"Two beers please" drabbles by Neville Hunt
Prescient pissup
Two beers please #19
It’s difficult in Bandung to choose beers. Many bartenders don’t drink alcohol on religious grounds. That meant tricky decisions, because the Javanese are smiley, agreeable people… and when asked if any of the beers on offer was good, they would invariably say yes with a smile. To every single beer.
Pointing to one called ‘Storm Beer’, I ordered “Saya pesan dua bir” It was pretty good, but when we left the hotel, it seems our choice had prompted a storm - a phenomenal rainstorm… it was monsoon season! Exciting!
Back in Djakarta though, our hotel only seemed to serve tasteless rainwater!
Real (ale) estate
Two beers please #18
My host, a Liverpudlian who’d lived in Stockholm for 25 years, was the man in the know when it came to decent beer.
He told me that English-style ‘real ale’ brewing was all the rage there and told me where they had the best selection.
“Let’s not hang about then,” I exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll buy you a pint!”
“Två öl tack” I asked in my best Swedish.
We sat on barstools, the beer arrived... I took a massive gulp.
“He says it’s 18 Euros,” said my mate.
“I don’t want to buy the whole fucking pub!” I spluttered.
Waiting game
Two beers please #17
On a short break to Paris, we didn’t know it but we were in what was recently an extremely dangerous part of the city.
We were ‘Airbnbing’. We would wait for our host in the bar opposite his apartment. I told him to look for the table with an extra beer... that would be his.
“Deux bières s’il vous plait.. et un Coke pour ma femme.” The waiter gave me a look as if I were a lush... but I didn’t give a toss what he thought!
Our host eventually turned up... as did my middle finger, towards the waiter.
DisUnited
Two beers please #16
My younger son’s stag weekend in Krakow. I felt honoured to be invited. Trouble was, most of the lads were Manchester University alumni, and United were playing a big international match. They found a bar with a big TV.
Our family aren’t Man United supporters! Younger son was OK though; he was getting pissed. Me and his brother wanted to see the city. We sneaked off, looked around the sights and then found a quieter bar for a more modest drink.
“Dwa piwa proszę“ I asked.
“English?” asked the friendly barman, switching on the TV.
“NIE!” we said in unison!
A very short trip
Two beers please #15
Mrs H and I took a short trip to Vienna. My idea was to go from one ornate church to another, but Mrs H plans things properly. So we went to Grinsing, the last stop on a tram line. It was lovely, but full of restaurants trying to entice us in. We walked quickly past, choosing a small hostelry instead.
“Zwei bier bitte” got us two beers, but we drank them very quickly after a band of local men in saucy leather shorts started playing quirky music and slapping themselves. Had we stumbled on a gay bar?
Time to go...
Market-speak
Two beers please #14
The vast market hall near the Danube is a favourite of mine. Not for the fruit and vegetables, but for the beer up in the gallery.
The old man standing next to us was fascinated by my attractive south Asian colleague, so he said something in Hungarian. She smiled, but didn’t drink alcohol, so, seeing a potential drinking mate, I ordered “Két sört kérek“ and two beers arrived. I offered him one.
We chatted for an hour with lots more beers, him in Hungaro-German, me in loud, slow English, with multiple hand gestures. Fuck knows what we talked about!
Beware the Golden Tiger...
Two beers please #13
If you’re sloping round Prague, turn off the main drag into Husova. On your right is U Zlateho Tygra, but, tucked away, you might easily miss it.
Very determined, we found it though. The bar is long and thin. Long tables and benches have hosted Havel and Clinton... and me and my boss.
“Dvě piva prosím“ I requested in my best Czech. Two glasses arrived, no pivo! Then it arrived, poured from a big jug. I didn’t realise, but as soon as we finished, they automatically filled them up again, and again and again.
Pissed on just two beers! Yeeha!
Not so croeso y Cymru
Two beers please #12
Some of Mrs H’s ancestors were from Wales, so a family holiday in Anglesey was in order. We joined her cousins in their holiday cottage in a pretty north coast village.
Having unpacked, one of the other husbands and I escaped for a pint. As we walked in the barman and a customer were speaking English. Seeing us, they changed to Welsh. Nice, but typical around there.
I strode up, requesting politely “Dau gwrw os gwelwch yn dda” (two beers please).
“Piss off!” snarled the barman.
“OK, Taffy, if that’s the case, it’ll have to be two ciders.” I replied.
Taking care of the other half
Two beers please #11
When we lived in the same village, Steve and I would venture out to the White Horse for a couple of beers and talk man’s stuff. We didn’t go until close to closing time - just time for two beers... no need for translation.
Now when it comes to drinking, contrary to the impression I give out, I’m a bit of a wimp. I drink less volume more slowly.
Arriving home, Mrs H always gently quizzed me on my beer consumption.
Invariably it was one and a half pints.
“But what about two beers please?”
”Someone finished off the other half!”
Late night in Lisbon
Two beers please #10
At 1.00am, when normal people would be fast asleep, my host Virgilio phoned my hotel room.
“Neville, we are going for a drink!”
What could I say except “When in Lisbon, do as the Lisboetas!”
We headed for Docas de Santo Amaro, or just Docas, a renovated dock area of Lisbon... when we could get there! It was 01.30am and a traffic jam proclaimed rush hour.
Bar next to restaurant next to club etcetera into the distance...
“My shout Virgilio!” indicated that I was buying.
“Duas cervejas por favor!” But I really did have to shout to get served.
Manic!
Lithping
Two beers please #9
I met Nikolay, a Spanish-speaking Russian in Madrid. We were talking about ‘cooperation’. I wondered why a Muscovite would want to become a fluent Spanish speaker if he wasn’t a spy. But fair play, he did introduce me to the Museo del Jamon, a ham museum in the centre of town. The atmosphere dripped from the roof, whole hams hanging down, creating a special ambiance.
The drinks were on me, so I ordered “dos cervezas por favor” sounding like “doth ther-vaythath por fav-or” with my authentic Spanish accent.
Nikolay laughed; he thought I was hamming it up.
Mind your language
Two beers please #8
In Brussels ostensibly for a meeting at the European Commission, we were on a different mission. We were on a pilgrimage to A La Mort Subite, a tavern not so much renowned for its name (Sudden Death) as the causes.
We went on the prowl... and as suddenly as it’s name implies, there was the famous bar. I requested in my best Flemish “Twee biertjes alstublieft“. Jacques Brel songs aside, this was my only Flemish.
The bartender looked exasperated, indicating the vast array of beers, as if to say “You’ve gotta help me fella!”... only he said it in French.
Doubling up as a Finn
Two beers please #7
Mrs H was knackered. We’d started in Helsinki, trained it to St Petersburg, stayed in discomfort at the government hostel, arriving in Tallinn via Helsinki again. Our hotel was sumptuous, so she wanted to stay there all morning. I needed to get out on the town, so off I went.
I wandered around, but, preferring to share the sights of that pretty city later, I headed for a bar, alone. I only knew three words of Estonian, so I requested “Kaks õlut palun.”
“Kaks õlut?” the bartender queried. I nodded.
Then he asked “Finnish?”
I replied, “I haven’t started yet!”
Two beers or not two beers?
Two beers please #6
Turku is the first city you reach at the southwestern corner of Finland. You know there's going to be a problem when all the roadsigns and street names are in two languages. OK, OK, so there's a large Swedish speaking minority on the west side of the country. But two thirsty Brits out on the lash don't need complications.
Me and my boss found the nearest bar to our downtown hotel. Ever the showoff, I went up to order some beers.
"Kaksi olutta, kiitos" I said politely.
"Två öl?" the bartender queried pointedly.
"Fù queue!" I said. He understood that.
It's how you say it that counts
Two beers please #5
We went on an official visit to Beijing. Far from a third world experience, the beer was good and we all felt safe out on the streets late at night.
Two bigwigs plus four of us worker bees. But only two were there to have a laugh, me and my pal Rachel. We shook off the others and went to a late night disco. To impress her, I'd learnt by heart how to get a drink.
"Qǐng hē liǎng bēi píjiǔ" (two beers please) I asked the bartender. For all the good it did I could have been speaking Chinese!
Wunder-bar
Two beers please #4
A whistlestop tour of Berlin, me and Marina, a beautiful Russian now working in England.
We did the 'Wall', Jewish Memorial, Reichstag, ending up at the Brandenburg Gate. It was raining so we decided on refreshments in the adjacent 5-star Hotel Adlon, famous for Michael Jackson hanging his baby out of the window.
The lobby bar was fabulous, complete with piano player. I asked our waiter for "Zwei Bier bitte", but, remembering that Marina liked whisky, changed it to "Zwei Laphroaig und Kaffee bitte". Wonderful!... but the bill was 50 Euro!"
Fortunately, Marina held the project purse-strings. Phew!
New best friend
Two beers please #3
Waiting for the bus to Vienna, I had a 45 minute wait in Bratislava station. I migrated to the bar. My only Slovak being 'dve pivá prosím' (two beers please), I needed a friend for 45 minutes. I sat opposite a guy whose other friend was leaving. My new best friend was disconsolate.
Seeing my opportunity I pointed to his half-finished beer, saying "Pivá?" He said something Slovaky, "áno prosím", but I just took his nod as my cue. Expertly, I ordered two beers at the bar.
After several beers, I moved us on to borovička - yeeha!. Time flew!
Watching my language
Two beers please #2
Sofia, Bulgaria, Vitosha Street - like Oxford Street, London without the tourists. Back then, few Bulgarians spoke English. Likewise, my Bulgarian was restricted to 'Две бири Моля' (two beers please).
I like to return home with presents for my wife. This trip it would be a handbag. I browsed a handbag boutique and saw a bag I thought she would like. The price seemed very inexpensive. But was it real leather?
To find out, I put my index fingers on my head like horns and said "Moo?"
Fortunately the saleswoman laughed and nodded after realising I wasn't calling her a cow!
Dva piva pozhaluysta
Two beers please #1
September, St Petersburg, Staying in a government hostel, outside the city centre, in the suburbs. Pionerskaya.
A mosquitofest!
My only Russian was Два пива пожалуйста (two beers please), so when confronted with an urgent need for a mosquito spray... time for some theatre!
In the nearby pharmacy I made a bizzzing sound accompanying wild arm movements... then phshhh! from an imaginary aerosol. It didn't work. Noticing my plight a young chap twigged what I meant.
"Protivomoskitnaya setka?" he enquired... and a mosquito spray appeared.
His English was limited to "Manchester United", so we just drank two beers and talked football.
