Let's be honest: I wasn't looking forward to this conference. It was my first one alone and I didn't really know what to expect.

It was quite daunting but I met two PhD students, Matthias and Eoin, who were also staying at The Squatterly and so I was able to spend the times between talking to authors and networking with them. We went to Münster's Altstadt on Wednesday evening and got pleasantly drunk, during which time I decided that actually conferences aren't that bad after all.

I got back late Thursday evening to find my landlady gone (good) and a hellish bowl of washing up that was in an advanced stage of fester (bad). On Monday evening I'd had every intention of clearing it before I left for Munster but by the time I had packed my suitcase and Guido had come round to put some things on my laptop, that intention had withered and quickly disappeared. It was for this reason, and the stark lack of food in my flat, that I found myself having dinner with Brid and Fred on Friday night. We went to a Thai restaurant that is literally fifteen seconds from their lounge, and though it was a bit garish on the inside (a gilt ten-foot-tall, ten-foot-girth Budha adorns the entrance) served good Thai-but-for-Germans food.

As there were only two other people in there, we got talking to the owner (or rather, he recognized fellow English speakers, pulled up a chair, and sat down), who was a tall black man with a thick Indian accent who said he was from London. A German woman, who appeared to be his wife, periodically shouted over some gentle abuse from behind the bar whilst he told us how he'd come to Germany, and to this restaurant.

"My family said 'You can't do that. You don't speak German and you know nothing about Thai food.' and yet here I am!"

He went on to explain that he liked living here as he practises homeopathy, and the Germans are more in tune with this than British doctors. He talked at length about how important it is to study the individual patient and assess their needs, rather than mixing up a cocktail of different drugs and hoping that at least one of them works. He explained how he has practised homeopathy for years and knows how to treat each patient, but

"I'm not good at getting rid of fiddly little things like coughs and colds. No, give me something big!"

"Something big?" asked Fred

"Yeah, you know, something incurable. I can cure that."

I'm afraid I broke out in a fit of giggles at this and began spluttering into my complementary plum wine. We left not long after, Brid and Fred home to enjoy some icecream, frozen, I'm told, to perfection in their new freezer, and I to the Hauptbahnhof to catch my tram home.

This is where I met a talkative air-traffic controller from the American military base, who introduced himself as Santana from the south Bronx. He was on his way to the Downtown club to meet his brother but didn't know which tram to take or where to get off. In fact, he seemed rather naive about exactly where he was and what he was doing but this seemed to be because he had rarely been off the base and had spent the evening wandering around the train station. It was 11pm and he was supposed to have left already. We got on the same tram.

"What have you been doing until now?"I asked, as we sat down.

"I don't know man, I don't know, I been here one and half hours and I already spent 200 dollars.You know what, I grew up in New York and I lived all my life in the Bronx but really I'm Spanish. I'm from the Dominican Republic, yeah, that's right, you know, my English ain't that good, I speak Spanish, I go to the island on vacation, ah man, wow, it's beautiful, you ever been there?"

"Ah, no."

"Aw man, it's awesome, it's beautiful, know what I'm sayin, you gotta go there one day man."

"Have you got family over there?"

"Nah man, all my family live in the Bronx. Or in Philly. Yeah and we got some family down in Texas. Man, I love Texas. You ever been to Texas?"

"I haven't."

"Man, I gotta get me some Euros, all I got's these dollars and they ain't gonna take them in this Downtown club, right? You know where I can change some dollars? Man, I hope my brother can hook me up. You know what, we's from the south Bronx, yeah man, but we's Spanish, know what I'm sayin. We got a lot of Spanish in the Bronx, lotta Dominican Republics, lotta Puerta Ricans, that's right man. But you from England huh, that's cool, I ain't never been to England, man, it's too expensive! I had a friend right, he went to England this one time, and he spent like 3000 dollars in one week! Can you believe that?!"

"He must have had a good time."

"Aw, I don't know man, I don't know. You English guys are so funny, know what I'm sayin, you got those guys who wear skirts and shit, man, what's that about?!"

"Er...I'm not sure what you're talking about....?"

"Ah come on man, sure you do, those guys, they wear skirts wi' all different colours and stuff....!"

"He means a kilt, I think."

This was from a German woman sitting next to me. I didn't even know she was listening, let alone following and understanding better than me.

"Yeah that's right man, a kilt! All you English guys wear them, that's so funny man!"

"Well really only Scottish people wear them and even then I think it's mostly for formal occasions."

I was cringing inwardly at myself even as these words were leaving my mouth: why had I suddenly become so acutely British?

"Ah whatever man, I don't know no difference. Man, do these streetcars got bathrooms, I really gotta go. Man, how far is this Downtown club anyways, my brother didn't say nothing about it being this far. Man, I grew up in New York, know what I'm sayin..."

...and he went on like this until it was time for me to leave the tram. You know what man? You sure meet some interesting people living here, know what I'm sayin?!