Yes, so, the “northern route” to Berlin I think is over for me. I see no reason to ever go back there, now Stuttgarter Platz’s golden age is over. So the only route that remains is the “southern route”—Brussels to Munich to Vienna. Second beer gone. 925pm. I expect nothing from Intime or the Reves or the Livourne places, except real rip off expensive hostess bars, a fortune just to buy a girl a drink. Another reason why Fifth Avenue is so wonderful (despite the sad dearth of quality girls); if you want to buy a girl a drink it is normal prices, same for them as for you. Munich died for me when they put private dances up from 25 euros to 50 euros, whenever that happened. And it is funny how it is uniform across every club you go to—in every club it was 25, now in every club it’s 50. It is almost like the city government sets the price for private dances—is that the case? Part of the licencing stipulations (stripulations)? If one club was allowed to undercut the others they would do roaring trade but they do not. One can only presume they are not allowed to. A far cry from the glory days back in 2003, 2004, when Patricia let me get my man out and put some kitchen roll over her breasts to catch the result. Don’t think that kind of thing would happen now. The emasculation-sterilisation-castration of old male Europe continues. The human race will die out eventually; that is the end result of damming up men’s juices in this way. Kind of like where they burn books they will eventually burn people. Where they ban masturbation/pornography/stripclubs they will ban sex. Then the feminazis and the Islamists will be happy. For god’s sake Europe, stand up for your old Priapic rights! One fears it is too late, the tide is already irreversible.
The next small blow to fall, arriving at Salzburg a couple of minutes late, and rushing to swap platforms to catch my 0800 Munich train, seeing no sign of it all on the boards. After 0800 passes I go back to Information and they confirm the train was cancelled. Luckily there is another one at 0813. I had a 1 hour 10 minutes to kill in Munich so I should be all right for my next connection. Perhaps Brussels is a safe place to be right now with the army on the street. It will be less safe once the lockdown ends and “normal” life resumes. Suddenly made to feel how vulnerable I am staying in a hotel. If four gunmen went in to the Max or the Ibis Gare du Midi what hope have any of us got. They can’t put armed guards at the door of every hotel in Brussels, or Vienna, or anywhere else. The thoughts of enjoying one last bit of carnal pleasure in Brussels may make me stay there tonight after all—although I can’t believe 5th Avenue will be open, or even Cine Paris; even the street girls? Everyone gets on the trains with their big bag or suitcase; any one of them could have a machine gun or a bomb in their case. Europe suddenly feels a lethally dangerous place.
I think the Syrians are LOVING the pleasure places of Europe, from the looks on their faces—white European girls having sex with them for such little money. So available, so loose. The “Syrians” I met in Schillerstraβe Munich or the Manhattan, Vienna, anyway. This is like their paradise, with 40 if not quite virgins waiting for them, 40 very nubile young women waiting for them. “I am the dog’s bollocks”—a bizarre expression even in English. I wonder if there is any equivalent term in German, or French?
I feared the Café Westend might be packed on a Sunday afternoon but in fact it is as quiet as I’ve ever known it. I love travel; but I have no interest for “new” places. I have found some places that I love, in Vienna, in Berlin, in Brussels, in Munich, and I just want to keep returning to these places. I have zero interest in Asia, or China, or Australia, or America, or South America, or Scandinavia, or anywhere else. I have found the places I feel at home (not in London, for sure) and I just want to keep coming back to these four places. (I have found the woman I love, and I now have zero interest in finding any other woman to love; I just want to keep coming back to her). Frankfurt has a massive red light district, Hamburg has a massive red light district but I have no desire to go to these places; Berlin and Vienna red light districts are, now, almost non-existent, but I still prefer to keep coming back to these places for my jollies, as “Jack the Ripper” referred to it.
After leaving Köln it gets suddenly noticeably colder; feels like we have dropped two or three degrees. Spring looks like winter again. The train is really flying now, as we head down to Frankfurt. The sky gets more grey by the minute. Melancholy is the essential me.
The ICEs are really beautiful: the livery, the interiors, the shape. When I think of Europe the ICEs are one of the things I think of first, these white trains with the red stripe. A design classic. I will be happy once I finally get to Vienna, as I can resume eating, drinking and masturbating again. I am a simple creature. I really don’t care about politics, or what’s going on in the world. Just to hear the train driver mention the word Berlin is a thrill. The word Berlin does have a charge to it that no other word has I think.