The View from Within

Like any reunion with good friends you’ve spent far too long talking yourself out of getting in touch with, the initial words can be a bit awkward. But once you’re through that hoop, you realise all the common ground is there and you just slip back into the groove. Provided, that is, there was ever a groove to slip back into. Well a quick check of the dates and it’s been almost a year, so how’ve you been?

So what have I been doing with myself for the last year? (...quickly checks last entry to see where I was at...) Oh, I feel a bit guilty now. I just realised I abandoned you half way through Popkom, almost unforgiveable - almost.  I didn’t even get round to writing about Sundays exploits, at the ‘Old Canteen’ next to Berghain. And even more alarmingly I’ve not even told you what Berghain is. Please forgive me, but I don’t intend to catch up just yet.  One event eclipsed them all anyway, even if they did include going for pizza with a couple of my favourite dj/producers and chatting with a Hollywood star in a night club (tease! I know, but I’m not making this up, you’ll just have to believe me and let your imagination do the rest.

Well as John Lennon famously said 'Life's what happens when you're busy making other plans'.

Well the big news from Berlin, is that I have found myself a girlfriend, well I think she found me to be honest. I’m still not quite sure how it happened, if it as the script of a film I’d probably have dismissed as being too unrealistic, but anyway I should probably start with an introduction. Her name is Maria and we met in Lisbon about 3 years ago, she studied in Lisbon on Erasmus and was a friend of my housemate Gisa. We became friends and used to hang out a lot, and before long I had  pretty much fallen for her, which was rather unfortunate because she had a Portuguese boyfriend. Anyway we had become good friends and spent a lot of time together. A friendship, which occasionally threatened to become more, but never really did. But we promised to keep in touch...but after a few e-mails and some vague arrangements to meet up in Lisbon again and an apparent misunderstanding, we drifted out of touch.

[Cue Hazy fade out, switch to Berlin, December 2007, Andy is in his new room, getting ready to go out, a mobile starts to ring.....]

A: Hello!

M: Hey Andy, It's Maria!

A: Hey Maria...

M: Do you remember me?

A: Yeah, course I remember you, How are you? (He blagged trying to buy time)

M: I've just moved to Berlin, and wondered if you wanted to meet for a drink on Sunday? (Paraphrasing poetic license, hey whose story is this?)

[Andy's head starts spinning as the penny starts to drop - metaphorically not in any Exorcist kinda way, this ain't no David Lynch flick]

My head pounding, I said I'd try, but had to go to a party and then for dinner at a friend’s place. (Rah-de-rah, well aren't you the suave socialite). The phone call had left me in an uneasy state of apprehension. The last few weeks we had spent in Lisbon together had been a real emotional rollercoaster, and suddenly it felt like I'd just been strapped in, and damn thing had started all over again.

I tried to focus on the positive, should be easy right? I had a good friend back, anything else that happened would be a bonus. Yeah right, but deep down I couldn't help the feeling that I wanted more and thoughts of the friendship developing into something more were never far from my consciousness. The minute I became aware of them I would try and crush them, suppress them. Expect nothing, you can’t be disappointed.

So Sunday came and I thought it would be best to postpone the drink for another time (Great thinking Batman...Sometimes you astound me. I am you. Oh yeah shit, get it together. Ok....) Fortunately Maria talked me out of it and insisted we met for a coffee there and then. It turned out she was staying a couple of streets away so we met in a cafe. Within the first few minutes much of my apprehension had been washed away. It was really good to see her and everything fell back into place, just like Lisbon times. We chatted and tried to catch up, and fill the gaps. She even enquired about some girl I'd been seeing in Lisbon, and whether I was single. [Ok, stay rational here Andy. The mechanical clicks and whirs of the rollercoaster engine could almost be heard as I felt it start a steady ascent. ]

She's been asking about me. And she wants to know if I'm single - that means something right? Shhhh, Shhhh, stop it right now, I want to get off!!!...No chance, it's a one way journey, no stops allowed once it’s started. The car accelerated as Maria stepped on the gas. "Do you want to come see my place?" "I was hoping you could come to mine for a few glasses of wine, help me relax before my interview tomorrow"......Aaarghhhhhh, is she trying to kill me? I think my brain’s about to erupt!!! I managed to put the brakes on slightly by making my excuses and explained that I had to go, I had a party to get to. I was already late. (I just go on amazing myself!!) I had mentioned a gig I wanted to go to on the Wednesday and Maria seemed interested, so there was something.

Arrangements were made and Wednesday arrived and we were on our way to the Magnet club to see ‘Thief’, sharing my Ipod on route – How cosy! I was unaware if it was the situation, my mental state or just a coincidence but many of the lyrics seemed to resonate and hung heavy in the air contributing to my level of apprehension, gradually building like a static charge in the shrinking distance between us. We touched. Maybe it had been accidental, but we were still in contact, as neither of us moved away. Was it appropriate? What did it mean? The gig finished pretty early and we had a decision to make, stay there for a drink, go somewhere else, or back to Maria's place for a glass of wine. So we opted for the latter (At least he learns, there is hope!).

Back at Maria's it was all in danger of going distinctly pear-shaped as the thorny issue of the shortage of e-mails was dredged up!  At the vital moment my charm, tact and diplomacy failed me massively and my attempt was returned with a rather abrupt "That's not the answer I wanted to hear"

Good work Captain Cerebellum!! Got any other 'bright ideas' Apparently he hadn't and in a rare moment of panic, with the cautious brain caught off guard and stunned into submission, my emotions started a bold journey out of the trenches, bypassing the cowering blubbing grey matter which looked on in horror, but could do nothing to stop what could only be a suicide mission. With no resistance in sight the plucky raw feelings were up through my lips and out there in the open, exposed, wandering in no-man's land waiting to be shot down. The brain could hardly bare to look, expecting nothing less than a sea of pain to was hover him and knew who would have to try and pick up the pieces.

But no bullets came, as the feelings ambled on, waving a white flag for all to see. To the brain's surprise the event seemed to have passed without injury and it seemed that the feelings were no longer alone.

Phew! Our feelings shared and out in the open, I felt awash with relief, but it was still quite an odd situation and not exactly fully resolved. “So what do we do now? " I offered. “Well I suppose we just give it a go" came the reply.

I'd say I'm usually quite good at predicting how events might turn out, but I sure hadn't seen that one coming. The brain had learned his lesson and didn't dare intervene, so I agreed on the condition that we still had a period of ‘dating’. We kissed on the deal and with that I was on my way home, elated and ever so slightly confused about what had just happened.

I awoke the next morning in a bit of a daze, and even less sure of the previous nights events. The whole sequence of events had a rather surreal dreamlike quality as I replayed them in my mind. I didn't feel like I could function in the real world today, but had little choice and floated through my morning and off to work oblivious to much around me (Nothing unusual there then!  - Ouch, Low blow! Whose side are you on exactly?)

The weeks of December passed through blissfully, living most of it in the cosy confines of our love-bubble life, with the occasional interruption of material tasks and necessities of modern life, before Christmas arrived. I was only home for a week, but it seemed strange to be home back in England. I felt like I had been plucked from my 'Berlin' life which only made it seem more unreal and dreamlike. But I missed it badly and struggled to keep my thoughts on anything for longer than a few seconds without them wandering back to Maria. Phone calls, messages and e-mails did little to alleviate the symptoms. I felt guilty for wishing I was back in Berlin, while I was supposed to be enjoying Christmas at home. Naturally I tried to alleviate the symptoms with alcohol, although this would usually result in me attaching myself to anyone who was prepared to listen, and telling them this whole story in as much detail as they could endure before they extricated themselves. I guess you know exactly how they must have felt! (Sorry)

 Skipping forward 10 months we are on the verge of moving to Frankfurt together (although I think the decision was made back in January sometime). So the Berlin chapters will have to be put on hold. I say ‘hold’ because Frankfurt is a temporary thing until Maria finishes her studies.

In terms of this blog, the whole relationship has forced me into a bit of a rethink. Up to now, with the odd exception, much of the material was my day-to-day, or more realistically weekend-to-weekend life. I’m not sure the same continuing the same approach would be a) interesting, b) something I could really get motivated to write about or c) welcomed my Maria. So, this is something I’ve been procrastinating over for the past 10 months, but doing very little about, just thought I’d explain the hiatus.

Does that conclude the longest apology for not writing in a while? 

Not the smoothest start to my Berlin adventure – stood in East Midlands airport with 15kgs of additional baggage as I’d mistakenly though paying for additional baggage would include extra weight allowance, apparently it doesn’t. I decided to risk it, clearly in a Dr. Pepper frame of mind, as I figured it was nobodies actual job to spot people with 2 pieces of hand luggage (even if one is pushing the weight limit on its own), seems I figured correctly, with a few funny looks from fellow passengers and a few deft manoeuvres to hide my extra bag from view and I was there, somehow. The whole airport experience is a little stressful at the best of times, however if you are a bit of an adrenaline junky try getting 2 pieces of hand luggage through onto the plane with you, certainly sets the heart-a-racing let me assure you. It was late when I landed so dumped my stuff in the basic but clean hostel in the West of Berlin, and went for a walk – didn’t really have an aim, just wandering, but thought I might find a bar of some description. I didn’t, well not one that looked very inviting anyway – just lots of large plush embassy buildings, time for bed me thinks, tomorrow is a new day.

Rose early and was all ready for my first day in Berlin. Not sure what type exactly but bought a ticket for the U-bahn and jumped on, heading for the centre (if it has one?). About 5 stops in, some plain-clothes ticket inspectors whipped out their badges and asked to see our tickets. Clearly my ticket was not what I thought it was, as my new German brothers didn’t seem too happy about it. I attempted to explain, they just looked at me with stern faces and ushered me onto the platform at the next stop. I apologised and explained that my German isn’t good and I couldn’t see any explanation in English at the ticket machine. Apparently this is not good enough, they proceeded to ask for my id, name and address, when I asked why? I wish I hadn’t as it turns out they were issuing me with a €40 spot fine. For an honest mistake, on my first day in Berlin! No, I wasn’t too chuffed, I refused the option of paying it immediately and asked where I could make a complaint. This really seemed to grease the wheels of our relationship and after a brief discussion, they saw me off into the Berlin sun, with a sarcastic “God Save the Queen”, just to put the icing on our lovely little friendship cake. First day of my honeymoon and it was in danger of ending in tears.

I’m usually very good at remaining positive in the worst situation, but I was struggling with this one. The shock of how I’d been treated and their apparent anti-British sentiments had made me shake, and I wondered if I’d made a big mistake coming here. I found a café and sat reading a copy of ‘Zitty’ (listings magazine) with a coffee, which helped, as I studied the staggering array of dj’s and artists playing over the next 2 weeks – ah now I remember why I came here.

Perhaps Portugal had given me a bit too much confidence about throwing myself into these situations, but it wasn’t proving so easy. The big difference was the language, I was so determined to make the Portugal thing work that I’d been learning Portuguese for almost a year when I finally went out there. I had tried to pick up the broken fragments of my GCSE German skills in my last few weeks in Lisbon, but an English man learning German in Portugal, just didn’t seem right to me. I was a bit unsure where to start in looking for jobs and a place to live and feeling a little high and dry. I came up with a cunning plan and decided to search on Facebook for English speakers living in Berlin, and focused on those that said they were teachers or similar and wrote them a letter requesting help and advice. At times I find my faith in human nature is severely tested these days, but this experience did a lot to restore it as the majority of the people I wrote to responded and were tremendously helpful. I thanked them profusely and continued my quest with renewed confidence and feeling a little less lost and lonely. A few drinks helped too, I had met one of  the guys from my dorm, a French guy called Idir, who said he was heading to a club later if I fancied it. Why not, no job, no place to live, all this progress, I deserve it? The club was a bit commercial for my tastes, but it was kinda fun and the crowd seemed really friendly, possibly linked to the 2 for 1 offer on Becks Gold. I lost Idir late on and after a few laps round the club decided he must have left, so headed back. Woke up on the S-bahn at 6am in Spandau, at the end of the line, so had to get off and wait for the next train back I’m sure a review of some earlier entries would confirm this is not the first time something like this has happened. I figure I have a slight case of narcolepsy, which is a wonderful bed-fellow for my insomnia. You got hand it to the big fella, he has a sense of humour – When I want to sleep, I can’t and when I shouldn’t sleep, I can’t stay awake. A flashback of various incidents of falling asleep at inopportune moments seems to confirm my theory. I mean, How many people have fallen asleep stood up on a nightclub dancefloor before, I have. Amusing though it seems, my girlfriend at the time didn’t think so, and I was rather rudely awoken by the flat of her hand, I guess I could see her point. However, it was a little harder to find the time I fell asleep on Barcelona’s underground and woke up without my wallet, amusing.

It was proving harder than I’d imagined finding somewhere to live and after 10 days of hostel life I was finally moving to place I could call my own for a couple of weeks – I’d arranged a temporary stay in a one-bedroom flat while the owner returned to her native Israel (Oh yeah, think I may have mentioned this in the last quick update entry). Hostel are fine and can even be fun places to stay when you’re travelling or on your jollies, but when you’re flat and job hunting, they’re a little less ideal. It had been fun, but I was more than ready to get out of there.   

My initial doubts about making the right decision were gradually being eroded as Berlin revealed more of itself to me, the more I saw the more I liked. And moving into this new place made a huge difference, not only did I have my own space, but  it was also in a pretty cool, laid back neighbourhood to the north of the centre, Prenzlauer Berg. Not only that but the weekend I moved in was also the weekend of a music conference/festival thing by the name of Popkomm, the line-up was staggering and harsh decisions had to be made, but made they were.

It started on the Thursday night, I’d stayed in touch with Idir from the first hostel I was staying in and he decided to come along. A few drinks round mine before we head out. Idir brought a bottle of vodka and was keen for us to finish it before leaving, oh dear! I was feeling a little merry as we rode the tram to Warschauer Strasse, Idir was feeling a little lass than perky and decided he needed food. The Studio !K7 party I’d opted for wasn’t open yet anyway, so Kebab stop it was. I just settled for a beer. Unfortunately, the Kebab hadn’t had the desired effect and my new French friend decided he wouldn’t make the club, so I headed there myself. Maybe I was a bit more drunk than I had imagined as I had managed to lose my bearings, I headed back to where I though the club was but it seemed to have moved. We’d only gone over the street hadn’t we? After 30 mins of staggering around lost, I finally resorted to asking someone I heard with an English accent, he pointed over my shoulder and over the road, “Just there” he said. Hmmmm, curious. The party had started well but became amazing the minute Henrik Schwarz took over the selections which ushered me into a frenzy of vodka-fuelled dancing! Managed to stumble out of there about 6ish, only to get a U-bahn the wrong way, get one back, get a tram, that I thought would head towards home, but took a sharp right and started heading east out of the city!! Aaargh, ran back from the first stop and finally get the correct tram! Hit my bed around 7.30ish. Good preparation for the following night, Sonar Kollektiv’s 10 year celebration night at a place called Tape.

That night I arrived at a big industrial building that looked like a paper factory type place after following my map, with no evidence that it was the right place apart from a gathering outside it. It was though, and like Charlie Bucket clutching my golden ticket, I headed in. I think the place is pretty new - nice space though, 2 rooms, lots of modern loungey type wooden furnishings and high warehouse ceilings with a serious sound-system. The bigger room was all set up for the bands, and the smaller one had djs playing. I kept switching not wanting to miss the action, but Dixon n Alex Jazzanova were playing in the smaller room, so it was all good. Then the band action started so switched again, checking out Eva Be and the B’s, nice mellow vocal stuff, followed by a bit of Wahoo, before Christian Prommer's Drum Lessons, with no less than three drum kits on stage, the class was set.

I met a nice group of British bods in there - well I say British, English living in Scotland, Scottish living in England and Half German, half Scottish living in London or something like that - was really enjoying their company ‘til they happened to mention they'd been to a place called Tresor last night and then like an icy dagger through the heart, they said Osunlade had played there (Bit of a personal hero, I’d so love to see this guy play - Ouch, this one's gonna bruise!!) Luckily there was a suitable array of distractions to take my mind off it.

A real highlight was Mr Prommer's Ensemble doing a live version of 'Strings of Life' which (to steal a wonderful phrase from Amanda) totally rocked my face off. I could only imagine how could it must have felt to be the keyboard player playing those classic synth chords. After they’d finished,  I dipped into the other room for a while as they started setting up for the Sonar Kollektiv orchestra, a World premiere no less, and it was going off in there - hit the dance floor and seemed to be surrounded by stunning girls wherever I looked. If this was heaven I had well and truly arrived.

Unfortunately heaven had to wait a while, there was no way I was missing this. SKO were just about set up, a few band introductions and we were almost there, bit of a stellar line up too - vocals alone, Lisa Bessange (Micatone), Georg Levin, and the jaw droppingly gorgeous Clara Hill. A string section down the front, brass section to the left, drum kits and keyboards at the hands of various people I should probably have recognised from Jazzanova and the other Sonar Kollektiv groups. Talk about anticipation. Over the next 40 - 60 minutes or so I kinda lost time and got a bit emotional, just reflecting on how I'd first heard of Jazzanova through the Hill brothers and it kinda stuck (see what you’re responsible for Mikey, Peter hmmm – cheers guys!!) Then go full circle and being one of the main reasons for me moving to Berlin, and here I was at the label’s 10th B'day party, with a live group playing Jazzanova's classic tracks, and a smattering of other SK releases, throw in a bit of Deyampert, Levin's "Got Somebody New" and to top it all off one of my desert Island discs "Let your Heart Be Free" to finish on. Thought I was gonna die. But just before I did, it was time to hit the other room, for more music and a bit more shakin’ to finish on - bit hazy by this stage but must have crawled out of there around 5.30 - 6, got on the right tram this time. What could go wrong? Must have nodded off on the tram, as I woke to the announcement that this was the end of the line and I had to "Einsteig Bitte", stepped out into the bright rays of sunlight to discover, I was back exactly where I'd got on in the first place! Aaargh!! This Insomnia - Narcolepsy thing’s a real bitch at times! Forced myself to stay awake by remaining standing on the next tram, and hit the sack at around 7.30am again.

Well here I sit in the flat of an attractive Israeli dancer in the centre of Berlin. Now that’s an interesting start to a blog update is it not? Well it is true, but not quite as tantalising as I may have led you to believe. I’m renting the place for a couple of weeks while the regular inhabitant takes a break back in Israel.

So, I’ve been in Berlin almost 3 weeks now, still no job although I may have finally sorted somewhere to live now, just waiting for confirmation on a place. It’s a room in an apartment that is desperately clinging onto the status of being in Prenzlauer Berg, a pretty cool, chic area to the north of the city centre. Well it took much longer than I expected, but I’m beginning to get settled.  I suppose the main hurdle was the difficulty in finding somewhere to live, particularly as I’m a bit of a perfectionist, so anywhere most certainly will not do. It’s not that there is a lack of properties or vacant rooms it’s just that the market is so vibrant, particularly just before the start of a new academic year. All this makes it a kinda interesting experience finding a place. It was a bit of an eye-opener going to see my first room. Within the 30 minutes I spent there, I met 7 other people who were there to see the room. The guy letting the room and living there was VERY odd, so I never considered it, but it did give me the impression that I was on the start of a long journey. I was later to discover the joys of ‘potential house mate’ parties where people choose to invite everyone interested in a place along at the same time, to see who they’ll click with – I imagine it’s all quite entertaining if you already live there. Some people obviously knew the game and brought beers, I looked on in envy and clutched my beaker of tap-water. Do these people not have kettles, at least stick a brew on! Before I found this place I was living in hostel-land for a whole 9 days. Now hostels aren’t too bad if you’re travelling or even on your jollies, but when you’re not they start to grate after a while. Having said that the social element is a bonus, when you’ve just arrived in a city and the only person you know has gone on holiday (to Portugal funnily enough). I met some good people along the way and some were staying on here, so we’ve stayed in touch – it’s nice to have people in the same boat.

Well I’ll give you a full run-down of the first 3 week’s events in Berlin very soon, and I am aware that there’s quite a gap from my last entry to be filled including my last weeks in Lisbon, trips out of Lisbon and the Anti-pop music festival jaunt, not to forget the entire history of the Boavista Social Club from conception to demise (or is it still going?)

Bye for now……

Thought I’d start today with a possible submission for Viz’s Top-Tips;

“Ladies and homosexuals, save thousands of pounds on expensive skin products, beauty treatments and the like. Simply agree to play in a football tournament in Costa de Caparica, agree to meet at some ridiculous time in the morning, wake up late after a night of partying and forget to take your sun cream. After a couple of hours of playing, exposed to the unforgiving midday sun, you should have achieved a healthy radioactive incandescence. Now simply wait a couple of days, ignoring any laughter – it’s just jealousy. And here comes the science bit, by now your skin should have hardened and flaked slightly to resemble one of those casey balls that scratch your face off when you try an audacious, yet misguided glancing header. Ignore the irritable itching sensation for now, but once the top layer starts to peel, a quick shower and scrub should do the rest. And voila! You have a beautiful layer of baby smooth, shiny skin, without a single penny of your hard earned cash making its way to the pockets of the robbing b@stards who call themselves cosmetics companies, which might just possibly prevent them for inventing new ridiculous faux-latin names for active ingredients like Bifidus Digestivum. One can only hope, but at least you can hold you’re slighty tender but beautifully shiny head held high, knowing you did your bit.”

Arthur Brain , Lisbon  

Apologies for the language, just wanted it to sound authentic, should Viz want to accept my letter, perhaps I will submit it after all. And to quote Alan Partridge “Please don’t write in complaining that that was offensive, it wasn’t.” The only difference being that AP had preceded this, with a string of blatantly offensive discriminatory remarks, whereas the above comments aren’t mine – he’s called Arthur Brain for a start, so who’s the joke on? Ah Memories of the infamous Brass Eye Paedophile episode and ensuing media furore.

Unfortunately however, Arthur’s Top-tip is based on my actual experience. The tender skin doesn’t hurt half as much as the fierce sting of embarrassment at confirming a stereotype. Oh the English abroad, or ‘Bifes’ (Steaks) as the Portuguese like to refer to us as due to our ability of cooking a deep shade of red in the sun. It’s the ‘helpful’ comments that really get to me, yes it was stupid of me to forget my cream, but once I’d forgotten the cream, the dye was cast. Everyone forgets things, but in most cases we don’t have our forgetfulness tattooed all over our faces for 4 days afterwards. Thank God, I’d permanently have a long list of names and birthdays scrawled all over mine.

Ok, so following the festival antics in Coimbra, Santo Antonio in Lisbon was next on the agenda in early June. I volunteered myself for a bit of an ambitious round town, whistle stop tour with Dan and Amanda, hoping to join the rest of the gang back at Bica around midnight. Some people were working but for others it all started in the afternoon. There was a sound system up at the miradouro at Santa Catarina with DJ’s playing from 4pm. They started on time too; I wasn’t there but could feel/ hear the bass from our house. So, I stuffed a few cold beers in a cool bag and wondered up, settling on a bit of grass in the sun, admiring the view over the river. Yeah a pretty blissful afternoon was in store. I popped home after a couple of hours for supplies and dragged Ivana back with me for more of the same, meeting Dali and friends up there. The hours passed pretty quickly and it was soon time for me to leave. I met Dan and Amanda on Avenida Liberdade to the ringing sound of gun fire. Fortunately gun culture hasn’t really arrived in Lisbon yet, it was part of the ‘Marchas Populares’ that were proceeding down Avenida, as processions tend to. A couple of beers and sardines down and we headed for Alfama. Timing was crucial as everyone heads there once the procession finishes, and once you’re stuck in the crowds that’s that. We made it up there in pretty good time, and managed to get more supplies, although they seemed to be adding a special San Antonio-Alfama weighting to the prices. The tough bit was getting back down the hill and across to the Bica, as most of the crowd were still coming up. Fighting against the current was impossible, but there was the odd trickle of people heading down, but getting across the river and into the stream was no mean feat. Finally arrived back at the miradouro, to meet the gang who certainly seemed to have imbibed the party spirit, or had Wendy had it all? When the music finished we tried to meet up with others down in Bica, but that was no walk in the park. Phone calls, text messages, and dodgy directions and drunken misunderstandings are all par for the course and dare I say all part of the fun! Canadian Wendy might not have agreed, despite only being about 100m away from us, it’d all been too much, she gave up, but sounded like she’d had a good night.

Arrived back at home with a  small group in tow for a nice cup of tea at a rather civilised 5am. Thankfully(?) no repeat of last years antics with Nuno and Juan, walking home from Alfama around 9am whipping each other with our t-shirts, like kids in the changing rooms. Nice memories, but you can’t beat a nice ‘cuppa’ can you?

Next up: Sao Joao in Porto, African Music Festivals & the soon-to-be-legendary Boavista Social Club

Also thanks to Emma for convincing me, but I have a new favourite website/ tool-thing, Last fm, which magically, logs what music you are playing on your laptop through media player, i-tunes or whatever, and has it available on your page, with lovely info about events in your area, recommendations, weekly charts, what your friends are listening to, and even a neighbourhood of people with similar tastes. If you’ve got one already, add me as a friend, the link is below. If you haven’t, have a look anyway. I was reluctant too at first.

http://www.last.fm/user/gouldinho  

Toodle Pip!!

-         Hey haven’t seen you in a while.

-         Well no I haven’t been around much really – you see it’s all due to the Apple Juice you know.

-         Apple Juice?! How exactly?

-         Well you remember this one episode about 6 months ago when I spilt it on my laptop.

-         Not really.

-         Oh well anyways, it kinda gave me some un-funny problems with my X key Caps Lock and stuff.

-         Nasty!!

-         Yeah t’was but it went away and everything was fine but then the problem resurfaced, with certain keys working sporadically or not at all, including the space bar, Enter, and half of the bottom line of letters, makes it a bit difficult to type anything really. Funny thing is it’d go away and then come back, bloody gremlins.

Hope that explains the absence, I did discover that the ‘missing keys’ would work if I held down the shift button, but with inherent problems. If I put caps lock then held down shift while I typed, it’d work ok, with the exception of punctuation. I’m sure you have probably realised (probably faster than I did) that this is all getting a bit complex and is a pretty frustrating way to use ones laptop. I just thought it might go away like the other problems did, maybe it will, but I’ve got a new keyboard now anyway.

For once I don’t really have a main theme to write about, which maybe a good thing, I think I was in danger of losing a few people with my recent posts. My Mum said she stopped reading the last one as she didn’t really understand it. So I’ll hold back my rant about marginalisation, isolation and ‘the matrix’ for a little while, but the irony of the fact that my reason not to write it, is the subject of the piece is not lost on me.

So what have I been up to? Well its party season in Portugal, which for me started back in May with a trip to Coimbra for the infamous ‘Queima das Fitas’ student party. Other than hearing about it I knew very little of the event, which was a pretty nice way to discover it. So we (I’d gone along with Evora and a bunch of student friends) arrived in Coimbra and headed up to the main square area where the festivities were already in progress. The first signs of the part that greeted us, other than the masses of people heading in the same direction was the dress of the students, formal black and white topped off with a brightly coloured top hat and matching cane (which resulted in one of the party naming it the Harry Potter party, but I thought it was more Alice in Wonderland).

So how does this thing work? I’d heard rumours about free alcohol, but was a little sceptical. So we wondered into the thick of it, to find a procession of float type things decorated in bright colours and manned by students in aforementioned attire. The floats were designed with a kind of service hatch down each side and people from the crowd would approach the float and be handed a beverage. One brave member of the group went up and managed to come back with a pretty disgusting Malibu and Orange combination - Success? Once we’d realised we could request the drink of our choice, it was a whole different ball game, especially as most of the floats came equipped with fridges. So the next couple of hours ran as follows, walk up to float request beer, follow float and serving person until beer is handed over, retreat to friends, drink cold beer in the sun, watching the spectacle continue, and repeat. But, why only a couple of hours? Well in truth it continued through the afternoon and early evening, but after a couple of hours I was getting hungry, I’d seen a few snacks flying around so tried my luck, asked at the next float and sure enough they produced sandwiches and crisps, at this point I was pretty convinced I was in heaven.

At around 9 (I think), we headed down towards the centre and congregated around another square, handily surrounded by cafes as it appeared the floats were all (finally) out of free booze, all good things…

I’d love to finish this story, but unfortunately my memory doesn’t allow me to accurately, but here’s what I remember. Hung around in the square til about midnight, realised I’d lost Evora and friends. Went to find them in a student bar in the old town, found them, drunk some strange cocktail type thing that seemed nice at the time. Left at some point, think I remember walking up a hill and some stairs in front of a church ‘for a bit of a lie down’. Laid under a tree for a bit of a rest (I’m still not entirely sure this happened, or if I imagined it).I decided to head to the bus station after waking up.  The station was closed, but already there was a queue of bodies forming, so I joined it. Evora and the gang turned up. They opened the back doors of the bus station (ie the ones that we weren’t queuing at). Mayhem ensued, we were still in the queue when they announced the first 3 buses had already been filled, the next was at 11am and it was only 7am. In the mean time I’d got talking to an English girl in the line who was also going back to Lisbon and decided she was gonna try the train station. I decided this was a good idea and jumped into a taxi with her. Turns out it was, within 10 minutes of arriving at the station we were on a train and heading back to Lisbon, just time for a bit of a nap I think, possibly my second, but who knows?