to a cute Belgian boy. Australia and Belgium were neck and neck for 4^th and 5^th position so we had some strange flirtatious rivalry going on. The entire room booed every time Russia got points and, as it was clear Sweden was our only hope of stopping Russia, we all became his biggest fans. I screamed, jumped up and down and hugged the cute Belgian boy right up until Sweden finally came out on top.

Belgian beat Australia by a few points so I conceded defeat. I kissed the pretty boy, well made out a little, and then got into full-on crazy Andy dance mode. My friend left as she was tired and I had been a bad friend, neglecting her for the boy. But I was a bit too drunk to feel bad.

I don’t know how it happened but I then befriended two German and one British girl on the dancefloor. They were so much fun!! The five of us danced and danced for hours as the music was just so good. Could sing along to everything.

But I realised how I was so not sexy at this point. I was the only one dressed up and sweat was streming out of my pores. I feared I smelt horribly so didn’t get too close to the Belgian boy. I stopped drinking and routinely went to the bathroom to drink from the water bason (totally not classy). At one point I got so desperate that I rubbed hand wash into my armpits to stop myself from smelling. And to my surprise this actually worked. I was smelling as fresh as rainforest – at least that’s what the soap container told me.

With this new-found confidence I continued to dance until the early morning. By about 3am we had much more space to do our thing but were also exhausted. We unanimously decided to exchange numbers and go our separate ways (planning to go out together on Thursday). I soon found myself wandering around Hackney getting lost while desperately searching for home and my beautiful, beautiful bed. Finally, I asked some people (who were on something) for directions. While wait for one guy to look up my address, I hugged his girlfriend on the side of the street until they showed me where I was – home was literally around the corner and I was sitting in front of my local Sainsbury’s – FOOL!!

Anyway, I got home, drank a litre of water and fell asleep in my lederhosen. This was a great way to end my week of fun. Now to sleep in tomorrow and stay in bed watching Buffy all day. Life is good.

The never ending Danish Christmas – Part 1

All I wanted for Christmas was to be surrounded by family (no matter how distant the relatives were) and to see snow. But I got so much more than this.

I left London and arrived in the cold and windy Copenhagen on the night of the 23^rd of December. I was super excited to experience a Danish Christmas but was also slightly apprehensive about spending the festive season away from my family back in Australia. I had only met these relatives once, 6 years ago, and didn’t know what to expect.

But all those negative feelings left my body as soon as I gave my cousin a big warm hug at the airport. We spoke about life and other random things during the 45 minute drive to the small town of Ringsted where most of the family lived. I then met my grandmother’s brother-in-law (yes the relations are confusing – most of the time I was not sure how I was related to everyone) and more hugs were shared. After an hour or so of more catching up, I retreated to bed and prepared myself for the proper meeting of the family tomorrow.

Christmas Eve

The 24^th of December is when most Scandinavians celebrate Christmas so I was thrown right into the thick of it. I went from house to house, eating, drinking, sharing presents and getting to know everyone properly.

We started with a simple Danish breakfast in the morning with bread, cheeses and an assortment of juices as we prepared our stomachs for the enormous dinner which was yet to come. The big feast that night consisted of 4 different roasts, a huge amount of potatoes and some red cabbage on the side. Perhaps a salad or some other veges would have been nice but that’s just not how the Danes do it. No fussing about. No wasting time or precious space in ones stomach with lettuce and beans.

I brought 3 bottles of wine from London and they went fast. We then moved onto the beer and schnapps which were a lethal combination. We had all gotten well and truly drunk and it was only 6:00 PM (ok maybe I was the only one who couldn’t hold their schnapps).

We eventually moved onto dessert which was a traditional rice pudding (doesn’t look quite that appetising in this picture) which all Danes eat on Christmas. To make it even better, they would put a whole almond in the mix and the one who got it would get an extra Christmas present. But I was too impatient to slowly chew my food and sort through the pudding so I just inhaled it all. I think I even ate the almond but was too afraid to admit it. In the end, no one found the almond so they just gave the present to me (the foreigner). I got a lolly jar, full of lollies. Winning!

Danish Christmas carols were next and I was in no state of mind to sing in this oh so difficult language. Nonetheless, I persisted and made a right fool of myself. Thank god my family are a loud, unashamed bunch of misfits who just laughed throughout and sang out of tune. This had already been such a unique and fun Christmas.

After more and more merriment, the few of us who didn’t have children and such made our way into to town to drink and dance at one of the local bars. I had never been out during Christmas celebrations back in Aus but I was more than happy to keep changing things up.

Before I could even take everything in, I had a beer shoved into my hand and we were all drinking the night away. The place smelt like every bar does, of sweat, smoke and dirt (mmm home sweet home). I was introduced to the family friends and other more distant relatives, each of whom bought me a shot of schnapps. Now it would just be rude of me to turn down such an offer so I took each shot in hand, yelled out ‘SKOL’ (cheers) and moved on to the next greeting.

While the rest of the night is somewhat of a blur, I do distinctly remember my 70 something year old relative ripping up the dancefloor with his stellar moves. The man is so fit and can handle is alcohol like a pro. He was the spriteliest out of all of us and loved a good boogie. We spent the next few hours dancing to Western pop music and Danish hits which I pretended to know and sing along to (I thought I was a pro but was most likely butchering every song). The old man and I stumbled on home around 4:00AM, arms wrapped around one another until we reached the house and split off into our own rooms. I crashed in bed and fell asleep before I could even fully take off my pants. Clearly, the perfect end to my first day of Christmas celebrations here in Denmark.

Christmas Day

I woke up around midday with a killer hangover and made my way over to the window to open the blinds (sunlight will help me wake up). But low and behold… SNOW! It was the 25^th of December and the entire town of Ringsted was covered in a thin layer of pristinely white and glowing snow. All I could think was ‘I’M WINNING CHRISTMAS’. Unfortunately, this joy was quickly ripped away from me by my pounding headache and sore body.

I had a quick shower and face timed my family back home just as I had promised but was not looking my best. All my mum could do was laugh at me in this state. She knew all too well how schnapps always comes out on top but failed to warn me (cheers mum). My older sisters gave me the typical disappointed look but simultaneously revelled in my pain. I said hi to the rest of the family (anyone who was still awake in Melbourne) and then made my way out of my room to see how the old geezer was going.

I was a mess but he was just as happy and energetic as usual. He gave me a big smile and asked me how I was. How does he do it? How is he not hungover after last night?

Respect. Clearly the man is a true Dane.

While the 25^th is usually the big Christmas day for my family back home, this would be our recovery day. No big lunch held outside on the balcony in sun overlooking the beach like in Australia (My family sent me this picture to make me jealous and, I must admit, it kinda worked). Today the whole family spent the day collapsed on the couch with one another, slowly waking up and getting back to normal.

Of course we had copious amounts of food. There was herring, meatballs, roast pork, potatoes, salad, turkey and some other form of seafood. And of course it was all on delicious rye bread (everything is eaten in the form of an open sandwich).

The rest of the day was spent watching Disney clips on TV (a tradition for most Danes) with more eating and drinking (I took this day off from Schnapps – I would hang out with the little ones and drink soda). I then said my goodbyes to most of the family as they went back home in the evening to have an early sleep. Then a few of us stayed to watch Mama Mia and the 5^th Harry Potter.

This was not by any means similar to my family’s traditional Christmas but it was still pretty damn great! Plus it wasn’t over yet – tomorrow I go to Copenhagen to visit the other half of the family and partake in even more festive feasts. Bring it on!

Christmas Day + 1

I was lucky enough to be taken in by one of my other cousins (I think her dad and my grandmother were siblings…. But don’t quote me on that) who lived just outside of the Copenhagen’s city centre. She had always been seen as the cool older cousin as she didn’t live in the small town with the others, was more cultural and went out to trendy bars and restaurants.

Less than an hour after arriving at her place, I met even more relatives as I began to eat yet another mammoth Christmas lunch. We started with scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on rye bread (a different but surprisingly great combination), then had two different types of herring, some roast pork, a few bowls of potatoes, salad and every type of condiment you could think of.

Dessert with the customary rice pudding followed and, of course, schnapps and beer was served throughout the afternoon. After this 5 hour lunch, I found myself slowly falling into a food coma while trying to talk to more of the family.

By this time of the trip, I just assumed that every person I met was a family member and called them all ‘cousin’. Despite my terrible family tree skills, all of the Danes were welcoming and showered me with love and praise. I couldn’t be happier. I was surrounded by happy, friendly and somewhat intoxicated people. This is how all Christmas’s should be.
To top it all off, I had a quick run around outside in the snow, took the mandatory snowy selfie and then retreated back within the warm house.

Fortunately the night ended early as I spent the rest of it just chilling in front of the tele with copious amounts of tea while talking nonsense with my cousin. I ended the evening falling asleep while watching Parks and Recreation. A perfect end to yet another perfect day.