CONTINENTAL
BREAKFAST
Exploring Europe is an endeavor every American skater should
undertake. This summer I seized the opportunity to experience
three weeks of fresh terrain in Germany, France and the
Netherlands. The following is my travel journal:
FRIDAY, JULY 12th, 1991
I arrived mid-morning at Düsseldorf airport in a foggy state of
mind, disoriented by lack of sleep. I was greeted by my good
friend Mariam Hermanns, who lives in nearby Essen with her par-
ents. It felt good to see a familiar face over five thousand miles
away from home.
At Mariam's house, I met her father Alfred and mother Elka, who
both spoke English. Mariam and I went for a quick drive to buy
groceries and drinks for an evening barbecue. "So this is Ger-
many," I thought, as we walked down narrow streets laden with
compact cars, bakeries, cafes, grocery stores and family-owned
shops. No mega-chain stores or corporations to be found. Back at
Mariam's house, I took a much-needed shower and nap prior to
the prime barbecue event. The Euro grub fueled my fire and
stoked my desire to invesitgate the continent further.
Kampf dem
TSG
56 THRASH MAGAZINE
43 Münster
GS
KA
Clockwise from far left: Everything but the coping passed in a blur as Chris Livingston flew through
fast frontside nose grinds. With tail grab varials like these, Steve Caballero should have sold ad space
on his soles. Marching soldiers splattered with blood stood frozen in stone on a World War II memori
al in Hamburg. Punk palm grabs paved the way to 2nd place on vert for Chris Miller in Münster. This
page: Another year, another nose grind, Ed Templeton still raged.
SATURDAY, JULY 13th
The sound of rainfall on the roof-
top woke me early. My drought-
trained ears were not accustomed to
water falling from the skies.
A traditional European breakfast of
assorted breads, cheeses, spreads,
jams, juices, coffee and tea, prepared
by Mariam's parents, waited down-
stairs. Over breakfast, we discussed
cultures, using hand gestures to aid
our broken English and German
tongues. I disclosed my German
phrase/travel book, Just Enough Ger-
man, to Mariam's parents. Upon
reviewing the pocket book's pages,
Alfred told me that many of the
phrases were incorrectly accented
and outdated. Mariam and Elka
agreed in giggling unison. What I
had bought as a travel aid turned out
to be a joke book to make fun of the
non-German traveler.
That afternoon, Mariam, her boy-
friend Andreas, their friend Carlos
and I went to an indoor skate contest
at nearby Herne. Hard rain greeted
our arrival at the indoor hockey
arena housing the event. Inside the
arena, an arsenal of metal-laden
transitions, rails, spines and street
obstacles were strewn strategically
across the floor. A twenty-foot wide,
eleven-foot tall halfpipe was at rest
to the side of the whole shebang.
Local street technicians and clowns
were gallivanting around the street
course. A halfpipe practice session
began to heat up. Various eyes took
speculative notice of my presence,
yet none cared to talk or even smile.
Perhaps all minds were concentrat-
ing on the competition at hand.
The ice crumbled when Matthias
Bauer introduced himself to me near
the concession stand. We talked
about the upcoming Monster Master-
ship competition at Münster and the
event immediately following at Le
Grand Bornand. The warmth of com-
munication felt good amidst the sea
of stone-cold faces.
For a few days, I lounged around
getting used to foreign soil, Mariam,
her boyfriend and I took a day trip to
Münster and a long, sore ass bike
ride. Carlos and I checked out a cou-
ple skate shops and I bought some
rare CDs. Carlos took me to a
cement mini-bowl at a public park in
Bochum. The bowl was about three
feet tall with five-foot transitions, in
the shape of an hourglass, complete
with a rim of steel coping imbedded
in the lip. Fast 50/50's and lipslides
were a true pleasure.
TUESDAY, JULY 16th
Word has filtered down that a new
skatepark had opened in Mönchen-
gladbach. My friend Bernd Schneider
and I decided to seek out this new
facility. After a couple phone calls
and an hour's drive north, we were
at the Action Sports Dome's pristine
STORY AND PHOTOS BY BRYCE KANIGHTS
57