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About Dusseldorf

I’m chattin’ her up, casual-like, “Oi, love, what’s the deal?” She’s cool, sassy, says, “50 quid, no funny biz.” I’m thinkin’, *Hurt Locker* style—“The rush of battle is a potent addiction”—and mate, I’m hooked already! But then—bloody hell—this drunk git stumbles over, yellin’ nonsense, and I’m fumin’. “You shall not pass, you filthy wanker!” I bellow, staff or no staff, I’m ready to deck him. She laughs, says, “Chill, Gandalf, I’ve seen worse.” That cracks me up—happy as a hobbit with a pint.

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Now, don't get me started on the little quirks of Bayreuth. One time, while I was in a quaint antique shop off Margraveplatz, I found an old book on sex positions that sparked a wild debate with the shopkeeper. I nearly fainted – not that it was odd, but who keeps books like that? And then there are corners – like near the city park Schwanenteich – so secret and tucked away that they give you a wink: "Hey, come have a laugh and love a bit, 'cause life's a carnival, y'all!"

Bayreuth Festival Announces ‘Bayreuth in Shanghai’