tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65182152482776329422024-03-14T06:16:22.108-04:00Isaac’s “Get Lucky” Tour Blog“Pack up my traveling things, go with the swallows…”Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-90940466916648917462010-08-03T19:17:00.001-04:002013-08-24T17:26:21.681-04:00Updates<p>I don’t know how many of you are reading this now, as the tour is already over and whoever used to check the website for updates would probably never get this.</p> <p>Well, as I said… RSS… email subscription… Technology can help. And it’s <em>free</em>.</p> <p>Anyway.</p> <p>Sitting at the lobby of my hotel in Barcelona (a hotel that promised free Wi‐Fi in the rooms and failed to deliver; which is one of the reasons I started <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=117592511623862">this</a>), I’m going through the comments on my <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/08/last-concert-day-conclusion-festival.html">conclusion post</a> and I’m humbled by it all. I remember waking up yesterday (Monday) morning, looking at my BlackBerry and seeing 12 comments over the course of just a few hours, plus a few private emails; comments and emails kept coming throughout the day, as well as today—and, as I said, all comments are welcome.</p> <p>Thank you all for your support, I really appreciate it.</p> <p>Following some of the comments, as well as a few private emails I received ever since that conclusion post came out, I decided to post another entry with a few, well, updates. Sort of updates. I don’t know how to call it; stuff that was left out.</p> <p>The first thing I’d like to say something about is my impression of a few certain countries I have been to over the last few months. This entire journey has been one hell of an experience, with one of the biggest challenges being having to quickly adjust to new societies, new norms, new habits, new food, new people. I thought it goes without saying, but apparently it doesn’t—so I would like to make it clear: all of my impressions should be taken in perspective, considering the fact that I didn’t have <em>that</em> much time to adjust.</p> <p>Having got used to the convenience and simplicity of living in Canada, obviously some European countries were easier to get adjusted to than others. The difference between Canada and, say, Norway is much easier to “bridge” over than the difference between Canada and Spain, or Hungary. Or Poland. Remember: of all of the European countries I had been to during this trip, only four of them I have already been to before—and even that was for short periods.</p> <p>Every first contact with new culture bears the seeds of some sort of a culture shock, and when you fly through multiple such places over the course of a week, it’s natural to get a bit, well, overwhelmed. My frustration, then, has to be put in context, as it resulted from difficulties of <em>me</em> getting adjusted to the culture. Contrary to what a few people attempted to imply, no, I absolutely don’t dislike Spanish people, or Polish people. I don’t dislike Spain, Poland or any other country. I just described what goes through the head of someone, coming from a totally different background, trying to adjust quickly. That’s all.</p> <p>Fact is, I <em>am</em> right now in Spain, spending a few days here before returning home this coming Friday. Just had the opportunity to explore a bit of Barcelona over the last two days and I tell you this is one hell of a beautiful city—when you <em>know where to go</em>. Hell, I even had a good breakfast here yesterday, and a good lunch today!</p> <p>So… No hard feelings, alright? Proportions, please.</p> <p>Next, about the book. I received quite a few emails from people interested in hearing more details—that’s great news. I’m going to dive head‐first into this as soon as I’m back home, talk to publishers and maybe even try <em>lulu.com</em> (thanks Arthur!). Details will be sent by email, as well as posted in this blog.</p> <p>Next: A song. Someone mentioned that I should write a song about it all, myself being a guitar player and all. Well, not many of you may know this but I did get my hands on some recording equipment very shortly before going on the tour. There <em>will</em> be something composed—maybe not a song, maybe an instrumental, we’ll see. I have a few ideas already and will make the time to realize them. Warning: you <em>may</em> dislike it immensely.</p> <p>And now, to address a few comments from that last post as well as comments from the <em>Kill to Get Crimson</em> tour’s last post. The fact that the tour is over is by no means a reason for me to shut up. At the moment, I actually have three blogs: the <em>Kill to Get Crimson</em> blog (inactive, but still online); the <em>Get Lucky</em> blog (from now on, will only contain posts related to the book I’m going to publish); and my all‐purpose blog. That last one is called “<em>The Way I See It</em>” and it can be found here:</p> <p><a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com">http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com</a></p> <p>It will go through some redesign over the next few days. I usually write there only when I travel, but I have recently decided to write a bit more. What about? I don’t know. You may find lots of things there. I’ll write about whatever I feel like, and it’s not always going to be smart. Or interesting. It may even contain some technology and programming stuff—who knows. I will use <em>tags</em> in order to categorize posts. So, you’re welcome to subscribe to the RSS feeds:</p> <p><a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/feeds/posts/default">http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/feeds/posts/default</a> (for posts)</p> <p><a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/feeds/comments/default">http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/feeds/comments/default</a> (for all comments)</p> <p>(Both links are also available as buttons in the blog’s page itself, see the right‐hand sidebar)</p> <p>And, as always, comments are welcome.</p> <p>Thanks again for your support, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-7514272590066374472010-08-01T20:12:00.001-04:002013-09-10T18:06:34.339-04:00Last Concert Day & Conclusion: Festival Músicos en la Naturaleza, Hoyos del Espino (Gredos), Spain (July 31, 2010)<p>Woke up for the last day in the tour in mixed emotions. The sense of upcoming accomplishment was very exciting and fulfilling, but the knowledge that this is the <em>last day</em> of this tour was extremely, extremely saddening. And here’s a thought: I’ve been travelling mostly alone for the last four months, and sensing the end was very hard for me; therefore, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for the band members, each having to go their own way after four months of bonding.</p> <p>It was a brilliant sunny & pleasant morning in Bilbao when I checked out of my hotel and proceeded to the hotel right nearby, waiting for the airport bus to arrive. Saturday mornings are very quiet at 8:30am, and being Bilbao such a beautiful city, this looked like some sort of a haven I’d really like to spend more time in. Alas, my <em>Spanair</em> flight was scheduled to depart at 11:00am; I’ll save something for my next visit.</p> <p>Quick bus ride, and arrived at Bilbao’s tiny airport fifteen minutes later, about two hours prior to departure. Having learned the lesson from the luggage fiasco a few days before, I reorganized stuff so I can ensure extremely important items are with me on‐board. Once I was done, I was perfectly fine with kissing this backpack goodbye until I’m back home in Toronto.</p> <p>A quick glance at the departure table; flight as been delayed by an hour. No biggie, I thought, and went to the check‐in line.</p> <p>I guess air‐travel in Spain can’t go through without some aggravation, and the last day of the tour was no exception. Approaching the check‐in counters, I discovered that <em>Spanair</em> has two desks: one for regular passengers, having a line‐up of about the entire population of Bilbao, and another adjacent desk labelled for “Star Alliance Gold” members who receive the benefit of quick check‐in. Only one attendant there, serving both booths. I was very annoyed as I checked‐in online the night before and all I had to do was to tag my luggage.</p> <p>As I noticed that things aren’t going to be moving quickly at all, I suddenly noticed one tall fellow attempting to use an automated machine, right by the desk, to scan his i‐Fail. Approached and spoke to him: well, that machine had a sign on it explaining what it’s for—in Spanish only. Apparently what that machine does is scan the barcode from your online boarding pass and prints the luggage tags for you.</p> <p>The question that remained was, then, once the luggage is tagged, where do I put my luggage? He pointed me at the LCD screen above the “Star Alliance Gold” desk. That screen contained all bunch of logos and promos: “Star Alliance… Gold… Premier Class…” and so forth, and the word “drop‐off” was printed there among all those marketing slogans in a font so small that you really had to stand very close to it in order to read.</p> <p>The guy went on to tell me that the reason for the delay is a quasi‐strike going on in Madrid airport. Instead of declaring a formal strike, half of the flight controllers in Madrid airport decided to announce themselves (to a doctor, who in turn provided them with a note) “sick”.</p> <p>No luck for the nice tall guy with the machine; tried my luck—the barcode wouldn’t scan. So now what, am I going to wait for the entire population of Bilbao to check‐in?</p> <p>“<em>THIS IS SPAIN</em>”, the voice kept ringing at the back of my head. This is, indeed, Spain; when in Rome, be a Roman—and when in Spain, apparently you have to behave Spanish otherwise you won’t get bloody anywhere. Went to the fancy booth with the slogans and explained that I worked very hard last night (about 2 minutes in front of my computer) to save time at check‐in, and I shouldn’t be responsible for their barcode machines breaking down. Didn’t have to say anything more than that—the lady checked me in, emergency exit row and everything.</p> <p><em>Good!</em> Then walked to security, passed, and I’m by the gates. Still some time to departure so why not eat anything? A cured ham sandwich (I’m telling you, I had so many of those dry disgusting baguettes with ham inside while in Spain, that I don’t want to see a baguette for the rest of my life) and another sandwich over Spanish tortilla, ridiculous coffee and I sat down to consume yet another disappointing Spanish meal.</p> <p>As I was taking another miserable bite off a miserable sandwich, I received an email from <em>orbitz.com</em> (through which I purchased the flight) that there’s yet another delay and my flight is scheduled to depart at 1:00pm now—that’s two hours after the original departure time.</p> <p>Like a machine, my mind started sorting through the options. It is absolutely amazing how the mind gets adjusted to deal with such circumstances after one is presented with such challenges so often—having said that, it wasn’t any less stressful than before.</p> <ul> <li>Checked alternative flights: maybe flying from Bilbao to Barcelona and take a train? A flight was available, but a quick check of the train schedule revealed that I won’t be in Madrid before 7:00pm. <em>Fail</em>. </li> <li>I remembered two lovely individuals who suggested to give me a ride from Bilbao to Gredos—David and Pierre; called David—he’s already near Gredos; emailed Pierre—no response. <em>Fail</em>. </li> <li>Just leave the airport, rent a car and drive to Gredos: <em>Hertz</em> was the only one with a car available. $286 (!) for a one‐way rental, one day. Not including fuel and stuff. Didn’t strike that one out, but kept seeking other alternatives. </li> <li>Should Jeroen (who arrived in Madrid early morning) drive all the way to Bilbao and then we drive together to Gredos? That’s a 4:30 hours detour; I’m convinced, though, that had that been the only option, he would do it. Anyway, <em>Fail</em>. </li> <li>Hitch‐hike south? I don’t speak Spanish and I wasn’t in the mood to be stuck in a car with a random individual who may choose to throw me out at any time. <em>Fail</em>. </li> <li>Taxi‐cab half‐way towards Madrid, and meet Jeroen there? would cost less than a one‐way rental car. On to the “possible alternatives” cart. </li> </ul> <p>Computing all of that information took a few minutes, after which I reached a decision: if the flight does not leave by 2:00pm, I’m renting a car and meeting Jeroen in Gredos. On to the phone with one of the only three people in the entire world whom I would trust to perform a thorough evaluation in cases like these—well, that would be Jeroen himself. Two minutes to perform cost / benefit / risk calculation and we arrived at the same conclusion. We also decided that, as soon as my flight departs, Jeroen should go to the car‐rental counter and do whatever it is that’s needed to be done to get the car, in order to save time. Good.</p> <p>(I’m feeling like I’m writing a script for some action movie; sorry about that. Just describing what went through my head)</p> <p>Boarding time was scheduled for 12:25pm; I kept watching the departures board anxiously—by 12:05pm, twenty minutes to boarding, still no gate was assigned for the flight. Screen flickered; another change—delay of additional 3 minutes. OK that’s fine.</p> <p>Down to the gate, still following things closely to ensure we’re departing on time. Boarding went fast and smooth, airplane started taxiing around. We’re departing. Good, we’re one step closer.</p> <p>Flight went without any incidents except for the end. I was working away on my laptop blogging, and time came to pack everything as we started descending towards Madrid. Flight attended comes over and speaks in a soft sexy voice—“please turn it off”.</p> <p>Sure, darling. Hit the button on my Netbook which immediately obeyed and entered standby mode. As I was picking the Netbook up in order to insert it into the sleeve, the flight attended bugged me again.</p> <p>– “Please turn it off”, she said in a much less sexy voice.</p> <p>– “I did”, I replied the obvious.</p> <p>– “(Pointing at the blinking blue led indicating the Netbook is on standby state) So what is this?”</p> <p>– “That’s the standby indicator”, I said. I’m always happy to teach and mentor.</p> <p>– “So turn it off”, came the bark.</p> <p>I was a bit confused.</p> <p>– “You must be kidding me, aren’t you?”, I said.</p> <p>– “No, I am not kidding. It has to be turned off, not on standby”, the lady retorted, and then left.</p> <p>OK so there are two angles to look at this story. The obvious one would be to challenge the sub‐stupid instruction demanding devices such as a laptop to be completely turned off, rather than on standby (obviously I’m not complaining about the flight‐attendant, but rather about whoever instructed her). The difference between the two modes is completely irrelevant to flight safety (Bill, if you’re reading this, how about commenting with some info? If I made a stupid statement, please mock me).</p> <p>That obscenely‐brainless instruction is very new to me and I only encountered it here in Spain, along with the yet another absolutely stupid requirement that smart‐phones must be turned off <em>completely</em>—“flight‐mode” is not sufficiently “safe”.</p> <p>I could barely stop myself from inquiring the flight attendant whether she bothered asking each and every passenger to look through their carry‐on baggage and remove the batteries from any battery‐operated device they may have (as long as the battery is attached to the device, it’s pretty much identical to having a laptop on standby). I would be delighted to see a few blushing female faces on board.</p> <p>But I did (stop myself, that is).</p> <p>The other angle you can look at this story from is wider and has something to do with human behaviour. It seems like, in many areas of life, things keep being more and more “restrictive”. There are a few reasons for that—one of which is unrelated to this story but is just as annoying (extraneous attempts to “please everybody” in order to avoid confrontation. “Political Correctness”, that is. What a shitty concept); the one that is relevant here though is the theory that claims that “in order to have people obey all necessary restrictions, you have to impose stringer ones” (or: “aim high in order to get acceptable results”). This shift in the way the masses are “handled” is very worrying and I doubt I’m the only one who’s more than a bit annoyed by it.</p> <p>So yes, all of that went through my head in just under two minutes as I returned my laptop to the sleeve, then back to the overhead cabin and sat down waiting for touching ground. We finally touched ground at 2:00pm.</p> <p>Down at the luggage hall, waiting by the belt, I was happy that I made it on time. I knew Jeroen was already waiting outside; the sign above the luggage belt showed that our luggage is just about to arrive.</p> <p>Will you believe me that it took about 45 minutes (!) for that fucking belt to start rolling? That’s like an hour after the airplane parked at the gate. People there started losing their nerves and calling all sorts of attendants who could not (or did not want) to do the slightest thing about it. It was at that point when I decided that, unless under extreme conditions, I will never, ever fly in Spain again.</p> <p>The backpack finally arrived; one minute to hook stuff up together and I stormed out of the hall. Was so good to see Jeroen there and, I’m telling you folks, the knowledge of going to see the final show with this guy was worth <em>tons</em> for me.</p> <p>We rushed through the terminal on our way to pick‐up the car; Jeroen told me that it took him 45 minutes (!) to get his car—the result of a line‐up as well as extreme inefficiency of the attendants. Good thing we saved a lot of time. Off to the car—unfortunately, not a convertible this time (that would cost €300 for a day!), but rather a somewhat disgraceful compact car. All luggage in, ignition on.</p> <p>In a snap, memories of the North American tour kept flashing in my mind. Last time we shared a car was when crossing North America together a few months ago, attending all North American shows. We both share vivid memories of that fantastic tour—dubbed by Jeroen “the best trip I ever had in my life”. The act of driving together to see the last show on the tour was rather symbolic: a perfect closure.</p> <p>GPS turned on; set the destination to <em>Hoyos del Espino</em>, and then added <em>Ávila</em> as a via‐point to see how much time it would add to the ride. <em>Ávila</em> is the closest sizable city to <em>Hoyos del Espino</em>, and is where I booked our hotel for the night—we wanted to see whether checking into the hotel imposes any substantial delays. Answer: 4 minutes. Good. We will check in before going to the venue.</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel, checked in, uploaded my <em>Bilbao</em> blog post. A deep breath; final preparations and off we went—driving to <em>Hoyos del Espino</em>, for the last concert this tour. Time: 5:00pm, about 2:30 hours before <em>markknopfler.com early entry</em> privilege. Time to destination: about 40 minutes.</p> <p>Perfect.</p> <hr /> <p>The concert’s announcement used the expression “Gredos (Ávila)” as the location. That was actually misleading: <em>Gredos</em> is not a town, it’s actually the name of a mountain range (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sierra_de_Gredos">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sierra_de_Gredos</a>); Ávila is the closest sizable city to where the concert was to take place. The venue itself was in a town named <em>Hoyos del Espino</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoyos_del_Espino)">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoyos_del_Espino)</a>—a town boasting some 451 inhabitants (as of 2004; yeah, that’s the latest info I have from Wikipedia). Yes, that’s 451. Four hundred and fifty one people live there, while 10,000 people were expected to attend the concert. You do the math.</p> <p>The road from Ávila to <em>Hoyos del Espino</em> is pretty at times, but most of the time it is sort‐of like a slightly‐upgraded version of Arizona. Semi‐green desert, with nice mountains on the horizon.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6FqTwOHzvUU/Ui-XL4MYZhI/AAAAAAAAdcU/ORSbc8KgFfs/s1600-h/P1030316.jpg"><img title="P1030316" style="display: inline" alt="P1030316" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fYJh9GdODGM/Uhkj81P4MsI/AAAAAAAAdcc/FoITXAUPSyw/P1030316_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-K7ywRwtvH2Y/Uhkj9YkgYWI/AAAAAAAAdck/B4nIOKQwVE8/s1600-h/P1030318.jpg"><img title="P1030318" style="display: inline" alt="P1030318" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MWvRT0JQ04c/Uhkj94itQpI/AAAAAAAAdcs/oIDWW7EVx1c/P1030318_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WuBYwzQ9nss/Uhkj-bPTSMI/AAAAAAAAdc0/RwEOmXoAZLY/s1600-h/P1030319.jpg"><img title="P1030319" style="display: inline" alt="P1030319" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XP-D22z3CB0/Uhkj-2DESII/AAAAAAAAdc8/jFWmUjGwWYs/P1030319_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As you get closer to the mountains, you start seeing more and more tiny towns and villages—I’d be surprised if any of those has its population exceeding a few hundreds. The roads become narrower, winding at times—at least, it was for us as the GPS guided us through some detours (there were significant differences between the GPS’s instructions and <em>Google Maps</em>’ instructions). At some point, we started doubting whether we’re at the right place at all; but after a while, we finally entered <em>Hoyos del Espino</em> and started seeing more people activity. Yes, we’re at the right place; made it to the concert on time.</p> <p>Parking was a breeze, for the sole reason that we arrived early (after the concert, as we left the venue, we realized what mayhem it must have been getting to the venue later). I was starving (having had just that one poor sandwich at the airport in the morning), Jeroen too so as soon as we picked‐up the tickets, we went for food. What’s for sale? Of course! Yet more fucking Bocadillos, with the “traditional” fillings of sausage, ham or cheese. €4 for an ugly sandwich—not just because I’m damn sick and tired of this poor excuse for “eating” but also because the baguette was so dry and repulsive that I would challenge whoever would dare calling this “food”. Alas, it is what it is, that’s what we have here.</p> <p>With disgusting baguettes in our hands, we started walking down the path towards the venue. Not a lot of people there—two line‐ups, one for general admission and one for <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket owners.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RBqUiw-CPYU/Uhkj_f608zI/AAAAAAAAddE/SUI6-9VokC4/s1600-h/P1030321.jpg"><img title="P1030321" style="display: inline" alt="P1030321" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nU1YYuKsQCc/Uhkj_3qOpkI/AAAAAAAAddM/QrkguNUQ03s/P1030321_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There were about 5–10 people in front of us at the <em>markknopfler.com</em> line‐up; we had nothing better to do so we hanged around there. <em>Mikel Camps</em> was in the premises and it was good seeing him, as always. A few minutes later, we were greeted by a very nice chap who came up with an idea: since we’re not going to be too many people at the <em>markknopfler.com</em> line‐up, why not prepare a list, ordered by time of arrival, and then people can just go about their ways without having to be stuck in the sun?</p> <p>Good idea. Apparently, he already had such a list so he added Jeroen & myself to it. Number 18 & 19. We then started discussing between ourselves the viability of such an idea from a scientific and behaviouristic angle, brushing on a few concepts for <em>Queue Theory</em> and human behaviour in tribal environments (you may be surprised to know how fascinated I am with human behaviour, especially when you can correlate it to scientific measures. You didn’t see that coming, now did you). In a nutshell, we concluded that such a system can work if and only if all humanoids in the line‐up adhere to it, and there is some sort of a boundary on the number of people, beyond which this system is bound to fail.</p> <p>At the meantime I was recognized by a few fans there; discussions started about how the hell did I manage to attend all shows in the tour, plus the unavoidable question that is <em>so consistently asked</em> and <em>so consistently ignored by me</em> regarding my income. It beats the living shit out of me why would people think that <em>money</em> is the biggest problem in such a journey, while the true biggest hurdle is one’s inner self.</p> <p>Nice chaps, anyway.</p> <p>7:35pm, <em>Mikel</em> arrived at the gates and we started marching in, making our way towards the entrance. I was amazed by the fact that we all, more or less, preserved our order. Of all countries I’ve been to so far, Spain was the last one I’d expect such a system to work in (OK, I’m lying: it would probably fail much earlier in <em>Israel</em>). Another ticket‐check at the entrance to the venue, the usual run towards the stage and we captured my favourite location: the right‐hand side of the stage, between Mark and Richard.</p> <p>Now that we were in, things started to feel more “real”. Yes, I am going to watch the last concert in this tour; and despite all hurdles, I did, indeed, make it to <em>all of them</em>.</p> <p>A short bathroom break before the public enters the venue; took pictures from my way to the WC and back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7JoadJxmT_M/UhkkAV2fNJI/AAAAAAAAddU/iURrUIhhTPI/s1600-h/P1030322.jpg"><img title="P1030322" style="display: inline" alt="P1030322" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--2TzII-kB8A/UhkkBDD6irI/AAAAAAAAddc/sl3mqhBWftw/P1030322_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9T5kslgixjY/UhkkBhP7ndI/AAAAAAAAddk/KFtCLpEEpfQ/s1600-h/P1030323.jpg"><img title="P1030323" style="display: inline" alt="P1030323" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OVD9QL0Ih9s/UhkkCMG1lAI/AAAAAAAAdds/sZwpRyc5_0c/P1030323_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vyySeQGGNjk/UhkkCRbv5zI/AAAAAAAAdd0/rO_H8CxmTsI/s1600-h/P1030324.jpg"><img title="P1030324" style="display: inline" alt="P1030324" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ryak3a7QBYk/UhkkC9WP6pI/AAAAAAAAdd8/k1K4OYrSnhM/P1030324_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sqJetmTRzj4/UhkkDn6qGgI/AAAAAAAAdeE/V0mRD4YPDr4/s1600-h/P1030325.jpg"><img title="P1030325" style="display: inline" alt="P1030325" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hoj6XwIxszw/UhkkEPfxRaI/AAAAAAAAdeM/QsZ5aJCyxtU/P1030325_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>(The small stage you see at the last picture was for the secondary act—a band called <em>Baby Arizona</em>. The way this night worked as that Mark’s performance was actually a warm‐up for <em>Baby Arizona</em> who captured the stage at around 12:00am. OK, you know I’m kidding)</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ChrlonVC8sU/UhkkEVmwl-I/AAAAAAAAdeU/r4SN-MqMj2U/s1600-h/img_2804.jpg"><img title="img_2804" style="display: inline" alt="img_2804" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--TggXSM67ms/UhkkE26B2DI/AAAAAAAAdec/bZt1o2eou98/img_2804_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B2ByDzF2baU/UhkkFfSdgVI/AAAAAAAAdek/EhS9N8GNx84/s1600-h/img_2805.jpg"><img title="img_2805" style="display: inline" alt="img_2805" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-d0965GYE35Q/UhkkFkEeuwI/AAAAAAAAdes/bYA_hZCs85A/img_2805_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sHozA79dsV8/UhkkGWWzUUI/AAAAAAAAde0/LE9T6OvcKkI/s1600-h/img_2807.jpg"><img title="img_2807" style="display: inline" alt="img_2807" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uWI7pDZOm-M/UhkkG2MJ_kI/AAAAAAAAde8/YGiaMZP186c/img_2807_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to my location and I was immediately recognized by yet another group of fans. I had no idea that my name made it all the way there, and I was humbled by the number of people who knew of this little trip I’ve been doing. Many thanks to all of you.</p> <p>And then… It started.</p> <p>First came the very same guy who handed me the pack of “Local Crew” shirts in Albany, and who recognized me later in Denmark unbelieving that I made it all the way there. I’m pretty sure that guy is at a management capacity within the crew. He came by, shook my hand and expressed complete amazement and appreciation to the fact that I made it to every single show. Cheers mate… I told you so. :-)</p> <p>Minutes later, a familiar figure appears. <em>Tim Hook</em>, Mark’s tour manager, came by and introduced himself and we had a pleasant chat. Turned out he has actually been following this blog; I thanked him dearly as I shared some of the struggles I have had over the last four months. He then mentioned to me that he knows how I’m suffering with food in Spain, and asked me if I’d like to eat something; as I am not programmed to say “no” to food, he went back to bring a plate of goodies with a bottle of water—not before I asked him to kindly send my regards to the band and thank them dearly in my name, if I will not get the chance to do so personally. I was happy he agreed.</p> <p>There I stood consuming the plate when <em>Guy Fletcher</em> appeared on the stage, out of nowhere, with his camera, pointed at me and took a shot of me consuming some food. I wouldn’t be surprised if you find one of those shots in his diary entry.</p> <p>That little turn of events seemed to have caused some eyebrows to be raised around. It wasn’t long before <em>Danny Cummings</em>, <em>Guy Fletcher</em> and <em>John McCusker</em> came by. Was very happy to see them, as we had a short chat about it all, as well as the day after. Hugs with everybody and another close‐up photo by Guy, which may find its way to his diary, and I bid the trio goodbye. Excited and humbled I was, folks.</p> <p>9:00pm arrived and it was <em>so good to see Pieta Brown & Bo Ramsey</em> on stage again. They flew‐in to Spain to be the opening act for the last concert in the tour, after being the opening‐act for Mark Knopfler throughout North America. So many memories crept in from the North American travel, as I hummed along with the music.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qpYY9YnQO8E/UhkkHZSF48I/AAAAAAAAdfE/uPUV1qZRR08/s1600-h/img_2808.jpg"><img title="img_2808" style="display: inline" alt="img_2808" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EdMkpbtJ72w/UhkkH6oxCwI/AAAAAAAAdfM/-oyKeBhG5MI/img_2808_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yot1tCSXvE8/UhkkIewUIZI/AAAAAAAAdfU/yJ0oSo1BLsA/s1600-h/img_2809.jpg"><img title="img_2809" style="display: inline" alt="img_2809" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jEwbEtduGVg/UhkkI7Nb0GI/AAAAAAAAdfc/iUE99m74awY/img_2809_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mcpmLHuyOU4/UhkkJcuIa6I/AAAAAAAAdfk/c9fpVSZFrf0/s1600-h/img_2810.jpg"><img title="img_2810" style="display: inline" alt="img_2810" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ytvoca_3o3c/UhkkJzNwvaI/AAAAAAAAdfs/t5YPFPFrrAI/img_2810_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_NuxlYDEUQ4/UhkkKYCr1ZI/AAAAAAAAdf0/KA2QFp8TxqY/s1600-h/img_2812.jpg"><img title="img_2812" style="display: inline" alt="img_2812" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-iF2aRNs0QvI/UhkkK3BkpaI/AAAAAAAAdf8/5y-CFpIyI9U/img_2812_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bVjnqHlBkg0/UhkkLp-4kPI/AAAAAAAAdgE/GJBC-w6D_3Q/s1600-h/img_2814.jpg"><img title="img_2814" style="display: inline" alt="img_2814" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PG89ELO8Si4/UhkkMBH-rrI/AAAAAAAAdgM/HTDvrnrst3o/img_2814_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MIj9j57quPs/UhkkMeCE23I/AAAAAAAAdgU/n7Q_BZJNtzY/s1600-h/img_2817.jpg"><img title="img_2817" style="display: inline" alt="img_2817" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1tnkLERMmNs/UhkkM7-0F3I/AAAAAAAAdgc/wJcBOEcCtis/img_2817_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Half an hour into their set, I noticed <em>Peter McKay</em> establishing eye‐contact with me and then gesturing with his hand “later”. As he disappeared, Jeroen told me that he was holding something in his hand. I concluded that he was going to come over but didn’t realize that the opening‐act wasn’t done yet.</p> <p>A minute after <em>Pieta Brown</em> and <em>Bo Ramsey</em> left the stage, <em>Paul Crockford</em>—Mark Knopfler’s personal manager—came by and gave me this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-BHErkrC3NZk/UhkkNQSPYKI/AAAAAAAAdgk/p1dA1-y1tcQ/s1600-h/P1030330.jpg"><img title="P1030330" style="display: inline" alt="P1030330" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dR7SwLf6mxs/UhkkOADO-0I/AAAAAAAAdgs/K50hUJNx_M0/P1030330_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Contrary to what <em>some</em> people initially thought, this is not a tray. This is a drumhead and I suppose you could figure out who the signatures belong to. What a lovely present! I shook Paul’s hand with lots of gratitude and wished him all the best.</p> <p>I was humbled by the gesture as people all around showed immense interest in what was going on. Some took pictures of the incidence, of the drumhead, of myself, of myself plus a beautiful lady who wanted to take a picture… An entire ordeal.</p> <p>Looking around, the sun has already set. Beautiful surroundings:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Pj1HISc1OxY/UhkkOnHq7_I/AAAAAAAAdg0/-kgoQFTs0W8/s1600-h/img_2820.jpg"><img title="img_2820" style="display: inline" alt="img_2820" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fTnLYCI47YQ/UhkkPM7Z85I/AAAAAAAAdg8/KkNE8tRHqCU/img_2820_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Ten minutes later, <em>Feelin’ Good</em> started playing for the last time this tour; the band captured the stage and the sound emitted off the 10,000+ mouths behind me and to my side was deafening. The last show… has just begun.</p> <hr /> <p>The concert in <em>Gredos</em> is now yet another concert entering the pantheon of <em>best concerts in the tour</em>. A totally explosive concert that blew pretty much everyone’s minds off—<em>Toronto</em>‐ and <em>Locarno</em>‐style. Identical setlist to the night before in Bilbao, but as good as the Bilbao concert was, this concert in Gredos was better.</p> <p>The band itself: None of them looked as if there are 86 concerts behind them—they played as enthusiastically as if this was the first concert in the tour. The last concert in the tour being one of the best is a phenomenon not stranger to me—the concert in <em>Miami Beach</em>, sealing the <em>Kill to Get Crimson</em> tour, was one of the best concerts in the North American leg in my opinion (I didn’t attend any European concert back then). I suppose the mixed feelings of saying goodbye to each other while finishing such a good tour brought out the best of each and every one of them.</p> <p>The audience: of the best ones. Behind me, a group of youngsters (I’d be surprised if any of them is over 18 years old) were singing, dancing, jumping in the air… and the audience all around this huge beautiful venue matched. A great concert under clear sky, perfect weather and energy bursting out of the stage every second—what else could one ask for?</p> <p><em>Border Reiver</em>, the song that, before the tour, I had wished would open the show. A perfect starter to throw the audience off balance.</p> <p><em>What It Is</em>, of my favourites; the instrumental bridge before the outro solo has been one of the sections I always looked forward to, as it evolved during the tour. Over time, Mike & John got their duet to a level of perfection; listening to this while in blue mood would definitely make one shed some tears.</p> <p><em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, a song that has a very special meaning for me which I will now expose: listening to this song, along with reading Robert M. Pirsig’s “<em>Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance</em>”—together, some time between 2001–2002 when I just “discovered” Mark’s solo career—brought out the wanderlust in me. It’s <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> and its story of exploration—with a mini‐story of a young man who was seeking a bit more than what he was cut out to do—which inspired me to fly 10,000km west in search for better life.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PFnVZBmqXR4/UhkkPx2B33I/AAAAAAAAdhE/x3OyY7GOqmA/s1600-h/img_2823.jpg"><img title="img_2823" style="display: inline" alt="img_2823" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YvksvKMEOtA/UhkkQByl3BI/AAAAAAAAdhM/1DYA1XVeFu4/img_2823_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-EIvY8Id-r14/UhkkQkmV_HI/AAAAAAAAdhU/yKRMHfU96NQ/s1600-h/img_2824.jpg"><img title="img_2824" style="display: inline" alt="img_2824" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Wy5bumucA-U/UhkkRMOLo9I/AAAAAAAAdhc/_63h4apQwzU/img_2824_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oTdK4HrTJU8/UhkkRhfJgLI/AAAAAAAAdhk/Y0yjaSqo2zc/s1600-h/img_2825.jpg"><img title="img_2825" style="display: inline" alt="img_2825" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LM8--xLCBlg/UhkkSFhDtDI/AAAAAAAAdhs/AeGsNpTMpyQ/img_2825_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Coyote</em>, a fun song that sounds so much better live than in the CD that I doubt I’ll ever listen to the CD version again. Same goes for <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em>, featuring an almost‐weeping guitar tone at the outro solo;</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dzf8tlSVAFE/UhkkSuP2yhI/AAAAAAAAdh0/gIoaEgzzhqs/s1600-h/img_2826.jpg"><img title="img_2826" style="display: inline" alt="img_2826" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gdRVCY3HffA/UhkkTFZ1jEI/AAAAAAAAdh8/zPBeBax453M/img_2826_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, which was played in each and every Mark Knopfler concert I have ever been to—while at times I grew a bit tired of it, still is a beautiful song and the arrangement the band’s been working with works wonders.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-b8vEBdA5NAo/UhkkTmIk6eI/AAAAAAAAdiE/7iYMAwd5W48/s1600-h/img_2829.jpg"><img title="img_2829" style="display: inline" alt="img_2829" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gqHluDBSecs/UhkkUCbDNPI/AAAAAAAAdiM/PzVjD8Kv6oY/img_2829_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gjr8sbxfg_c/UhkkUdwpf-I/AAAAAAAAdiU/KkMWIBxcm_Y/s1600-h/img_2831.jpg"><img title="img_2831" style="display: inline" alt="img_2831" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OVaXDzt4rKI/UhkkU_Nc_NI/AAAAAAAAdiY/njYdzoExV04/img_2831_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Sultans of Swing</em>, another song that was played in each Mark Knopfler concert I ever attended, is the ultimate cheer‐squeezing song. Almost without exception, the loudest cheers in every concert followed this song.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bqfEm_ed2zs/UhkkVEyBOkI/AAAAAAAAdik/GnoQBmF0lYk/s1600-h/img_2837.jpg"><img title="img_2837" style="display: inline" alt="img_2837" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zR6-kvqncgc/UhkkVk08pUI/AAAAAAAAdis/a6-sRf3nW0A/img_2837_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WcRq2EHSvw4/UhkkWPmje1I/AAAAAAAAdi0/YbgXtmpImUA/s1600-h/img_2838.jpg"><img title="img_2838" style="display: inline" alt="img_2838" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hUVDGid08Pk/UhkkWq40lkI/AAAAAAAAdi8/5avaImIZd2Q/img_2838_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cxHFKJmy3hM/UhkkXHcejRI/AAAAAAAAdjE/pKjjU1ZY6oM/s1600-h/img_2839.jpg"><img title="img_2839" style="display: inline" alt="img_2839" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qQphyNBzPGQ/UhkkXaX6JmI/AAAAAAAAdjM/zsK4EyCYa3w/img_2839_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_5t-ztWEd0A/UhkkXzNjdII/AAAAAAAAdjU/PyECstXNAD8/s1600-h/img_2840.jpg"><img title="img_2840" style="display: inline" alt="img_2840" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TZpF0IvtqwM/UhkkYDZnmUI/AAAAAAAAdjY/8UHZhkdpFW8/img_2840_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>For the last time this tour—band members’ introduction (I guess Jeroen wasn’t quick enough when Richard’s turn came up):</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-w5X2YwiUb3s/UhkkYy5wF8I/AAAAAAAAdjk/pUm-EhuX-q0/s1600-h/img_2841.jpg"><img title="img_2841" style="display: inline" alt="img_2841" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5z5wYXPHyo8/UhkkZZYerdI/AAAAAAAAdjo/6MM9gc-CH3Q/img_2841_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-IqAKI0VM0v4/UhkkZkbAnAI/AAAAAAAAdj0/Y1N_sHfVE1Y/s1600-h/img_2842.jpg"><img title="img_2842" style="display: inline" alt="img_2842" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Z6DBvidzMu8/UhkkaJUBTEI/AAAAAAAAdj8/t7bSRS7g9gQ/img_2842_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_XMTkiq1N_o/UhkkahTHPWI/AAAAAAAAdkE/2Lnfh5SpwrQ/s1600-h/img_2843.jpg"><img title="img_2843" style="display: inline" alt="img_2843" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UPqWq3sb04c/Uhkka76uU7I/AAAAAAAAdkM/HXFTwsLO6JI/img_2843_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VA_AuX-k_1Q/Uhkkbu6mQVI/AAAAAAAAdkU/l_iacgD3KMU/s1600-h/img_2844.jpg"><img title="img_2844" style="display: inline" alt="img_2844" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jgCkYBnR71A/Uhkkb5e5vWI/AAAAAAAAdkc/1pjAEVUNvfQ/img_2844_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_lLuEhoOTS8/UhkkcWWJF6I/AAAAAAAAdkk/TozQqgI97oY/s1600-h/img_2845.jpg"><img title="img_2845" style="display: inline" alt="img_2845" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TEUcGEz3AXg/Uhkkc6iIEWI/AAAAAAAAdks/aQW6CvKOYNg/img_2845_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vbFJNZY3xvo/UhkkdMMVwMI/AAAAAAAAdk0/BCmEQ4qOIxc/s1600-h/img_2846.jpg"><img title="img_2846" style="display: inline" alt="img_2846" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bU1Qi73EM2s/UhkkdoMFa2I/AAAAAAAAdk8/BufD7wb6_kk/img_2846_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Wf_iQIUFH10/UhkkeOhbl5I/AAAAAAAAdlE/tjai2KFHIwA/s1600-h/img_2847.jpg"><img title="img_2847" style="display: inline" alt="img_2847" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2qkkYk4Q5FI/UhkkenggQFI/AAAAAAAAdlM/luCUr_-mjr0/img_2847_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Done with Bonaparte</em> followed, ending with—as usual—eight musicians improvising at once. Having the pipes played by Mike made wonders to this song.</p> <p>Mike McGoldrick, I should say, is in my opinion the best thing that happened to this band since John McCusker. If and when there’s a next tour, I’d be <em>very</em> sad if he’s not there on the stage.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zegBwt0T75w/Uhkke19fBYI/AAAAAAAAdlU/E-OuYQaCSlc/s1600-h/img_2850.jpg"><img title="img_2850" style="display: inline" alt="img_2850" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HoFkkEbGmNQ/UhkkfWI7ESI/AAAAAAAAdlc/aVc68c850bQ/img_2850_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cS5U67UYfeM/Uhkkf-2vMAI/AAAAAAAAdlk/Zzmuvk8KOwA/s1600-h/img_2851.jpg"><img title="img_2851" style="display: inline" alt="img_2851" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YoDhz-bMEFw/Uhkkgo6eb5I/AAAAAAAAdls/QnlnuJgnDqE/img_2851_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KuSzIbRavMs/UhkkhBy7fQI/AAAAAAAAdl0/WN_OLMqx40U/s1600-h/img_2852.jpg"><img title="img_2852" style="display: inline" alt="img_2852" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wXv8609MMtc/UhkkhhXQwZI/AAAAAAAAdl8/rijfA4bx_pw/img_2852_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The last <em>Marbletown</em>… I can’t believe I’m actually writing this. As always, a beautiful performance, but this time, with quite a bit of soul in it. Guy Fletcher wrote, a few days ago, that people should by all <em>Simfy Live</em> recordings for this song alone; I mentioned, a few weeks ago, that if one wants to know how the band evolved over the last four months, listening to <em>Marbletown</em> in all concerts would suffice. It’s not a coincidence that we both noted <em>Marbletown</em> as something very special in that respect and basically encouraged people to listen to as many versions of it as possible: <em>Marbletown</em> performed 87 times is actually a story of evolution. There is such sheer amount of improvisation there that this song is a world by itself.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-eWeDichOMik/UhkkiIppM2I/AAAAAAAAdmE/QPonski03Hg/s1600-h/img_2853.jpg"><img title="img_2853" style="display: inline" alt="img_2853" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-a9Vci6lA2Kc/UhkkisKImrI/AAAAAAAAdmI/EG5BV1HRgTA/img_2853_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eU-tB2z-hwY/UhkkjKlUJ3I/AAAAAAAAdmU/uNW6uDSwksM/s1600-h/img_2854.jpg"><img title="img_2854" style="display: inline" alt="img_2854" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GxOBu2uLaHw/UhkkjoiDB-I/AAAAAAAAdmc/LQyYovqvYyE/img_2854_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fTOa_vUSgWA/UhkkkTPLaxI/AAAAAAAAdmk/H0WzxIAQSCY/s1600-h/img_2855.jpg"><img title="img_2855" style="display: inline" alt="img_2855" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-llKWECmXy2Q/Uhkkk2UC_iI/AAAAAAAAdms/8PJcsMlJjgE/img_2855_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-c7fTUgfk_JQ/UhkklkbT8MI/AAAAAAAAdm0/gLaCbGL4U68/s1600-h/img_2856.jpg"><img title="img_2856" style="display: inline" alt="img_2856" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iI4vVLBhCuU/Uhkkl_iPPFI/AAAAAAAAdm8/vxzm7JR2vNg/img_2856_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-oIJBFZm82_w/UhkkmviL_bI/AAAAAAAAdnE/9p_7ma6EA3k/s1600-h/img_2857.jpg"><img title="img_2857" style="display: inline" alt="img_2857" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CzTkmNfjdRo/Uhkkm7uS5XI/AAAAAAAAdnM/AYn8Ys8Sp9k/img_2857_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Some <em>very loud</em> <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> followed, making people bounce as if they were stepping barefoot on the asphalt of an extremely warm day in Murcia; and then—<em>Telegraph Road</em>, of the few songs I’m going to miss the most being performed live. A perfect song to end the main show as it leaves the audience with immense passion for the encore. There’s something about that brilliantly‐overdriven <em>Pensa</em> that makes the outro solo of this song so explosive.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KwEqh7H1C4I/UhkknZs6mgI/AAAAAAAAdnU/-p4izbkClcU/s1600-h/img_2858.jpg"><img title="img_2858" style="display: inline" alt="img_2858" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YYwpB4PBV6g/Uhkkn4ynNrI/AAAAAAAAdnc/V_1OcPP91Jc/img_2858_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wTFALjmzqZo/UhkkoruKUoI/AAAAAAAAdnk/QMUFayy7frA/s1600-h/img_2860.jpg"><img title="img_2860" style="display: inline" alt="img_2860" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ImGm238oy2s/UhkkpMwPxNI/AAAAAAAAdns/E7DvO1EVffc/img_2860_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The final “cheers” session…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NHNxh_CKmdo/UhkkptpJ9lI/AAAAAAAAdn0/KGnzbJ6zlTI/s1600-h/img_2861.jpg"><img title="img_2861" style="display: inline" alt="img_2861" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kM_ekb58iuo/UhkkqOAAePI/AAAAAAAAdn8/iAbDd6ssx8o/img_2861_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And off to the usual encore. People were shouting all sorts of named, primarily <em>Money for Nothing</em>; I suggested they shout “A Meeting under the Tree”, which had exactly the same odds for being played. <em>Brothers in Arms</em>, <em>So Far Away</em> and the band went off the stage.</p> <p>Time for the last song at the last show. Loud cheers greeted the band, and we got ourselves an excellent performance of <em>Piper to the End</em>—ironically, a farewell song. My wish before the tour was that this song would be the last song to be played every concert. Nobody in the audience wanted this song to end; admittedly, myself included. The outro solo… Mark waving his hand at the audience, which responded with quite a bit of noise. Last chord struck…</p> <p>… And it was all over. Thinking about that moment now, I realize how I’m going to miss this.</p> <p>A one‐hour ride in the dark back to the hotel through the dark, narrow and winding roads; Jeroen and I summed things up between ourselves as we both tried to not fall asleep. Arrived at the hotel; and as soon as the door closed, it occurred to me—there are no more shows.</p> <p>No more shows.</p> <hr /> <p>So.</p> <p>(Hey, are you smiling there?)</p> <p>I guess that’s it for now. I cannot believe that I am writing this, folks… just about four months (!) after leaving home. How funny it is to look back now and remember the days <em>before</em> it all started.</p> <p>Remembering how a few months before the tour I started replying “sorry, I’m not going to be here” to all sorts of job offers, contract offers and anything that is even remotely related to work. Recession my ass; talk to somebody who gives a shit.</p> <p>Everything I did from the beginning of 2010 onwards was done in preparation for this trip; that involved decisions in many aspects of life—diet, family, friends, career, money. Everything, <em>everything</em> was put on hold and given secondary priority, as my first and foremost priority was to do everything I can to make this trip successful. It was hard doing so, at times; one or twice, it was so hard that I actually doubted my ability to go through it all.</p> <p>Such doubts though never lasted more than a few minutes.</p> <p>It was so important to me that I decided to start this trip <em>before</em> the tour; a few days in the Vancouver / Seattle area to get into “vacation” mode—very important, as you’d be amazed how differently you look at things and analyze them once you step out of your own mental box.</p> <p>And then… On the second week of April, it started. The greatest adventure in my life so far. I compressed my life into a 70 litres backpack and off I went following a group of musicians that, together, form the greatest band I know of and I doubt music can get <em>any better</em> than what these guys play.</p> <p>--------</p> <p>So… lets see what we had there.</p> <p>I had 14,000+ km spent in a car in North America, as I drove those with Jeroen Gerrits who attended all North American shows with me (along with the six London shows, three Amsterdam shows and the final show in Gredos).</p> <p>Other than a car, I travelled by train; by bus; by airplanes; by taxi; hell, I was picked‐up by a UPS truck once, too.</p> <p>I have seen gorgeous mountains, lakes, rivers; houses and castles on the slopes of mountains; forests; deserts; dry places; humid places.</p> <p>I have seen big cities; small towns; villages; communities; new cities, old cities; ancient cities—over two continents.</p> <p>I have seen shows in theatres—old and new, ugly and breathtaking; I’ve seen shows in fields, nature, ancient squares, and a few right in the middle of the city under open sky. Hell, I’ve seen two shows in Monte‐Carlo.</p> <p>I had a family reunion with an aunt I haven’t seen in 20 years, and a cousin whom I had never met before.</p> <p>I only had two days to spend with my dad, who arrived to Canada right in the middle of the week‐off between the tour’s two legs. Leaving to Europe after only two days with him was one of the hardest things I did.</p> <p>I experienced some snow (a day or so before the tour, up the mountains around Vancouver); I’ve seen shows while standing in the rain—sometimes freezing, sometimes cozy and warm, almost always too wet; I’ve seen shows with my feet covered with mud; I’ve seen shows in brilliant weather, and I’ve seen shows in searing heat.</p> <p>I met good people; I met bad people. I met fans bordering on insanity and I met fans in <em>Atlantic City</em> who couldn’t care less about the music. I dealt with easy people, I dealt with hard people. I dealt with jobsworthy people with authority and without authority.</p> <p>I became aware (through people who forwarded me such information) of online discussions of despicable nature: Conspiracy theories all over the place, regarding my seats, my money. My time. My personal life, how can one disappear for four months. My sexual orientation! My job (or lack thereof). My career. My tendency to rant (errrrrr… take another look at the URL of this blog. See what comes between “<em>gl</em>” and “<em>com</em>”, right before the first slash? remove the dot in between, convert to space. Read it out loud. The name you just said is the name of the individual who owns this blog). Piles over piles of pristine bullshit.</p> <p>I have battled with stupid railway systems; battled with hunger, with bad cuisine; battled with adjusting to mentalities and habits I was never exposed to before; battled with the memory of an old, forgotten love, and battled with the uncertainty of the future; battled with lost luggage; battled with lost / broken equipment; battled with delayed trains, and with delayed flights; even battled with sickness…</p> <p>… And all of this, in order to satisfy my passion for travel; for writing; and for music. Travel I can do on my own; same goes for writing (well, that depends on who you ask); and for music, who is better to provide the soundtrack than a group of such talented, amazing musicians?</p> <p>It didn’t matter what happened during the day; how I got from one place to another, who pissed me off, who made me happy. What I ate, what I drank. At the end of almost every day, I witnessed the sheer beauty of music that returned things back to equilibrium. Whatever I had to go through in order to see each concert—seemed completely irrelevant as soon as Mike McGoldrick and Matt Rollings started playing the first few bars of <em>Border Reiver</em>, and once the last chord was struck on “<em>Piper to the End</em>” (in all shows except for <em>Antwerp</em>; sorry, Antwerp) I knew that whatever crap that may have hit me during that day was absolutely worth it.</p> <p>And with a lot of hard work, I pulled through and managed. The result: an amazing, priceless four‐months experience.</p> <hr /> <p>At some point over the last month, some whacko has decided to somehow draw a linkage between myself and the practice of filming shows. That particular individual accompanied his / her attempt with uploading a picture of mine to Guy Fletcher’s forum along with text implying all sorts of things concerning my sexual orientation. For the first few hours after I was informed of this, admittedly I was in a bit of a shock as I found it very hard to believe how far people would go to cause harm to somebody else, for nothing.</p> <p>People mentioned that jealousy is involved, however I had—and still have—some hard time understanding this. Dismissing such cases as “jealousy” seemed a bit too simplistic: Jealousy by itself is a natural, human feeling—as well as one of the best mental driver in existence. I was jealous many times in my life—mostly as a teenager, but never (that I can recall) was jealousy a driver to do something bad—if at all, it was a driver to do something good and meaningful. A call for challenge, for exploration. An opportunity to look inside; inspect; maybe improve. Definitely not an opportunity to throw crap at somebody, let alone somebody you don’t know.</p> <p>The next morning I woke up completely not caring about it. A commentator in this blog suggested that I write something about the practice of filming, implying that I endorse this practice indirectly—an implication that I find a bit strange. I contemplated whether I should write about this—after all, any attempt to link me with the practice of filming shows is obnoxiously stupid and deserves not much more than a nod.</p> <p>Then, came the shows in Spain and the sheer number of people filming these shows made me decide to write something about it, so there you go. As a matter of fact, it goes beyond just filming. Filming is a <em>symptom</em>, or a private case, of something bigger.</p> <p>--------</p> <p>During my travels I was a part of audiences counting a few hundreds to over 15,000; I shared audience space with thousands over thousands of people. Discounting concerts such as the ones in <em>Atlantic City</em>, <em>Temecula</em> and <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>, where seats were not necessarily occupied by asses belonging to fans per‐se, there was one thing common to almost everyone—they were there because Mark Knopfler’s music extracts something (that they seem) good out from their beings.</p> <p>Think about your favourite Mark Knopfler song for a second; if you have a few of those, think about them. Think about the melody; think about the massive vibrato exerted with almost each and every note. Try to relive the first time you heard these songs, and how they “caught” you.</p> <p>These songs <em>did something</em> to you—something that, if you’re reading this, is most likely <em>positive</em>. Mark Knopfler recorded a song; you listened and got a huge mental satisfaction.</p> <p>I don’t know about you, but in me, as well as in most people I know, the strike of such good music ignites a very strong feeling of gratitude. Some people express such gratitude by buying a CD, or attending a concert, or conducting other “tangible” activities such as collecting, trading and so forth.</p> <p>While there are so many ways to express gratitude, I find it hard to accept the fact that so many people forget the one basic ingredient that is absolutely and positively necessary in any manifestation of true gratitude: I am not talking about collecting things, or buying CD’s. I’m not talking about anything even remotely related to money. I’m talking about <em>respect</em>.</p> <p>And when I say “respect”, I’m not referring to stating that Mark Knopfler is the best guitarist in the world. That’s not called respect; that’s called comparison and labelling. Rather, I refer to understanding what drives the artist to feel good <em>giving the music to you to enjoy in the first place</em>—and accept those things.</p> <p>What a lot of people appear to neglect appreciating is the mere fact that the beautiful music they hear from Mark Knopfler is a result of a lot of work performed by an artist with particular personality, having particular views and particular values. You can judge that personality any which way you want, as long as you understand that you can’t tear that personality apart into pieces, respect only parts of it and <em>publicly challenge the parts you don’t like</em>. Mark Knopfler—upon all of his “parts”—is the Mark Knopfler who gave you those beautiful songs to enjoy; accept him and respect him <em>as he is</em>, and not <em>as you would wish him to be</em>.</p> <p>So now, you’re at a concert. The artist tells you that being videotaped affects his performance. If you are videotaping a show, the very least you can do—for yourself, not for the artist—is really inquire yourself why is it that you’re doing it. If you’re so grateful for the artist’s music, what is it that makes you disrespect him like that?</p> <p>When the activity being discussed is videotaping shows, the answer to that last question is, in most cases, “to have something to remember the show by”.</p> <p>“Something to remember the show by”… And now, a different type of respect comes into play. A respect fairly more important than respect for personal space or respect for videotaping policies; I am talking about respecting the artist’s wish to shape his own legacy and how he wants to be remembered.</p> <p>Are you so passionate about videotaping a show, that you’re willing to compromise the respect you have towards the artist for your own personal benefit?</p> <p>If the answer is yes, then… well, what can I say, other than hoping that at some point you’ll change your mind. I wish that at least you would be fair with yourself and consider what I wrote; try putting yourself in the artist’s shoes. Good luck; it’s not easy.</p> <hr /> <p>Also during my travels, people who became familiar with this blog immediately dubbed me “Mark Knopfler’s #1 fan”, a statement which I strongly disagree with as it lacks context. I also appear to be ignorant of the criteria by which fans are “rated”. So many of you asked, that I decided to lay it on the table. There you go:</p> <ul> <li>I own Mark Knopfler’s solo CD’s. I own “Brothers in Arms” and the “Money for Nothing” compilation. The rest of the songs I own as MP3’s (legally downloaded). I relate to Mark Knopfler’s solo career much, much more to any Dire Straits material. </li> <li>I have no posters of Mark Knopfler or Dire Straits; I did, however, print a few pictures I took myself during the July 5th, 2005 concert in Toronto—the first Mark Knopfler concert I ever attended. </li> <li>I collect nothing that is related to Mark Knopfler or Dire Straits. </li> <li>Mark Knopfler’s signature exists in my house twice: one exists upon the MK Signature Stratocaster I acquired about two years ago (that’s the signature that actually comes printed on the headstock), and the other exists on the Kill to Get Crimson CD booklet. The latter was signed by Mark during a meet & greet in Boston, during the last tour; and, to be frank, I am a bit sorry I had him sign it—as a matter of fact, I regretted it about two seconds after it happened. I will spare you from the reason why. </li> <li>I don’t own any bootleg of any show, audio or video. I also am not interested in holding any such bootlegs, so, thank you but no need to ask. </li> <li>I don’t trade any Mark Knopfler / Dire Straits items. </li> <li>I was never in the vicinity of Mark Knopfler, or any other band member for the matter, without being invited prior. The closest occurrence to such an encounter was before the show in Locarno, where the cars went into the venue just as I happened to be around looking for the early‐entry location. Admittedly, I felt a bit strange at that moment. </li> <li>I never read any book about Mark Knopfler or Dire Straits. </li> <li>I have no idea about anything concerning Mark Knopfler’s personal life, other than what’s written in Wikipedia (which may also be incorrect, I don’t know—and frankly, it’s none of my business). I also have no idea about other band members’ personal lives, other than what they make publicly available. Managing my own affairs is complex enough for me. </li> <li>I hold an account in two fan forums; both accounts were created for the sole purpose of announcing my trip. I seem to recall, however, an account that I have in a third fan site, in which I wrote something about Mark Knopfler’s music, over 6–7 years ago. In essence, then, I am not active in any fan board. </li> </ul> <p>So please, declaring me as Mark Knopfler’s #1 fan is sort‐of an insult for hundreds of thousands of other people. I am hereby forfeiting this title and here, watch me Frisbee‐ing it away to whoever of you who’s interested.</p> <hr /> <p>About a month ago, while laying down on a particularly uncomfortable bed on board one of the sleeper trains, I came across an idea. I shared it with very few close friends and decided to expose it today, at this last post.</p> <p>Upon returning to Canada, I would like to approach a book publishing company and ask them for estimates regarding how much it would cost to print hardcopies of this blog—based on a few scenarios with respect to interest (obviously, preparing 100 copies would cost less than, say, 20)—</p> <p>—And now comes the fun part. If you wish to have a copy of this blog as a book, the price of each book would be <em>any price you feel like</em>, as long as it covers the printing costs as well as the absolute cheapest delivery cost (for example, if printing the book costs $5 and shipping is $2, you can pay any amount you wish, at least $7 though). Any amount in excess of the minimum will be donated to a charity of your choice; in case you don’t name one, the donation will be made to either a charity picked my Mark himself (should he care to name one; if this idea materializes I will inquire) or to one that I will pick (if Mark remains silent on the issue).</p> <p>What do you think? If you think I should pursue this, and you feel like you may have an interest in purchasing a copy, <em><a href="mailto:isaac@shabtay.com?subject=Hardcopy">click here</a></em> to open your email client and send me an email (do not change the subject line; it will be automatically populated). If you use web‐based email, simply send me an email as you usually would with the subject “<em>Hardcopy</em>”.</p> <hr /> <p>I would like to take this opportunity to thank the many people who helped along the way. The exposure of this blog went way beyond my expectations and, at times, I was truly humbled by people’s willingness to help. Clearly, this journey would be much less pleasant without such help, and I can only hope that writing this blog was enough in terms of giving back.</p> <p>So many people have helped that it is very hard for me to name them all. Each email, each blog comment containing an advice was considered invaluable for me.</p> <p>Thanks to Jeroen Gerrits, one of my best friends. Travelling North America by car with him was a pleasure, and I am thankful for his help along the journey—including Europe. The pictures in this blog from the North American tour, as well as from the last show, were mostly taken by him.</p> <p>Thanks to Val, one quarter (actually, the prettiest quarter) of my four American friends, and to Nancy Loughery, for their continuing support and advice along the way.</p> <p>Thanks to Daria & Valeria for helping me out so much while in Italy.</p> <p>Thanks to James Morris who did an amazing job simplifying Europe’s train travel for me, providing invaluable insights without which I would probably end‐up stranded at least once along the way.</p> <p>Thanks to Julio Bricio for his immense help in planning out the Spain travel.</p> <p>Thanks to Ingrid Van de Maat for the help around Germany and The Netherlands.</p> <p>Thanks to all of the readers; I hope this blog helped you, in any which way.</p> <p>Thanks to all blog commentators for your support. Positive comments were always welcome; constructive, negative comments as well. The silly negative comments were also very welcome as very good entertainment (I’m telling you, that 7‐points comment just killed me).</p> <p>Thanks to all of those who sent private emails containing advice, support, suggestion for rides along the way. I hope I answered all emails, and if not—my apologies.</p> <p>And of course, huge thanks to (from the left, clockwise) <em>Matt Rollings</em>, <em>John McCusker</em>, <em>Glenn Worf</em>, <em>Danny Cummings</em>, <em>Richard Bennett</em>, <em>Mike McGoldrick</em>, <em>Guy Fletcher</em> and <em>Mark Knopfler</em> for providing a wonderful, ass‐kicking soundtrack for an insane four months journey. No other musical group on earth (that I know of) is worth even considering following for 87 shows over four months.</p> <p>To the band members who have been following this blog—I hope you enjoyed it. For what it’s worth, this blog is dedicated to you.</p> <hr /> <p>Some people like these things…</p> <ul> <li><em>Methods of transportation used</em>: car (North America), train (all over Europe), bus (to Córdoba, Spain), taxi (2 hours in Poland), airplane (Oslo to Hamburg; Spain; Portugal), UPS truck (getting lost in Rome). No ferries. No catapults. </li> <li><em>Total distance travelled by car</em>: 8,831 miles (or 14,212.11km) in North America + approximately 236 miles (or 389km) in Europe, for a total of 9,067 miles (or 14,601.11km). </li> <li><em>Number of Canadian provinces visited</em>: 3—British Columbia, Ontario, Québec. </li> <li><em>Number of USA states visited</em>: 21—Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona, New‐Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota, Michigan, Vermont, New‐York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New‐Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia + Washington DC. </li> <li><em>Number of European countries visited</em>: 19—Ireland, UK (Northern Ireland, England, Scotland, Wales), Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, France, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Czech Republic, The Netherlands, Poland, Austria, Hungary, Italy, Switzerland, Monaco, Spain, Portugal. </li> <li><em>Total number of countries visited</em>: 21. </li> <li><em>… Out of which, the number of countries I had some familiarity with before</em>: 4. </li> <li><em>Number of missed trains</em>: 1 (the horrendous Poland experience). </li> <li><em>Number of cancelled trains</em>: 1 (Amsterdam to Dresden). </li> <li><em>Most boring drive</em>: The entire state of Kansas. Try doing it in one day, trust me, it’s a lot of “fun”. </li> <li><em>Easiest country for train‐travel</em>: <em>England</em> if you’re too sensitive to language barriers; <em>Germany</em> otherwise. </li> <li><em>Worst country for train‐travel</em>: Poland. </li> <li><em>Number of concerts attended</em>: 87. </li> <li><em>Number of concerts missed</em>: 0. </li> <li><em>Most memorable indoor venue</em>: Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo, Monte‐Carlo, Monaco. </li> <li><em>Most memorable outdoor venue</em>: Anfiteatro Camerini, Piazzola sul Brenta, Italy. </li> <li><em>Best setlist surprises</em>: <em>A Night in Summer Long Ago</em>, and the performance of <em>Going Home</em> with Phil Cunningham on accordion in Glasgow, Scotland. </li> <li><em>Most exciting concert moment</em>: Mark telling John Monteleone’s story before playing <em>Monteleone</em> for the first time during the tour, in NYC. </li> <li><em>Most exciting non‐concert moment</em>: Meeting my cousin David in Philadelphia, whom I had never met before. </li> <li><em>Notable shows, in chronological order</em>: Queen Elizabeth Theatre, Vancouver; The Pantages, Los Angeles (second night); Riverside Theatre, Milwaukee; Massey Hall, Toronto; United Palace Theatre, NYC; SECC, Glasgow; Heineken Music Hall, Amsterdam (first night); Anfiteatro Camerini, Piazzola sul Brenta; Piazza Grande, Locarno; Festival Músicos en la Naturaleza, Hoyos del Espino. </li> <li><em>Best cuisine</em>: Italian. French follows <em>really close</em>. </li> <li><em>Total cost</em>: truth be told, I don’t really know. To be even more frank with you, I don’t give a rat’s ass. </li> <li><em>Would I do it all over again, had I known what it would involve</em>? Absolutely yes. </li> <li><em>Will I do it again in the future</em>? </li> </ul> <hr /> <p>It was still the chilly winds of April when I packed my travelling things and went with the swallows; now the swallows are all gone, each went to its own home, and I’ll be back at the fairgrounds, working away. I certainly Got Lucky, and I am deeply appreciative of the opportunity I had to fulfill such a dream.</p> <p>All the best, folks; take good care of yourselves, and of each other.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-30468580967558813362010-08-01T12:47:00.001-04:002013-08-24T17:06:42.416-04:00It’s Coming…<p>A bit patience guys—the last & concluding blog entry will be posted by tonight. It’s going to be a bit long so bear with me, as it contains the description of the last concert day, as well as a few topics I decided to leave for the last post. I hope you’ll enjoy it.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-42044361375347480742010-07-31T10:29:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:23:53.303-05:00Concert Day: Plaza de Toros de Vista Alegre, Bilbao, Spain (July 30, 2010)<p>Woke up beautifully shortly before 7:00am to leave enough time for catching my 8:05am train from <em>Madrid</em> to <em>Bilbao</em>, scheduled to arrive 12:45pm. Seems a bit early to you, doesn’t it? Well, I decided to take no chance whatsoever; a rule of thumb in journeys such as this one is to never assume that time’s your best friend—and being this a 5 hours train ride, best thing is to get it over with as early as possible.</p> <p>What a good night sleep that was, after the perfect ending of the day before (fantastic concert in Madrid). Woke up as if there are 3 concerts behind me in this tour, rather than 85. I felt ready for more.</p> <p>The usual morning routine and I was checked‐out and on my way to the metro by 7:25am. Not quite the boring place, the metro… even this early in the morning.</p> <p>A good word about Madrid’s metro system: it is clear, efficient, right on time (at least in all cases I attended it). You can’t get lost and even if you speak no word in Spanish, you can get along pretty well with those automated ticketing machines they have there. €1 buys you more than an hour worth of metro travel, in a system that covers pretty much everything there is to see and do in Madrid.</p> <p>In fact, train travel in Spain isn’t <em>that</em> horrible as I initially concluded. The only thing that’s annoying in Spain’s railway system is the routing—some cities are hard to reach in certain days (for example, Murcia to Córdoba on Sundays; bus is your only option. An airplane too, if you’re willing to arrive late). Other than that, the trains appear fine—and, in fact, their high‐speed trains boast first‐class cabins that are <em>very impressive</em>. Meals are included, too!</p> <p>Anyway, arrived at <em>Madrid Chamartín</em> train station 20 minutes before departure time. A sandwich and a bottle of water for the road; boarded the train, parked my ass on the comfy first‐class seat and was happy to be alive. Really, the luggage fiasco that ended the day before made so much weight get the fuck off my soul that I felt reborn.</p> <p>The train ride to Bilbao—up north—is boring at first but, about an hour or so into the ride, you start getting views that rival the best views I’ve seen so far in Europe. I had <em>absolutely no idea</em> how beautiful (some parts of) Spain can be. Mountains; valleys; greenery; blue skies, and a bit cooler temperature than the south. What else could one ask for?</p> <p>Every now and then, a set of red‐roofed houses laying neatly on the slope of some hill, or a mountain. Haven’t seen any lakes, but the scenery was impressive nonetheless. I was happy to be there.</p> <p>Also during the ride, I finally got an email from my buddy <em>Jeroen Gerrits</em> that he decided, as a last‐minute thing, to fly‐in to Madrid Saturday morning to join me for the last concert in Gredos. That’s a one‐day‐ahead planning coming from an extremely calculated and thoughtful individual. The interesting thing about it, though, is that I knew it’s going to happen ever since we parted ways after the Amsterdam shows (as you may recall, I wrote there that I have a feeling we’ll see each other again before the tour’s conclusion). Despite his denial, I knew there’s no way he’s going this tour end without watching another show. Took him some time to realize, though. Well, buddy, you’re always welcome and I’m happy we get to watch the last show together.</p> <p>I’m thinking about it, and the more I think about it, the less I believe (or want to believe it): The last show. The <em>LAST</em> show. The last show is tomorrow.</p> <p>A five‐hours ride full of blogging and catching up with things, as well as beautiful views of northern Spain… Relaxed and full of energy, I finally arrived at <em>Bilbao</em>’s impressive main railway station. A few escalators and I was outside.</p> <p>Welcome to <em>Bilbao</em>.</p> <hr /> <p>OK so lets get one thing straight here: I knew absolutely <em>nothing</em> about Bilbao before I came here. My hotel was located 800m from the train station; an easy walk, yet so enjoyable that I immediately fell in love with this city. This must be the most beautiful sizeable city in Spain, and if it isn’t—please let me know <em>now</em> so I know how to plan my next moves.</p> <p><em>Bilbao</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilbao">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilbao</a>) is the capital city of the Spanish province of <em>Biscay</em>; it is also the largest city in the <em>Basque Country</em>. Half of <em>Basque Country</em>’s population lives in the greater Bilbao area, which enjoys a mild climate—get this: January’s average temperature is 9℃, and August—23℃. Much favourable over, say, southern Spain where the average summer temperature exceeds the 30℃ barrier.</p> <p>The first two things one notices as soon as one opens his eyes in Bilbao are <em>mountains</em> and <em>trees</em>. Beautiful, tree‐rich mountains surround this city, and trees are erected along the main avenues of the city centre. People‐wise, this area is so different than southern Spain that one might think he’s in a different country altogether (well, as a matter of fact, some people <em>do</em> assume so, and take it a bit to the extreme; read about the Basques, it’s quite the interesting story). People here are far calmer; less aggressive; less vocal.</p> <p>Walked towards my hotel—<em>Hotel Carlton</em>; a 5‐star hotel that sold rooms for about €80—a bargain, considering the fact that it’s one of the best hotels in the city. Walking towards my hotel, I realized how beautiful this city is. I will certainly visit again.</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel, fought for a bit with the Wi‐Fi connection there; well, not for a bit. More like an hour or so. Here’s another thing I just don’t get, should you allow me to rant here—how come more than <em>half</em> of the hotels I’ve been in during this tour claim to offer free Wi‐Fi, but Wi‐Fi signal is too weak in certain areas of the hotel. For example—top floors. You would expect hotels to not just state “yeah we offer free Wi‐Fi”, but also <em>make sure that it is indeed the truth</em>. Let alone when you’re talking about one of the best 5‐star hotels in a city like Bilbao; this hotel won Expedia’s Pick award in 2009, being one of the top 1% hotels in the world.</p> <p>Over the next few days, I intend to open a Facebook group encouraging people to only stay in hotels offering free Internet access. I am wondering how many people will join, and how many people will actually abide. It’s about fucking time that Internet access is given the importance it deserves, as it is more vital—and actually cheaper!—than some other amenities offered by hotels which <em>are not used anyway</em>.</p> <p>Perhaps I’m too enterprising, and it takes time for this world to catch up with new ideas.</p> <p><em>ANYWAY</em>. Valeria, Daria’s sister who hosted me in her place in northern Italy during the fantastic 4 days off period in early July, happened to be on vacation in Bilbao so we got together at around 2:30pm. A short stroll along one of the main avenues there, looking for a belt to replace my broken one; €30 minimum, thank you very much. I decided to defer.</p> <p>Off to lunch together in a nearby restaurant. Tasty omelette with ham, for €11. I guess it costs a lot of money to eat anything other than bocadillos here… Time then ran out, Valeria and I bid each other goodbye and I went back to the hotel to rest. On 5:30pm, I decided it’s a gorgeous day outside so I decided to take a walk towards the <em>old city</em> and take some pictures along the way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KWavCg_3LxQ/Uhkew2bHY6I/AAAAAAAAcG0/T2nzO81IxuU/s1600-h/P1030252%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030252" style="display: inline" alt="P1030252" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-efV1vkbUH4I/UhkexRr0ZLI/AAAAAAAAcG8/iYCBEJh_GAI/P1030252_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-L2PI2UHRQMg/Uhkex9RUlWI/AAAAAAAAcHE/cDEEGRNRw-M/s1600-h/P1030254%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030254" style="display: inline" alt="P1030254" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8KiqFN4N4uI/UhkeyY6kMOI/AAAAAAAAcHM/226bDIUu1p8/P1030254_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fcKx7JPrv_0/Uhkey_TavRI/AAAAAAAAcHU/NWUnQHq2Ipk/s1600-h/P1030255%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030255" style="display: inline" alt="P1030255" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5qyiXbTr3rU/UhkezLL3nvI/AAAAAAAAcHc/iVXw6yu-oYo/P1030255_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MtREPfmOkU4/UhkezhPNyPI/AAAAAAAAcHk/phBCII32eRA/s1600-h/P1030256%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030256" style="display: inline" alt="P1030256" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ljoXhwFELX0/Uhke0EUdRSI/AAAAAAAAcHs/g_mEB_u1d2w/P1030256_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jlw3hirlpEg/Uhke05BzCzI/AAAAAAAAcH0/1qtJMUvpf2E/s1600-h/P1030257%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030257" style="display: inline" alt="P1030257" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NPU2a8Qr930/Uhke1FGhnKI/AAAAAAAAcH8/YeYYB-eQrE8/P1030257_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lDhKwTN-Ky4/Uhke1jTTfxI/AAAAAAAAcIE/revAAIQhhr0/s1600-h/P1030259%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030259" style="display: inline" alt="P1030259" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XTVd8jUD2D0/Uhke2IwuBKI/AAAAAAAAcIM/vZmKWxmPrd0/P1030259_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A short visit to a department store yielded an ugly belt for the bargain price of €20. Sold. On towards the old city:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wlocgaW8yIU/Uhke2lHw2NI/AAAAAAAAcIU/hxffht1Wbh8/s1600-h/P1030260%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030260" style="display: inline" alt="P1030260" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JfG90cN6NcY/Uhke3Mu_ulI/AAAAAAAAcIY/DJLyfyLDKDA/P1030260_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JTG2SjIUeqY/Uhke3kfa3kI/AAAAAAAAcIk/jlG-t6sgwu4/s1600-h/P1030261%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030261" style="display: inline" alt="P1030261" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JAxyXtW3Pg0/Uhke38yXfgI/AAAAAAAAcIs/TE-VuPvg7EI/P1030261_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The time comes when you have to cross a bridge from the city centre towards the old city, and that’s when things start to get more interesting:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EvVf194clzM/Uhke4RuUWnI/AAAAAAAAcI0/ewhpi8H0JIM/s1600-h/P1030262%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030262" style="display: inline" alt="P1030262" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GpYbVZjpV84/Uhke43hodNI/AAAAAAAAcI4/mT-heoxLIVI/P1030262_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sXZf3SFEmsw/Uhke5blqLAI/AAAAAAAAcJE/mmXSPN1PszM/s1600-h/P1030263%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030263" style="display: inline" alt="P1030263" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bBKtT9PYzlc/Uhke5wOGQPI/AAAAAAAAcJM/iwcPdse6rAQ/P1030263_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The old city of Bilbao is beautiful; crowded apartment buildings painted in all sorts of interesting colors—another “walking back in time” experience. I love those.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CT_kOK6SxMw/Uhke6F2fupI/AAAAAAAAcJU/0Y-TUR_G4SE/s1600-h/P1030265%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030265" style="display: inline" alt="P1030265" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VCI2VK4z1qs/Uhke6ocmHMI/AAAAAAAAcJc/ZOzntutCL5E/P1030265_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RCM_F-Sb69g/Uhke7Aw8WMI/AAAAAAAAcJk/GTM8Qw_0b7E/s1600-h/P1030267%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030267" style="display: inline" alt="P1030267" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7cv4tnivyws/Uhke7lDSFBI/AAAAAAAAcJo/SbQSGYUBFNs/P1030267_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5pmz6E2dmo8/Uhke7z4fDCI/AAAAAAAAcJw/GYmgSq5ESMQ/s1600-h/P1030268%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030268" style="display: inline" alt="P1030268" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fxB_Zo9rgCg/Uhke8jSf17I/AAAAAAAAcJ8/9mVjrvRouaE/P1030268_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rT9eVYzEPsQ/Uhke8834DJI/AAAAAAAAcKE/dWMVfBGwDKg/s1600-h/P1030269%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030269" style="display: inline" alt="P1030269" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AALUsIspRgM/Uhke9WHlFqI/AAAAAAAAcKM/i_XSqYqRnYg/P1030269_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mR8w7TllTRA/Uhke9-wUQLI/AAAAAAAAcKU/2JZzPqKBDHw/s1600-h/P1030270%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030270" style="display: inline" alt="P1030270" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-z4rYsiZfsn4/Uhke-b1cyvI/AAAAAAAAcKc/DQytm6mYxBQ/P1030270_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-C-lyOgt8lGc/Uhke-h2bd6I/AAAAAAAAcKk/d2qcEa04xNw/s1600-h/P1030271%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030271" style="display: inline" alt="P1030271" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3o4zT_eDS-A/Uhke_FSqZDI/AAAAAAAAcKs/p_PU5KqALU8/P1030271_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-K_oRiQPwqho/Uhke_Y_E1bI/AAAAAAAAcK0/f9qi2QbOYF8/s1600-h/P1030272%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030272" style="display: inline" alt="P1030272" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3BU02sHYRcI/Uhke_1F1WDI/AAAAAAAAcK8/9rh2ZDmiQxs/P1030272_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I became hungry so I decided to give Spanish cuisine another chance. Found a tourist trap that sold all sorts of interestingly‐looking tapas: dry slices of bread topped by all sorts of things. One of the items there was a pate of duck’s liver topped with cheese—impressively delicious. A short, quick meal of 4 small servings went for the staggering price of €11 (!). Some ice‐cream to finish and I walked back to the hotel, as concert time approached.</p> <p>As my hotel was located approximately 15 minutes walk from the venue, I decided to leave late; it wasn’t before 9:15pm (concert start time: 10:00pm) when I left my comfortable room and started walking through Bilbao’s beautiful streets towards the venue—<em>Plaza de Toros de Vista Alegre</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lTsHwyE5fS8/UhkfAf0iUWI/AAAAAAAAcLE/baLm24d1nTg/s1600-h/P1030273%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030273" style="display: inline" alt="P1030273" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MqLZunA8w60/UhkfA5WL4mI/AAAAAAAAcLM/MFzViehduyY/P1030273_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6zlL5BSGvhc/UhkfBiJ6ooI/AAAAAAAAcLU/nCNhBbbgKu0/s1600-h/P1030274%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030274" style="display: inline" alt="P1030274" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RnBnHTdbLnU/UhkfB-d_maI/AAAAAAAAcLc/IE7A3doZQZg/P1030274_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lkc-Br4gY_Q/UhkfCedtAzI/AAAAAAAAcLk/pHyhYDenA5M/s1600-h/P1030275%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030275" style="display: inline" alt="P1030275" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dIws-xv_3R8/UhkfC1dvs6I/AAAAAAAAcLs/KTjaY6jmX8s/P1030275_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The last bullring for this tour, the <em>Vista Alegre</em> is not a very interesting venue from the exterior <em>or</em> the interior—unless I was looking at the wrong things.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2eBLqI4qkEQ/UhkfDayqccI/AAAAAAAAcL0/kkxLIZ5y-lI/s1600-h/P1030276%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030276" style="display: inline" alt="P1030276" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XVyEOD7y7qU/UhkfD9qwUhI/AAAAAAAAcL8/rDNE-ZO6Cnw/P1030276_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-44DGERMchxc/UhkfEcnCP7I/AAAAAAAAcME/WD8wz-dF9sQ/s1600-h/P1030277%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030277" style="display: inline" alt="P1030277" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RuDNvHo5Zts/UhkfExRhM6I/AAAAAAAAcMM/vZlbUc1nmcs/P1030277_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket‐pickup was a bit of a mess this time, mostly due to complete and utter ignorance of people working at the ticket booths. I walked there, presented my ID and said that I’m looking for my fan‐club ticket; that was after waiting 20 minutes in line for other people (5 of them) to get their own tickets. The attendant there explained to me (mostly using sign language) that fan club ticket collection is at the other side of the arena. Well, good thing I arrived early…</p> <p>Tried walking around the venue—blocked. From the other side—blocked again. I then decided that in Spain, most likely, <em>nothing</em> works without some aggression. Started talking to people working there, who referred me to a guy with an “MK” sticker on his shirt. He started walking, myself following him; where did he walk? That’s right—back to the ticketing office where I started my search. He was told, I believe, to fuck off from there.</p> <p>As we were both just about to leave the ticket booth area, I suddenly saw another small ticket window with two people standing outside checking tickets with lists in their hands. I tapped the crew guy on his shoulder and diverted his attention to the ongoing; he spoke a few words with those people and left. Now, that small ticket window I was mentioning a few sentences ago, was manned by an individual who knew exactly what I needed and provided me with the ticket instantly.</p> <p>And now comes the fun part: that small window belongs to the <em>very same ticketing office</em> that I went to in the first place. Actually, the guy who sent me going around the venue was sitting <em>right there</em>—right next to the guy who actually served me.</p> <p>That brought back memories from the unforgettable experience of the New‐York City <em>Kill to Get Crimson</em> show, when I was facing complete and utter ignorance by venue workers who seemed to not know <em>anything</em> beyond what they were prescribed to know. Single‐function minds who would never think an inch beyond the minimum that is absolutely required for them to maintain their job.</p> <p>Grabbed my ticket and entered the venue. Actually, I was <em>forced</em> to enter the venue—one couldn’t pick‐up <em>markknopfler.com</em> tickets and enter the venue at a later stage. It seemed odd to me as this practice was only followed <em>once</em> before—in Barcelona. Then I thought about it and it made such a perfect sense that I can’t understand how come it didn’t take place in all the rest of the concerts. The entire idea behind the <em>markknopfler.com</em> pickup‐at‐venue procedure was to avoid having these tickets sold to / by scalpers. If you don’t force the ticket owner to enter the venue upon pickup, who to guarantee that the ticket‐owner isn’t going to scalp them out?</p> <p>Ticket scalping for me is one of the most disrespectful, fucked‐up activity one can engage with. I think <em>markknopfler.com</em> made a good call with the ticket pickup procedure, however I do have an idea or two on how to improve this process further to maintain its benefits but still make life easier to ticket owners. I will contact <em>markknopfler.com</em> once I go back home and settle back to real life.</p> <p>Entered the venue; a few heads of bulls who found their death during bullfights were hung up along the walls.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HD5VGv91jmA/UhkfFZmMOiI/AAAAAAAAcMU/7AZb8AlU3zI/s1600-h/P1030278%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030278" style="display: inline" alt="P1030278" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eIZoAOO3pIA/UhkfFnTNm0I/AAAAAAAAcMY/W1-es1hctgc/P1030278_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-tZNiIQB23GA/UhkfGByNuNI/AAAAAAAAcMk/qJAN35dmv6Q/s1600-h/P1030279%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030279" style="display: inline" alt="P1030279" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vKFq_mxKFOc/UhkfGkEP18I/AAAAAAAAcMs/uPm-O9Twi4c/P1030279_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Entered the venue and asked for an usher to show me where my seat was: row 1, seat 1. She used sign language to demonstrate to me that it’s the front row, all the way to the right. I was bummed, but the words “<em>THIS IS SPAIN</em>” kept ringing in my ears. Went to the front row and looked at the seats, until I got to number 1 which was occupied by a lady. Looked back towards the stage: I’m right at the dividing line between the two speakers in front of Mark.</p> <p>I’m telling you guys… If you ever go to Spain, I suggest you do a <em>lot</em> of preparation and <em>never trust the opinion of one single individual</em>. Always double‐check; always be on alert; always suspect. This is especially true for the North Americans of you, especially Canadians who are used to stuff being <em>very clear</em> to them. By no means should you consider Spain as a “lesser” country—it is just <em>very different</em> and you better adjust unless you want your trip to go awry.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NavX1tZqkaw/UhkfHL6zsrI/AAAAAAAAcM0/drqgWWf1Lgg/s1600-h/P1030280%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030280" style="display: inline" alt="P1030280" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5fTK-5rBcwo/UhkfHog7sAI/AAAAAAAAcM8/VIKt0jkXFQE/P1030280_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UIw_1CwV1Gg/UhkfICK8aTI/AAAAAAAAcNE/qKiBUFN_ynY/s1600-h/P1030281%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030281" style="display: inline" alt="P1030281" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ynMgE4lYEI0/UhkfIaUKYJI/AAAAAAAAcNM/JCpRacXbilU/P1030281_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-K0IXIb2SXXg/UhkfI_DU5MI/AAAAAAAAcNU/x_pkNgcphpM/s1600-h/P1030282%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030282" style="display: inline" alt="P1030282" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9O4Z2Wc5-0w/UhkfJSM3OwI/AAAAAAAAcNc/WyPIJYRInZ8/P1030282_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LEvytPBjq2U/UhkfJx-UBxI/AAAAAAAAcNk/71VVrGvbpLY/s1600-h/P1030283%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030283" style="display: inline" alt="P1030283" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Kk5c5exDF_w/UhkfKelyFEI/AAAAAAAAcNs/rvm1vbc4IA8/P1030283_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Upon arrival, I was immediately recognized by Spanish Mark Knopfler fans who showed quite a bit of interest in the fact that I managed to go to all prior shows. A happy bunch of about 10 people who were a pleasure to share the front row with. A few pictures taken, as well—sorry, guys, I told you I’m not very photogenic; I get a bit shy when cameras are around—some of which have been already sent to me but I can’t post them due to some technical difficulties I encountered earlier today (July 31; what a day).</p> <p>Time passed quickly and the band took the stage almost exactly at 10:00pm.</p> <hr /> <p>So first, before we discuss the music, a few words about the surrounding experience. Just as fantastic as the one in Madrid—perhaps even a bit better due to the weather being slightly cooler. Perfect temperature, the occasional wind helped a lot.</p> <p>The people here are different than in the south, as I wrote above; more laid back and even though there was some chatter going on at the back, it wasn’t <em>too</em> bad. People here give more personal space to others which is a <em>great</em> thing. Being a part of the audience yesterday was a pleasure.</p> <p>Something seemed to be a bit off with the sound at the front rows, as Mark’s voice as well as his guitar sounded a bit as if they’re coming from hidden speakers in the clouds. A bit bothersome in <em>Border Reiver</em> but, when the time came for the outro solos of <em>What It Is</em> and <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, this “airy” feel of the music actually contributed a lot.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fRh6iru9rIE/UhkfK0B5ImI/AAAAAAAAcNw/vOmmoEfhLhg/s1600-h/P1030285%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030285" style="display: inline" alt="P1030285" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FCH0oTfdsCY/UhkfLYdOwFI/AAAAAAAAcN8/dzQdFqBDfP0/P1030285_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-CXv1a0NUHBA/UhkfMM700MI/AAAAAAAAcOE/oxV_20GCcqc/s1600-h/P1030286%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030286" style="display: inline" alt="P1030286" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cTJUHo4MG2s/UhkfMopoNuI/AAAAAAAAcOI/wRgoVdl1_JA/P1030286_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A9jXXCM6uBI/UhkfNAKWTfI/AAAAAAAAcOU/etJEFmXax20/s1600-h/P1030287%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030287" style="display: inline" alt="P1030287" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-APIDug1Sa7g/UhkfNrzE4_I/AAAAAAAAcOY/dy1XBzUZH_Y/P1030287_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A note‐worthy performance of <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, offering a significantly more elaborate outro solo than usual, with Mark‐John collaboration that caused some shivers, as they both complemented each other perfectly.</p> <p><em>Coyote</em> was back, rocking the front rows. Oddly enough, during the quiet bit (“<em>Now I’m a speck on your horizon</em>…”), Guy’s synth’d samples didn’t come through (I’m referring to the synth’d samples that he used to vary at times) except for the last one. Nobody cared except for me as I have heard this song played live so many times before.</p> <p><em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> outro solo was (unless my memory is betraying me real hard) shorter—and better—than usual.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RIgGD4q1nzE/UhkfN14v5RI/AAAAAAAAcOk/x5-c30QjfGs/s1600-h/P1030288%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030288" style="display: inline" alt="P1030288" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pfTDo9bX_Jk/UhkfOZvNXXI/AAAAAAAAcOs/CMKTUaYh-LI/P1030288_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4QksFlt1bKY/UhkfO4LC2BI/AAAAAAAAcO0/1MnzNlaDMz4/s1600-h/P1030289%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030289" style="display: inline" alt="P1030289" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qtWVAxU94KI/UhkfPU1w2FI/AAAAAAAAcO8/Udmt_C7fAcg/P1030289_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On we went to a performance of <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, which prompted a sweet girl sitting two seats left of me to burst out in tears. The traditional “oe‐oe‐oe‐oo” (I’m pretty sure I’m the one who initiated it this time) accompanied by the band, and off to <em>Sultans of Swing</em> which prompted quite a few audience members to spring out of their seats and dance.</p> <p>We then proceeded to one of the more anticipated bits in the show (for me)—Marbletown. Good performance of the jam, to my liking; a mild (not too quiet) opening by John, joined in quite the dramatic way by Mike who went on to vary his flute routine for a bit. People started clapping as soon as Mike started—a beautiful performance by the John—Mike duo that, I believe, even made a few band members smile.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zuZaJpX0bH4/UhkfPipYybI/AAAAAAAAcPE/TfSV1AYRdKo/s1600-h/P1030290%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030290" style="display: inline" alt="P1030290" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eHyAhAWLNNU/UhkfQI_zeqI/AAAAAAAAcPM/t9XK1i9l6Bc/P1030290_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uW9KPHLpUbw/UhkfQfGj7ZI/AAAAAAAAcPU/gCkCYesoKE8/s1600-h/P1030291%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030291" style="display: inline" alt="P1030291" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kgRTbml0-OI/UhkfQ4SOuII/AAAAAAAAcPY/dH9x6ev4mgo/P1030291_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MzNjEcMRCNc/UhkfRaxQFcI/AAAAAAAAcPk/fyDY_LKhNfQ/s1600-h/P1030292%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030292" style="display: inline" alt="P1030292" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lnuKXAlUO9w/UhkfRxvB-zI/AAAAAAAAcPs/wo0Drud2XZM/P1030292_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xl-Tes3ER58/UhkfSakSkjI/AAAAAAAAcP0/gohRRSHU4qM/s1600-h/P1030293%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030293" style="display: inline" alt="P1030293" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bm4ozy2-WR0/UhkfS8yhnLI/AAAAAAAAcP8/wWMY4PCkTT0/P1030293_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FvBzMg7PPs8/UhkfTAV0BbI/AAAAAAAAcQE/t3jn0NIHDFk/s1600-h/P1030294%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030294" style="display: inline" alt="P1030294" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M1pP26thdKs/UhkfTo_VhJI/AAAAAAAAcQM/EqVaoU43ExU/P1030294_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As usual, an explosive <em>Telegraph Road</em> performance and outro…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TM-ci2UqQNA/UhkfULx593I/AAAAAAAAcQU/bLNFuZsppk4/s1600-h/P1030297%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030297" style="display: inline" alt="P1030297" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6tX3jtR0tco/UhkfUQa7_iI/AAAAAAAAcQc/8ky8mZF9We0/P1030297_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-D79TJ3I5AiE/UhkfU2ftyfI/AAAAAAAAcQk/l7-eO7fxTKE/s1600-h/P1030298%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030298" style="display: inline" alt="P1030298" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-X5cCbcqbdds/UhkfVcqlBPI/AAAAAAAAcQs/R0Jc-h6jVYI/P1030298_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DkKZwt3W6II/UhkfV7gySEI/AAAAAAAAcQ0/1Lvph2zHB8Y/s1600-h/P1030299%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030299" style="display: inline" alt="P1030299" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-r2sA1hNfKPI/UhkfWe1Wx8I/AAAAAAAAcQ8/DUq4GubYOmA/P1030299_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… Sending the front rows to the barrier. Not much of <em>Running of the Bulls</em> here as the barrier was less than one meter away from the front row. We remained standing throughout a beautiful encore. “Standing”… I mean, dancing and moving our limbs in random directions, that sounds more like it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3RHSms2Ylm8/UhkfWvBnFeI/AAAAAAAAcRE/f9IEmy0wR80/s1600-h/P1030300%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030300" style="display: inline" alt="P1030300" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LKCWyxjCOoY/UhkfXI_Q_vI/AAAAAAAAcRM/WVko6QPSb4g/P1030300_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yTQPC1SzpjU/UhkfXmGhZDI/AAAAAAAAcRU/uR3if1RGiMY/s1600-h/P1030302%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030302" style="display: inline" alt="P1030302" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xL45cN7cwZc/UhkfYNOlC1I/AAAAAAAAcRc/xaMkL2N1Suo/P1030302_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hsTlvtrvYy4/UhkfYiQSp1I/AAAAAAAAcRk/zEpgsEi1yMY/s1600-h/P1030303%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030303" style="display: inline" alt="P1030303" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xyBw49tzUjw/UhkfZJqg57I/AAAAAAAAcRs/vRgxsy7FGiE/P1030303_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wcxbIxBP0kE/UhkfZtAoMxI/AAAAAAAAcR0/OxdibW_YDSw/s1600-h/P1030304%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030304" style="display: inline" alt="P1030304" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-U8KiEg3Hy2g/UhkfaK4GQ2I/AAAAAAAAcR8/RXwXiBA8pCA/P1030304_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The cheers at the end of the first part of the encore were too strong to bear without blocking your ears; a short pause and <em>Piper to the End</em> concluded yet another impressive concert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0rRqSNft_zI/UhkfajBWFEI/AAAAAAAAcSE/p-exwFIB2Dc/s1600-h/P1030305%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030305" style="display: inline" alt="P1030305" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-X9iKZgnMVDc/UhkfbA4nePI/AAAAAAAAcSM/RZoJmse2Fn0/P1030305_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0Xeiprgn5KQ/UhkfbkVseHI/AAAAAAAAcSU/brAraLO0eEs/s1600-h/P1030306%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030306" style="display: inline" alt="P1030306" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-12ExH0ID3qI/UhkfcPo42SI/AAAAAAAAcSc/6XW8084-xCo/P1030306_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RfTt0MTUo7o/Uhkfcn1BP9I/AAAAAAAAcSk/2NVO_tzVPyo/s1600-h/P1030307%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030307" style="display: inline" alt="P1030307" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oV0zGBBH2lA/UhkfcwzhbeI/AAAAAAAAcSs/c_tyQxXUhmo/P1030307_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-li6Bw2o6szo/UhkfdZdwnPI/AAAAAAAAcS0/gJHhbM4U-3M/s1600-h/P1030308%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030308" style="display: inline" alt="P1030308" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HCfwhOKsWiM/Uhkfd-wAi5I/AAAAAAAAcS8/RPe16uueSbw/P1030308_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jGPpDFJ36-w/UhkfeQ8joSI/AAAAAAAAcTE/PXwHhNAYRgg/s1600-h/P1030310%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030310" style="display: inline" alt="P1030310" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zMtCEo0Res8/UhkfezAT9AI/AAAAAAAAcTM/mDcvgMrgpCM/P1030310_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GL3Ba2eXeAM/UhkffAcI_xI/AAAAAAAAcTU/RnUJOCIT2Xg/s1600-h/P1030311%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030311" style="display: inline" alt="P1030311" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uSyFKT405jw/Uhkffm-ZuZI/AAAAAAAAcTc/b9F1lXAWvbs/P1030311_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BOo8EOtEe5Q/UhkfgGoKB8I/AAAAAAAAcTk/uk-lVpyOol4/s1600-h/P1030314%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030314" style="display: inline" alt="P1030314" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5ZHTvdQkvhE/UhkfgofZrUI/AAAAAAAAcTs/YWqfAEGb-aQ/P1030314_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aH4V6-NE6SI/UhkfhEQ47LI/AAAAAAAAcT0/V7ExHpy80Gc/s1600-h/P1030315%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030315" style="display: inline" alt="P1030315" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-B56emq-38pA/UhkfhrCPDcI/AAAAAAAAcT8/K2jnW7p9Kro/P1030315_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>On my way back to the hotel, hunger struck me as fiercely as it rarely does. Cafe’s were closed, so my only option was “Gino’s Restaurant”, an Italian restaurant that’s open until 1:00am on Fridays and Saturdays. The time was around 12:35am. Close call, but <em>very good pizza</em>. Together with some garlic bread, I was set to go for a good night sleep.</p> <p>Back at the hotel, arranged everything for an early departure the next day. All packed, I was laying on my bed and started thinking. It’s incomprehensible; this tour is actually going to end in 24 hours. 86 shows over, one left.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post at around 3:50pm, July 31. A long, unnerving day, as unnerving as it can get in Spain. So unnerving that I feel like it affected my writing of this very post, so I apologize for that.</p> <p>One show left, one post left. Tomorrow’s post is going to be the last post in this blog, so stay tuned.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-62296308203174343132010-07-30T06:39:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:21:23.669-05:00Concert Day: Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas, Madrid, Spain (July 29, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: on board ALVIA train 04087 from Madrid to Bilbao, 9:12am.</em></p> </div> <p>Yesterday… was a crazy day.</p> <p>I normally tell you what time I wake up every morning. That wouldn’t be necessary here; I didn’t wake up, for the sole reason that I really didn’t sleep. The stress of July 28, losing my luggage somewhere in the <em>Lisbon‐Barcelona‐Santiago</em> triangle, as well as the huge disappointment of not seeing it in my hotel room later that night, brought my stress to levels I never realized before.</p> <p>The only light I was able to see at the end of the tunnel was that I should get my lost luggage in the morning in Santiago, as I was informed, the day before, that it’s making its way to Santiago via a late evening flight. But still, as I said before: This is Spain. And I’m not saying it in a disgraceful way, as a few proud Spanish commentators attempted to imply; things work <em>differently</em> here, in a way that makes it very hard for polite Canadians to get along.</p> <p>So, I didn’t really wake up; instead, I waited to 9:00am, which was the time when Spanair’s lost‐luggage control centre had their phones open. At 9:00am, I called.</p> <p><em>Press 2 for English</em>… yeah, I know.</p> <p>Somebody answered, speaking very broken English.</p> <p>– “Sorry, there is nobody here that speaks English.”</p> <p>Oh well. But I pressed 2 for English!</p> <p>– “Please call back in one hour or so.”</p> <p>I stayed on the line, silent. Gazed at the bed, realizing that I am in absolutely no control of the situation. 20 seconds of silence, and I hung up the phone.</p> <p>Staying up all night also involved developing some serious hunger. I didn’t know what to do—should I call back in an hour? Go have breakfast somewhere? Call my travel insurer to inform them about this incident and start the paperwork? On top of all of that, I knew there’s a flight I have to take at 2:00pm to Madrid.</p> <p>But I was still sure that my luggage is simply waiting for me in Santiago airport.</p> <p>I called again after ten minutes; call was answered by an English‐speaking person. Guess what—my luggage never really left Barcelona! It’s <em>not</em> in Santiago, and it’s scheduled to arrive to Santiago airport <em>after I depart to Madrid</em>.</p> <p>So please, let us now do some psychological mathematics here. Take everything I wrote above: hunger; lack of sleep; not having anything to wear other than whatever I was wearing the day before; something in my missing luggage being critical for my journey to continue; flight to Madrid in a few hours; and my luggage will <em>not</em> be given back to me today.</p> <p>I can recall very few occurrences in my last 32 years of living when I was so close to a nervous breakdown; the last time being about a year and a half ago, and before that—I don’t know, probably some time in high‐school. So there I was, sitting on my bed clueless. The increased stress made me nauseous; headed to the bathroom, stood by the sink, looking at the mirror. And down at the sink, and at the mirror again, waiting for the hurl to come—it didn’t.</p> <p>It took me about five minutes of staring at myself at the mirror, before I decided that that’s it, I’m sick and tired of this. My plan was simple, and very clear: First, have breakfast, then go to the airport—4 hours before my planned departure time—and raise hell until I get my luggage or some other sort of commitment that my luggage will be returned to me <em>today</em>. In a sense, I crossed a mental barrier that I was hoping to never cross again since I left my home country eight years ago (over there, things aren’t much different than Spain).</p> <p>Ate quickly at the hotel, checked‐out, and taxi to the airport. I was at the airport shortly after 10:00am, now looking for <em>Spanair</em>’s offices.</p> <p>None found, but I found a small information desk with nobody in it.</p> <p>– “Hello!”, I called. Somebody came, and explained to me that Spanair doesn’t maintain its own staff on the premises, unless they actually have flights going out of, or coming into, the airport; first Spanair flight for the day was scheduled to 12:00pm.</p> <p>That didn’t set me back and I demanded further help. Then the lady at the information desk told me that there is actually an “operations office” upstairs. I thanked her and went away.</p> <p>Upstairs there were the offices of a company named <em>Newco</em>, which, I believe, is a company which Spanish airlines outsource certain operations to. A man and a woman were there, working at their desks. I gave them a brief explanation of my situation.</p> <p>Unlike people I was talking to on the phone, who seemed to just want to get rid of me, these two were actually <em>very</em> helpful. I stayed there for about an hour, during which we analyzed all possible routes for me to meet my luggage: either fly to Barcelona and collect it there before proceeding to Madrid, or just wait at the airport until the luggage arrives and then take a later flight to Madrid (arriving at around 7:00pm), or change the instructions so the luggage is sent to Madrid instead of Santiago.</p> <p>A few possibilities, each having its own drawback. There was another possibility that appeared to be simpler, but it involved my luggage being handled by <em>Iberia</em>, which would now make me deal with <em>two companies</em> instead of one; I disqualified that one right on the spot.</p> <p>At the end, we arrived at the conclusion that my best bet is to reroute my luggage so it arrives to Madrid instead of Santiago; I would have to wait in Madrid for two hours after my arrival, because that’s when the flight from Barcelona was scheduled to arrive.</p> <p>The lady made the necessary phone call, and I got some written documents outlining what we have done. Just as I was about to leave, I decided to go ahead and ask them if I can spend those couple of hours in Madrid airport waiting at Spanair’s <em>VIP Lounge</em> instead of at the arrival hall—a request that they were more than happy to approve. A phone call, and email was sent, a copy given to me and I was on my way out.</p> <p>I had 3 hours to kill before my flight, so I caught up with things—blogging, some travel planning for a few days after the tour, reading the news… feeling normal again, you know. Flight was delayed by 20–30 minutes and I dozed off during most of it (about one hour), sitting next to a particularly attractive lady who was probably not very impressed with the way I smelled and looked at that time, after a sleepless night and no shower in the morning. Sorry my lady—everyone has their “moments”.</p> <p>Arrived at Madrid’s airport and went straight to the VIP Lounge. Well, Spain <em>is</em> Spain after all so, somehow, the attendant there didn’t receive any notification about the arrangement that we had set in Santiago. Showed her the copy of the email, and she was OK with it—entered the VIP lounge.</p> <p>Quite nice, those VIP lounges. I was never in any of those; I know that, with Air Canada (with whom I fly the most) you can pay $35–40 and get access to their lounges, as well as other lounges belonging to airlines that are a part of <em>Star Alliance</em> (Spanair being one of them). You can also buy an annual pass for a few hundreds of dollars. Had I flown a lot, I would definitely get myself one of those passes, it’s definitely worth it. Felt like a 5‐star hotel in there—free food, free drinks, comfortable sofas, lots of desks with Internet hook‐ups. Beats waiting at the departure / arrival hall, by far.</p> <p>Time passed quickly as I blogged away; finished uploading my <em>Santiago</em> post just as the airplane from Barcelona was arriving. Packed quickly and followed the attendant’s instructions to go to <em>Hall 6</em>.</p> <p>The way it works in Madrid’s <em>HUGE</em> airport is that there are multiple arrival halls. I know of at least 6 of them, each hall contains many baggage belts. Spanair typically uses arrival hall 6; went there, spoke to the luggage‐control representative who told me to go to hall 5 instead.</p> <p>Now, something didn’t sound quite right. I am no professional flyer but what I do know is that once you’re in an “arrival hall” you can’t really go back. He told me that “it’s OK”, I refused to believe but decided to do whatever it is I need to do to get to my destination. Following his instructions, I actually <em>left</em> the arrival halls area; followed the signs to hall #5, tried to enter…</p> <p>Locked.</p> <p>And you see, there comes another aspect in Spanish mentality that is <em>so amazingly similar</em> to Israeli mentality: people who provide service to you don’t really see things through. They won’t explain to you what you have to do in certain end‐cases; instead, what they do is give you a pointer, and <em>assume that you will use your aggression to work yourself out of situations you might come across</em>. When that guy told me it would “be OK”, he didn’t necessarily mean that moving from one arrival hall to the next is <em>permitted</em>; what he meant is basically “you should be OK finding your way into the hall if you REALLY want to”. Everything so informal, so lax, so “in the air”. This is <em>exactly</em>, <em>exactly</em> Israeli mentality; and if you were asking yourself why I don’t live there anymore, there’s your answer.</p> <p>I quickly looked around me for some alternative plans, and I noticed a door marked “personnel only”. As I approached it, some guy with uniforms was making his way in, along with a couple. I didn’t ask permission to join them—I simply did. That’s basically sort‐of trespassing but <em>THIS IS SPAIN</em>. The four of us were walking towards the hall, and at some point we split as I found the luggage belt I was looking for.</p> <p>The Man with Authority didn’t seem to like it and started barking at me in Spanish, then sent me to the luggage‐control booth at the hall. Went there.</p> <p>– “I’m looking for a Spanair representative to talk about my luggage.”</p> <p>– “Spanair—arrival hall 6”. Thus, sending me back to where I started.</p> <p>See? There it is again. The guy was completely oblivious to the fact that the Spanair flight I was looking for was actually rerouted to <em>this hall</em> instead of the normal one. He didn’t even bother checking, or asking me. That was all he said and went back to his business.</p> <p>I think that, by now, you realize what getting around in Spain is all about. It’s important that you understand that this is absolutely <em>no mockery</em> of southern‐European mentality; fact is, <em>it works for them here</em>. It is very different than what Americans / Canadians would expect; some might say it’s a better approach towards things, some might say it’s worse—but that’s how things work here, and when you come visit (and you <em>should</em>; Spain is a beautiful country) then <em>be prepared to face some mental learning curve</em>.</p> <p>I decided to elegantly ignore him and went back to the belt showing the Barcelona flight’s information. Suddenly, a soft nice voice started talking to me… in English. A cute lady named <em>Vicky</em>, who happened to just have arrived from <em>Lisbon</em>, noticed that I’m having difficulty communicating with staff in English so she decided to tag along and help. An American currently living in Spain and fluent in Spanish. She received a serious, serious hug—not sure she was in favour of it though because I smelled awful with all the sweat and stuff—sorry Vicky.</p> <p>We passed the time talking, until the belt next to us started to move. A Spanair lady came over and informed everybody about the change in belts.</p> <p>Now that was game time. The belt is rolling; I had no fingernails left to chew upon, and we were both staring at the belt, waiting for a backpack.</p> <p>A minute passed… another minute… and in situations like that, each such minute seems like forever as you see other people receiving their luggage and leaving happy.</p> <p>Another minute passed…</p> <p>And then it came.</p> <p>Had I ever been going through a marriage ceremony in which I was the groom, I believe that the feelings I would have watching my beautiful (?) bride walking down the aisle would very similar to the feelings I had when I saw this backpack of mine laid on the belt approaching me <em>way too slowly</em>. I jumped at it, snatched it from the belt, hugged it and kissed it as if I just was reunited with a sibling I haven’t seen for 50 years.</p> <p><em>Luggage is here and life returns to normal</em>! A huge adrenaline shot and within a few seconds I wasn’t tired anymore. The Spanair lady on the premises took my details so she can close the luggage claim, and Vicky and I went on our way. She decided to show me my way to the metro, where we split our ways—myself underground and herself to Barcelona. Great to have met you Vicky, and thanks for the help!</p> <p>Happy, so happy, I grabbed a metro map and boarded metro line #8, then change to #4 and then to #7—<em>Cartagena</em> station. 25 minutes after leaving the airport, I resurfaced onto the ground.</p> <p><em>Welcome to Madrid</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Madrid</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrid">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrid</a>) is Spain’s capital, as well as the largest city. About 3.5 million people live here, and Madrid’s metro area is home to some 6 million people. After <em>Paris</em> and <em>London</em>, Madrid’s metro area is the most populous metro area in the European Union. Other than being Spain’s capital, Madrid is also the residence of the Spanish monarch.</p> <p>By the city’s description in Wikipedia, it’s clear to me that I’ll have to visit Madrid again soon. There’s lots of great things to see & do around here; as I arrived at my hotel shortly after 7:00pm, I had absolutely no time to explore anything.</p> <p>My BlackBerry’s GPS had some difficulties initializing itself so I stepped into a different hotel than mine, and asked for direction. The receptionist actually left his post and went out of the hotel to show me the way—very kind of him. Stepped into my hotel—<em>AC Hotel at Avenide de America</em>; made sure again that the weight on my back is actually <em>my luggage</em>; it was. Checked in and went into my fabulous room, unloaded my backpack onto the bed and took a deep breath.</p> <p>I felt reborn. So good to be normal again.</p> <p>Was hungry so I went outside for a bite. Things here appeared much, much more relaxed than the overwhelming aggression‐bound experiences I had before; restaurants were not open yet, so I decided to give some of those “cafe‐bars” another look. Couldn’t really find what I was looking for, and none of them had an English menu. I ended up going to a cafe right next to my hotel, featuring a mixture of middle‐eastern & Spanish food (a Bocadillio with kebab in it. Bizarre, huh) as well as one of the hottest lady waitresses I have <em>ever seen</em> (and you know I had my share in eating at restaurants). Concentrating at the menu was hard as it rarely has been.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Short pause: it’s 11:10am right now, still on the train to Bilbao. The train goes through amazingly picturesque scenery; this definitely is a country to rent a convertible car in and just drive through.</p> </div> <p>I seem to recall reading a commentator in Guy Fletcher’s forum mentioning something about mosquitoes at the venue in Madrid; I decided to not take any chances. After feeding myself to oblivion, went to a pharmacy and bought a repellent, just in case.</p> <p>Back at the hotel, I had about an hour before having to leave for the concert, so I set my alarm clock and closed my eyes. Fell asleep within seconds.</p> <p>Woke up at around 9:00pm thanks to <em>Marcos</em> calling me a two minutes or so before <em>Eddie Vedder</em> did. Quickly dressed and went outside, walking the 1.5km towards the venue.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Las_Ventas">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Las_Ventas</a>) is Spain’s largest bullring, and also considered the home of bullfighting in Spain. It is very pretty at the exterior, as well as in the interior; its construction ended in 1929, and bullfights has been going on in here since 1931, except for during the Spanish Civil War time between 1936–1939 when no bullfights took place; bad for the civilians, good for the bulls.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Another short pause: 11:20am and the views through the train’s window are wonderful—small towns laid upon the slopes of the mountains. Brilliant.</p> </div> <p>The bullring also once served as a tennis court (Davis Cup, 2008), and concerts take place here every now and then. <em>AC/DC</em> recorded their DVD here in 1996: “AC/DC: No Bull”.</p> <p>I arrived at the venue about 10 minutes before the concert’s scheduled start. My seat: front row, dead centre—even the usher was impressed. Good to be back “home” after a few days of exile in Spain’s bullrings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OIAw1Hm3hpA/Uhkads5UQ6I/AAAAAAAAb-w/QCss6KvmfpI/s1600-h/P1030210%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030210" style="display: inline" alt="P1030210" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PCRogCdGRMQ/UhkaeBrouNI/AAAAAAAAb-4/Ym3ZcrhNBr0/P1030210_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SV9YFWJQQ0k/UhkaemlixcI/AAAAAAAAb_A/UzoR1OOF0rc/s1600-h/P1030211%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030211" style="display: inline" alt="P1030211" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qjkR_MlYorM/UhkafOt4XyI/AAAAAAAAb_I/NrBJdRM5b0g/P1030211_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dncbbB_dE78/UhkafQJ67II/AAAAAAAAb_Q/nuCfAGxMVCA/s1600-h/P1030212%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030212" style="display: inline" alt="P1030212" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--b1HX58LUug/UhkafzVX68I/AAAAAAAAb_Y/gLqXzCA1nIo/P1030212_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Daniel & Jacqueline</em>, from Switzerland, whom I had met a few times before during this tour, were there and I was very happy to see them. They decided to conclude their share of the <em>Get Lucky</em> tour in Madrid; we caught up for a bit, and they reiterated their invitation to visit them in Switzerland—an invitation that I’m sure won’t have to wait long to be fulfilled. Always great to meet nice people such as them.</p> <p><em>Mikel Camps</em> was there as well, seated two seats to my left; Marcos, whom I met in <em>Murcia</em> along with <em>Julio</em>, was there too. A whole happy bunch of Spanish and non‐Spanish people looking forward for the concert to start in this <em>beautiful</em> venue.</p> <p>No mosquitoes whatsoever (at least at the front rows); weather? Heavenly. A bit warm, but the wind was there to help create a perfect setting for a concert. What an upgrade comparing to previous nights!</p> <p>Time passed quickly and the concert started at around 9:45pm, fifteen minutes later than the posted time.</p> <hr /> <p>After a short exile to the back of Spain’s bullrings and arenas, it seems like the timing of me coming back to the front couldn’t be better as we had a splendid concert in Madrid, in all aspects: Sound was great; band played great; everyone seemed to be in a good mood; the audience? very vocal, very supportive—even if there was chatter and noise, it was at the very back. The front rows were all into the music for two hours straight as the band once again kicked collective ass.</p> <p>A bit of a “cooler” <em>Border Reiver</em> but things got much better during <em>What It Is</em> and <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, played very well along with impressive outro solos in both. At some point, I believe it was during the <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> outro, I actually said “wow” out loud.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bcQPSirWiL0/UhkagebFlMI/AAAAAAAAb_g/j5v15kfktNA/s1600-h/P1030213%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030213" style="display: inline" alt="P1030213" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GaeGO2x_pnU/UhkagxV5C5I/AAAAAAAAb_o/FU_bRvNQ3_M/P1030213_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bOf0LoMZgWU/UhkahdH0VMI/AAAAAAAAb_s/XHYVj7Kd7FM/s1600-h/P1030215%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030215" style="display: inline" alt="P1030215" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-syMrfaQeJ3k/UhkahwaXrvI/AAAAAAAAb_4/Q7SriEx3VIw/P1030215_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Prairie Wedding</em> won the <em>Coyote vs. Prairie Wedding</em> battle, and no setlist changes besides that. Perhaps it’s just about time for me to accept the fact that neither <em>So Far from the Clyde</em> nor <em>Before Gas & TV</em> are going to be played during this tour—some people told me that I should have realized that a long time ago; but I always have hopes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DT2onfNNgI8/UhkaiaMbxeI/AAAAAAAAcAA/5K7Zy8a4znY/s1600-h/P1030216%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030216" style="display: inline" alt="P1030216" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-W73LyswqRaY/Uhkai50F3nI/AAAAAAAAcAE/KbvPCX98BXE/P1030216_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jTncvjgEUIY/UhkajW-UT9I/AAAAAAAAcAQ/4dp-iTqs-vg/s1600-h/P1030218%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030218" style="display: inline" alt="P1030218" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--EEcsI5aOxY/Uhkaj550KZI/AAAAAAAAcAY/1uKvLnjWQEs/P1030218_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Romeo and Juliet</em> initiated a massive cheer, which was then translated to a band‐accompanied “oe‐oe‐oe‐oo” bit, followed by <em>Sultans of Swing</em> for which the cheers started rumbling as soon as Danny Cummings hit that cymbal for the second time (out of four) before the first <em>Dm</em> was struck. People around me were singing, dancing and whatnot during this song; scores of people from the back rows made phantom appearances at the front, in attempts to take photos before being sent back by security.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-v0MHTV2Eqd8/UhkakaTG22I/AAAAAAAAcAg/o-fLqxEx7KY/s1600-h/P1030219%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030219" style="display: inline" alt="P1030219" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-L2GD6qvjBfc/Uhkak_K4yxI/AAAAAAAAcAo/sGnplgTq_0A/P1030219_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pEqSWYNVHwM/UhkalPgCGPI/AAAAAAAAcAw/D1db1JW-HEM/s1600-h/P1030220%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030220" style="display: inline" alt="P1030220" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-rB_5pEHvdYE/UhkalsCP8-I/AAAAAAAAcA4/4j0e6aqTgzQ/P1030220_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bQFF6Xqu-o8/UhkamGaGGuI/AAAAAAAAcBA/0MZ5dTXK3Yk/s1600-h/P1030221%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030221" style="display: inline" alt="P1030221" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ch0k3gM71-4/UhkamqYqC5I/AAAAAAAAcBI/85osK2935TM/P1030221_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vND2lWhD5qs/UhkanGQsUYI/AAAAAAAAcBQ/3KxQ-mLhPIc/s1600-h/P1030222%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030222" style="display: inline" alt="P1030222" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-61MCwnWE3S0/UhkanmqbhwI/AAAAAAAAcBY/gli_yKRNeaA/P1030222_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Done with Bonaparte</em>…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fhtrtrg9xnY/UhkaoL7lcZI/AAAAAAAAcBg/GttIIplkgXA/s1600-h/P1030223%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030223" style="display: inline" alt="P1030223" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BQw939IgDVQ/UhkaouUta_I/AAAAAAAAcBo/vYNfqYi4bIc/P1030223_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8waFeHUtJT4/UhkapEJL2pI/AAAAAAAAcBw/xI6DhomzRS8/s1600-h/P1030224%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030224" style="display: inline" alt="P1030224" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-h-z268Qy5m0/Uhkapt2U9CI/AAAAAAAAcB4/ShpnTMEw628/P1030224_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-IL5QPazuT54/UhkaqEIaJHI/AAAAAAAAcCA/-WcaBLinrSA/s1600-h/P1030226%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030226" style="display: inline" alt="P1030226" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k5srLfGQ4oc/Uhkaqo5Av_I/AAAAAAAAcCI/5L-cgh03qfM/P1030226_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And then <em>Marbletown</em> followed shortly after; I was happy to realize that we’re back to the roots with a somewhat quiet jam‐session.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Bj4X99Nfxn0/UhkarCZGGiI/AAAAAAAAcCQ/rQEFTi1Z2Hg/s1600-h/P1030229%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030229" style="display: inline" alt="P1030229" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-T-ttNYH7ews/UhkaruBPfgI/AAAAAAAAcCY/q4jiCpMCj1E/P1030229_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-moZw0ShG5AQ/UhkasHxoW7I/AAAAAAAAcCg/l_XGwljmhEA/s1600-h/P1030230%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030230" style="display: inline" alt="P1030230" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Lin9BAhlum0/UhkasVrv5ZI/AAAAAAAAcCo/7_fTzpIsXjE/P1030230_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Loud, massive <em>Telegraph Road</em> and before long the <em>Running of the Bulls</em> ensued. I had to take two steps forward; some fucking idiotic moron, who spent most of the show wandering around the front row annoying everybody with his professional camera taking shots all over the place, made a run to a “picture‐friendly” location—left of the centre (what I would call the “Anti‐Tray Strategy”), and on his way there he didn’t mind the fact that he has hit me and a few others. He gave me a look, to which I replied with a very heartily “<em>fuck you</em>”. I’m sure he understood.</p> <p>The usual encore…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d8H-Av7lFWw/UhkatDdTKCI/AAAAAAAAcCw/FR-JhaVjQTI/s1600-h/P1030233%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030233" style="display: inline" alt="P1030233" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aV2YvJTN-UU/UhkatkmxH6I/AAAAAAAAcC0/cFrpSASS5HQ/P1030233_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9I_pVIPc-mw/Uhkat4iebpI/AAAAAAAAcC8/wsRxmJmeinc/s1600-h/P1030234%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030234" style="display: inline" alt="P1030234" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-N4gQ0AP1wwM/UhkaujmrGQI/AAAAAAAAcDI/Ap8Nlv4VHiE/P1030234_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-N2e-YhrEbtI/UhkavGzPduI/AAAAAAAAcDQ/D5y8ifw1sfA/s1600-h/P1030235%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030235" style="display: inline" alt="P1030235" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QI5FMslLWXs/UhkavvRj2sI/AAAAAAAAcDY/zFQLBAnFzAs/P1030235_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MQ9AqLeDH44/UhkawOH_nWI/AAAAAAAAcDg/696OLuC38AI/s1600-h/P1030236%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030236" style="display: inline" alt="P1030236" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PA7rrl943nI/UhkawRalT1I/AAAAAAAAcDo/kXWZGAsQK1Q/P1030236_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-wETpskgPncc/Uhkaw9pk7_I/AAAAAAAAcDw/U4bZ2LQkb44/s1600-h/P1030238%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030238" style="display: inline" alt="P1030238" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yyWX-0aArIU/Uhkaxa4vxtI/AAAAAAAAcD4/7flXBDIBkBY/P1030238_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ITFHkkioKwk/Uhkax62QKuI/AAAAAAAAcEA/9RZd754_i3I/s1600-h/P1030240%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030240" style="display: inline" alt="P1030240" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IszRcQ5S4x0/UhkayesCGXI/AAAAAAAAcEI/5DawgG8TSnw/P1030240_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And the band waved goodbye at the ecstatic crowd.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-563-O6Ad4Qk/UhkayzgDuBI/AAAAAAAAcEQ/WJ2iESLUU98/s1600-h/P1030242%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030242" style="display: inline" alt="P1030242" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--FfA99V8HB8/UhkazFHMKMI/AAAAAAAAcEY/Y_vK3niHCj4/P1030242_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LiKfchCPElI/UhkazpSc0pI/AAAAAAAAcEg/vFJYlNHzrek/s1600-h/P1030243%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030243" style="display: inline" alt="P1030243" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lNfhPB-iqOs/Uhka0KDoHuI/AAAAAAAAcEk/i_iEeyW4kxg/P1030243_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Show was over a few minutes before 12:00am, and I left the arena after catching up with Mikel, Jacqueline and Daniel for one last time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6RWMhksoH4s/Uhka0h30uMI/AAAAAAAAcEw/KBcebE8iX10/s1600-h/P1030244%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030244" style="display: inline" alt="P1030244" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iyEKpZKBgvc/Uhka0ybHCuI/AAAAAAAAcE4/vRbbfa5VQq0/P1030244_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ublBKIZu48Y/Uhka1uuRfxI/AAAAAAAAcFA/Knbmfmikbxc/s1600-h/P1030245%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030245" style="display: inline" alt="P1030245" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JQAXTfSp3Oc/Uhka2Hi4oQI/AAAAAAAAcFI/lnWg5MJVhcY/P1030245_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Took a few shots of this impressive venue from outside:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-s6UiAnv_3gk/Uhka2Qz74gI/AAAAAAAAcFQ/gN0zeR6BQZs/s1600-h/P1030246%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030246" style="display: inline" alt="P1030246" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2mKiVxyaUmQ/Uhka25QnhvI/AAAAAAAAcFY/Nqijc2XzZ9Q/P1030246_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4QIzcv3FwGY/Uhka3bdkESI/AAAAAAAAcFg/4HGNmj5h4gI/s1600-h/P1030247%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030247" style="display: inline" alt="P1030247" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RnlWFOjIczI/Uhka38VidbI/AAAAAAAAcFo/1s_YKn7cYwg/P1030247_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>The surroundings:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZcNkZD62BBU/Uhka4VVnjxI/AAAAAAAAcFw/NehU-tr8TD0/s1600-h/P1030248%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030248" style="display: inline" alt="P1030248" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hy3zV2fc_fI/Uhka46LAI_I/AAAAAAAAcF4/rxB1ztSp7vQ/P1030248_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And here’s a statue of a famous Spanish matador who was killed during a bullfight:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-26w145G7dHU/Uhka5c87fdI/AAAAAAAAcGA/ipbNVpwtbyc/s1600-h/P1030249%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030249" style="display: inline" alt="P1030249" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jUGP-mr97rQ/Uhka5t1EdLI/AAAAAAAAcGI/R4VYLaFsZ5Y/P1030249_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Pretty venue, isn’t it:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yyJsXvWx_q4/Uhka6JponkI/AAAAAAAAcGQ/1PbGq1g-GNs/s1600-h/P1030250%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030250" style="display: inline" alt="P1030250" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Hf067soyikI/Uhka6uvu5EI/AAAAAAAAcGY/GSQMdvYVSqw/P1030250_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_GP4MNG-4Vs/Uhka7eS9PXI/AAAAAAAAcGg/p5G2XSoMxok/s1600-h/P1030251%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030251" style="display: inline" alt="P1030251" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JiDIjeB8uHU/Uhka73RBwvI/AAAAAAAAcGo/Tk6a71JDw6c/P1030251_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Marcos</em> was kind enough to drive me back to the hotel as we finalized the arrangements for the ride to <em>Gredos</em> on Saturday.</p> <hr /> <p>Arrived at the hotel and immediately left again as I realized I was hungry. Went back to that cafe‐bar by the hotel; that amazingly lovely lady‐waitress was still there and was happy to communicate my request to the kitchen, in Spanish of course. Big juicy kebab sandwich taken back to the hotel and demolished within five minutes.</p> <p>So, that was quite a day, wasn’t it. It started with me being on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and ended with the triumph of watching a fantastic concert from the front row. Life <em>is</em> an adventure, it seems, and you can’t really foresee neither the ups nor the downs.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post as the train approaches <em>Bilbao</em>. I can’t believe that we’re facing the last two shows in the tour.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-31311670051435069392010-07-29T11:29:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:19:54.196-05:00Concert Day: Multiúsos Fontes do Sar, Santiago de‐Compostela, Spain (July 28, 2010)<p>Hello.</p> <p>I would like to start this post with an apology, as well as an advice.</p> <p>Over the last few days (coincidentally, ever since I arrived into Spain) it appears as if my blog has turned from “Isaac’s Get Lucky Tour Blog” into “Isaac’s House of Rants”. I am indeed a bit (OK, maybe more than a bit) edgy these days, as things started going somewhat awry ever since I arrived at <em>Barcelona</em> four days ago.</p> <p>While I could mask some details and rants from you, I chose not to; when all is said and done, a four months journey was bound do take serious ups and downs. I chose to be honest and write exactly what’s going through my mind, even if it’s unpleasant at times. After all, I’m not trying to sell anything here; I’m documenting an experience.</p> <p>So, here comes the apology: I apologize to you if reading this blog brought you down, made you angry, or made you feel unpleasant.</p> <p>And now, for the advice: Get over it. My approach isn’t likely to change.</p> <p>And if you think that the last few days were horrific… let me tell you a bit about July 28.</p> <hr /> <p>Woke up in Lisbon at 7:00am, leaving enough time for getting my stuff together peacefully; my flight was scheduled to leave at 9:00am, and Lisbon’s airport is basically just outside the city—not too far. By 8:00am, my gracious taxi‐cab driver dropped me at Lisbon’s airport.</p> <p>I was very happy that I checked‐in online the night before; the terminal appeared to be flooded with people, and I was looking forward to feeling smart, bypassing lines, arriving at the baggage drop‐off point, drop my luggage and go grab a bite. Out of the holster goes the BlackBerry, loading the boarding pass saved as a PDF the night before…</p> <p>… Only to realize that I only have a pass for the second leg of the trip (Barcelona—Santiago). Funny, as I don’t recall any message in Spanair’s website, in the spirit of “<em>SORRY ABOUT YOUR LUCK MATE BUT I COULD ONLY DO HALF OF THE WORK FOR YA</em>”. But—you know what? OK. No problem, that’s why you leave lots of spare time—for unexpected things like that.</p> <p>Lisbon’s airport, terminal 1, has over 90 (!) check‐in counters. This airport is apparently one hell of a mega‐central European airport; who would have known (the answer: whoever bothered checking). Looked for my flight at the departures table, and found something very similar (operated by a different company); this is called a <em>code‐share flight</em>—when multiple companies basically share the same physical flight, so that one particular flight actually has multiple “names” for it. Alas, nobody there could tell me whether I’m looking at the right thing or not. By the time Jeroen got back to me with the answer, I have already taken a bet which turned out to be successful.</p> <p>Approached the check‐in counter and introduced my itinerary to Her Highness: Lisbon to Barcelona, then connect to Santiago.</p> <p>She looked at me in such a look that left no room for speculation: she had absolutely no appreciation of my intelligence.</p> <p>“So, you’re flying east two hours, then west two hours, to make a route that takes 4 hours by car?”, she said.</p> <p>Well, to be honest I did feel a bit stupid when she laid it out this way. But, that flight was very cheap—I bought it as part of a package containing a few flights—four, to be exact—all costing less than $300 combined. I informed her that yes, that’s OK, it’s not a mistake. Checked my backpack in and went away.</p> <p>Good turkey‐breast sandwich to start the day, along with some coffee, and off to the gate. Scheduled departure time—9:05am; on 9:10am, we were still lined‐up for boarding when the attendant told us all that the flight is being delayed due to some technical difficulties.</p> <p>The problem that presented me with was that my connection time in Barcelona was going to be one hour; can’t afford much delay here. I therefore decided to attempt something else—simply cancel my flight, take my luggage and rent a car. Why take the risk?</p> <p>Apparently, that’s not really allowed, at least not in Portugal. Unless a flight is cancelled, you can’t just decide to pick‐up your stuff and go. If you raise hell, or if it’s an emergency—maybe. I’ve seen it done in North America before. I therefore started planning alternate plans: turned out that there are many flights leaving Barcelona to Santiago, so if I miss my flight it’s not such a big deal.</p> <p>Relief.</p> <p>Oh, there we go. We’re boarding. At 9:40am, about half an hour late, we departed and arrived at Barcelona half an hour late.</p> <p>As I left the aircraft in Barcelona’s airport, a lady was waiting outside holding a sign with my name on it. She had a boarding pass for me, and urged me to go to the gate as boarding already started.</p> <p>– “But what about my luggage?”, I asked.</p> <p>– “There’s 30 minutes left, I believe we can get your luggage”, came the reply.</p> <p>And that was my crucial mistake, which apparently I <em>had</em> to make just so I learn to never do it again. <em>NEVER EVER BOARD A PLANE WITHOUT KNOWING WHERE YOUR LUGGAGE IS</em>, even if a kind person tells you “<em>I BELIEVE WE CAN GET YOUR LUGGAGE</em>”.</p> <p>So guess what? The flight to Santiago left 30 minutes late as well; upon arriving to Santiago’s tiny airport, the baggage belts started rolling.</p> <p>My backpack wasn’t there.</p> <p>Everybody left, and only I remained. The attendant asked me to look at another belt.</p> <p>It wasn’t there.</p> <p>Both belts stopped rolling. Now it was final: my baggage is lost. That’s the first time in my life, ladies and gentlemen; while I always try to keep it down to carry‐on luggage only, I have never lost any checked‐in luggage in my entire life until today.</p> <p>A claim form was given to me, with instructions what to do—basically “you can’t do shit but we’ll call you soon”.</p> <p>Now, I won’t get into details here but here’s something you should know, in order to understand why I was so upset. I couldn’t care less about my clothes, my personal care items etc. Those are all replaceable. However, there are a couple of items in my backpack (which I can’t carry with me on the plane) that I can’t really do without for more than, say, a day. No, don’t worry, I’m not going to die, it’s nothing like that. Just bear in mind the knowledge that, this occurrence basically risked my trip, and presented a chance that I’ll have to cut everything and fly back to Canada the next day or so.</p> <p>Left the airport unwillingly, hopped on a taxi and there we go, a 20 minutes ride through highways all the way to Santiago’s city centre, for my hotel. Beautiful hotel, beautiful rooms, beautiful surroundings—too bad I won’t be able to enjoy it because I don’t even have fucking extra underwear.</p> <p>From then on, up to the concert, I spent 90% of the time checking for my claim status online, calling the area and whatnot. Finally, at some time in the evening, I got a hold of someone in Spanair: my luggage was left in Barcelona, but it was making its way to Santiago as we spoke—the only thing uncertain is whether it will arrive at my doorstep tonight or the next morning.</p> <p>That in itself is a bit of good news. Having it the same evening would be fabulous, the next morning—much less so but still much better than “never”. I provided the hotel’s phone number, just in case they couldn’t reach me, then left instructions for the receptionist, and off I went to my room to prepare for the concert.</p> <p>Shorts, shirt… (well, not much choice there) then, oh, here’s my belt. Yes, I usually go to concerts wearing a belt, used to hold my camera & BlackBerry thus freeing up pocket space. I look like a total dork but I don’t care—it’s comfortable. Tightened the belt…</p> <p>… And it broke. Torn apart, useless.</p> <p>Fantastic. At that stage, I actually started smiling. No way I’m so unlucky, with the shit hitting the fan so hard in <em>one day</em>. OK, I guess; walking around is going to be trickier, but we’ve been through worse.</p> <p>Started walking towards the venue—a 2.0km walk, using my BlackBerry as a guidance. About half way through, I looked at my BlackBerry for guidance and what I saw made me lose a few heartbeats.</p> <p>I saw the map.</p> <p>But, the screen also featured five horizontal light‐blue lines.</p> <p>A clear signal that my BlackBerry’s screen may be dying.</p> <p>Folks, I literally stood still, looked up and asked “Why?”.</p> <p><em>Somehow</em>, it went away after a minute or so. Continued walking towards the venue, eagerly awaiting for my phone to ring with <em>Spanair</em> on the other end. It didn’t happen. As I provided them with my hotel’s phone number as well, I still had hopes that they had contacted the hotel and arranged for the delivery. Deep inside, I had hopes that things will get better. Hopes? Actually, a fantasy, no less. I would prefer seeing my backpack in my room upon returning, more than seeing any other human who lacks chromosome‐Y.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Santiago de‐Compostela</em> (often referred to as simply <em>Santiago</em>; Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santiago_de_Compostela">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santiago_de_Compostela</a>) is the capital of the autonomous community of <em>Galicia</em>. The city is well‐associated with religion; the cathedral in Santiago has always been the destination of a pilgrimage route, <em>The Way of St. James</em>. There’s a fair amount of history in this city; as my hotel was right next to the entrance to the old city, I could see that there’s sheer amount of beauty inside. One of the places that, if and when I am back in Spain, I will definitely want to re‐visit; I feel terrible for the luggage incidence preventing me from enjoying more of this city.</p> <p><em>Google Maps</em> led me through myriad of narrow streets with steep declines. It was like walking through history:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ujeEzDCLO4A/UhkWdpGn-TI/AAAAAAAAb4M/2nIYYwIL7tY/s1600-h/P1030181%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030181" style="display: inline" alt="P1030181" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IEiyqQjFux4/UhkWd-FByUI/AAAAAAAAb4U/4b6Z1zj0d2k/P1030181_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Y5L1R2V5jWs/UhkWeQSrhVI/AAAAAAAAb4c/dq4Bkg6z9Uw/s1600-h/P1030182%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030182" style="display: inline" alt="P1030182" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9D3nWKs5j2I/UhkWfJAvKSI/AAAAAAAAb4k/_gs6krBuC0s/P1030182_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aFaCgn6U--Q/UhkWfniiO6I/AAAAAAAAb4s/GklmaBJs-7c/s1600-h/P1030183%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030183" style="display: inline" alt="P1030183" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EpCOyVinNho/UhkWgBHsBgI/AAAAAAAAb4w/_EgCPgOpnTU/P1030183_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>A short walk further, and I’m out in the open again:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0tqubg8fzHM/UhkWgdsiKQI/AAAAAAAAb48/TZCLZMw5ql4/s1600-h/P1030184%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030184" style="display: inline" alt="P1030184" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VOgpmmleUWs/UhkWg-3l1ZI/AAAAAAAAb5E/6ZvruofqvuU/P1030184_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Em39TNJK5-k/UhkWhewQGOI/AAAAAAAAb5M/OXFNfw0fm0Q/s1600-h/P1030185%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030185" style="display: inline" alt="P1030185" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xeLWA0cWFSU/UhkWhy-YSBI/AAAAAAAAb5Q/S7hDWldSlYg/P1030185_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-luUD-RaCWQk/UhkWiWrJHeI/AAAAAAAAb5c/bnyfqNGc2Q4/s1600-h/P1030186%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030186" style="display: inline" alt="P1030186" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-E7BypxLkJNg/UhkWi-_rVhI/AAAAAAAAb5k/MGd667fvVWw/P1030186_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few cafe‐bar’s along the way, nowhere near as full and bustling as those in <em>Córdoba</em>; a somewhat more relaxed atmosphere, a few people, a bartender, TV is on broadcasting the news and nobody watches.</p> <p>A left‐turn from somewhere in the city leads you to a large green space—a few hills, where the venue is located.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7JOLYCJ793Y/UhkWjRDUxJI/AAAAAAAAb5s/UzBORyHzjHQ/s1600-h/P1030187%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030187" style="display: inline" alt="P1030187" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-x1S8aG_pk-Q/UhkWj4086VI/AAAAAAAAb50/7NBtzaFzXa0/P1030187_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MwQmJ8xD18U/UhkWkUE-kjI/AAAAAAAAb58/FkxTUqvF_fY/s1600-h/P1030188%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030188" style="display: inline" alt="P1030188" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yBlI_h5YC8Y/UhkWk2vtfsI/AAAAAAAAb6E/7oFUdG3upX8/P1030188_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1guJBQ8gWlY/UhkWlVxbB9I/AAAAAAAAb6M/0namGYdmQRM/s1600-h/P1030189%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030189" style="display: inline" alt="P1030189" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Q9oYM2WLPw8/UhkWmEfnmoI/AAAAAAAAb6Q/SxCGFG5quFM/P1030189_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I was walking, I became so horrified of the idea of my BlackBerry dying on me that I started again thinking “what if”. The immediate problem was that I didn’t even know the full name of my hotel, so I took this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4BLJ4ngV-y0/UhkWmQ43VnI/AAAAAAAAb6c/BGNum9TW-1g/s1600-h/P1030190%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030190" style="display: inline" alt="P1030190" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ut0R46tvbYc/UhkWnFvp3OI/AAAAAAAAb6k/POtfeQHFIP4/P1030190_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few more steps and I arrived at the venue—<em>Multiúsos Fontes do Sar</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-r0H2qkZIO7s/UhkWnXcg3vI/AAAAAAAAb6s/1PpwpJrBaOM/s1600-h/P1030191%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030191" style="display: inline" alt="P1030191" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VL9VkmvU220/UhkWnzGnqzI/AAAAAAAAb60/OLX4Q2_1_Bs/P1030191_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The <em>Multiúsos Fontes do Sar</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pabell%C3%B3n_Multiusos_Fontes_Do_Sar">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pabell%C3%B3n_Multiusos_Fontes_Do_Sar</a>) is a multi‐purpose (<em>Multiúsos</em>) sports arena owned by the city council of Santiago. It is typically used as an indoor‐soccer (AKA “Futsal”) arena as well as a basketball court.</p> <p>As I approached the venue, the weather outside was actually not bad at all. Up on the hills, a bit breezy… fantastic. At last, some relief from all the heat I have been experiencing recently. Went to the ticketing office and received my <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket instantly, no problem at all; was body‐searched and entered the door to the reception hall.</p> <p>As I moved my right (or was it left?) leg into the reception hall area, I felt as if someone has just put me on a toaster and squeezed really hard. Absolutely no ventilation in the reception area, which was, at that time, full of people. I immediately went for some water; memories of Córdoba came haunting me, as I got myself mentally ready for another 45 minutes of waiting for changing money into tickets, then heading to buy some water with the tickets.</p> <p>Admittedly, I was <em>very surprised</em>. Something here in Santiago must be working differently as the level of aggression required to get one’s attention was <em>significantly lower</em> than in previous Spanish venues. Doing some people‐watching, I did realize that there’s something less aggressive in these people: they weren’t, say, <em>Canadian</em> or anything like that (sometimes even I think that Canadians are a bit <em>too</em> polite) but definitely easier to adjust to. Was a very nice surprise.</p> <p>As I arrived late to the venue (due to the mishaps earlier that day), I had some vague idea of what I’m going to experience.</p> <p>There are three sections in this venue: ground floor, where everybody stands; first level of seating; and a second level of seating. All sections were general‐admission for this concert. As you enter the reception hall and just proceed forward, you enter the <em>first level of seating</em>, the views from there look like this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fIeMOOEajBY/UhkWoYyyO9I/AAAAAAAAb68/Zf_REoVe_0Q/s1600-h/P1030192%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030192" style="display: inline" alt="P1030192" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fYh7c8TEdxA/UhkWpDijz3I/AAAAAAAAb7E/TaUSezC5_5g/P1030192_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BriNCggztrM/UhkWpq501rI/AAAAAAAAb7M/VmCjePrEWfo/s1600-h/P1030193%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030193" style="display: inline" alt="P1030193" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-U4rvXrC31pc/UhkWqGebACI/AAAAAAAAb7U/kErUF_1B8sE/P1030193_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Remember what I wrote above about entering the reception hall and feeling like in a toaster? Well, once you actually enter the <em>arena</em>, it gets worse. MUCH worse. If Satan does exist, this must be the place he / she sends the worst of us for rehab.</p> <p>I was pretty content with sitting anywhere there at the first level of seating, but all seats had either asses, or personal belongings, on them. I looked above at the second level of seating, and noticed some empty seats—so I went there, and grabbed a seat. An oxygen mask would have helped as I was in a completely different atmosphere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-q-w3sZCWeWU/UhkWqekIlZI/AAAAAAAAb7c/Fm9X0TaBquY/s1600-h/P1030194%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030194" style="display: inline" alt="P1030194" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-r37lC542MVQ/UhkWq7urwDI/AAAAAAAAb7k/Kd3r1TlaThM/P1030194_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s a picture demonstrating what most people did before and during the concert: taking any sort of flat plastic or paper and using it as a fan.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ObqEwnWO5vo/UhkWrRP9ruI/AAAAAAAAb7s/Vr3KGbr5PSo/s1600-h/P1030197%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030197" style="display: inline" alt="P1030197" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2PZRh5tKYjI/UhkWr7BQlvI/AAAAAAAAb7w/8PLOvjxmYK8/P1030197_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert started a few minutes after the posted start time, at around 10:05pm.</p> <hr /> <p>The first thing I noticed once the band started playing <em>Border Reiver</em> was that I can’t hear anything right. Sound at the second level of seating was absolutely terrible—obviously, not the fault of any sound engineer but rather of the way this venue is laid out. Tons of echo, and vocals could rarely be heard—reminded me very well of the concert in <em>Wroclaw</em>. Therefore, I decided that I’d rather stand and listen to the music than sit down and hear a total mess—so I bid the seat goodbye and went seeking an alternative location.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vfnYjOiTanE/UhkWsY4hWAI/AAAAAAAAb74/81zNshqsud8/s1600-h/P1030198%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030198" style="display: inline" alt="P1030198" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8O_gR3kOgPk/UhkWs6uadJI/AAAAAAAAb8E/Dp0O98BMZgs/P1030198_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Toc5zHhjhIg/UhkWtZiE4bI/AAAAAAAAb8M/Aguq2OsSGBQ/s1600-h/P1030199%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030199" style="display: inline" alt="P1030199" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-POpfgko6iBI/UhkWt7XqXoI/AAAAAAAAb8U/etPUWi6PiPk/P1030199_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>First seating level, behind the last seating row, there was space for people to stand and watch the show. That space was marked as if access to it was allowed for certain individuals only—there were also a couple of people with badges there, supposedly in order to monitor who’s inside and who isn’t—but nobody appeared to pay any attention to them. People just came in and out of there all the time.</p> <p>Traffic at the venue was high with people walking in and out of the arena for drinks, chatter and whatnot; at the very back, where I was standing, exposure to such noise was very high so, just like in Córdoba, I couldn’t listen to much of the music. Same deal with video‐recording as well, as dozens of pairs of hands were raised during most of the show, recording it.</p> <p>At some point I grew tired of standing and listening to all the bullshit people around me were emitting out of their mouths, so I decided to look for a way to go down to the ground floor. Circled around the main level but couldn’t find a way to go down, until, by miracle, I noticed a couple talking to one of the ushers; they were talking Spanish but I could conclude, by their body language, that they were asking for a way to go downstairs. I then followed them; no wonder they couldn’t find it, as there was no sign <em>anywhere</em> telling people where to go.</p> <p>Arrived downstairs, and that was the real deal.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fbRW8kIawos/UhkWul2DoUI/AAAAAAAAb8c/KEmkqLs0_tg/s1600-h/P1030200%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030200" style="display: inline" alt="P1030200" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sfF5XkjA6iM/UhkWvOrm8SI/AAAAAAAAb8k/IZOMm9DOGNc/P1030200_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pVFETTE3N7Y/UhkWvlnYo_I/AAAAAAAAb8s/DzpjvJ6T-AQ/s1600-h/P1030201%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030201" style="display: inline" alt="P1030201" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hxjeMRkzhLI/UhkWwN8nPEI/AAAAAAAAb80/bKAJInevAIY/P1030201_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Deafening, absolutely deafening cheers throughout the show. Heat? Sweat? who cares. People were cheering, dancing, jumping… true joy, except for morons who kept on talking, chatting on their phones, walk around with huge cups of beer spilling it all over the floor (and on other people). Well, what can you do.</p> <p>The number one cheer extractor was, as almost always, <em>Sultans of Swing</em> which was performed beautifully. How can this band perform in such heat, I tell you folks, I have no idea. I grew up in an area as hot as Spain—25 years experience—and I can’t bear it. How do they do that? I don’t know, but they do it very well.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xcOGThHxJ2Y/UhkWwgExIiI/AAAAAAAAb88/gE41jhq2hmU/s1600-h/P1030202%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030202" style="display: inline" alt="P1030202" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_LyolC3TyIM/UhkWxIH_3HI/AAAAAAAAb9E/88PoNlZNNa0/P1030202_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pDJ3MEbPJLM/UhkWxe19-DI/AAAAAAAAb9M/wKAgeDB1thQ/s1600-h/P1030203%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030203" style="display: inline" alt="P1030203" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y7S5-M6_3y8/UhkWxzfH2BI/AAAAAAAAb9U/mAHBqAVnFzI/P1030203_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>You should have seen the jumping and the clapping after <em>Sultans of Swing</em>, it was really wild. Factor‐in the venue with the echo coming from all over the place, and you got yourself one huge noisy sauna.</p> <p>Occasionally, I made my way a bit forward to the crowd; it may sound weird at first, but it’s true—you enjoy the music more that way, even though it’s more crowded. The closer you get to the stage, the more people are “into the music” and less “into brainfucking each other’s minds with constant chatter”. Alas, the heat made me backtrack a few times. All and all, I found myself moving during most of the show.</p> <p>A massive‐aggressive <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> sent everyone to the sky once again. At times, during that song, I had to block my ears as the noise was unmanageable; I was the only one doing so, though—people there appeared to enjoy it, as well as the great performance of <em>Telegraph Road</em> that followed. Brilliant outro solo kicking collective ass, massive cheers and we’re already in <em>Brothers in Arms</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-203-idH01fs/UhkWyelXTrI/AAAAAAAAb9c/YxDiMklngPs/s1600-h/P1030205%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030205" style="display: inline" alt="P1030205" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4EvP6ydio3o/UhkWywJtKqI/AAAAAAAAb9g/MjOgVnZ1c4s/P1030205_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tdw_sinrlLk/UhkWzfytH8I/AAAAAAAAb9s/pqrE5MvzHVE/s1600-h/P1030206%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030206" style="display: inline" alt="P1030206" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-A7K78a8rCkU/UhkWz1bBUqI/AAAAAAAAb90/cw0yQ13GAsc/P1030206_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Eardrum‐pinching solo but great keyboard work by Guy; <em>So Far Away</em> followed and I went upstairs to watch the last encore, <em>Piper to the End</em>, from the first seating level, centre.</p> <p>Massive cheers after <em>Piper to the End</em> that kept going stronger and stronger—some continued after the lights went on, as the show ended a few minutes after 12:00am.</p> <hr /> <p>Walking back to the hotel at the same route I took before, revealed a truly majestic city. Things are very picturesque here at night; weather was actually a bit cold (!)—Julio warned me of that before coming here. I had to hurry, then, as I was wearing the only clothes I had—shorts, T‐shirt and sandals.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9McftDZgBOM/UhkW0XYXo7I/AAAAAAAAb98/cGsOgrCS-jo/s1600-h/P1030207%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030207" style="display: inline" alt="P1030207" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-clkjMSVpysQ/UhkW02Cfh9I/AAAAAAAAb-E/5bJ3yD5a64E/P1030207_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NGS2d1r863M/UhkW1ejlySI/AAAAAAAAb-M/POzgBtFbSv0/s1600-h/P1030208%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030208" style="display: inline" alt="P1030208" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Iyjsr9nbjGw/UhkW17T9hvI/AAAAAAAAb-U/Pe0RxgPa68M/P1030208_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tried my luck at some cafe‐bar’s close to the old city, but they were closed.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZfwLOAEtuxU/UhkW2aUdLvI/AAAAAAAAb-c/Rx7YPF0nWfA/s1600-h/P1030209%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030209" style="display: inline" alt="P1030209" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-H_zWSh23R3I/UhkW28B2zEI/AAAAAAAAb-k/r1FF5I0Kkj8/P1030209_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel, I was praying to meet my luggage; disappointment. It never arrived; nobody called, nothing. Partly due to hunger and partly due to desperation, I demolished whatever it is that was edible in the mini‐bar, regardless of price; attempted to sleep, to no avail.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post from <em>Spanair</em>’s VIP lounge in Madrid’s airport. Been a long day already, and I was close to breaking down this morning after realizing that the attendant yesterday was actually lying to me—my backpack never left Barcelona. In a few minutes, a flight from Barcelona should arrive, carrying my backpack. Lets all hope for good news.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-8775814001103420562010-07-28T14:08:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:18:26.162-05:00Day Off & Concert Day: Campo Pequeno, Lisbon, Portugal (July 26–27, 2010)<p>OK, OK. I know what you think. “What’s with the new look of the blog?”.</p> <p>Take a deep breath:</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>The theme I was using up until now is a legacy theme that is not entirely compatible with blogger.com’s new frameworks, which means that some features I wanted to add couldn’t be added. The new theme standards adheres to a different XML schema, allowing blogger.com’s advanced functionalities such as support for newer widgets, deep integration with Facebook and such. While I could have worked on adapting the old theme to the new blogger.com standards, it would have taken quite a while. So I did my best by downloading a new compatible theme and adjusting it.</em></p> </div> <p>If your level of understanding in Web programming is equivalent to my level of understanding of women, then you probably didn’t understand anything of the nonsense above; well, you asked for it. If you have suggestions about colors etc, let me know; otherwise, get over it.</p> <p>Anyway. The morning after the <em>Córdoba</em> fiasco I woke up to a much‐desired day off. I had a train reservation for 12:30pm, arriving <em>Madrid</em> at 2:30pm; then somehow get to the airport, for a flight to Lisbon leaving 5:45pm arriving 6:00pm (Lisbon is GMT).</p> <p>Slow morning and I didn’t get out of bed before 10:00pm. Checked‐out and went for a local cafe for breakfast—well, if you can call it “breakfast”. Yet another Bocadillo with some unrecognized meat inside it. Disappointed, went to the Jewish part there into some place called “Juda Levi Cafe” for some hot sandwich and respectable ice‐cream to finish.</p> <p>Altogether, so far, the Spanish cuisine (or what I had the chance to sample from it) is quite disappointing. Having chatted since then with friends in Canada, who happened to have travelled Spain before, I realized that I’m not the only one who considers the Spanish cuisine a bit… well… Strange.</p> <p>Hopefully I’ll get to try better Spanish food over the last four days of the tour.</p> <p>Took the taxi to the train station, the usual pre‐boarding luggage screening and off to Madrid; Madrid has two main railway stations—<em>Madrid Atocha</em> was my destination (I think it’s the bigger one of the two); from there, a short <em>Cercanias</em> ride (one stop), then hop on the metro all the way to <em>Madrid Barajas Airport</em>, terminal 4—arriving almost 3 hours before the flight’s scheduled time.</p> <p>Madrid’s <em>Bajaras Airport</em> is a huge, huge airport. It has four terminals, and the terminal I was at had, I believe, more than 100 gates. Convenient enough to get around, though; it’s properly signed and it’s hard to get lost in here. I decided to walk to the gate and simply park my ass there until the flight, then I realized that my flight has been delayed by an hour and no gate has been determined yet.</p> <p>Long, <em>long</em> stay at the airport; had the opportunity to sample yet another cup of coffee, which was when I finally concluded: whatever the Spanish call “coffee” is not coffee at all. While at first I thought I had been unlucky, I later realized that I can’t be unlucky so many times in a row. I can’t believe I am saying this, but hey, even Canada’s coffee is better.</p> <p>Fortunately the one‐hour delay was the last announced delay; boarded the flight—one of the narrowest, most uncomfortable aircrafts I ever been on, with my knees actually touching the seat in front of me—took off, and arrived at Lisbon one hour later, fifteen minutes after enjoying magnificent views of Lisbon’s metro area from above.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Portugal</em>, like Spain, is another country I was a bit suspicious about travelling to. I knew less about Portugal than I knew about Spain; in fact, I didn’t even know anybody who ever travelled to Portugal. Also, like so many other imbeciles, I was led to believe that the two countries (Spain and Portugal) don’t differ much.</p> <p><em>Lisbon</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisbon">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisbon</a>) is Portugal’s largest, as well as capital city. 2.8 million people live in its metro area, making it the 12th largest metro area in the European Union. It is also one of the oldest cities <em>in the world</em>. Unfortunately, due to my somewhat questionable physical condition (<em>very tired</em>) as well as schedule, I didn’t get much time to explore the city, but I <em>will</em> return.</p> <p>An airport bus for €3.50 takes you to the city centre—less than eight kilometres away, stopping in a few popular places along the way. My hotel, 4‐star <em>HF Fenix Urban</em>, was located right at the city centre—and with the hot weather outside, I was happy to arrive at a temperature‐controlled area. Quick check‐in and I laid on the bed, happy to finally be at my destination after a long day of travel.</p> <p>At night, I decided that it’s about time for a proper meal. Hell, it’s a day off; I should be able to get something to eat, regardless of what time restaurants open here. Dressed up, went downstairs; the hotel’s receptionist recommended a place called <em>Zeno</em>, for fine Italian food, located about 10 minutes walk from the hotel.</p> <p>On my way there, I was already impressed with what Lisbon has to offer. One thing Lisbon has <em>many</em> of is statues and monuments—especially at the city centre area, as well as the touristic areas to the south, by the river. My route involved crossing a giant roundabout called <em>Marquês de Pombal</em>:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pwLE-71wuh4/UhkTn6fSxAI/AAAAAAAAbr4/NlO9aO99jxQ/s1600-h/P1030107%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030107" style="display: inline" alt="P1030107" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R2UNsP9K-Hc/UhkToN4wZQI/AAAAAAAAbsA/vf--1eWoEfA/P1030107_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>—then walking down an avenue that appeared to be one of the main avenues in Lisbon. Quite a few statues and monuments along the way, looking brilliant with all the lights around.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rvjDT7WaYHQ/UhkTovYhKqI/AAAAAAAAbsI/2oXzr4ZrE3Q/s1600-h/P1030108%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030108" style="display: inline" alt="P1030108" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OfXawdPXQzs/UhkTpAfZkcI/AAAAAAAAbsQ/21rocojFWTc/P1030108_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EGcH5k56v-E/UhkTpu1ELHI/AAAAAAAAbsY/8BgQOwhoKNI/s1600-h/P1030109%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030109" style="display: inline" alt="P1030109" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tXZTbmi2tzs/UhkTp6vHhNI/AAAAAAAAbsg/m6XssLHE5Y4/P1030109_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Arrived at the restaurant, which appeared classy. Quick service, but very expensive in Lisbon terms: €18 for soup and pizza. Was it good? Well, better than anything I had in Spain that’s for sure, but still left much to be desired.</p> <p>Oh my Lord, do I miss Italy or what.</p> <p>Back to the hotel…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-u84MdGUtHN8/UhkTqbP7BkI/AAAAAAAAbso/fYw5mYFqiDA/s1600-h/P1030110%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030110" style="display: inline" alt="P1030110" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iaH58X30TSU/UhkTq0QjUsI/AAAAAAAAbsw/pHVB85D5vIQ/P1030110_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Xpf9fxiw_-o/UhkTrfBHnNI/AAAAAAAAbs4/Zy99eth7wMw/s1600-h/P1030112%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030112" style="display: inline" alt="P1030112" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UvI_NZIJIQI/UhkTrjBfDSI/AAAAAAAAbtA/fO3rvgSG1g0/P1030112_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>… and off for a great night sleep.</p> <p>Throughout my first few hours in Lisbon, I tried to absorb as much “Portuguese air” as I could. Well, I was, indeed, surprised. People in Lisbon—the capital city, and also the busiest—appear to be much less aggressive, somewhat quieter. More polite, that’s for sure. They are less likely to interfere with your personal space, which, for me, meant the world.</p> <p>I was happy to be there.</p> <hr /> <p>The next morning I woke up in quite the peculiar way. I woke up in all sorts of ways before, but I guess <em>that</em> one was a first.</p> <p>At some point, I guess it was around 8:00am, I was in the middle of some intense dream; I cannot recall the entire plot of the dream, but what I can recall is this: at the end of it, I was at the presence of some vicious dude. There was some dialogue between us, a really unpleasant one; somehow, for some reason, I felt a very strong need to slap the son‐of‐a‐bitch. That in itself is very peculiar as I have never in my life initiated any sort of a physical fight.</p> <p>I remember the situation being very intense; I think I felt threatened, that’s why. I remember planning the slap—which direction it should come from, at what angle, velocity and so on. Due to the position of the figures in the dream, I figured that the quickest way would be a slap with the back of my hand.</p> <p>And so I built energy within me, and at the moment that felt most appropriate, I slapped the villain a slap that, had he been real, would probably never recover from.</p> <p>And that was when I woke up. The dream was so intense that the slap was actually <em>real</em>—however, instead of slapping an imaginary villain, I slapped a much more tangible wooden frame of a bed‐side lamp, conveniently located above my head and to the right. The result: a somewhat crooked lamp frame, that took some convincing to restore to its original posture. Oh, and quite a bit of pain in my right hand.</p> <p>As you could guess, it’s pretty tough remaining asleep after such an incident. I woke up instantly, the back of my hand hurts like shit, realized what happened and I couldn’t stop laughing. Initially I thought about calling reception, explain the incident, apologize and offer to pay for any damage—but what stopped me from doing so was my imagination of the poor receptionist’s face once I tell him / her about this unusual turn of events… Can you even imagine this?</p> <p><em>“Hi, this is Isaac from 106… Errr… Ahh… (whisper) oh it’s so embarrassing (stop whisper)… I accidentally slapped the living shit out of one of the lamp frames… now, what time did you say breakfast is served?”</em></p> <p>Doesn’t sit well, does it.</p> <p>Quick shower, went for good breakfast at the hotel and off to explore the city.</p> <hr /> <p>The avenue I ended up walking the night before on my way to the restaurant turned out to be <em>Av. da Liberdade</em>—indeed, a major avenue in Lisbon leading to the old city area. That area, <em>Rossio Square</em> being its major point of attraction, is very pretty and is considered to be a top touristic attraction. Scores of tourists flocked the streets, temperatures being too high for me to feel human with.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nqZQXAgccGQ/UhkTsQ1D2PI/AAAAAAAAbtI/P7I0-fG6lAk/s1600-h/P1030113%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030113" style="display: inline" alt="P1030113" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UtkE9X0Dhzo/UhkTs5t1OHI/AAAAAAAAbtQ/STyObTiZ2ok/P1030113_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_ZI5TvIQLcc/UhkTtG5Pn2I/AAAAAAAAbtY/R78rwLBNEaA/s1600-h/P1030114%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030114" style="display: inline" alt="P1030114" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8KBfuV3ueO0/UhkTt0PXZHI/AAAAAAAAbtc/8kCHTq3c3TA/P1030114_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>While Lisbon’s old town is indeed a pretty area, it looks somewhat worn down. You are not going to find the breathtaking beauty of <em>Prague</em> here, or the romantic atmosphere of <em>Budapest</em> at night; you <em>will</em> find, however, lots of statues, monuments, squares and fountains. The true beauty of Lisbon, so I have later learned reading about it, is actually <em>outside</em> the city centre / old‐town area.</p> <p>As this is one of Lisbon’s main touristic areas, there are quite a few gift‐shops and a striking number of street peddlers approaching you and trying to sell you something—be it cigars, spices and I’m pretty sure someone <em>did</em> try to sell me marijuana.</p> <p>So far, I learned an important law in travel into tourist places: when someone approaches you, it is <em>always</em> for your money.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5iU3rRU0-9A/UhkTue0ODFI/AAAAAAAAbto/0e228rhAihA/s1600-h/P1030115%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030115" style="display: inline" alt="P1030115" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2QIakqYHMyA/UhkTu6wYnsI/AAAAAAAAbtw/uAX4OmazzwQ/P1030115_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pWJLxW_9CCA/UhkTvZHLz9I/AAAAAAAAbt4/ruUus118nv0/s1600-h/P1030116%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030116" style="display: inline" alt="P1030116" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2S7Pbi_QHXc/UhkTv8mbpOI/AAAAAAAAbuA/w6nFPIAEbCE/P1030116_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dqFD2vF1UP0/UhkTwSdUeCI/AAAAAAAAbuI/qJBlVcs_biw/s1600-h/P1030117%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030117" style="display: inline" alt="P1030117" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J1SnsN4L6cw/UhkTwponBuI/AAAAAAAAbuQ/GhQiUYOvVfM/P1030117_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Sl-unMeEnrE/UhkTxKnn0vI/AAAAAAAAbuY/YouCSjQbxWI/s1600-h/P1030118%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030118" style="display: inline" alt="P1030118" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bUdrmfip_6Y/UhkTxp0qcEI/AAAAAAAAbug/A8tPI4uu3LE/P1030118_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Lisbon is a relatively wealthy city (10th richest in the European Union, judging by GDP); however, prices here are low relatively to other major European cities. As in most touristic areas around the world, walking down the streets you can’t avoid encountering a few unpleasant sights of beggars doing everything to attract your attention. Lots of locals also tend to gather together around benches in the various squares, shooting the breeze, passing the time with the look in their eyes showing quite a bit of desperation.</p> <p>Restaurants abound, most of which are tourist traps. The Portuguese are very strong in pastries, it turns out—and restaurants offering pastries / desserts / coffee are usually well‐populated with tourists.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-koNFs9x0sJg/UhkTyMsJDvI/AAAAAAAAbuo/W2L5yQ65_jE/s1600-h/P1030120%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030120" style="display: inline" alt="P1030120" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7MawtWGiZrY/UhkTynv2sMI/AAAAAAAAbuw/g10IvcvYZys/P1030120_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6PQq_kQHn0U/UhkTy_3mTeI/AAAAAAAAbu4/FjqHmPHxJKk/s1600-h/P1030122%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030122" style="display: inline" alt="P1030122" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZHP8_mhSmEA/UhkTzcNKRWI/AAAAAAAAbvA/WNgXtEFxWvs/P1030122_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TIcNxxnoM48/UhkTzxVa-eI/AAAAAAAAbvI/ZSAmMgJFmRg/s1600-h/P1030123%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030123" style="display: inline" alt="P1030123" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Tc4aJMdNBGM/UhkT0T-KXEI/AAAAAAAAbvQ/ph6HGMrT3OQ/P1030123_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>One restaurant there was very big on seafood. Look at that:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bkpBbbghgN4/UhkT04UoRXI/AAAAAAAAbvY/hxyPuPcLRJw/s1600-h/P1030121%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030121" style="display: inline" alt="P1030121" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a3CX1moQNM4/UhkT1HT_bnI/AAAAAAAAbvg/m7DuZbP_a8U/P1030121_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I ended up sitting at an Italian restaurant that offered interesting items for prices not requiring anybody to sell their house. A <em>Quattro Stagioni</em> pizza and I was set to go and explore a bit more.</p> <p>Hopefully this next picture won’t make you as dizzy as it makes me: the ceiling of one of the arches at the entrance to the old city. The building is called, I believe, <em>Praça do Comércio</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VZ7LPS6jOXc/UhkT1kXYzvI/AAAAAAAAbvo/devgenwWJCw/s1600-h/P1030124%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030124" style="display: inline" alt="P1030124" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oT8jjTAY-qA/UhkT2JWC_aI/AAAAAAAAbvw/maGMmcu2lqs/P1030124_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And both sides—</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pwSdZKGhxEU/UhkT2nvAahI/AAAAAAAAbv4/SdT5bX9h-R4/s1600-h/P1030125%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030125" style="display: inline" alt="P1030125" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aX-dF4Ohtf4/UhkT3GthH2I/AAAAAAAAbwA/xvPlreCjT0Q/P1030125_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qfKyu9X_Ilo/UhkT3u8DqiI/AAAAAAAAbwI/9ODi_FBuiqc/s1600-h/P1030126%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030126" style="display: inline" alt="P1030126" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oboe-VVrdKY/UhkT4HDeebI/AAAAAAAAbwQ/b9tLN4_5hM4/P1030126_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Exiting the old city towards the river (I originally thought it’s a sea and maybe I should go for a swim, but the hotel receptionist told me that it’s not a brilliant idea to swim there. Pollution is one thing, the risk of being run over by ships is another), you come across a <em>huge</em> square with a brilliant monument at its centre. It’s called <em>Terreiro Paço</em>: Here’s a picture taken from the back of the monument—I was facing the river at that point.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FmJRG5_zLSE/UhkT4jH_QXI/AAAAAAAAbwY/WKDRSdUXUtg/s1600-h/P1030127%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030127" style="display: inline" alt="P1030127" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3u7xBZc-ifU/UhkT435d82I/AAAAAAAAbwg/sx7bcEYWzJs/P1030127_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Turning around to face the old city again, as well as the statue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hHXh9WioefI/UhkT5QlSxaI/AAAAAAAAbwk/4FKaz4sAFl0/s1600-h/P1030131%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030131" style="display: inline" alt="P1030131" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-M14WaXaGGOE/UhkT53ZqVnI/AAAAAAAAbww/dsJid2PsUrY/P1030131_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kiiakT5LIOI/UhkT6fg7jrI/AAAAAAAAbw4/rH62JvSX10I/s1600-h/P1030133%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030133" style="display: inline" alt="P1030133" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FF8likewDes/UhkT69pkzRI/AAAAAAAAbw8/upUjzd7_-ko/P1030133_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-D0J56hHjWLg/UhkT7KRIUVI/AAAAAAAAbxE/gqF98ptQ2Bo/s1600-h/P1030134%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030134" style="display: inline" alt="P1030134" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7RhwrkOn3vY/UhkT7q-ocuI/AAAAAAAAbxQ/eaJwrAJUyDY/P1030134_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8fc177GepNA/UhkT8f_zGkI/AAAAAAAAbxY/kATfzWGmzYM/s1600-h/P1030137%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030137" style="display: inline" alt="P1030137" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zsB1D0xV1oM/UhkT84AOS9I/AAAAAAAAbxg/rGxO5H7ym2g/P1030137_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The day before, as the airplane approached Lisbon’s airport, I noticed a brilliant statue located at the edge of the river. It was the <em>Cristo‐Rei</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cristo-Rei)">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cristo-Rei)</a>—a monument of Jesus Christ overlooking Lisbon. From above, with perfect visibility, it looked fantastic and dramatic; as I was walking the city, though, smog level was too high.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jA6hud_yV_o/UhkT9GMPjvI/AAAAAAAAbxo/BWALZ7L-zRA/s1600-h/P1030136%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030136" style="display: inline" alt="P1030136" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_lDeK3G7F14/UhkT9r7-c_I/AAAAAAAAbxw/B5R8VUVHZkc/P1030136_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The heat started feeling even worse so I began making my way back. Stopped for a while at <em>Pastelaria Suíça</em>, a place to which I got a lead from Leslie, a reader of this blog whom I had met two years ago in Florida. <em>Pastel de Nata</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastel_de_nata">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastel_de_nata</a>), a common pastry in Portugal, is served here and is delicious. Thanks Leslie for the tip!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UhGuPzyKRNo/UhkT-S9TVVI/AAAAAAAAbx4/yu3Xm3ZzJpc/s1600-h/P1030138%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030138" style="display: inline" alt="P1030138" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ns4qVLJ5WjY/UhkT-2QpW9I/AAAAAAAAbyA/HwgyEDElzZs/P1030138_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UQSHUOa7Hdc/UhkT_af7FLI/AAAAAAAAbyE/FhkPUlFwXN0/s1600-h/P1030140%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030140" style="display: inline" alt="P1030140" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-fmaOTqoC5Y4/UhkT_7tHsYI/AAAAAAAAbyQ/p3ozbwkfcbM/P1030140_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel and I started feeling very tired. Before coming to Lisbon, I had plans set with <em>Goretti</em>, a Mark Knopfler fan who has been following this blog, to meet‐up for dinner before the show. Had slightly less than an hour for a massive nap; go dressed, off to the subway and arrived at <em>Campo Pequeno</em> about two hours before the show’s scheduled start time.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Campo Pequeno</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campo_Pequeno_bullring">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campo_Pequeno_bullring</a>) is a small <em>indoor</em> bullring. It dates back to 1892, located about a mile north of the old city and is very pretty from the outside.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CW-djpDTKyU/UhkUAV_4-dI/AAAAAAAAbyY/kRE7_ZpWq2E/s1600-h/P1030141%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030141" style="display: inline" alt="P1030141" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-a8k4SNxHLcs/UhkUA9qbwiI/AAAAAAAAbyg/hg9NTrPJNZg/P1030141_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WTIsTdGT5Do/UhkUBR1KYPI/AAAAAAAAbyo/mwzJfWLOSCY/s1600-h/P1030142%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030142" style="display: inline" alt="P1030142" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ivaHj5a9f58/UhkUB2TiS7I/AAAAAAAAbyw/Im14kL7fHAY/P1030142_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket pickup was a breeze however I came across something rather disturbing (for me). I neglected to realize that all shows in Spain (except for Barcelona) are in bullrings, and bought tickets for reserved seating wherever possible. Alas, for concerts, most bullrings are organized in such way that the ground (where the bull actually runs and ends up dying; I’m in the opinion that this is a bit too cruel a “sport”) is used for general‐admission, while the reserved seating is actually on the terraces—<em>around</em> the arena.</p> <p>The immediate consequence of this is that I rather unlikely to watch the band perform up close & personal anymore, except for the remaining general admission shows (<em>Santiago de‐Compostela</em> and <em>Gredos</em>) in which my location will be determined by factors mostly beyond my control so I can’t know.</p> <p>Well, what can you do.</p> <p>Met Goretti, her husband and two kids outside the venue and they were nice enough to buy me dinner in one of the restaurants located right beneath the venue (there are a few restaurants surrounding the venue itself). After a tasty steak & egg dinner, the hot temperature started to become a burden on us all so we spent some time outside the venue, entering about 15 minutes before the concert’s scheduled start time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7RhZZkUNa-s/UhkUCSX6mNI/AAAAAAAAby4/LIWb_PMSjY8/s1600-h/P1030143%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030143" style="display: inline" alt="P1030143" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5xi9MRno5uc/UhkUC-OQi2I/AAAAAAAAbzA/vcjQBUfgjPU/P1030143_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RFQziaQZzD8/UhkUDUXDxkI/AAAAAAAAbzI/L-iBjxj718Y/s1600-h/P1030144%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030144" style="display: inline" alt="P1030144" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QCkdiC6s98c/UhkUDya6a9I/AAAAAAAAbzQ/QTzU2TTdzAs/P1030144_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>My reserved seat was of the worse ones in this tour: first row (of the terraces), <em>all the way</em> to the right. As right as you can go; seat number 1. The family of four had seats at the centre, by the stairs. Funny how things work out—Goretti’s husband apparently has very low patience towards heat and decided that he’d need the ability to travel during the concert, so I took his seat and he embarked on a journey, watching the concert from all over the place.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Jaxczgq7H9s/UhkUEfECxzI/AAAAAAAAbzY/i-enU6_Lu8k/s1600-h/P1030145%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030145" style="display: inline" alt="P1030145" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RgBcvtKgyHU/UhkUE7Xi9xI/AAAAAAAAbzc/KTicprgYJDk/P1030145_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5F3KOYFS7jg/UhkUFWXMi8I/AAAAAAAAbzo/002UFfWYHg0/s1600-h/P1030146%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030146" style="display: inline" alt="P1030146" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ScvHC5x-H1s/UhkUF-_5v9I/AAAAAAAAbzw/sqwTW6nKRGU/P1030146_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8nTd3WsuU84/UhkUGS4tqZI/AAAAAAAAbz4/q0U9V3_qZNY/s1600-h/P1030147%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030147" style="display: inline" alt="P1030147" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1Rpr7sf_WDo/UhkUGpsRknI/AAAAAAAAbz8/fNh0qgcjHVM/P1030147_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The soundboard was to my immediate right:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-c4ABa2tktMI/UhkUHIq_AHI/AAAAAAAAb0E/5h_HNQJr1_c/s1600-h/P1030148%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030148" style="display: inline" alt="P1030148" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Tq7vP4SiLK4/UhkUH1P2O6I/AAAAAAAAb0Q/LbHm-Bx0Bf4/P1030148_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iRJS4txYSVg/UhkUIbst-JI/AAAAAAAAb0Y/c7nDz9V29gQ/s1600-h/P1030150%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030150" style="display: inline" alt="P1030150" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-22pe3nNG6So/UhkUI0LtmsI/AAAAAAAAb0g/feKtciHEmn0/P1030150_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-c4DgSnqmQ30/UhkUJejeRBI/AAAAAAAAb0o/4RWslA0Vm-s/s1600-h/P1030157%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030157" style="display: inline" alt="P1030157" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-N8Dr0400I9k/UhkUJ4cC_zI/AAAAAAAAb0s/uVq5KTD_8HY/P1030157_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Surprisingly, no anti‐video and anti‐mobile‐phone notice has been voice, however I’m pretty sure that it would be of little use anyway… Unfortunately, there appears to be a very weak correlation between having the statement voiced and the obedience by the audience. The show, then, started about fifteen minutes past the schedule time, at 9:45pm.</p> <hr /> <p>The bullring being a rather small, covered venue meant, right from the start, that we’re about to experience something very loud—which we did. Not just the music, of course; the audience, cheering insanely before and after each song (sometimes even during), was also responsible for the high decibels. We had a good concert, with a setlist identical to that of the previous concert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AaauV33COzw/UhkUKUWv55I/AAAAAAAAb04/WS-zNszFwn8/s1600-h/P1030160%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030160" style="display: inline" alt="P1030160" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0C5yS1Vl8Tw/UhkUK4s3-lI/AAAAAAAAb1A/RS1Ha5x6xMw/P1030160_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nuZxAOU5FPY/UhkULXnuEgI/AAAAAAAAb1I/6ZFESngWmrM/s1600-h/P1030161%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030161" style="display: inline" alt="P1030161" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--rc3e0M-lfk/UhkULxnhMrI/AAAAAAAAb1Q/kpGAHvRJsCg/P1030161_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Sorry for the relatively low quality of the pictures; I’m telling you, sitting at the back…</p> <p>Something awfully wrong must have happened to Mark’s Stratocaster during <em>Border Reiver</em>’s outro section, just as he was going to do the final solo for the last few bars, ending the song; Mark started playing, and what came out was… how to say… of questionable beauty. More annoying dissonances are tricky to imagine, and he seemed to be very surprised. Took about a fraction of a second pause, then tried again—no good.</p> <p>Even from the distance I could recognize the look of “<em>what for fuck’s sake</em>” on his face, as he stopped playing (the band continued), held the guitar in both hands and stared at the guitar’s bridge for a second or two. My guess is that a string (or two) went completely out of tune. Anyway, the show must go on and within a few seconds the song was over, with Mark gesturing the end of the song with his fists, as he used to do at the beginning of the tour. This time, however, he was holding the Strat. I’m pretty sure he was tempted to fling it onto the floor and stump on it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7ff0fvO608Q/UhkUMZRMPfI/AAAAAAAAb1Y/OQIKU91Vabg/s1600-h/P1030162%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030162" style="display: inline" alt="P1030162" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sCQHApyH6Wo/UhkUM-YQTPI/AAAAAAAAb1g/w_uDfHNJz3U/P1030162_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On we went for an <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> that featured an outro solo that was far more elaborate than usual. Quite a few notes have been struck during that solo, in all sorts of keys. Very interesting; I can recall it happening once or twice before.</p> <p>Was good to see the backdrop again…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pKZXC145Kc8/UhkUNa2IkMI/AAAAAAAAb1o/Sqpj754TwkU/s1600-h/P1030165%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030165" style="display: inline" alt="P1030165" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OJfWI7O3AK4/UhkUN20kAOI/AAAAAAAAb1w/QA8oWyeAyeg/P1030165_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kHPVcXMC5uY/UhkUORR1z0I/AAAAAAAAb14/XAoaP3E36hU/s1600-h/P1030168%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030168" style="display: inline" alt="P1030168" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DED9AC6SuBM/UhkUO3DdGkI/AAAAAAAAb2A/fcdVE-ZHCpY/P1030168_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And after deafening cheers post‐<em>Sultans of Swing</em>, the stage was ready for <em>Done with Bonaparte</em>. As Mike & John started playing the pipes and the violin, something sounded very strange—as if one of the instruments was detuned or something (can pipes be detuned? Frankly I have very little idea how pipes work). Anyway, at least one of the two was maybe 1/4 of a tone off.</p> <p>(Or maybe John’s left hand was too sweaty)</p> <p>Anyway, it went away once the entire band started playing.</p> <p><em>Marbletown</em> followed, keeping the trend of turning the <em>Marble‐Jam</em> more and more “aggressive”. I don’t know, something in my ear just resists that; I prefer the quieter performances—having said that, though, a quiet jam‐session wouldn’t be heard at all due to the constant noise at the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fxBw2RyP0To/UhkUPdKn7eI/AAAAAAAAb2I/R1b69dQ4bUc/s1600-h/P1030169%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030169" style="display: inline" alt="P1030169" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X5Bu29hlFlA/UhkUP5yVbSI/AAAAAAAAb2Q/pPmOPHMPOqE/P1030169_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Very loud cheers to the band between encores; <em>Piper to the End</em> sealed the show as usual…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Wy5M5q3rkf8/UhkUQZsrMxI/AAAAAAAAb2Y/mZ1xATpLl0A/s1600-h/P1030172%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030172" style="display: inline" alt="P1030172" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HaoonU5d3RE/UhkUQ2KPiRI/AAAAAAAAb2g/7G1pBS1vnCU/P1030172_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_06VeB-Dxxc/UhkURY5d-AI/AAAAAAAAb2o/4fnWw7jE99E/s1600-h/P1030173%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030173" style="display: inline" alt="P1030173" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1ANGoOhtLd8/UhkURwyMPVI/AAAAAAAAb2w/28qLeWt_eQQ/P1030173_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And look at this mass of cheers:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-L-Xu1j8FWfY/UhkUSdfzd_I/AAAAAAAAb24/5xL433EuDmg/s1600-h/P1030175%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030175" style="display: inline" alt="P1030175" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XJfLAO_pQ54/UhkUSqcMsfI/AAAAAAAAb3A/SaQJyqCEosU/P1030175_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-h-OaOkKp5ls/UhkUTHu5dGI/AAAAAAAAb3I/6tSwFKEg6_0/s1600-h/P1030176%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030176" style="display: inline" alt="P1030176" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OS31rxZTdoY/UhkUTvEklyI/AAAAAAAAb3Q/XNMfhJoIvOg/P1030176_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-96eYScfYHy0/UhkUUUt15ZI/AAAAAAAAb3Y/w8oFfBXHQtU/s1600-h/P1030177%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030177" style="display: inline" alt="P1030177" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-IOBgIk6SjBI/UhkUU8aLx2I/AAAAAAAAb3c/A4U9yaTAuo4/P1030177_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OfGQPfqOj-w/UhkUVYy2IUI/AAAAAAAAb3o/EUi2lFjmQ1Q/s1600-h/P1030178%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030178" style="display: inline" alt="P1030178" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--R3c_29vqME/UhkUV9eWgEI/AAAAAAAAb3w/lePQoM2gs68/P1030178_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Show ended at around 11:00pm.</p> <hr /> <p>Goretti’s family sat down for a drink outside the venue; I planned to join them, but quickly realized that I must get some sleep before the next day’s early flight to <em>Santiago de‐Compostela</em>; I was already very tired, so I thanked them all for everything and left. Thanks, Goretti, for everything and say hi to the family for me!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zw4YdAl8qFU/UhkUWPRowdI/AAAAAAAAb34/dZF6ae2EeqQ/s1600-h/P1030180%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030180" style="display: inline" alt="P1030180" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oiapKOmzv4w/UhkUWhXJGkI/AAAAAAAAb4A/GhwujaWlBqI/P1030180_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel and went immediately to sleep, which explains the delay in this post.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing‐off this post from my hotel room in <em>Santiago de‐Compostela</em>. Flying from Lisbon to Barcelona and then to Santiago de‐Compostela, my luggage has been lost somewhere along the way. With the crazy schedule I have to adhere to, I doubt whether I’ll see my luggage any time soon; won’t go into much details but, without having my luggage back <em>soon</em>, I may be forced to go back to Canada much sooner than planned, perhaps before the tour ends.</p> <p>Hoping for the best… But expecting the worst, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-90319426238990830822010-07-26T16:14:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:16:52.258-05:00Concert Day: Nueva Plaza de Toros de Córdoba, Córdoba, Spain (July 25, 2010)<p>As I had a pretty good <em>Siesta</em> the day before, I didn’t need much sleep overnight which is probably the reason why I woke up early feeling quite… well… OK. Wouldn’t say “fantastic” as I’ve been having some sleeping‐related problems recently, which I will address as soon as I go back to Canada.</p> <p>But, good enough to start the day.</p> <p>The evening before, <em>Marcos</em>, Julio’s friend, suggested that I get a ride with him from Murcia to Córdoba; however, that happened after I already bought the bus ticket, plus I woke up early anyway so I decided to take the bus instead. Thank you though, Marcos, for your offer—very much appreciated.</p> <p>(Yes, bus. At least on Sundays, there are no direct train connections from Murcia to Córdoba; there are some connecting train routes available, but arriving to Córdoba way too late)</p> <p>As the end of the tour nears, I’m more inclined to make things easier and easier for myself. Murcia’s bus terminal is not too far from the hotel but I chose to take a taxi instead and live prima‐donna‐style. Arrived at the bus terminal with ample time to check it out and make sure I’m at the right place. Double‐ and triple‐checking were definitely called for; on Sundays, there’s only one bus leaving Murcia towards Córdoba, and it leaves on 8:00am.</p> <p>Thinking about it, the ride to Córdoba was the first significant bus ride during this tour; while I took buses inside cities before (for example, to get from my hotel to the venue), this was the first time I had to take a bus to actually reach my destination <em>city</em>. That adds “bus” to the already‐impressive list of methods of transportations used to get from one place to another during this journey—so far, I have done cars (North America), airplanes (North America to Europe, Oslo to Hamburg, and three more to come in Spain), a taxi (Poland; 2 hours ride) and trains (stopped counting already).</p> <p>Boarded the bus and took what <em>I thought</em> was my seat (I chose my seat while booking online); it happened to be vacant—the best seat in the house, no seats in front of me (right behind the back doors).</p> <p>I was <em>not</em> looking forward to this bus ride; I genuinely despise buses as they tend to make me nauseous, and being this a 7 hours (!) bus ride, I considered this ride to be one of the toughest one in the trip for me. I just prayed for safe arrival to Córdoba without any messy occurrences along the way, and I’ll spare you from the details.</p> <p>Surprise, though; the ride went awfully smooth, and I even managed to doze off for some time. The ride itself wasn’t very interesting, and was exactly what I expected it to be: lots of barren hills around, no greenery save for one particular type of bush that appears to only grow in such dry conditions, hardly any water. An “upgraded desert”, if you may.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7b_ZzQjQ-KM/UhkPir5OwtI/AAAAAAAAbbE/Fbg2RB_kl2U/s1600-h/P1030023%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030023" style="display: inline" alt="P1030023" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-H7FvLBzKcWU/UhkPi8ria2I/AAAAAAAAbbM/uXNf6ssbWEc/P1030023_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YGoSJNxW6_A/UhkPjc92dPI/AAAAAAAAbbU/ixCdBoPFwCY/s1600-h/P1030024%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030024" style="display: inline" alt="P1030024" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RB6V-nb9_uU/UhkPj_ivdpI/AAAAAAAAbbc/Q76kAPm57Ds/P1030024_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A movie was playing in the bus; of course, volume was up so <em>everyone</em> could hear it, including those who had absolutely no shade of interest in it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RAlFb8SyVfA/UhkPkRpl5mI/AAAAAAAAbbk/uOeqKwT86a0/s1600-h/P1030025%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030025" style="display: inline" alt="P1030025" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oxQs7LxDAys/UhkPkwXX_GI/AAAAAAAAbbs/aLYb89q6b98/P1030025_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Moving on… and… wait, am I in Arizona?</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KIThntsomdY/UhkPlY1VXOI/AAAAAAAAbb0/E8nfIdPPuV4/s1600-h/P1030026%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030026" style="display: inline" alt="P1030026" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PIX1lQrCtVw/UhkPlgVzNJI/AAAAAAAAbb8/yKTJ7jgrKCk/P1030026_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6I0brjMuaho/UhkPmBR25kI/AAAAAAAAbcE/UIPU2psnh14/s1600-h/P1030027%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030027" style="display: inline" alt="P1030027" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RRlT7xUA6Cw/UhkPmsvE6lI/AAAAAAAAbcM/tvp95CatITY/P1030027_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The bus stopped for about half an hour in Granada, where I had a despicable sandwich and freshly‐squeezed orange juice. In Granada, lots of people boarded the bus, making it almost full; I then realized that my seat is on the other side of the aisle, as a mature couple used sign language to tell me to fuck off their seats.</p> <p>Dozed off for pretty much the rest of the ride, waking up a couple of minutes before arriving to Córdoba. I was happy; the trip ended without much hassle. <em>Google Maps</em> claimed the distance to my hotel to be about 2.0km; temperature—about two million degrees. Hopped on a taxi and arrived at my hotel—<em>Hotel Conquistador</em>, in the old city.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Córdoba</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%B3rdoba,_Spain">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%B3rdoba,_Spain</a>) is located in the region of <em>Andalusia</em>, and is the capital of the <em>Province of Córdoba</em>. In ancient times, it was a Roman city; in the Middle Ages, it was an Islamic city.</p> <p>Tourism‐wise, Córdoba is most known for its magnificent old‐town area; walking there is almost as close as it gets to time travel, with buildings and monuments of the middle‐ages, reminders for the Islamic reign of the city. Some historians claim that, at around the end of the first millennium, Córdoba was the most populated city in Europe, and perhaps even in the world, with 500,000 people living in it.</p> <p>My knowledge of Córdoba amounted to nothing before this trip. Well, almost nothing. The only context in which I remember Córdoba was actually an animation series I watched when I was a kid. The series’ name, in English, is “3000 Leagues in Search of Mother” (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3000_Leagues_in_Search_of_Mother">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3000_Leagues_in_Search_of_Mother</a>); a heart‐wrenching story about a kid looking for his mother all over the world. In some episodes, Marco looked for his mother in Córdoba and it somehow got burnt into my mind.</p> <p>… OK, you can stop mocking me now.</p> <p>Anyway, my hotel was located at the very heart of the old town. a 4‐star hotel for the staggering price of €39. How things are so cheap here—I couldn’t understand; there’s so much history in this place and so much beauty, well worth a couple of days of exploration. I was impressed as soon as the taxi arrived at the old‐town area; so, right after checking‐in, I went outside to explore for a bit, and maybe get something to eat.</p> <p>The walk outside was a very pleasant walk; the old town is beautiful, featuring narrow & winding streets with some very old buildings. This is a popular tourist attraction, and as such, those narrow streets are filled with gift shops and other tourist traps.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--h9Y-JZIXVM/UhkPnF3_GjI/AAAAAAAAbcU/rfcgUpSJaM8/s1600-h/P1030028%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030028" style="display: inline" alt="P1030028" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-BrW-dvQlXAo/UhkPnr8uMtI/AAAAAAAAbcY/EMLvnM8I_Vg/P1030028_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dgy2O3bL4zM/UhkPoGdVtEI/AAAAAAAAbck/Pi1TEveWVLI/s1600-h/P1030029%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030029" style="display: inline" alt="P1030029" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-a9jT3HmgiDw/UhkPogkfy7I/AAAAAAAAbcs/CTqgKx6V30M/P1030029_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>My hotel was located right across the road (well, a 3 metres wide road) from the <em>Great Mosque of Córdoba</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Mosque_of_C%C3%B3rdoba">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Mosque_of_C%C3%B3rdoba</a>); I passed next to its walls before going deeper into the myriad of narrow streets…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kJqBZ_XFAZw/UhkPpDOBzII/AAAAAAAAbc0/6lXzpVkR9Aw/s1600-h/P1030030%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030030" style="display: inline" alt="P1030030" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UsZEFUMAAQM/UhkPppR-pmI/AAAAAAAAbc8/x4_cEvW21ek/P1030030_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WP-pv-6dUjo/UhkPqH8DseI/AAAAAAAAbdE/xM-tuEmYd80/s1600-h/P1030031%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030031" style="display: inline" alt="P1030031" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-28dJH_Q7DtM/UhkPqj6gUNI/AAAAAAAAbdM/aqnawXyCjow/P1030031_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… I guess <em>Burger King</em> is bloody <em>everywhere</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gxN-tpmRmq4/UhkPrI5k5XI/AAAAAAAAbdU/n0pf27s02fE/s1600-h/P1030032%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030032" style="display: inline" alt="P1030032" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-heyPV-SYEww/UhkPrhVIEbI/AAAAAAAAbdc/z2VHV4vXYjw/P1030032_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_RFJBMMiLk8/UhkPsB5wnbI/AAAAAAAAbdk/3AL1oP-IEDY/s1600-h/P1030033%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030033" style="display: inline" alt="P1030033" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-F2nF3yxG0yM/UhkPsoAqjOI/AAAAAAAAbds/p1VVoHO4nvU/P1030033_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Finally having time for a proper meal, I had the receptionist’s recommendation for a good restaurant. Went there, saw the menu and decided to keep my house after all rather than selling it to benefit a meal. A nearby terrace offered a simpler menu for about half the price.</p> <p>Sat down; one million people on the terrace, waiting to be served. Somehow, I caught the waiter’s attention.</p> <p>– “Sorry, there are many tables before you…”, he said.</p> <p>– “Oh, that’s OK.”</p> <p>– “Do you know what you want?”</p> <p>I realized that if I say “yes”, I can get some service <em>right now</em>!</p> <p>– “Yes!”</p> <p>– “… So tell me.”</p> <p>It was then when I realized that I had no clue about what I want.</p> <p>– “… Actually I don’t.”</p> <p>He laughed. “OK, I will be back soon”.</p> <p>Being almost a complete stranger to the Spanish cuisine, I went for a soup of weird texture, containing bits of ham in it as well as bits of eggs. I forgot the name of this soup but maybe it’s better this way, it was rather ugly.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Fu77jWZY5nI/UhkPtLliyzI/AAAAAAAAbd0/NkB7zoWxygc/s1600-h/P1030034%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030034" style="display: inline" alt="P1030034" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sptUe8vrYo0/UhkPtkIAy0I/AAAAAAAAbd8/hstF4JCyG2I/P1030034_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A <em>Paella</em> followed shortly after; not as good as the one I had in Barcelona. Yes, another fail.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nysdRMe9qs8/UhkPt8X2DUI/AAAAAAAAbeE/7FFAyWE_Dbk/s1600-h/P1030035%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030035" style="display: inline" alt="P1030035" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EQgFqpYKeiA/UhkPuvT7iiI/AAAAAAAAbeM/gjDotpz3O0E/P1030035_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Time for dessert, so I noticed an item on the menu called “Córdoba Tart”. A dessert. I decided to give it a try. Turned out it’s a tart filled with some sort of a spread that is, I’m telling you, 100% sugar. I had two bites and couldn’t take it anymore.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nhmqoOsH_Mo/UhkPu7nrSqI/AAAAAAAAbeU/vQRqb4CnwGQ/s1600-h/P1030037%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030037" style="display: inline" alt="P1030037" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2OGJwJoF37k/UhkPvQsLXsI/AAAAAAAAbec/WTbMbIccMh4/P1030037_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Huge disappointment.</p> <p>Paid my bill quite unwillingly, and off to see some more of this beautiful area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k5HyCrVjTQo/UhkPvx9nnQI/AAAAAAAAbek/qrLpvQGpXZ0/s1600-h/P1030038%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030038" style="display: inline" alt="P1030038" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EDxwDeQYuVw/UhkPwapjMgI/AAAAAAAAbeo/T4ayIcG3rEQ/P1030038_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JPVkVIQZxbk/UhkPwmDfAvI/AAAAAAAAbe0/iUGOM6JpC78/s1600-h/P1030039%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030039" style="display: inline" alt="P1030039" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pt6QsGvmn5M/UhkPxGGy8mI/AAAAAAAAbe8/eDz8PwISb0o/P1030039_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3z5I6zcYULs/UhkPxzM4aaI/AAAAAAAAbfE/o47JhXeJLto/s1600-h/P1030040%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030040" style="display: inline" alt="P1030040" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-t1hwEXdfU7o/UhkPyK_qenI/AAAAAAAAbfM/a1us7f-Ea-Y/P1030040_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9MgquVkSPYI/UhkPyviBZOI/AAAAAAAAbfU/8BV9ghdYzMw/s1600-h/P1030041%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030041" style="display: inline" alt="P1030041" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xXTkQJaac-g/UhkPzBUnQYI/AAAAAAAAbfc/qw9pLgaojDY/P1030041_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-twaq4oBo-F4/UhkPzrdvtyI/AAAAAAAAbfk/KBYfp8aFCks/s1600-h/P1030042%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030042" style="display: inline" alt="P1030042" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jWdiJ9JJomw/UhkP0FI25JI/AAAAAAAAbfo/4MX-Tj3axaM/P1030042_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cdojL1JhWLM/UhkP0tPBaFI/AAAAAAAAbfw/UCNPEFtjIe4/s1600-h/P1030043%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030043" style="display: inline" alt="P1030043" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_mQjzu16OHc/UhkP1C5AKiI/AAAAAAAAbf8/Mgwu5rda618/P1030043_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Some ice‐cream, and off to that Mosque. Entry to the garden is free, and I was in no mood to pay anything for a touristic look inside, so I sufficed with the pleasant‐enough garden. Not bad.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xOfEO0zx2Ek/UhkP1Spg3bI/AAAAAAAAbgE/6N4UPpHZJUU/s1600-h/P1030044%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030044" style="display: inline" alt="P1030044" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3n1eUmvFOHc/UhkP1-uRxHI/AAAAAAAAbgM/SZiVmKyiUaY/P1030044_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-amjc55g2Y0o/UhkP2XbadiI/AAAAAAAAbgU/r6eke_Wl-AU/s1600-h/P1030045%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030045" style="display: inline" alt="P1030045" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-monwLjGh208/UhkP2xR1p9I/AAAAAAAAbgc/2a3ncfVz_Co/P1030045_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oK5gaLzEack/UhkP3VQpy0I/AAAAAAAAbgk/Rs6jZ0vIyMo/s1600-h/P1030046%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030046" style="display: inline" alt="P1030046" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YDYYsZvFdG8/UhkP38SlpfI/AAAAAAAAbgs/ZPKAUjeHQuw/P1030046_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-G-56n6zxMz8/UhkP4ZNKPbI/AAAAAAAAbg0/E1TDhU7DDko/s1600-h/P1030048%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030048" style="display: inline" alt="P1030048" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YpvpBBLN4KU/UhkP49bCHCI/AAAAAAAAbg4/UL3PagJY4Tk/P1030048_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WsBHI8OPqkk/UhkP5OJfsXI/AAAAAAAAbhE/ccK3V55pOfA/s1600-h/P1030049%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030049" style="display: inline" alt="P1030049" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ekfs90DUyYo/UhkP5v0gq1I/AAAAAAAAbhM/2s4jceRjDIU/P1030049_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xoh409myIis/UhkP6A9DItI/AAAAAAAAbhU/76K8OQz2Ldg/s1600-h/P1030050%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030050" style="display: inline" alt="P1030050" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HhpMHFjtKzA/UhkP6ve7GoI/AAAAAAAAbhc/fJ-keWDmecI/P1030050_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bHkoddzBSCQ/UhkP7Me2ntI/AAAAAAAAbhk/24bUx4o_fzM/s1600-h/P1030051%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030051" style="display: inline" alt="P1030051" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cIDPxXNS0W4/UhkP7gXYXBI/AAAAAAAAbhs/Yxi_5SWUPLI/P1030051_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Back to my hotel, I faced the same dilemma I did in Murcia: should I go for the <em>markknopfler.com</em> early‐entry advantage and wait 2:30 hours for the concert to start, or should I take it easy and try another meal before heading to the concert, resulting in being in the far back? I decided to go to sleep on it, and woke up too late for the <em>markknopfler.com</em> early‐entry.</p> <p>The venue was within walking distance—about 15 minutes or so—so I decided to walk it and take some photos along the way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vNn-CZKj1eE/UhkP8PmfVEI/AAAAAAAAbh0/NQ-ZYtQEaVo/s1600-h/P1030053%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030053" style="display: inline" alt="P1030053" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vYQX5man0No/UhkP8fY8E5I/AAAAAAAAbh8/58pf0taf32s/P1030053_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9PQTnZu7gh4/UhkP8zdDGMI/AAAAAAAAbiE/Ny9sNhqAGuU/s1600-h/P1030054%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030054" style="display: inline" alt="P1030054" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XCpeS24ejM8/UhkP9Z65dsI/AAAAAAAAbiI/z7hO27jMZN0/P1030054_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TQQ-1ypnkcE/UhkP98YGV5I/AAAAAAAAbiU/Wl-GaNM33iM/s1600-h/P1030055%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030055" style="display: inline" alt="P1030055" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tOR3rmToHrU/UhkP-QYBTPI/AAAAAAAAbic/_8kMwjaM85k/P1030055_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JkgS0e9_74c/UhkP-m_DI_I/AAAAAAAAbik/Vn3tz7uO6Jg/s1600-h/P1030056%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030056" style="display: inline" alt="P1030056" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ziN-vMvBGDs/UhkP_IFFvDI/AAAAAAAAbis/BZRvAM3f8FI/P1030056_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_gg3Icvz9eQ/UhkP_tvlqtI/AAAAAAAAbi0/RhEQf6vrMN4/s1600-h/P1030057%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030057" style="display: inline" alt="P1030057" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9Ojc3AZvpsA/UhkP_xyLDtI/AAAAAAAAbi4/2QlT8AXodwM/P1030057_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Finally, about two hours before the concert’s scheduled start time, I arrived at the venue, <em>Nueva Plaza de Toros de Córdoba</em>. From the exterior, this is a nice bullring, but if I could sum up the surroundings of it in one word, it would be:</p> <p align="center"><font size="6">GARBAGE</font></p> <p>… As you should see soon.</p> <p>Picked‐up my ticket, and went to hunt for food. That’s when the evening started to get unbearable for me—an experience I prefer to forget.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-AJ3VT7tkIe0/UhkQAVN8DHI/AAAAAAAAbjE/l01HYxcv8Eg/s1600-h/P1030058%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030058" style="display: inline" alt="P1030058" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SWey6MvoWN8/UhkQA8v9FMI/AAAAAAAAbjM/95K2HgeOI-s/P1030058_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tvKLWy1PTS4/UhkQBaQid8I/AAAAAAAAbjU/35eAaHIi3qg/s1600-h/P1030060%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030060" style="display: inline" alt="P1030060" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_q3iu7WZM4c/UhkQBu7FfOI/AAAAAAAAbjY/rYn3q2qIo0w/P1030060_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The short story is that I only managed to get food about 2 minutes before <em>Border Reiver</em> started playing, which was more than two hours after I was set out on my quest to feed myself. This has pretty much everything to do with the vast difference between the Canadian mentality—to which I got pretty accustomed since I moved there eight years ago—and the southern‐Spanish mentality.</p> <p>Before you jump off and tell me to go screw myself, I suggest you take a tranquilizing pill and calm yourself down: I am not underestimating the Spanish culture <em>or</em> its people <em>at all</em>. What I’m saying is that the the culture difference between Canada and southern Spain is such that it makes it very hard to get along there while maintaining politeness and sanity. Things here obviously work completely differently than in most places I’ve been to in North America; things get even <em>MUCH</em> trickier when you can’t even communicate with people due to severe language barrier.</p> <p>First of all, the question was <em>where</em> to eat and <em>what</em>. I wrote before about dinner time being a rather fluid concept in Spain—dinners here start late, sometimes as late as 9:00–9:30pm. Before dinner time, what Spanish people usually do when they’re hungry is go for what they call a “Cafe‐Bar” and feed on Tapas—sort‐of “in‐between meals” food. Of course, beer works beautifully with it.</p> <p>Attempts to locate actual <em>restaurants</em> around the venue failed miserably; I have seen, though, many of those “Cafe‐Bar”’s, and as my hopes for a decent meal faded away, I decided to try one of those small establishments; much better to eat something small than starving to death.</p> <p>So we’re past obstacle #1, and we’re going straight on to obstacle #2: the language barrier. I don’t speak Spanish, and people here don’t speak English. You want an English menu? Might as well go howl at the moon; it ain’t going to happen. If you have a dictionary, might as well toss it, too. Quite a few dishes here have names that don’t translate to any meaningful words in English. A culinary dictionary—maybe.</p> <p>Now lets say that you’re past obstacle #2 <em>somehow</em>; what I did was to just pick something that doesn’t sound like something scary or something I don’t like. Then, comes obstacle #3 which is, after all, the toughest one to break: your expectation to being served.</p> <p>The bottom line is, that when these places are busy, you are <em>not</em> going to get served unless you pretty much locate the waiter, grab him by his arm and drag him to your table. The reason is simple: if you don’t do that, somebody else would, and waiters here don’t say “no” to aggression because doing so invites more extreme aggression. That’s how things work in these busy “Cafe‐Bar”’s: you <em>must</em> be <em>very</em> aggressive to get served. That means quite a bit of pushing, raising your voice, and even use your hands to get some people’s attention. Personal space? You must be fucking kidding me. People step on each other here.</p> <p>Now some might consider this “rude behaviour”. Truth be told, I thought so myself. But when you think about it more in‐depth, well, this is part of their culture. It <em>works for them</em>, that’s why they behave this way. Myself, as a tourist, have no right to complain to anybody but myself for not being able to “adjust” to these people and their culture. They behave this way because that’s the way they were educated; that’s the values and norms they were exposed to when growing up; it’s not bad—it’s just <em>different</em>, and there’s a very fine line between “agreement” and “acceptance” here. While I am in no way agreeing that this is “optimal behaviour”, I fully accept it as, hey, I’m a visitor here.</p> <p>You can’t walk into a country and start calling people “jackasses” because they are too rude to your taste, in much the same way that a country’s leader can’t declare war on another country just because he thinks that democracy <em>is the way to go</em> (oh, well, at least <em>most</em> countries’ leaders).</p> <p>You may not believe it, but it’s true—I went into four or five of those bars, and just couldn’t get served. <em>Anything</em>. Nothing. Nobody listened to me, nobody paid attention to me, nothing. The people who did get attention are those who were extremely aggressive about it. I couldn’t bring myself to that level of aggressiveness; so I remained hungry.</p> <p>After just about an hour and a half of failing to feed myself outside, I had two options: either walk 10 minutes to <em>McDonald’s</em>, or just go to the venue and eat something inside. I chose the latter… which turned out to be a miserable mistake.</p> <p>First of all, the garbage. Look:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9h0y9fcpk9o/UhkQCKUl9JI/AAAAAAAAbjk/yPexGcMdxG0/s1600-h/P1030059%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030059" style="display: inline" alt="P1030059" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_qTvsWSSRE8/UhkQC_EIo_I/AAAAAAAAbjs/M5W0F1Ebwqs/P1030059_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-C1v7HucGfeY/UhkQDEjd44I/AAAAAAAAbj0/GwKVZViOHSE/s1600-h/P1030061%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030061" style="display: inline" alt="P1030061" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-sS35JsE68Cs/UhkQDne7dXI/AAAAAAAAbj8/t2eQvDmTOjs/P1030061_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>And that was <em>everywhere</em>. The very sight of this was enough to make me postpone my appetite. But never mind, lets move on. Entered the venue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5AskHPfAIA0/UhkQEJrkJQI/AAAAAAAAbkE/qQk_kI7NjYk/s1600-h/P1030062%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030062" style="display: inline" alt="P1030062" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-j5ScZt33FnA/UhkQErJ5FyI/AAAAAAAAbkI/TDJArsHYpfg/P1030062_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Saw what was going on inside; that already was a hint that things are <em>not</em> going to be more pleasant. I’m pretty sure this concert was oversold; it got much worse later. The bunch of people you see in the picture below is <em>not</em> of people waiting for food; these are people who stood there because there was no space left inside the venue!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bPqoPMLB79o/UhkQE3CglcI/AAAAAAAAbkU/K7TQ9ZNGaxk/s1600-h/P1030063%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030063" style="display: inline" alt="P1030063" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IVDanb3-Jg0/UhkQFZ4eH8I/AAAAAAAAbkc/ssLeNEO7P1g/P1030063_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I then started to wait “in line” for food at the venue. All I wanted was a cup of water and a <em>Bocadillo</em>—which is basically a small sandwich with various stuff in it, usually ham.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Mh0_qgItOlk/UhkQF5HKCXI/AAAAAAAAbkk/KeubB411vVM/s1600-h/P1030064%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030064" style="display: inline" alt="P1030064" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hFkaX4usIJc/UhkQGVmKSTI/AAAAAAAAbks/2W7X5Z_9MMg/P1030064_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I’m writing “line‐up” in quotes because whatever it was, it was clearly not a “line‐up”. A bunch of sweaty, aggressive people just swarming the stand. Any last thoughts I had for personal space evaporated within seconds. Looking around me, I noticed that I was pretty much the only one who was annoyed. <em>That’s how things work here</em>.</p> <p>And I waited.</p> <p>And I waited for 30 minutes.</p> <p>Yes, 30 minutes, during which people just came and went. People arriving after me got served before me. Suddenly, I saw people starting to leave. I felt very lucky—maybe, with fewer people around, I’ll be able to get some food. MIRACLE! I caught the attention of the worker.</p> <p>He even knew English; at least, knew English enough to tell me that the counter is now closed and I should try my luck in another counter.</p> <p>If I am any good of a writer, you should already feel my pain at this point. Nevertheless, I was determined to get something to eat. I waited this long, so I’ll wait a bit more to get fed. Went to another counter.</p> <p>It took me <em>40 minutes in line</em> until someone was merciful enough to notice the complete depression on my face. Well, that, plus the fact that people started to leave because the concert was just about to start in two minutes.</p> <p>Moral of the story: <em>Eat elsewhere before you go to a concert. Pay extra money to eat in a secluded, more peaceful place, such as your hotel</em>.</p> <p>It took me about 2 minutes to pretty much swallow the sandwich and drink the Sprite I had (they ran out of water), when the band took the stage and the concert started; unfortunately, things did not get better.</p> <hr /> <p>You may have difficulties reading this, and it hurts me to write it, but for me, there actually was very little “concert”. The very thought of making my way up <em>somehow</em> and sit somewhere on the tribune drifted into dust as soon as I saw what was going on near the stairs. Impossible, so I had to stand outside.</p> <p>So, I stood by the soundboard. At this stage of my journey, I hardly have any feet left so it was pretty hard for me to stand still for too long, so I had to make a few walks around every now and then in order to relieve the pain.</p> <p>But that wasn’t the worst problem. The much worse problem, due to which I can comment on basically <em>nothing</em> of the concert, was the immense noise caused by people who were talking, laughing, chatting on the phone, fooling around, and doing pretty much everything <em>except</em> being quiet and listen to the music.</p> <p>People here also like filming shows:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kOAoERClWdE/UhkQG9G-PhI/AAAAAAAAbk0/XAuZZFheTxo/s1600-h/P1030065%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030065" style="display: inline" alt="P1030065" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Jfh6eWq92uE/UhkQHfBnJhI/AAAAAAAAbk8/amhCnfMjGUo/P1030065_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zO4WvK8dZqk/UhkQHh7i9JI/AAAAAAAAblE/FbdhHZr7rok/s1600-h/P1030066%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030066" style="display: inline" alt="P1030066" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-h5BQn_V_rCA/UhkQIA6QLvI/AAAAAAAAblM/sXXx0r6YFOA/P1030066_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s a picture showing you people watching the concert from, basically, <em>outside</em> the venue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PaGzo2XpDgo/UhkQIhKmubI/AAAAAAAAblU/ZfsinaZJ6uY/s1600-h/P1030067%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030067" style="display: inline" alt="P1030067" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-t-eIiCjujME/UhkQI8qweGI/AAAAAAAAblY/BsC9AXJsenU/P1030067_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There were a few entries to the venue like the one above—all blocked by piles of people trying to sneak a peak.</p> <p>The situation was so bad with regards to noise in the venue, that I’ll use this fact to demonstrate: a few nights ago, I believe it was in <em>Nîmes</em>, I was able to recognize a different accompaniment of <em>Prairie Wedding</em> by Richard Bennett, that was different than the original by just about one note. In this concert, though, I didn’t even notice Richard’s switching to a different guitar during the end of <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> (source: his tour blog).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cmF_IFtY0xQ/UhkQJU1NFcI/AAAAAAAAblk/Ti0jDuEJPH0/s1600-h/P1030069%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030069" style="display: inline" alt="P1030069" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-i8dMq5N9oQ4/UhkQJylhefI/AAAAAAAAbls/6l8AlMRTVTQ/P1030069_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-A8-7O2FKJSU/UhkQKTfAGGI/AAAAAAAAbl0/rPPBHGkvrA8/s1600-h/P1030071%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030071" style="display: inline" alt="P1030071" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cv2T_mBCnX0/UhkQKj_KpcI/AAAAAAAAbl4/a-bptY3njoU/P1030071_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>See what I had to cope with:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HQ4fmIFOj_I/UhkQLJkQkDI/AAAAAAAAbmE/YsNrxjk0K80/s1600-h/P1030074%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030074" style="display: inline" alt="P1030074" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oQhtZKaOHVg/UhkQLlY5j4I/AAAAAAAAbmM/dF-URFhSVJU/P1030074_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Very crowded… looking forward <em>and</em> backward. Note: I was basically standing as far as possible from the stage, while within the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PnFS5zJFzV4/UhkQLyJ1ZVI/AAAAAAAAbmU/9eJR8-uoSvU/s1600-h/P1030075%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030075" style="display: inline" alt="P1030075" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BDc4c3ceHkA/UhkQMYd9dZI/AAAAAAAAbmc/MiifbJyaxQw/P1030075_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hlRlteRIFaQ/UhkQM45Um6I/AAAAAAAAbmk/i4dAaHJcCWY/s1600-h/P1030076%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030076" style="display: inline" alt="P1030076" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xMWL15WjZ20/UhkQNfDcIII/AAAAAAAAbms/2CxDR7VPg4w/P1030076_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Things got very aggravating after a while… I guess my limit has been pushed. Sorry guys but other than telling you that <em>Coyote</em> was back to replace <em>Prairie Wedding</em>, there’s nothing I can tell you about the concert. At some point I had to simply go sit somewhere, by the food stands.</p> <p>I did return, though, towards the end, to take a few final shots.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nGgIAsgtJLo/UhkQNyvtBUI/AAAAAAAAbm0/1GXTMdsBwbM/s1600-h/P1030079%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030079" style="display: inline" alt="P1030079" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--Q5NbMIcG5Q/UhkQOQA-1JI/AAAAAAAAbm8/0N5NCwvWLss/P1030079_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gnXv9FyckgQ/UhkQOmmoXNI/AAAAAAAAbnE/DQPW1n7yC74/s1600-h/P1030080%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030080" style="display: inline" alt="P1030080" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6AfEMfOS028/UhkQPE0MZaI/AAAAAAAAbnM/lBiKSD4FO9E/P1030080_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jAB5h_j8MPQ/UhkQPvjrjVI/AAAAAAAAbnQ/QwFr4h3cthE/s1600-h/P1030083%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030083" style="display: inline" alt="P1030083" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kE6ucj14zt0/UhkQQAL_HmI/AAAAAAAAbnc/6PVmGxwROM4/P1030083_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-z7OQQhxul90/UhkQQQb21tI/AAAAAAAAbnk/GD8tJE39yrs/s1600-h/P1030085%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030085" style="display: inline" alt="P1030085" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OMrWsNExgeg/UhkQQ_Dh6RI/AAAAAAAAbns/FJQ_SXWXO48/P1030085_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cl8Vr6FmYpM/UhkQRckwI5I/AAAAAAAAbn0/G_QBJIAu3n0/s1600-h/P1030087%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030087" style="display: inline" alt="P1030087" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Mw1w_-4LSWU/UhkQR_RqFDI/AAAAAAAAbn8/az4gtj1uyco/P1030087_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pS5mDrxXYyk/UhkQSU2kB4I/AAAAAAAAboE/L2ejxfzwAmY/s1600-h/P1030088%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030088" style="display: inline" alt="P1030088" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HHV9umfvabY/UhkQSjlmEZI/AAAAAAAAboM/uCT7yYXFeMo/P1030088_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Sorry guys, but that’s it. Just know I tried.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EOI2fNkey-A/UhkQTZrPBJI/AAAAAAAAboU/WzGh-TT7Ogg/s1600-h/P1030089%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030089" style="display: inline" alt="P1030089" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xnhHoMev_ok/UhkQTsIP7mI/AAAAAAAAboc/N0BMR39ulTQ/P1030089_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rqfdQfvBlcw/UhkQUB6OxLI/AAAAAAAAbok/_PTmmXAjqbU/s1600-h/P1030090%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030090" style="display: inline" alt="P1030090" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VQV_woDpGOw/UhkQUhru_tI/AAAAAAAAbos/2d7WNAZwfbU/P1030090_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2gdltsaJhmY/UhkQVAzAg4I/AAAAAAAAbo0/Q4tb0MKbAv4/s1600-h/P1030091%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030091" style="display: inline" alt="P1030091" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6C8xfNISA4o/UhkQVo8eF2I/AAAAAAAAbo8/R91Dmg7PXK8/P1030091_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5DcLsQ7kvKE/UhkQWHUDt1I/AAAAAAAAbpE/Uo2HLHYmwm4/s1600-h/P1030092%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030092" style="display: inline" alt="P1030092" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QyJjpxiDvP8/UhkQWYoaC5I/AAAAAAAAbpI/YkYTZ39pKUk/P1030092_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>For the first time this tour, I was happy, very happy to leave a venue and go back to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WEkAL5iJ_sg/UhkQW7tFzfI/AAAAAAAAbpU/xcw7fHOtRLQ/s1600-h/P1030093%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030093" style="display: inline" alt="P1030093" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AvNrcMANNEQ/UhkQXaB2mnI/AAAAAAAAbpc/8T3jqZcX97k/P1030093_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JrbWH_xH5vM/UhkQXy_2CZI/AAAAAAAAbpk/tnzGZrh0dl8/s1600-h/P1030094%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030094" style="display: inline" alt="P1030094" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ml2lDXSwhSY/UhkQYFXYCgI/AAAAAAAAbps/-YDa_m3Tp8Q/P1030094_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p><em>Córdoba</em>’s old‐town area is simply breathtaking at night. The time was around 1:00am when I made my way to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-z0_gm9tGw6g/UhkQYq2SOeI/AAAAAAAAbp0/nBVoxMl209w/s1600-h/P1030095%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030095" style="display: inline" alt="P1030095" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4gVTIxYExhA/UhkQZHcrJSI/AAAAAAAAbp8/JbltzERgqHk/P1030095_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iK7X2tJSUeo/UhkQZh8WboI/AAAAAAAAbqE/Eov1DbeiAMU/s1600-h/P1030096%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030096" style="display: inline" alt="P1030096" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DGimIN0EgQU/UhkQaJOvazI/AAAAAAAAbqM/-d-vkj-cViM/P1030096_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RvWBHg0UKVg/UhkQau5DI_I/AAAAAAAAbqU/8Ix1tVncPAI/s1600-h/P1030098%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030098" style="display: inline" alt="P1030098" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vwKfwP9B1CY/UhkQbA70NGI/AAAAAAAAbqc/WgGC203QCbY/P1030098_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Te2zil5TXmE/UhkQbtAmwJI/AAAAAAAAbqk/Bd4GnE5tSYU/s1600-h/P1030099%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030099" style="display: inline" alt="P1030099" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-iDGfV1vrZPU/UhkQb9cIUuI/AAAAAAAAbqs/EUszmJrXqXA/P1030099_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SyEJ2gEkhyY/UhkQcescIoI/AAAAAAAAbq0/0r5XZNxU6Ro/s1600-h/P1030102%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030102" style="display: inline" alt="P1030102" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-v9pioop88jU/UhkQcr9VHII/AAAAAAAAbq8/1TD9EbGIkJE/P1030102_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-w9uonXrTBCc/UhkQdVFWFCI/AAAAAAAAbrE/OIbtOVl3Y10/s1600-h/P1030103%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030103" style="display: inline" alt="P1030103" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-iA3LeTxa7Uc/UhkQd-vy0gI/AAAAAAAAbrM/a5AqPZOYaOo/P1030103_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1fAJPgOpJYs/UhkQeWG6cQI/AAAAAAAAbrU/6gJTo2AValA/s1600-h/P1030104%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030104" style="display: inline" alt="P1030104" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_-XKPKIka80/UhkQegVQi_I/AAAAAAAAbrc/oIREEySUVAg/P1030104_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-onQuytfFSKk/UhkQfMi9hEI/AAAAAAAAbrk/X_HGPGyHw88/s1600-h/P1030105%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030105" style="display: inline" alt="P1030105" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kYP1pszj_T0/UhkQfoa5cYI/AAAAAAAAbro/8JSGpGFP0Ko/P1030105_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>These spectacular views come with some sort of a soothing effect; much of the tension went away as I was walking the empty streets of Córdoba’s old town. Back at the hotel, one shower washed almost everything away.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post from my hotel room in <em>Lisbon</em>, <em>Portugal</em>. I chose to spend the day off here for the mere reason that I prefer to do travel when I’m in better control of time, and day off’s are ideal for that.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-53493009078977873882010-07-25T11:24:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:15:07.567-05:00Concert Day: Plaza de Toros, Murcia, Spain (July 24, 2010)<p>Having slept very little the night before—about 3.5 hours—meant yet another day of day‐travel full of dozing off. To get to <em>Murcia</em> at a reasonable time, I had to take the 7:00am train from <em>Barcelona</em> arriving at <em>Alicante</em> on 11:40am, then take the connecting train at 1:05pm arriving at <em>Murcia</em> just before 2:30pm.</p> <p>7:00am train from Barcelona… meant waking up just before 6:00am. Woke up unwilling to do anything, packed, checked‐out and started walking towards the <em>Collblanc</em> subway station.</p> <p>The city appeared dead‐quiet Saturday early morning. Exiting the hotel and looking to my left, I saw the <em>Camp Nou</em>—the glorious soccer stadium which is the home field for the world‐famous <em>Barcelona Football Club</em>, one of the most successful football clubs on this planet (if not the most successful one).</p> <p>The occasional homeless still sleeping next to the entrance of yet another greyish‐looking closed restaurant; a few drunken guys messing around with a few drunken girls wearing clothes that just doesn’t ring “6:30am” to anybody. And among those, a wanderer is walking about carrying a big green backpack on his way to go south for <em>Get Lucky</em>’s 81st concert.</p> <p>Arriving at <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em>, things now appeared easier than the previous day if only for the fact that there were <em>much</em> less people there. Short visit to a cafeteria to stock‐up for the road, and then to the platform.</p> <p>Hmmmmmm… What’s that?</p> <p>So here’s an interesting thing about train‐travel in Spain. I’ve seen it in Barcelona, as well as in Alicante later: for certain trains—actually, for most trains—your luggage must be X‐rayed, just like it’s done during security checks in airports. Therefore you must always allow extra time for boarding as this process may take a few minutes to complete. I suspect these procedures are in place due to the occasional terrorist threats courtesy of the Basks, but I’m not sure (I can’t think of any other reason; that’s the first country I took a train in, which implements this kind of checks. All other countries I’ve visited aren’t subject to terrorism so this circumstantial connection appears valid to me).</p> <p>Boarded the train into the small first‐class cabin, along with four mature women that, I swear to God almighty, did not shut their stupid mouths for more than two seconds during the entire 5 hours ride to Alicante (we had some delays along the way). The constant chatter hindered any attempts to doze‐off, which made the ride seem like fucking forever to me.</p> <p>12:00pm, we finally arrived at <em>Alicante</em>—a city of which I have never heard before in my life, but appears to be an important city at least when it comes to transportation. Lots of domestic flights depart & arrive at Alicante, as well as trains to and from all over the place.</p> <p>Time was too early for a proper lunch in Spain (it’s funny how I have consistently missed meal times in France and Spain, making me eat garbage instead of proper meals), so I killed the time sitting at a cafe eating some “snacks”—a sandwich, plus a few fried <em>Jambon & Cheese</em> balls. Despicable cheese cake to finish and wait for the train.</p> <p>The trains making their way from Alicante to Murcia (as well as to other destinations) are called <em>Cercanias</em>. In <em>EURail</em>’s website, I read that these are the “newest trains in Spain”; it was weird, however, to notice that the <em>Cercanias</em> <em><u>do not</u></em> appear in <em>Deutsche‐Bahn</em>’s all‐European train journey planner.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Deutsche‐Bahn</em>’s journey‐planner (<a href="http://www.db.de">http://www.db.de</a>) is known to be the best, most informative train journey‐planner in Europe. The Germans appear to have done it right—the website contains information about virtually all train stations in Europe, as well as up‐to‐date timetables. I used this website for <em>all</em> of my train‐travel planning—it has everything.</p> <p>… Or so I thought. Apparently, the <em>Cercanias</em> isn’t known to <em>Deutsche‐Bahn</em>’s systems.</p> <p>In Spain, your single authoritative source of train‐travel information is <em>Renfe</em>’s website (<a href="http://www.renfe.es">http://www.renfe.es</a>). <em>Renfe</em> appears to be the organization under which all train travel in Spain is managed, and its website is considered by most to be one of the worst train‐information websites in Europe.</p> </div> <p>Spain’s newest trains… again, my arse. Whoever wrote that in EURail’s website and caused me to look forward for a 1:30 hours train ride from paradise should probably quit sniffing that “white stuff”. Sad little trains that make too much noise for my <em>Bose</em> headset to cancel.</p> <p>A few minutes before 3:00pm, I finally arrived at <em>Murcia</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Murcia</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murcia">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murcia</a>) is another big city in Spain of which I have never heard of before reading the announcement about Mark’s concert here. The seventh largest city in Spain, it features vast agricultural areas and relatively warm weather: the highest temperature ever recorded in Spain was 47.2℃ and it happened here, in 1994.</p> <p>Fruits, vegetables and flowers are grown and exported from here in scores; the city itself is surrounded by two mountain ranges—<em>Sierra de Orihuela</em> and <em>Cresta de Gallo</em>—so mountains can easily be seen from within the city.</p> <p>As I arrived at Murcia’s train station, I activated my BlackBerry and looked the hotel up. Walking directions: 1.7km, piece of cake. Weather was warm, but not too sunny, as I started following <em>Google Maps</em>’ directions, holding a large bottle of water in my hand.</p> <p>And so I was walking and after two minutes already realized that this city isn’t quite the city I’d choose to live in, had I been given the choice. As soon as I took the turn to the main road and started walking, the general appearance of the place was somewhat repulsive, to the point that made me think what on <em>EARTH</em> went through the minds of whoever they were who suggested this town as a place for a concert.</p> <p>Shady people walking the streets, all businesses closed. Grey buildings, almost falling apart; the occasional ugly painted red metal door; visible garbage here and there, on the road, on the sidewalks. Views more characteristic to third‐world countries.</p> <p>In fact, I decided to take a few shots from the way just to show you what I was seeing. Put yourself in my shoes and try walking these streets in your minds.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-z_Upthlscd4/UhkLyFVDX_I/AAAAAAAAbTA/feoj8zVvSLs/s1600-h/P1020975%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020975" style="display: inline" alt="P1020975" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7SyBOMFr6j4/UhkLy3SHBaI/AAAAAAAAbTE/RAThQC3Jxvw/P1020975_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wU_2l_bRsVo/UhkLzDASPxI/AAAAAAAAbTQ/dCqYytuLrJw/s1600-h/P1020976%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020976" style="display: inline" alt="P1020976" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6-1wf3mLBQY/UhkLz0ddbaI/AAAAAAAAbTU/fP58MFEzoN0/P1020976_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-blssqZec36U/UhkL0BF4BuI/AAAAAAAAbTg/HQLfAfRbaZk/s1600-h/P1020977%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020977" style="display: inline" alt="P1020977" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-O1qylUxwTU4/UhkL0hGMHbI/AAAAAAAAbTo/Mu5p54F4yRM/P1020977_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JiHlPavNLR8/UhkL1MgfbvI/AAAAAAAAbTw/Jh5WHk-cjLM/s1600-h/P1020978%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020978" style="display: inline" alt="P1020978" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OkBLwhkL2wA/UhkL1thI2oI/AAAAAAAAbT0/NNapPmMjBLc/P1020978_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kbNQxQTqaOw/UhkL1z50iRI/AAAAAAAAbUA/tEQ0lCU97nw/s1600-h/P1020979%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020979" style="display: inline" alt="P1020979" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qfCFHgy2ExU/UhkL2W408SI/AAAAAAAAbUI/HrxKStRavzo/P1020979_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vJ6FXMgfq6E/UhkL20ETsuI/AAAAAAAAbUQ/HKjJA9yQXs4/s1600-h/P1020980%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020980" style="display: inline" alt="P1020980" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zYihj3uSQJw/UhkL3ZGZg9I/AAAAAAAAbUY/xnzxhDzFefQ/P1020980_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Took another turn, crossed some railway tracks. Narrow streets and alleys, felt like any corner has the potential to contain some corpse in it. Scary‐ass shit, I tell you. Being stuck here at night <em>must not be a good experience</em>. I already started to feel that something isn’t right: my hotel was a 4‐star hotel, and I couldn’t see where it would fit.</p> <p>25 minutes after leaving the train station, I arrived at my destination.</p> <p>Unfortunately, it was <em>Google Maps</em>’ destination, not mine. <em>Google Maps</em> failed again. Later, I learned that it was because Murcia has a few neighbourhoods with duplicate street names or something of the like, confusing the living hell out of <em>Google Maps</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Y6ijW83lga4/UhkL3102TcI/AAAAAAAAbUg/ix85VpGGnRM/s1600-h/P1020981%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020981" style="display: inline" alt="P1020981" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vT9FS7mQEqY/UhkL4a_xXLI/AAAAAAAAbUk/l9d9UeSuztY/P1020981_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FeO2SnKd2YM/UhkL4jeuDEI/AAAAAAAAbUw/oQNGBE-wRac/s1600-h/P1020982%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020982" style="display: inline" alt="P1020982" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kN9gV1qWN48/UhkL5QgEgvI/AAAAAAAAbU0/kLqFP1ys9xk/P1020982_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I reached a dead‐end. No hotel.</p> <p>A tired‐looking old man stood by the street, looking at the bizarre stranger exploring his neighbourhood. I approached him and named the hotel, hoping for a reaction from him that would mean “yes, I know this place, go <em>there</em> and find it”.</p> <p>He started speaking in Spanish; he knew the hotel, but I couldn’t make sense of any of his directions. I thanked him dearly and started walking at the direction he gestured towards with his hand—basically, going back the same path I arrived.</p> <p>Walking back… started to feel pretty annoyed. Sad little houses; here and there there’s a house with its front door open. A woman cooking in the kitchen, her two kids fooling around nearby the entrance. She’s yelling at them to stop, they’re not listening.</p> <p><em>Where the hell am I</em>?</p> <p>On my way, I saw three men working on fixing something at the exterior of what seemed to be a restaurant. Approached one of them and named the hotel again; he didn’t know what to say so he led me inside.</p> <p>If you ever watched a western movie, you must know the scene: a simple bar, a few <em>flipper</em> tables. TV broadcasting the news; old people, some of which completely teeth‐less, chattering non‐stop. Tired looks in their eyes, a bit suspicious of the humanoid entering their sanctuary holding a <em>BlackBerry Bold</em> in his hand. All that was needed to turn this into a scene from <em>The Good, The Bad and The Ugly</em> was a saloon door; who knows, maybe they had one there.</p> <p>Surprise, though. A young lady working there turned to have enough English skills to be able to communicate with. She informed me that I’m pretty much the absolute opposite end of town. Walking is no option—taxi would be my way to go. She went all the way to call the taxi for me, wait with me for the taxi’s arrival and talk to the driver to take me to the right place. I was very touched by her kindness, thanked her dearly and kissed her hand; she seemed to be very surprised and embarrassed of my gesture, yet I could notice the hidden smile there.</p> <p>Hopped on the taxi and I was happy to be taken away from that shithole. Five minutes drive later, and the views around started resembling something that is more pleasant than the eye‐torturing views I had seen just half an hour prior. Not the prettiest town in the universe, but still manageable.</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel—<em>Silken Siete Hotel Coronas</em>—and was happy to be alive. Thanked the driver dearly, checked‐in and enjoyed the space of a great room that went for the ridiculous price of €52.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Julio Bricio</em>, a Knopfler fan who turned out to be my saviour as he worked very hard to help me plan for the travel in Spain, was going to make it to the concert in Murcia—staying at the very same hotel, located about 5 minutes walk from the venue. I was tired as a dog, so I emailed him saying that I’ll only wake up at 6:00pm so “don’t wait for me”.</p> <p>Quick shower and, <em>MAN</em>, was it good to tuck myself in and embark in a 3‐hour journey into the world of sweet dreams. I don’t remember exactly what I dreamt about but I’m pretty sure there was a box of some sort involved in it and making me very happy throughout.</p> <p>Woke up, feeling <em>so much better</em>. Now I had a tough choice to make: <em>markknopfler.com</em> had arranged for early‐entry privilege to the venue (general‐admission show; standing at the front, tribunes all around. Well, a bullring)—enter at 8:00pm, with the show starting at 10:00pm. I was hungry, still not fully awake, and with quite a bit of blogging left to do.</p> <p>I didn’t really feel happy with the idea of going to the venue and stand for two hours in the heat, being hungry, sweaty and all. Therefore, I gave up the early‐entry privilege and decided to watch the concert from the tribunes instead; the bonus—being seated, and able to enjoy a full bullring experience.</p> <p>Met Julio and a few of his friends at the lobby on 7:00pm, and started to plan my meal strategy. Even the hotel’s restaurant—offering a really interesting menu—was closed only to open at 9:00pm for dinner. I decided, then, to first go to the venue, pick‐up my ticket, then eat some “snacks” (again!), wait for dinner time, consume quality food and head to the venue shortly before the concert’s start time.</p> <p>A plan that made sense, and I’m happy I chose it.</p> <p>The venue, <em>Plaza de Toros Murcia</em> (website: <a href="http://www.plazatorosmurcia.com">http://www.plazatorosmurcia.com</a>), located a few minutes walk from the hotel, is a bullring (well… “Plaza de Toros”… Duh); I was excited as it was going to be my first time ever in a bullring. I didn’t even know what a bullring looks like from the outside… until I reached the venue to pick my ticket up.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hAVnG-SgMaI/UhkL5wKM2TI/AAAAAAAAbVA/IaTlb_DpHBY/s1600-h/P1020983%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020983" style="display: inline" alt="P1020983" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KLZKE1Id710/UhkL6ejOEFI/AAAAAAAAbVI/N-5KfPi-VIw/P1020983_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Z0jHVune5xY/UhkL6kK-DEI/AAAAAAAAbVQ/sYZWVJIvMBk/s1600-h/P1020984%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020984" style="display: inline" alt="P1020984" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NyqpaBMGDu8/UhkL7Oe7xWI/AAAAAAAAbVY/IoIDyrApvMI/P1020984_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After picking‐up my ticket, went to a nearby restaurant offering all sorts of baked snacks and sat down for a really tasty experience. Three of those baked Empanadas‐style snacks and I was full—enough to carry me through to the next day.</p> <p>On my way back to the hotel, took a few shots of the nice bridge they have there crossing the river.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-h2Nt3IlkwSw/UhkL7XjoQnI/AAAAAAAAbVg/Kcp0NLOvWzY/s1600-h/P1020985%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020985" style="display: inline" alt="P1020985" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jI5-lBHm0cI/UhkL7ypsVXI/AAAAAAAAbVo/44g-G9_8cpk/P1020985_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gwFipADOU7Y/UhkL8VBwikI/AAAAAAAAbVw/DIjFxJ5_qhE/s1600-h/P1020986%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020986" style="display: inline" alt="P1020986" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mGoAz6m8K1w/UhkL8-sr-XI/AAAAAAAAbV4/O7xSJq0ubJw/P1020986_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pLeWZjDWQUk/UhkL9DrNpOI/AAAAAAAAbWA/Jqy6cQZID3E/s1600-h/P1020987%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020987" style="display: inline" alt="P1020987" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NHJWMSpTjSE/UhkL9ql514I/AAAAAAAAbWE/gzSYTwwNqlg/P1020987_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gnsdtF5fR64/UhkL-PN7OGI/AAAAAAAAbWQ/u-CfyuIs2rI/s1600-h/P1020988%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020988" style="display: inline" alt="P1020988" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9sXciEjdcII/UhkL-sMlPvI/AAAAAAAAbWY/-PFYNA4Hs3g/P1020988_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n0XgagEOywc/UhkL_N_ZH5I/AAAAAAAAbWg/967D-H-9Elc/s1600-h/P1020990%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020990" style="display: inline" alt="P1020990" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-l1sBvGx6U-o/UhkL_ilXMcI/AAAAAAAAbWo/YXuMMQllHck/P1020990_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel to blog my ass off, and went to the venue. Julio and his friends mentioned that they would save a spot for me.</p> <hr /> <p>The sun already started to set when I left the hotel, which made for excellent weather for a concert. Not too hot, <em>definitely</em> not too cold, good wind…</p> <p>A few food stands around the venue, offering fast solutions to big problems of hunger. At some point along the way, I looked around me and saw a perfect setting for a picture, to demonstrate the atmosphere in Spain in general, and this place in particular. Simple life; nothing too fancy—yet you can still find a fair amount of authenticity.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mLf899W0KQg/UhkMAMFfwhI/AAAAAAAAbWw/K56OT8iW7sQ/s1600-h/P1020991%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020991" style="display: inline" alt="P1020991" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UUJaMeCFkJI/UhkMAeoj7PI/AAAAAAAAbW4/QICs2W1v150/P1020991_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Arrived at the venue, which was very nicely lit at this point…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-i2uoMH2IpNk/UhkMA_NNoGI/AAAAAAAAbXA/rXrQp7Ivyb0/s1600-h/P1020992%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020992" style="display: inline" alt="P1020992" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1LOpp-nAC_E/UhkMBTISRqI/AAAAAAAAbXI/UWqdFSxjWiw/P1020992_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And then my task was to find Julio. Entering the bullring from the ground floor and looking around, a great sense of awe captured me. If I was to describe the scene in one word, it would be the word “massive”. Very crowded; to get to the tribunes from <em>inside</em> the bullring, I had to climb a short set of stairs that were wide just enough to fit me—and you all should know by now that I am not quite the chubby individual. Made my way through the crowd and got to my seat… and this is what it looked like.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tcOLAkGwLwc/UhkMBwbHJUI/AAAAAAAAbXQ/WHZ4hBH2GY4/s1600-h/P1020994%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020994" style="display: inline" alt="P1020994" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-324ol1WQs9Q/UhkMCUg_O_I/AAAAAAAAbXU/y4JzGYfkuhY/P1020994_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Time passed quickly, chatting with Julio and his friend Marcos—mostly about Spain itself, its people, how things work here (or, more precisely, <em>don’t</em> work here). Darkness fell very quickly…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2CTYTQZPtC8/UhkMC7OYH7I/AAAAAAAAbXc/5nyFNyJAgbk/s1600-h/P1020996%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020996" style="display: inline" alt="P1020996" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sPIlvjOjdV0/UhkMDQe3MJI/AAAAAAAAbXo/wozzgaPbBsE/P1020996_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And the show started on time, 10:00pm.</p> <hr /> <p>Overall a very good show in Murcia—the (now) usual setlist of 14 songs, identical to that of the few nights before.</p> <p>First and foremost, the audience. I didn’t notice something of the like in Barcelona—maybe because I was at the first row—but yesterday I got proof to what some people told me about audiences in Spain: apparently, their hobby of moving their mouth in random directions and emitting words out of it is <em>not</em> limited to trains, but also to concert. There was chatter in the audience all throughout the concert; people talking to each other all the time—some even talking on the phone. Now, think about the beehive‐like noise of thousands of people chattering… yeah… I think you got it. Now imagine that for two hours (no, they didn’t shut up even in the quiet parts).</p> <p><em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> was exceptionally pleasant, not as much due to Mark but more due to John who put in a bit more elaborate whistle work at the outro.</p> <p>Sitting at the top, I counted a few dozens of people recording the show using their cameras and cellular phones—<em>and that’s just at the ground level where people were standing</em>. I can only imagine what went on on the tribunes; I guess that, in situations like these, the <em>finger of death</em> is really impractical as Mark would need to grow 500 extra hands to accommodate the sheer number of people recording the show.</p> <p>Here’s two pictures—the second one zooming on the area close to Mark. Can you count the recorders?</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bFW3IshtMoo/UhkMDsMdMBI/AAAAAAAAbXw/O5332BCbKbc/s1600-h/P1020997%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020997" style="display: inline" alt="P1020997" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ByDCGTno_q4/UhkMEPB3GYI/AAAAAAAAbX4/db-LzGLZSHk/P1020997_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lxyRiuu2okg/UhkMEnHhzuI/AAAAAAAAbYA/WGf_zQRjyMA/s1600-h/P1030001%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030001" style="display: inline" alt="P1030001" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--TZBOGOax4U/UhkME_r81EI/AAAAAAAAbYI/NOY5tFd0idg/P1030001_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On with the show to a good <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> performance…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-b2TPj1Lly_g/UhkMFeChcgI/AAAAAAAAbYQ/y5OS0Ptib5I/s1600-h/P1030002%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030002" style="display: inline" alt="P1030002" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YEFJsANfSGs/UhkMFkr2cQI/AAAAAAAAbYY/OkERl9AIIFo/P1030002_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y6Zr_EljMt8/UhkMGPJ2y_I/AAAAAAAAbYg/Mb1kEVNkW4w/s1600-h/P1030003%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030003" style="display: inline" alt="P1030003" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9M2fhe4KTLo/UhkMGlC-8VI/AAAAAAAAbYk/htt6x_tjSaA/P1030003_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And off to the first massive cheer extractor, <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>. A girl sitting one row in front of me, along with her boyfriend or whatever, started moving her hands in random directions—above her head, on her face (as if crying), clapping, then again over her head—as soon as she realized that it’s <em>Romeo and Juliet</em> playing. After the excitement was done (about a minute into the song), she pulled out her phone and called her friend to let her know about it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-pMITGCXRmws/UhkMHBsHCgI/AAAAAAAAbYw/CKWBkSt2TBE/s1600-h/P1030007%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030007" style="display: inline" alt="P1030007" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AcQFxbYhUJA/UhkMHU_B8iI/AAAAAAAAbY4/adPuMHCtr30/P1030007_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-o2BAJTM_bYQ/UhkMH6nsXzI/AAAAAAAAbZA/RL1IHn8uWaI/s1600-h/P1030009%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030009" style="display: inline" alt="P1030009" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hagf2jBHmdY/UhkMIrjn_9I/AAAAAAAAbZI/5G5pPSPL21Y/P1030009_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Sultans of Swing</em> made the audience throw such immense cheers into the air that you would think the bullring was about to implode. During the song, the number of visible recorders grew significantly, as you can see here.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--qIMO5bmNRI/UhkMI0gh-wI/AAAAAAAAbZQ/pZ07lntRctg/s1600-h/P1030010%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030010" style="display: inline" alt="P1030010" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tIqDhWiFbEE/UhkMJWXprrI/AAAAAAAAbZY/3xxCkUFod4M/P1030010_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cTcjXtY-DLE/UhkMJgfjedI/AAAAAAAAbZg/pOFOqmGjnws/s1600-h/P1030011%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030011" style="display: inline" alt="P1030011" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qI3lLnjIL-Q/UhkMKGphcFI/AAAAAAAAbZo/gw5zm_BMJms/P1030011_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The traditional “oe‐oe‐oe‐oo” routine here was again called for after <em>Sultans of Swing</em> as the band was ready to play <em>Done with Bonaparte</em>. Similar to the day before, it was Glenn, John and Matt leading the accompaniment. <em>Done with Bonaparte</em> then started, and good cheers came from the audience as Mark sang “<em>Spanish Skies</em>”.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8pJPaX8psUg/UhkMK7ZrDQI/AAAAAAAAbZw/t4mNF_M99Mo/s1600-h/P1030012%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030012" style="display: inline" alt="P1030012" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aLvkZuk49m8/UhkMLIfhkYI/AAAAAAAAbZ4/B5yU4JQG9uU/P1030012_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yUIelJdXs9Y/UhkMLrkKjBI/AAAAAAAAbaA/_7dSmRFaVKM/s1600-h/P1030013%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030013" style="display: inline" alt="P1030013" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FPsv-3PMx50/UhkML0BdUnI/AAAAAAAAbaI/17zcH4eXJUM/P1030013_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Marbletown</em> tonight featured a completely different violin sequence (courtesy of John McCusker) at the first part of the jam; that in turn led into a somewhat aggressive John‐Mike performance… I kind‐of miss the real quiet performances of the jam. Then again, perhaps it was a good idea to not play it too quiet; one would probably have difficulties listening to quiet music with all the chatter around.</p> <p><em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> then started playing and, for the first time, as Mark was naming North American cities and locations one by one—all of which are places that I have been to before—I started feeling a bit home‐sick.</p> <p><em>Telegraph Road</em> then followed; during the <em>Pensa</em> part, something must have gone horribly wrong as Mark was busy tuning the guitar right from the time he received it from Glenn through one minute into the outro solo. I noticed a few weird off‐notes while he was tuning, but once he was done everything was back to normal for a lovely performance.</p> <p>The usual encore and there you go, a picture showing you what a bullring looks like when everybody’s cheering at the end of the show.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QCDgQvkXxtw/UhkMMdV-WjI/AAAAAAAAbaQ/7iVZ1MnSlPw/s1600-h/P1030019%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030019" style="display: inline" alt="P1030019" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MMELYJqVr1I/UhkMM1lWjKI/AAAAAAAAbaY/Nr6A9jKEjek/P1030019_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NspgdzVEN-Q/UhkMNtXCxfI/AAAAAAAAbag/nLCetXoorS0/s1600-h/P1030021%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1030021" style="display: inline" alt="P1030021" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yT3E0WJJjlM/UhkMODcLYWI/AAAAAAAAbao/kcKHuEronO8/P1030021_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The show ended at around 12:00am; exiting the venue was surprisingly quick, considering the narrow pathways and entrances.</p> <hr /> <p>I would like to take this opportunity to once again thank Julio for helping me so much with planning‐out the Spain / Portugal leg of the tour. Without him, this part of the tour would probably be far more aggravating as it already is (being Spain a country in which it’s a total bitch to train‐travel in), if at all possible.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gym-65aUgKg/UhkMOtwPnyI/AAAAAAAAbaw/NRfuZdE1Q14/s1600-h/P1040344%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040344" style="display: inline" alt="P1040344" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rQWbTCRnfPU/UhkMPJnrFFI/AAAAAAAAba4/rVn_aA-Qn6Q/P1040344_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to my hotel and went to sleep early; next—<em>Córdoba</em>.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-29194925058446289622010-07-24T19:51:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:13:45.616-05:00Concert Day: Pavelló Olímpic de Badalona, Barcelona, Spain (July 23, 2010)<p>Before I go on to describe my first day in Spain, here are a few photos that were accidentally omitted from the post about my day in Nîmes. I took those photos <em>after</em> downloading images from my camera onto my laptop, and I think they’re worth being included.</p> <p>Outside the arena, at night:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bbo-yuP456U/UhkHcBdtzcI/AAAAAAAAbJM/0rVW5UrxWI4/s1600-h/P1020924%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020924" style="display: inline" alt="P1020924" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B5U1VLmwU3c/UhkHcjr4mKI/AAAAAAAAbJU/1ILf9shPXNc/P1020924_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-v89v9MSqWuQ/UhkHdDrqqSI/AAAAAAAAbJc/Sa5exAtR5JE/s1600-h/P1020925%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020925" style="display: inline" alt="P1020925" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9wNOXP8eqZE/UhkHdeCxg-I/AAAAAAAAbJk/-NjoUHa0oPI/P1020925_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Late dinner was consumed at <em>Le Petit Bofinger</em>, a Brasserie just outside the venue. Steak at 12:30am.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-f-Az3XBzF1g/UhkHd3DcIfI/AAAAAAAAbJs/mcU2m4M_UCg/s1600-h/P1020926%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020926" style="display: inline" alt="P1020926" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XCKgmvbgn4Q/UhkHeEK9xgI/AAAAAAAAbJ0/SvIbeww-yYg/P1020926_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-y2WgHu7zAik/UhkHemyandI/AAAAAAAAbJ8/Bk1oXHfDSeY/s1600-h/P1020927%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020927" style="display: inline" alt="P1020927" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fq-VtUfobn8/UhkHfDVl2qI/AAAAAAAAbKE/8WgjOP6Xawg/P1020927_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On my way back to the hotel:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-am5EYSnS4hs/UhkHfbkUNiI/AAAAAAAAbKM/YAJ7woYKEng/s1600-h/P1020928%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020928" style="display: inline" alt="P1020928" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QCgU4iNtbCI/UhkHf_p0N1I/AAAAAAAAbKU/nvcRSVl2QXg/P1020928_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6ZZEbRUcHWc/UhkHgdK-ukI/AAAAAAAAbKc/DdbabHxIbU4/s1600-h/P1020932%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020932" style="display: inline" alt="P1020932" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kdvazrFMy1M/UhkHgykDrPI/AAAAAAAAbKk/ZnMDwrb8tSA/P1020932_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Just under five hours of sleep in <em>Nîmes</em>, <em>France</em> clearly were not enough as I woke up at 6:00am a bit on the off‐side. Luckily, though, my hotel was so close to the train station I could probably have reached it had I swung a Telecaster with full power—train was leaving at 6:30am. I got used to waking up and being on a train within the span of 30 minutes; I don’t know if this is something to be proud of, though—I somewhat miss simpler times.</p> <p>A few days ago, <em>Brigitte</em>, an <em>AFMK</em> member, suggested that I hitch a ride with her to Barcelona from Nîmes; I decided to pass because I usually use train‐riding time for blogging, and I cannot possibly use my laptop while in a car for more than 5 minutes without getting sick. However, just before going to sleep, I took another look at the schedule and realized something very troubling: the 6:30am train leaving Nîmes arrives at <em>Montpellier</em> at 7:17am; the connecting train to <em>Barcelona</em> leaves 10 minutes later, and if I miss it, we’re talking about <em>five hours</em> delay in getting to Barcelona.</p> <p>Quite the risky connection; unfortunately, I did not carry Brigitte’s phone number, so I had to go to sleep with fears in my mind mixed with belief that, after all, everything’s going to be alright.</p> <p>I was happy, then, to find out that the first train ride was smooth as silk; arrived at <em>Montpellier</em> on‐time and parked my bottom on my reserved first‐class seat at the train to Barcelona. <em>Woo‐hoo</em>.</p> <p>The particular first‐class coach I was seated at was designated as a quiet zone. Quiet zone my ass—I actually have never witnessed any “quiet zone” that was really quiet, not even in Germany where people tend to obey this sort of things. The train ride to Barcelona was actually of the worst ones when it comes to noise: the Spanish people aren’t well known for their aversion to chatter. Any group of 2 people or more seemed to find an endless number of topics to talk about, during the entire ride.</p> <p>That made me wish that the Spanish language would have a few more consonants, if that’s what it takes to make these people just <em>SHUT THE FUCK UP</em> even for a microsecond.</p> <p>Attempts to doze‐off during the five hours train ride went mostly unsuccessful; I took comfort in the fact that I was going to arrive to Barcelona about 10 hours before the concert’s start time, which leaves more than enough time for sleep.</p> <p>One good things in having my eyes open, though, was the view: the train ride from <em>Montpellier</em> to <em>Barcelona</em> rides very close to the <em>Mediterranean Sea</em>, and the sea is often in view. A few cliffs along the way, together with the sea, gives one the will and passion to jump through the window and just get lost there.</p> <hr /> <p>Spain… The final frontier. That’s where this tour is going to end. As a matter of fact, Spain / Portugal has been the “scariest” part of this tour for me, for two reasons.</p> <p>First, the language barrier. The people in Spain and Portugal aren’t exactly the best English speakers out there, and I couldn’t speak Spanish even if my life depended on it.</p> <p>Second, it’s the travel. Train travel in Spain—at least when going through distances such as those I am about to take—is nowhere near as convenient as in, say, Germany. <em>Julio Bricio</em> is the guy I owe so much for, for helping me plan the Spain / Portugal part without having to rent a car and drive my ass off for a week; still, we’re talking about three trains, two bus rides, 4 (!) flights and a one‐day car rental over the course of one week. The last push, as it turns out, isn’t necessarily the easiest.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>The one‐day car rental is required to get from Madrid to Gredos, at the last day. I have a flight scheduled from Bilbao to Madrid early in the morning, and planning on renting a car in Madrid for the day, because there are absolutely no public transport links to get me to Gredos on time. If someone here is reading this, and is doing the drive from Bilbao to Gredos (or from Madrid to Gredos), I will be happy to share costs if I could hitch a ride.</p> </div> <p>30 minutes past schedule, I finally arrived at <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em>, which is Barcelona’s main train station. Welcome, Isaac, to Spain.</p> <hr /> <p>Lets get one thing out in the clear, now. I have been travelling for such a long while now, seen how things work (or don’t work; <em>Poland</em>, I still remember) in different countries, overcame obstacles here and there—so I have a pretty good idea of what pisses me off and what doesn’t; one thing that pisses me off is that I have to waste time due to (other people’s) ignorance.</p> <p>Arriving at <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em> and taking the escalator up, I was presented with what seemed to be a pretty modern train station. I was initially impressed; the train station looks more like an airport terminal, with lots of space, lots of service counters…</p> <p>But as I said a few times before, things tend to get annoying sometimes, and the most annoying things are those that happen unexpectedly. All I wanted to do there was to make three train reservations (to get this task over with already) and take the subway to my hotel.</p> <p>That took almost <em>two hours</em>.</p> <p>First thing I did was to take a look at the automated ticketing machines. As I have a travel pass, all I need really are seat reservations; not all automated ticketing machines provide reservation‐only transactions (the ones in Germany do; then again, Germany is by far the easiest country to train‐travel in. Comparing Spain to Germany in that respect is outright unfair), so I decided to look into it and potentially save some time.</p> <p>Three types of machines, each doing something different and, unless you can read Spanish, you can’t do <em>anything</em> with them. Hell, you can’t even know which machine is good for what purpose: Bus tickets? Train tickets? Subway tickets? Who the <em>fuck</em> knows.</p> <p>I ended up trying one of those machines, and was thrilled to somehow locate a button that would change the interface language to English.</p> <p>I pressed that button as enthusiastically as pressing a button could be. Now you would expect that all information on the screen would be automatically translated to English, right? HA HA. Think again. The only things that changed were the “Continue” and “Back” button captions. All ticketing options remained the same, in Spanish.</p> <p>Baffled by the sheer amount of stupidity exerted by whoever were the moronic life forms who designed these machines, I went to the counters. There are about 20 of them, segregated into groups. Each group has a sign on top of it, in two languages—<em>NEITHER ONE IS ENGLISH</em>. I somehow managed to figure out that there were two groups of counters—“long distance” and “not long distance”. Now what the hell does that mean? What is “long distance”? Do they mean “international”? Again, who <em>the fuck</em> knows.</p> <p>Still baffled, I then noticed a machine in which you have to press a button to get a ticket with your number in line written on it. Got #395, and humanoid #322 was just being served. <em>Great</em>.</p> <p>So I decided to use this dead time to see whether I’m really doing the right thing. Noticed a small “Customer Service” booth. Yes, they had a title in English! Line‐up of about 10 people. Waited for my turn and asked the attendant a very simple question.</p> <p>– “Hello. I have a EURail travel pass. Where do I make seat reservations?”</p> <p>She looked at me with an expression on her face that demonstrated complete and utter confidence in what she was about to say.</p> <p>– “Travel pass, counters 22 to 26. No need for number.”</p> <p>NICE! No need for number—that’s good. There I go, dead tired and starving, to the line‐up for those counters. Line‐up as long as the Nile, but hey, what can you do? Stood there for just about 30 minutes or so—and that was about an hour after arriving at the station. Five counters, only two are manned. One counter served one particular lady for more than 20 (!) minutes.</p> <p>As my turn arrived, two schmucks arrived to the line‐up and started annoying people around me. I couldn’t understand anything of what was said, but by the tone of it and the body language, I understood that those two idiots wanted to cut to the head of the line, much to the disproval of everybody behind me. As my turn approached, one of the idiots approached me and mumbled something in Spanish.</p> <p>– “Sorry, I only speak English.”</p> <p>He gave me the look as if he was just prepared to step on me as if I was a cockroach, mumbled some other things in a very rude tone and, as my turn arrived, was already on his way to cut in front of me. I gave him a look that could only be interpreted as “you better get your ass out of here”; that seemed to work. Finally, I’m at the counter.</p> <p>– “Speaking English?”, I asked.</p> <p>– “A little.”</p> <p>Good. We’re past obstacle number 1.</p> <p>– “I would like to make three train reservations.”</p> <p>– “OK, which ones?”</p> <p>Fired‐up my BlackBerry, and started reading him the three routes, including dates, departure times and even train numbers.</p> <p>He smiled.</p> <p>– “Oh. So, three train reservations in Spain. That’s very easy…”</p> <p>I smiled. You know, the kind of smile you used to have on your face when you were a kid at school and your teacher singled you out for doing something positive, or better than other people. Story of me growing up, but hey, that’s not the time for bragging. I felt pride in my organizational skills, and how I have everything jotted down right to the T.</p> <p>And then he went on.</p> <p>– “… That would be counters 11 to 16.”</p> <p>If my 70L backpack had eyes, it would probably look at the attendant with the very same puzzled look as I looked at him.</p> <p>My explanation to him that I was told to come and see him didn’t help. He claimed that he has no way of making any reservation, and he’s only there to provide information and maps to travellers. I was so upset that I just turned my back to him and left the scene while he was still talking.</p> <p>Ticket #395 was still in my hand. Rushed back to those counters; number #402 was being served.</p> <p><em>FUCK YOU, BARCELONA‐SANTS</em>, I wanted to scream. Deep breath, took another number and tried figuring out what to do next. I was starving, and my dreams of having <em>proper</em> Spanish lunch faded into oblivion. A short hop to a cafe at the station, and I had a disgusting sandwich, even more disgusting “dessert” and a cappuccino that must not, and I repeat, <em>MUST NOT</em> be called “cappuccino” as it is simply an insult to worldwide coffee. One sip and I had to throw it out.</p> <p>Still some time for my turn, so I decided to look around and do whatever I need to do to get on the subway. Got familiarized with the subway system here (<em>very</em> clear and efficient), bought a day‐pass and back to the seated area, blogging away.</p> <p>My turn arrived, and I sprang off my seat as if I wasn’t carrying any 17kg backpack. The entire transaction took three minutes and I fled the scene. Down to the subway, three stops to <em>Collblanc</em> and I was out in the open air, finally, in Barcelona.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Barcelona</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcelona">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcelona</a>) is the capital city of <em>Catalonia</em>, which is an autonomous community—some may call it a “state” or a “province”—in Spain. It is the second largest city in Spain after <em>Madrid</em> and its metro area is home for around 5 million people.</p> <p>Barcelona is one of the most toured city in Europe (ranked 4th after London, Paris and Rome) with about 5 million tourists annually, flocking its historical sites and, of course, the beaches. It’s very warm in here, as in most Mediterranean countries: summer lasts six (!) months and it’s not uncommon for the temperature to cross 20℃ during the winter.</p> <p>After finally being <em>in the city</em>, Task number 2 involved getting a mobile broadband USB stick. I will be spending quite some time travelling in Spain so having Internet connection handy is a useful thing. Located a Vodafone store, and there went another 30 minutes before everything was said and done. I didn’t have much power left in me when I left and started to walk up the street towards my hotel—<em>Hotel Senator</em>; once arrived, I was very pleased to be in a normal 4‐star hotel with a comfortable room; quick shower and went to rest for a while—that is, for a few <em>hours</em>.</p> <p>That explains why I didn’t really get the chance to explore Barcelona. My flight back to Canada is scheduled to depart Barcelona’s airport on August 7, as I figured I might need a few days of rest before going back home; initially I was thinking about spending a few days in <em>Palma de‐Mallorca</em>; now I’m rethinking that. Maybe will stay in Barcelona for a few days instead?</p> <div class="indented"> <p>If anybody has suggestions what I should do between August 1 and August 7, let me know; the only condition is that I have to be in Barcelona on August 7 to catch my flight back.</p> </div> <p>I don’t know. Like some band members, I too prefer not thinking about “the day after” at this stage, even though it’s just one week away.</p> <p>ONE WEEK AWAY. Where did the last four months go?!</p> <p>At around 6:00pm, I left the hotel seeking for something to eat. Time was my friend; the concert in Barcelona was going to be a seated concert, so no stupid line‐ups to attend to. Took the subway to <em>Placa de Sants</em> and started wandering around.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I should tell you though that, in sharp contrast to <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em>, Barcelona’s subway system is as clear as Trento’s tap water. That is, <em>very clear</em>. You cannot possibly get lost, no matter what language you can read or not read. One of the best subway systems I encountered—and that includes the trains themselves, very spacious, comfortable and air‐conditioned.</p> </div> <p>Something here felt very familiar. After about 15 seconds trying to pinpoint it, I reached the conclusion: the atmosphere here in Barcelona is almost exactly the same as the <em>Tel‐Aviv</em> area, where I grew up. The look on people’s faces as they wander the streets, always looking busy; the non‐existent personal space you have while walking around or even sitting in a restaurant; the tone in which they speak; the informality that reflects out of everything they say (the way they say it; I can’t make sense of Spanish), every movement of every limb—even the look in their eyes.</p> <p>This is <em>Tel‐Aviv</em>, speaking Spanish. Had I been able to speak Spanish, I’d feel at home here.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3Jq69oC9rc0/UhkHhWnrNbI/AAAAAAAAbKs/0KciOF4nQuI/s1600-h/P1020933%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020933" style="display: inline" alt="P1020933" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3kQWVxr9IbI/UhkHhvfEGXI/AAAAAAAAbK0/uJZttURI6Y8/P1020933_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Walking down <em>Carrer de Sants</em>, which is a main shopping avenue not far from <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em>, many shops are open but finding a place to have a proper meal is tricky. Spain (at least this part of the country, but I have some belief that it’s true country‐wide), like France, is a country where you have to be at the restaurant in just the right time in order to get a meal. Between standard meal times, you can get tapas, or snacks, drinks, things like that—but not a proper menu.</p> <p>Situation here is even worse for the tourist—dinners in restaurants are served at around 8:00pm, if not later. Took me a while, as well as a few entrances and exits into and out of restaurants, to finally find a cafe that would serve something heavier than snacks.</p> <p><em>Paella</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paella">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paella</a>) is a traditional Spanish dish, originated in <em>Valencia</em>. Usually served with seafood, but I preferred the chicken variant. Here’s what it looked like:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ezHffAPscY8/UhkHiHeNEzI/AAAAAAAAbK8/_wuM_qARAns/s1600-h/P1020934%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020934" style="display: inline" alt="P1020934" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-fnc6YamsZ20/UhkHitxcrRI/AAAAAAAAbLE/MPH4_4yYoeo/P1020934_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It looks good, doesn’t it? Well, it tasted OK. Not the greatest; I should try this out in a proper restaurant. People tell me I should go to Valencia. Perhaps I will.</p> <p>Knowing that the venue is about 17km away from where I was, I decided to not take any chances and headed to the venue. Altogether about 16 subway stops over two subway lines—all the way to <em>Badalona</em>.</p> <hr /> <p>The <i>Pavelló Olímpic de Badalona</i> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavell%C3%B3_Ol%C3%ADmpic_de_Badalona">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavell%C3%B3_Ol%C3%ADmpic_de_Badalona</a>) is not actually located in Barcelona, but in <em>Badalona</em> which is neighbouring city north‐east of Barcelona. The real name of the venue is “<em>Palau Municipal d’Esports de Badalona</em>”, but “<i>Pavelló Olímpic de Badalona</i>” is the name it’s usually referred by. The venue holds up to 12,500 spectators and is usually used for basketball games.</p> <p>It’s been a cloudy day almost all day long, and the evening was no exception.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NV3bijuCFsc/UhkHjAPMUYI/AAAAAAAAbLI/HFvZFqSMsQc/s1600-h/P1020935%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020935" style="display: inline" alt="P1020935" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KPHGNaJllIc/UhkHjePSCsI/AAAAAAAAbLQ/bNiaaEQOdYc/P1020935_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HtDze7_erjw/UhkHjy0ZjdI/AAAAAAAAbLc/pX00BJWQS0U/s1600-h/P1020936%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020936" style="display: inline" alt="P1020936" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ODq2Hv7U4AU/UhkHkS8IZJI/AAAAAAAAbLk/ezV8eFaMgpo/P1020936_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Not a lot to see around the venue—quite a boring area if you ask me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kU_IzYWiDDw/UhkHkiHsg-I/AAAAAAAAbLs/g45LcAGAWL8/s1600-h/P1020938%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020938" style="display: inline" alt="P1020938" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tLZrGoxat78/UhkHlMkjBzI/AAAAAAAAbL0/colBEaEPyWU/P1020938_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-P_33I5kJfQ8/UhkHlvsP7RI/AAAAAAAAbL8/sGEgdE9Ko3U/s1600-h/P1020939%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020939" style="display: inline" alt="P1020939" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PeSCHba_Is4/UhkHl_Rx6AI/AAAAAAAAbME/3KSOigWkN1I/P1020939_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Finding the <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket collection desk was very easy—right at the entrance. Only problem was that, once you collected the ticket, you <em>had</em> to enter the venue; no way out. So I decided to grab something to eat before.</p> <p>Right across the road, there were a few kiosks, or mini‐restaurants, selling what Spanish people consider “snacks”. Definitely not full‐fledged dinners; those snacks usually involve dough, cheese, ham, sometimes even tuna; something to make you fat and fill your stomach until the real dinner is ready.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KgExDvCcOJs/UhkHmXDDfoI/AAAAAAAAbMM/yBgWLPjP4RA/s1600-h/P1020940%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020940" style="display: inline" alt="P1020940" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HVOgo8sirNs/UhkHm8c2eSI/AAAAAAAAbMU/JV4KxMfzK54/P1020940_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was then when I had my next encounter with the language barrier. First of all, while waiting in line, I looked at the blackboard showing the menu and couldn’t make sense of <em>anything</em>. I wanted a hot sandwich, didn’t matter which kind—and had <em>no idea</em> what to say or how to say it. Took me and the cashier about a minute of two one‐sided conversations—myself in English, her in Spanish—until someone who speaks both languages decided to take us out of our misery.</p> <p>I don’t even know what was inside the sandwich. Demolished it as if it was nothing and went to the venue. Really, nothing much more than a basketball arena.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5NNKeDociTk/UhkHnc5BxqI/AAAAAAAAbMc/6KORjZ6rkyM/s1600-h/P1020942%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020942" style="display: inline" alt="P1020942" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0CDC70f3VcM/UhkHn8pjnYI/AAAAAAAAbMk/ExLDfVa-FjM/P1020942_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-wadgf-9V54A/UhkHoPZTjxI/AAAAAAAAbMs/FPI0qPFvKRA/s1600-h/P1020943%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020943" style="display: inline" alt="P1020943" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WWrtf4Y5SJg/UhkHoqp-ftI/AAAAAAAAbM0/HIzJtbvKWYU/P1020943_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few more pictures for you…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wQzgxZjtaB8/UhkHpCum3II/AAAAAAAAbM8/M5kYHkDyzU8/s1600-h/P1020945%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020945" style="display: inline" alt="P1020945" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RaUH4-BAppo/UhkHpQxRgtI/AAAAAAAAbNE/pfS-dEXNkX4/P1020945_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-s8Nh_yV7yIw/UhkHp0UC3MI/AAAAAAAAbNM/DmxADx0oP1I/s1600-h/P1020946%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020946" style="display: inline" alt="P1020946" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Qjh8_QnAZbg/UhkHqeppKXI/AAAAAAAAbNQ/1mVg61ch_9c/P1020946_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9Okn49pD91U/UhkHqyWH5HI/AAAAAAAAbNc/O2uPNl9R-xc/s1600-h/P1020947%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020947" style="display: inline" alt="P1020947" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DmHIZaUD7jA/UhkHrC_mpEI/AAAAAAAAbNk/Cx-2H9CTT2Q/P1020947_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… You get the idea.</p> <p>My ticket brought me back to where I belong: front row, dead‐centre. To my right, <em>Brigitte</em> was sitting along with a few more <em>AFMK</em> members. It was the last show for them this tour, I could see the excitement on their faces.</p> <p>I wrote before that each concert serves like a “balancing point”: no matter how crazy and insane the day has been so far, when I see the concert, everything goes back to equilibrium mode. Meeting familiar faces also has that effect, therefore I was happy to see the <em>AFMK</em> members. <em>Mikel</em>, a Spanish fan whom I met before elsewhere, was also there.</p> <p>A few minutes past 10:00pm, the band took the stage and played their first concert in Spain this tour.</p> <hr /> <p>So, a few words, first, about the Spanish fans. Very similar to the Italians, when it comes to enthusiasm. These people here are quite vocal, I tell you. Deafening cheers throughout the concert made the experience quite lovely.</p> <p>Exactly the same setlist as in Nîmes—same fourteen songs with no particularly notable events. Looking at the band, you could see once again the connection between the feedback they get from the audience to the happiness on their faces and their eagerness to play.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QvFsZa53Gl8/UhkHrmr0TsI/AAAAAAAAbNs/s92nSJBHrHw/s1600-h/P1020949%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020949" style="display: inline" alt="P1020949" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LuDZ_knXA4w/UhkHsF42iVI/AAAAAAAAbN0/GEWanKX0feY/P1020949_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--OmFVVxnP48/UhkHsaZtIGI/AAAAAAAAbN8/ygT6ExISrDQ/s1600-h/P1020950%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020950" style="display: inline" alt="P1020950" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iP5ch2NUzZc/UhkHs7lrZEI/AAAAAAAAbOE/Ei8QOuLalXc/P1020950_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was the first time in a while that the backdrop was used. <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, the first massive cheers extractor in the setlist… immense cheers.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ufims6MISzU/UhkHtR9TA0I/AAAAAAAAbOM/csx2NgS0CvU/s1600-h/P1020951%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020951" style="display: inline" alt="P1020951" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qKgs_WFFmyo/UhkHtyScOgI/AAAAAAAAbOU/B4V7QCI79mo/P1020951_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NXdlwzwmjo8/UhkHuPIMgiI/AAAAAAAAbOc/3XbDJz_Y4yg/s1600-h/P1020952%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020952" style="display: inline" alt="P1020952" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-doALNs_bpV8/UhkHun1NMvI/AAAAAAAAbOg/3QBo8WS1VPM/P1020952_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FA21CSIysKo/UhkHu_th7wI/AAAAAAAAbOs/_FYJnwTZ4rY/s1600-h/P1020954%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020954" style="display: inline" alt="P1020954" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cB5gBtip-ms/UhkHvQkyWuI/AAAAAAAAbO0/xA_9my_nlU4/P1020954_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FsoWF5q5vRg/UhkHvzr7TQI/AAAAAAAAbO8/GDvlhlIIF3o/s1600-h/P1020955%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020955" style="display: inline" alt="P1020955" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Mx0In1rtERo/UhkHwIlpfWI/AAAAAAAAbPE/xvwcGRf9rsU/P1020955_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Sultans of Swing</em> followed, prompting the entire audience to stand on their feet cheering for some long moments as the band got prepared to play <em>Done with Bonaparte</em>. It was then when the “oe‐oe‐oe‐oo” routine was sung by the audience. I was curious to see where it would lead, as the band was no longer in the <em>Sultans of Swing</em> outfit, which meant Mark couldn’t lead with his Stratocaster.</p> <p>No worries, though. Glenn to the rescue with awesome upright bass work, with John working the violin with the rhythm. Mark himself didn’t do much—a shame, I was looking forward to see how he can lead this “song” with the <em>National</em> guitar. Instead, he chose to imitate running, swinging his hands back and forth.</p> <p><em>Marbletown</em> followed and this time we were for a somewhat “attacking” jam session. Something there just sounded a bit too loud to my taste, but one thing I should note was that there was some intensive acoustic guitar work played by Mark—some finger work I haven’t yet seen him performing.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1GpcULh5HYQ/UhkHwoVavoI/AAAAAAAAbPM/zlozRt99HJo/s1600-h/P1020958%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020958" style="display: inline" alt="P1020958" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FV-8rKSmqEs/UhkHxH7536I/AAAAAAAAbPU/izpgSR6Jk9Q/P1020958_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-P_AvNqONYv8/UhkHxs-0k_I/AAAAAAAAbPc/ae6_p5U0UyQ/s1600-h/P1020959%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020959" style="display: inline" alt="P1020959" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s4IXzxbiVLU/UhkHyLxLVXI/AAAAAAAAbPk/KKYjgIgU4g4/P1020959_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-anMqQ18c-ts/UhkHyUIlLDI/AAAAAAAAbPs/V0vGbAOiP1w/s1600-h/P1020960%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020960" style="display: inline" alt="P1020960" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8jlp3RQom2w/UhkHyzeFp6I/AAAAAAAAbP0/fIjksyMVZJE/P1020960_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Deafening version of <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em>, followed by equally‐deafening cheers; <em>Telegraph Road</em> followed with a killer outro solo, leading to the <em>Running of the Bulls</em>—the first <em>Running</em> in the country where the <em>Running of the Bulls</em> is actually practiced (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Running_of_the_bulls">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Running_of_the_bulls</a>; a more stupid exhibition I cannot imagine). We were all attached to the stage all the way to the end of the concert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WoytKJMY9R0/UhkHzZbVaHI/AAAAAAAAbP8/rNf7nGuBSbs/s1600-h/P1020961%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020961" style="display: inline" alt="P1020961" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PqpuShPldtk/UhkHzt-neqI/AAAAAAAAbQE/0SAy9bGrOGQ/P1020961_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-A3xiXgfTSfo/UhkH0DiU7mI/AAAAAAAAbQM/xkj84we7Uqs/s1600-h/P1020962%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020962" style="display: inline" alt="P1020962" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--YWHzx5T5CU/UhkH0gYi32I/AAAAAAAAbQU/ThkegT4-Mik/P1020962_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-d5nUhN8rC9g/UhkH1OpEQQI/AAAAAAAAbQc/a_Nrc_HDwKc/s1600-h/P1020963%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020963" style="display: inline" alt="P1020963" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dVYb4xCD9w0/UhkH1cmq4KI/AAAAAAAAbQk/m-e5rVrbIjw/P1020963_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Il50sRUBtic/UhkH18arKkI/AAAAAAAAbQs/ECCoE6AftEc/s1600-h/P1020964%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020964" style="display: inline" alt="P1020964" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oEHvbkRrILE/UhkH2J3UhRI/AAAAAAAAbQw/6tzTFUBmcjw/P1020964_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I wrote above, personal space is a non‐existent thing in Spain, especially when you’re in a concert, at the front, with thousands of passionate sweaty people. My shoulder was used as a tripod for someone who insisted filming the <em>entire encore</em> right in front of Mark’s face.</p> <p>Someone there almost started a fight, too. I think there was quite a bit of shoving and pushing activity around.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SBeYwy3eDEQ/UhkH2mp20eI/AAAAAAAAbQ8/Xj0_Il7UMR4/s1600-h/P1020965%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020965" style="display: inline" alt="P1020965" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rwQuWufPtw0/UhkH3ExbtAI/AAAAAAAAbRE/qlH1xq152GQ/P1020965_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4LGxk3129DM/UhkH3l51l-I/AAAAAAAAbRM/qupNqnLCt2w/s1600-h/P1020968%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020968" style="display: inline" alt="P1020968" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dscYFk9ze1w/UhkH4NHQxrI/AAAAAAAAbRU/s43Gogmsimo/P1020968_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eqbiqFOWbvQ/UhkH4UqDHPI/AAAAAAAAbRc/w2tEpPiDC3M/s1600-h/P1020969%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020969" style="display: inline" alt="P1020969" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oFXpCdXN1ls/UhkH46UT0II/AAAAAAAAbRk/2nZK0vPtD3A/P1020969_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Vn1o1FHEnz4/UhkH5dwrgRI/AAAAAAAAbRs/MPg9YoJU_YM/s1600-h/P1020970%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020970" style="display: inline" alt="P1020970" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-e3u8xu1oxGs/UhkH5yPua9I/AAAAAAAAbR0/5exmajYCxSo/P1020970_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The frantic audience then welcomed the band for the third encore—<em>Piper to the End</em>, excellent performance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zWO4AlWWFxM/UhkH6c9ejZI/AAAAAAAAbR8/xJ1y4tY84G8/s1600-h/P1020971%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020971" style="display: inline" alt="P1020971" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bytChtMYpj8/UhkH6lTmUdI/AAAAAAAAbSE/H-0uIlWhjhw/P1020971_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As usual, here are a couple of pictures of what it looked like being in my position at the end of the concert. Lots of happy people.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Lj0Bw7H4QHE/UhkH7B1rrfI/AAAAAAAAbSM/xNZAskUWP5U/s1600-h/P1020972%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020972" style="display: inline" alt="P1020972" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--pJL9lv4sBs/UhkH7vQg-TI/AAAAAAAAbSU/Cfn3yNHRn60/P1020972_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UhtXnjaudmU/UhkH8DObK2I/AAAAAAAAbSc/bLhTOtJmAIA/s1600-h/P1020973%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020973" style="display: inline" alt="P1020973" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xsOfl-kHYl0/UhkH880mA0I/AAAAAAAAbSk/W10u4Z5k9Yw/P1020973_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert was over two hours after it started; bid the <em>AFMK</em> members goodbye and fled the scene, to get as much sleep as I can before a long travel day to Murcia.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1I7X0s_1Lrk/UhkH9doWWfI/AAAAAAAAbSs/T7BjEcAExKo/s1600-h/P1020974%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020974" style="display: inline" alt="P1020974" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gOcYBWA5XdY/UhkH9nuaSTI/AAAAAAAAbS0/SgWDPWMnmwA/P1020974_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>One of the things that have been bothering me recently was that ever since the <em>Locarno</em> concert there were no comments posted in this blog. I expected, at least, for the odd negative comment here and there and once those stopped coming, I realized something must be wrong. I thought about it on my way back to the hotel, and decided to look into it.</p> <p>Logged in to <em>blogger.com</em> (which provides the framework for this blog) and, lo and behold, 19 comments awaiting moderation. Ever since I turned on comment moderation to fight spam, I was not receiving any notification about new “pending” comments—<em>blogger.com</em> actually expected me to log into my account to see those comments and moderate them through the web interface.</p> <p>That has been fixed right on the spot and everything’s back to normal again. Thanks for all the comments, positive and negative alike.</p> <p>That took about an hour to work through, as well as posting replies… and a very late night sleep after an already long day.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post from my hotel room in Murcia.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-18491641559561022942010-07-23T19:42:00.001-04:002010-10-15T15:28:41.529-04:00The Reason Why You Haven’t Seen Comments Posted for the Last Little While<p>Stupid <em>blogger.com</em>. For some reason, turning on “comments moderation” and “show word verification” results in comments being accumulated in my <em>blogger.com</em> account, but no email is sent to me for actually publishing or rejecting!</p> <p>Just logged in to the dashboard by accident. 19 comments awaiting approval!</p> <p>All will be published over the next few minutes. Sorry about that.</p> <p>Cheers, <br />Isaac</p> <p><em>Update, a few minutes later: OK, found the problem. From now on I will get those comment moderation notices by email. All non‐spam comments will be published. Thank you.</em></p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-39469747609512725532010-07-23T10:28:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:12:18.659-05:00Concert Day: Les Arènes de Nîmes (Place des Arènes), Nîmes, France (July 22, 2010)<p>It was good to sleep‐in the morning after the <em>Lyon</em> concert. The night before, I was on the verge of just falling asleep standing; I charged the bed as if it had all sorts of desserts on it and disappeared into a world of dreams within seconds.</p> <p>It rained for a while during the night; leaving the hotel, I stepped into a few puddles as I was walking my way to <em>Lyon Perrache</em>. I have to say this about Lyon—looking at their subway maps and tram maps, there’s quite a few options for people to get around—comfortably. Subway trains there appear to be modern and spacious, and so do the trams; when you look at Lyon’s public transport maps, you start thinking you’re in some sort of a mega‐city like <em>New‐York</em>. Public transport there reaches bloody <em>everywhere</em>.</p> <p>While Lyon is the second largest metro area in France after Paris, life there appear to be much more laid‐back and relaxed. People are relatively quiet and appear to be somewhat more courteous. I should look into that to see whether I just encountered the right people at the right time, or is there really such a difference between Parisians and people in Lyon. Altogether, with its relaxed atmosphere and impressive beauty (especially at the <em>Vieux Lyon</em> area—the old city), Lyon strikes me as a place well worth of a second in‐depth visit. Something about <em>Vieux Lyon</em> gave me a pleasant sensation of warmth, cosiness—that sort of a place where you’d be happy to spend a few days and explore.</p> <p>In Canada (and this is a topic that often came up when I had discussions with French fans), the only city we have that provides similar French‐style atmosphere is <em>Québec City</em>, which is the provincial capital of <em>Québec</em>. And, to address one question that <em>always comes up</em>: No, guys. The fact that I’m from Canada doesn’t mean that I speak French… First, I wasn’t born & raised in Canada, and second, while French is a formal language in Canada, it is not widely used in most provinces (<em>Québec</em>, <em>New‐Brunswick</em> and some parts of <em>Alberta</em> and <em>British‐Columbia</em> are primarily French).</p> <p>Three subway rides and I made it to the train on time. The train ride from Lyon to Nîmes takes about one hour with the fast <em>TGV</em> train—piece of cake. That was going to be a very easy travelling day.</p> <p>Not much to see along the way; at around 12:45pm, the train arrived at Nîmes. Maybe I was crazy, but all signs towards the exit led people to a stupid small elevator. I started to really doubt whether there are stairs anywhere in this train station, but decided to not go out of my way to explore. Very poorly designed train station, with low arcs everywhere that you feel like you’re walking through tunnels, and can’t see <em>anything</em> at the distance because those arcs block your vision.</p> <p>GPS turned on (to find the hotel) and I exited the station; welcome to <em>Nîmes</em>, where the last <em>Get Lucky</em> concert in France was to take place.</p> <hr /> <p>My room was ready at 2:00pm sharp. This hotel, <em>Citea Hotel Nîmes</em>, offers nice apartments—small, but there’s everything you need. For its price, it’s certainly a bargain. Located right behind the train station; actually, the station has two entrances—north and south—and had I taken the south exit, I would literally face the hotel. I don’t think it happened before in this tour, that the train station, hotel and venue were all within minutes walk from each other.</p> <p>However, if there’s one thing that this journey has taught me, it would be to never be too surprised when something goes wrong. Shit <em>does</em> happen, and just when it appeared as everything was perfect, I untangled the network cable I was given and tried hooking it up to the wall, then to my laptop.</p> <p>Now you tell me if you have <em>ever</em> experienced such a thing before: the cable was too short. That for itself may not be so surprising, but when you consider the vast distances the cable had to go through… the plug in the wall is literally three feet away, and this cable measured about 2.5 feet. You see? even the tiniest detail can sometimes go wrong. After attempting a few strategies, I realized that there’s only one particular way to lay my laptop on the desk and still get Internet connectivity: laptop must be attached to the corner of the desk. Can’t move the laptop once it’s connected. Stretching the cable to the max.</p> <p>Did some blogging and tried to nap for a while (I somehow began feeling tired again)—with limited success. The concert was scheduled to start at 8:30pm, with <em>markknopfler.com</em> early‐entry privileges at 6:00pm (strange seating concept: it’s a general‐admission <em>seated</em> concert. Everybody sits), so by 4:00pm I was already on my way out, carrying a small backpack containing my laptop (to continue blogging while waiting for the concert to start).</p> <hr /> <p><em>Nîmes</em> (pronunciation: <em>Neem</em>; Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%AEmes">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%AEmes</a>) is a history‐rich city in southern France, about an hour or two from France’s border with <em>Spain</em>. It is a popular tourist attraction due to its rich history which dates back to the Roman Empire. It is a home for around 150,000 people.</p> <p>The fabric your jeans are made of—<em>denim</em>—derives its name from this city, as the textile industry is (and has been for a while) strong here.</p> <p>I am thinking that maybe the fact that this city so well‐known for its history, with the Roman Empire and all, is also the reason for the central train station to be designed the way it is, with those bloody vision‐blocking arcs all over the place; anyway, it doesn’t take too many steps out of the train station and into the city area to realize that, yes, this city has some serious mileage on it.</p> <p>From the train station, <em>Avenue Feuchêres</em> stretches for about a hundred meters north‐west, boasting quite a few <em>Brasseries</em>, cafe’s and hotels. Takes about a minute to walk it, until arriving at <em>Place de la Libération</em> which is a large circle currently offering <em>nothing</em> as it is under construction and has fences all around it. Walking clockwise along the circle, you already start seeing the venue—<em>Les Arènes de Nîmes</em>—a huge, spectacular ancient arena within a few seconds as it is right around the corner.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YyRCUr2VtyI/UhkCkAv-SdI/AAAAAAAAa-o/DLfr5bIwAPI/s1600-h/P1020868%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020868" style="display: inline" alt="P1020868" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-a0zjaRtW2wI/UhkCkqjWUXI/AAAAAAAAa-w/mXz9ZDZuG6w/P1020868_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Les Arènes de Nîmes</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arena_of_N%C3%AEmes">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arena_of_N%C3%AEmes</a>) is a Roman amphitheatre from around 70 A.D. It is oval‐shaped and used for bull‐fights as well as other events—including concerts: <em>Metallica</em> taped <em>Français Pour Une Nuit</em> (a DVD) in this venue.</p> <p>I was actually on my way to a Japanese restaurant I had read about (named “Shogun”), when I encountered two <em>AFMK</em> members who were wandering around the venue. I completely forgot that ticket pickup starts at 4:00pm so I went to pick the ticket up—always good to strike tasks off the list as soon as possible. A short walk up the street and I arrived at the restaurant—<em>CLOSED</em>, thank you very much.</p> <p>I started wondering how come I had no luck having a full sit‐down restaurant experience in Lyon as well as here in Nîmes, as I encountered a pharmacy. Time for a new deodorant and some toothpaste, you know, these things tend to run out. €10 later and I made my way back to the venue, hoping to grab a bite on my way, in one of the numerous restaurants around.</p> <p>Nîmes’ central area—the old part—is lovely:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-79fKI2vBMNs/UhkClLU1NlI/AAAAAAAAa-4/F3l2ExMro2k/s1600-h/P1020869%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020869" style="display: inline" alt="P1020869" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Z1CBseL-Ejc/UhkClbEWlNI/AAAAAAAAa_A/e5jAV99zMZQ/P1020869_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0xqazYUGqlU/UhkCl9NuIjI/AAAAAAAAa_I/WKQxXlYdh6I/s1600-h/P1020870%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020870" style="display: inline" alt="P1020870" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-S-B-Jwvm1u8/UhkCmYA65RI/AAAAAAAAa_M/d9Qsl-6Dlnk/P1020870_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IobxqQyvrnc/UhkCmwUNMRI/AAAAAAAAa_Y/a1r8CWAtbc4/s1600-h/P1020871%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020871" style="display: inline" alt="P1020871" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OIy9WqDwrwA/UhkCndt3GmI/AAAAAAAAa_g/lUcFH6cL-jw/P1020871_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-B6PZ_xaQALA/UhkCnyfw0_I/AAAAAAAAa_o/LAmYlwH4g9Q/s1600-h/P1020873%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020873" style="display: inline" alt="P1020873" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WgvF1J0gB9s/UhkCoX__U4I/AAAAAAAAa_w/8qd-lD0kFCo/P1020873_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Found a Brasserie with a menu to my liking (that is, a menu in French which I could <em>kind‐of</em> decipher to English; restaurants here tend to not carry English menus), sat down and waited for service.</p> <p>And waited.</p> <p>And waited a bit more.</p> <p>And as my patience started running out, I decided to wait more.</p> <p>Then I really, really started to wonder whether I’m doing something wrong. No way that this country is known for its top cuisine but <em>nobody wants to offer it to me</em>. I noticed a sign saying “<em>Pizzeria</em>” at the distance; pizzeria’s are usually open all the time, so at least I’ll be able to grab something.</p> <p>Lo and behold, a few <em>AFMK</em> members there sitting around the table. Nelly took the time to explain why is it that I just can’t get service anywhere. Unlike North America, where you can step into a restaurant and order food at any time and it will be served to you, restaurants in France (and perhaps some other parts in Europe) work differently. They only serve meals at prescribed times—around lunch time and dinner time, with lunch service ending at around 2:00pm and dinner time starting at around 7:00pm. The rest of the time, some restaurants aren’t even open—and those that are open, often just serve drinks and snacks.</p> <p>Well, <em>great</em>. I then remembered noticing a cafe along the way offering sandwiches, went there and ordered a pizza. Yes, they had pizzas. No, it wasn’t a pizza—it was a random mixture of dough, cheese and ham that was baked and served in a way that simply doesn’t have the right to be called “pizza”. God I miss Italy; yet I was starving so had they served me with dog shit I would have probably eaten it as well.</p> <p>Finished eating at around 5:30pm and decided to head to the venue. <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers were instructed to wait next to a particular gate—away from the general‐public gates—for early entry privileges. Early‐entry doors were scheduled to open between 6:00–6:15pm so, having nothing better to do, I headed there—only to find out there there was already a line‐up.</p> <p>People were telling me that, in Europe, the more you head south, the more things work “differently”, if they work at all. 6:00pm passed, and so did 6:15pm, as myself plus a group of around 50–60 people were waiting in the sun. A security guy came in and told us all that we’re wasting our time and we should go join the general public: perfect demonstration of a person who either doesn’t know anything about his job, or just wasn’t informed properly. A few people left, but I figured that as long as I am at the same line‐up as Nelly, I should be OK.</p> <p>Time passed as I chit‐chatted with a few people who revealed a great deal of interest in this little journey of mine. One of the only people speaking English there asked me a simple question—“how many times have you seen Mark Knopfler before”—not knowing about this blog’s existence. The answer “78 times this tour and about 115 times in total” didn’t quite ring well with him, I guess he thought he wasn’t hearing right.</p> <p>General‐public access was scheduled for 7:00pm. I guess the poor general‐public had to wait a bit more; the early‐entry doors finally opened a few minutes past 7:00pm as people started shoving each other in attempts to get in first.</p> <p>As my turn arrived—I was about 15th in line or so—the security guy inspected my bag, picked‐up the deodorant that I had bought just half an hour ago for €8 (you know, it being hypo‐allergen, organic and stuff), turned to the garbage bin and just threw it away.</p> <p>Now, I don’t know if you had ever experienced something like that before, you know, being in a foreign country, having your bag inspected and then one of your items being thrown to a huge bin without being consulted or asked first. I should tell you that it’s not the best feeling in the world, to say the least. It’s hard enough to cope with the vast amount of idiots walking this planet, but fucking moronic idiots <em>with power</em> are the most frustrating to deal with.</p> <p>– “… Why?!”, I cried.</p> <p>– “Bu lekjsh asjhfg bceuiydh veif uvknf eiuhf dkdkjfh jhef dfakjshd oh beaaaai”, came the response in French which I of course couldn’t decipher.</p> <p>That made me feel even worse. Upon entering the venue, I found one of the ushers, talked to her—only to be directed to her supervisor because the poor girl I was talking to couldn’t speak English to save her life. That supervisor came with me to the entrance, and with the help of one of the security people, fetched my deodorant back from the bin.</p> <p>What I was then told was that they don’t want spray bottles in the venue. Too bad, though, that it was a roller‐type thing, not a spray. The ignorant checking my bag didn’t even bother reading the sticker (<em>WHICH WAS WRITTEN IN FUCKING FRENCH</em>).</p> <p>Feeling as if I have just regained sanity, I went back in and looked for <em>Florence</em> (the girl, not the city); we met before at the <em>Luxembourg</em> concert, remained in touch ever since and decided to get together again before the concert in Nîmes—mainly to take another picture together as the one we took in Luxembourg came out way too blurry.</p> <p>Was nice sitting down catching up, then went back to my seat and blogged for a bit. A short bathroom break before the show and I noticed a cute lady waving at me and gesturing with her hands as if typing on an invisible keyboard. <em>Kristine</em> was her name, an amateur photographer with whom I had great pleasure having a chat. Cheers Kristine, nice to meet you.</p> <p>Back to my seat, and Kate Walsh took the stage for the opening act.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ttLfMPN7snc/UhkCpK0Ry9I/AAAAAAAAa_4/ivumBb1TIsI/s1600-h/P1020876%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020876" style="display: inline" alt="P1020876" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ov-pYMkVTEA/UhkCplxGE5I/AAAAAAAAbAA/_JTPrMCMSxs/P1020876_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7pCFqozrqCM/UhkCqGFVp6I/AAAAAAAAbAI/DoKknMvrtiw/s1600-h/P1020878%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020878" style="display: inline" alt="P1020878" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dELP55MV1_M/UhkCqvj8qdI/AAAAAAAAbAQ/yE6ZaZvsrvQ/P1020878_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TO99eHKEoW8/UhkCrKLPZJI/AAAAAAAAbAY/J2iv52QTz50/s1600-h/P1020879%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020879" style="display: inline" alt="P1020879" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ivs5LK8T_7o/UhkCruY5tuI/AAAAAAAAbAc/HrOePXZmOhg/P1020879_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IE8y4mrRzaY/UhkCsApv5UI/AAAAAAAAbAo/lAJXvXh_YKE/s1600-h/P1020880%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020880" style="display: inline" alt="P1020880" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fPYFLRFqpSs/UhkCsd78ygI/AAAAAAAAbAw/jbFyBQhFcok/P1020880_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I enjoyed Kate Walsh’s performance in Nîmes much better than in Lyon; I guess it had something to do with being almost dead‐tired, and listening to Kate Walsh’s music while being in a 75%‐asleep mode is not easy at all as it’s slow, relaxed, calming, soothing music. Anyway, the duo (Kate & her accompanying cellist) did a great job.</p> <p>Intermission time was used for hunting for food; hotdogs is all they sold at the venue. Huge line‐up the size of Exodus; back at my seat and took a few pictures of this great venue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wmbML2UF4OQ/UhkCtHe5OqI/AAAAAAAAbA4/odZqN4Xcw_8/s1600-h/P1020881%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020881" style="display: inline" alt="P1020881" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ipeBZLVsdfY/UhkCtuQpgAI/AAAAAAAAbBA/M873gVEeJ18/P1020881_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PN_bbjKgJUg/UhkCuR0MliI/AAAAAAAAbBI/UIqX4XAmpHA/s1600-h/P1020882%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020882" style="display: inline" alt="P1020882" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ezIJMjp20FI/UhkCvN6jxlI/AAAAAAAAbBM/oF9FMI6eYp8/P1020882_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bWeD-Ogvjl8/UhkCvlTpHZI/AAAAAAAAbBY/jCtCixjEaNk/s1600-h/P1020884%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020884" style="display: inline" alt="P1020884" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nPvQv-sLDeI/UhkCwMbM2dI/AAAAAAAAbBg/7TKrV1aoEFI/P1020884_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6kWgRHaeAvs/UhkCwgdEYWI/AAAAAAAAbBo/xVyhmaKTKZg/s1600-h/P1020885%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020885" style="display: inline" alt="P1020885" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7xQpKYndBRQ/UhkCxCQLhxI/AAAAAAAAbBw/h-i-wRWZ_Vg/P1020885_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Excitement grew rapidly in this audience, quickly turning it to the loudest audience in France so far. Almost reaching the deafening level of Italy’s audiences—that’s a great deal of honour. The traditional “wave” then took place—an <em>amazing</em> sight that some of you may have watched before in soccer games:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sVZkXZb3bFM/UhkCxdv26DI/AAAAAAAAbB4/tlsT4qlO1KE/s1600-h/P1020887%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020887" style="display: inline" alt="P1020887" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cJyV7nyGBAE/UhkCx39AB7I/AAAAAAAAbCA/bU5tnxikvsM/P1020887_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-e7UbJp1-bfQ/UhkCyTReR_I/AAAAAAAAbCI/Ym3nHVY-Dfc/s1600-h/P1020890%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020890" style="display: inline" alt="P1020890" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HnQoYY7qkzA/UhkCy10Ji4I/AAAAAAAAbCQ/pbkZHt0-iks/P1020890_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The band captured the stage at around 9:45pm, stepping into a stage in front of frantic audience.</p> <hr /> <p>I was seated at the front row, centre section all the way to the right‐hand side—facing Richard Bennett. Good to be at the front again; there’s a trade‐off in venues like these—either be at the front, enjoy the show but miss the venue, or be at the back, enjoy the show a bit less (no visual advantage) but get very impressed with the venue. Having been at the back in <em>Lyon</em>, I was happy to be again at the front here in Nîmes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BB32ZVumAwc/UhkCzGrueoI/AAAAAAAAbCY/luTmNqriJe8/s1600-h/P1020891%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020891" style="display: inline" alt="P1020891" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4S7oTbJpBe8/UhkCz-98ZII/AAAAAAAAbCg/KzmbevfSaYc/P1020891_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KfDtuVOC75k/UhkC0LOqrqI/AAAAAAAAbCo/lli9bl-7JjM/s1600-h/P1020892%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020892" style="display: inline" alt="P1020892" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fkPO2BVatvE/UhkC0tSpPrI/AAAAAAAAbCw/ijROFStfpKk/P1020892_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Similarly to the Lyon concert, this one also had 14 songs, with <em>Prairie Wedding</em> being played instead of <em>Coyote</em>. Enjoyed this concert, though, better than Lyon; my condition in Lyon being one possible reason, but still, I think the band played better, with more enthusiasm, in Nîmes.</p> <p>Mark showed off with some basic French skills, counting in French instead of English and wishing the band members <em>Bon Chance</em> prior to playing <em>Prairie Wedding</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LkNla1-vxW8/UhkC1NqO56I/AAAAAAAAbC4/12O0x1YtCX8/s1600-h/P1020894%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020894" style="display: inline" alt="P1020894" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zsncYcWoj-A/UhkC1v8Fq_I/AAAAAAAAbDA/taepeLFKW8Y/P1020894_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LyXHRmmDGi8/UhkC2OYRx6I/AAAAAAAAbDI/x2cgiU9Le-Q/s1600-h/P1020895%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020895" style="display: inline" alt="P1020895" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aLWDmWrr2Fo/UhkC2a4YS_I/AAAAAAAAbDM/due-cRJi2HU/P1020895_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As soon as <em>Prairie Wedding</em> started, I noticed Richard Bennett playing his part differently—the capo was, as usual, over the first fret but the <em>C5</em> chord was played using different fingering. He played like that for the first verse, and as soon as he had a break, turned to fix the capo. Apparently it wasn’t put in tight enough, so one of the strings was buzzing; once the capo was fixed, it was back to normal for him again.</p> <p>For those of you who don’t play guitar, this may not sound very impressive; trust me when I tell you, though, that this is not easy in the slightest. Playing <em>C5</em> with the capo on the first fret is annoying enough as it is, let alone when you have to work out a different fingering layout all of a sudden as you realize something’s wrong with the guitar. I am willing to bet quite a lot of money that whoever was <em>not</em> at the front row and wasn’t looking at Richard at that time, could have <em>never</em> realized any difference whatsoever.</p> <p>That’s what makes the difference between a good guitar player and a pro, I guess.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-j1b3P9GKe3s/UhkC3Ms-U0I/AAAAAAAAbDY/cxXNqrM-l_0/s1600-h/P1020896%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020896" style="display: inline" alt="P1020896" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FRn6ECQbPpg/UhkC3Xx7EKI/AAAAAAAAbDg/2lW8GQGIBMg/P1020896_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-EGbzAkSWr_A/UhkC37nc2AI/AAAAAAAAbDo/8F302vM3YsI/s1600-h/P1020897%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020897" style="display: inline" alt="P1020897" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iHYQL5L3b-4/UhkC4X-V1BI/AAAAAAAAbDw/jKUqxlGtNxQ/P1020897_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>One song in particular was very touching in this concert—<em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em>’ outro solo threw audience off their feet for being <em>very</em> touching. Mark tends to make that <em>Gibson</em> cry a little bit at the end of the outro, which he did beautifully this time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZfDCQmt-21A/UhkC5JnrMgI/AAAAAAAAbD4/CD6WB_-Ypps/s1600-h/P1020898%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020898" style="display: inline" alt="P1020898" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-S_uxSn0Ehj8/UhkC5hmpQVI/AAAAAAAAbEA/mhD21K-ImYs/P1020898_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7BZ-pXnQ3pQ/UhkC6I2tj6I/AAAAAAAAbEI/ZNUBWI9koe8/s1600-h/P1020901%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020901" style="display: inline" alt="P1020901" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dUILRfUA3_c/UhkC6tahxDI/AAAAAAAAbEQ/z_G3MXrKlDY/P1020901_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>During the band’s introduction, there came Richard’s turn to be introduced. Well, what do you know—it was his birthday; a great deal of fans, predominately <em>AFMK</em> members, got up and started singing <em>Happy Birthday</em>, and a large portion of the audience followed.</p> <p>I want to take this opportunity, then, to congratulate Richard Bennett for his birthday. A guitar master by all means, this guy has been playing guitar for nearly 50 years now; show me one person to say that Mark Knopfler’s shows could be as brilliant without Richard Bennett by his side, and I will show you somebody who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. On top of that, Richard happens to be one of the nicest, down‐to‐earth individuals I ever had the privilege to meet.</p> <p>Way to go Richard for your spectacular guitar playing and superbly charming personality; I wish you all the best, as well as many more years of staggering productivity. Congratulations for your birthday, man; here’s to you.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-S9z_S5dgrSA/UhkC7Eg910I/AAAAAAAAbEY/c3b7PhjhV1U/s1600-h/P1020899%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020899" style="display: inline" alt="P1020899" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X93YJ42vkvg/UhkC7m_yieI/AAAAAAAAbEg/5BZ_DzWUdew/P1020899_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-k-cimlE8ZWg/UhkC8PAc63I/AAAAAAAAbEo/PbmIoOYvO3E/s1600-h/P1020904%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020904" style="display: inline" alt="P1020904" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-59AX3v1Kbhs/UhkC8YhXWLI/AAAAAAAAbEw/uZkc5GpQKgE/P1020904_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-18v-Zq-qVvQ/UhkC9JyIE3I/AAAAAAAAbE4/ld6pUxXqY5M/s1600-h/P1020914%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020914" style="display: inline" alt="P1020914" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QAJhxXTfs4Q/UhkC9jZMA5I/AAAAAAAAbFA/LZ2aOG-q8R8/P1020914_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zkA94bcmFrY/UhkC-IZJO9I/AAAAAAAAbFI/tCAxBqpEFqY/s1600-h/P1020893%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020893" style="display: inline" alt="P1020893" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-B_1gPYPNHho/UhkC-hrlz2I/AAAAAAAAbFQ/0EIXody9-Cc/P1020893_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Done with Bonaparte</em> came next…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DBiI2XoBw4M/UhkC_HCw85I/AAAAAAAAbFY/KSt9Gi6sgpU/s1600-h/P1020902%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020902" style="display: inline" alt="P1020902" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-11iiy_gqOHI/UhkC_oGGKZI/AAAAAAAAbFg/CgUvnz2AdLU/P1020902_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8thwpZn5VtQ/UhkDAJEP3XI/AAAAAAAAbFo/8jo_Rb7XxDE/s1600-h/P1020905%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020905" style="display: inline" alt="P1020905" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Sa60z4hGrrY/UhkDAjnVIvI/AAAAAAAAbFw/Y4FptaxVyPI/P1020905_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And then, the highlight of the evening: a magnificent, stunning performance of Marbletown. How these guys reinvent this song so often is way beyond me: a sweeping, dynamic, beautiful performance.</p> <p>Mark himself <em>knew</em> how fantastic that performance was; whoever listened to this song played live before, should know that there usually is a delay of 2 seconds before the last chord is struck—this time, most likely due to knowing that this performance was something else, Mark had the entire audience on the edge of their seats as he extended that delay to about 5 (!) seconds. As that last chord was struck, the front rows—myself included—sprang off their seats and rocked the amphitheatre. I get the shivers just writing about that experience: a <em>Marbletown</em> to remember.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-i6YH9UhsHus/UhkDBBVKZBI/AAAAAAAAbF4/gXN-NnPrw3A/s1600-h/P1020906%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020906" style="display: inline" alt="P1020906" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BiEkYLpjjmg/UhkDBltkW2I/AAAAAAAAbGA/eVMyRzaDEfo/P1020906_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-emVexxt8TRo/UhkDCCEw-5I/AAAAAAAAbGI/CYVqqnLOl1c/s1600-h/P1020908%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020908" style="display: inline" alt="P1020908" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-W89nsl_htJg/UhkDCsAanyI/AAAAAAAAbGQ/VVzMz1547MA/P1020908_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JcZQdTDyqC4/UhkDDC9SUPI/AAAAAAAAbGY/QbNe4ZdqoiM/s1600-h/P1020909%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020909" style="display: inline" alt="P1020909" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m6WtALR384A/UhkDDn1I7II/AAAAAAAAbGg/V8eQsjRn6R4/P1020909_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ec-ouWWB3W0/UhkDEEOCdCI/AAAAAAAAbGo/asubBvSJ8-s/s1600-h/P1020910%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020910" style="display: inline" alt="P1020910" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mY73jv3w3P4/UhkDErwuI1I/AAAAAAAAbGw/FweDsm7WaFo/P1020910_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bCv69yV_YpY/UhkDFGno-QI/AAAAAAAAbG4/8SezHP92gRA/s1600-h/P1020911%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020911" style="display: inline" alt="P1020911" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ipjE-_Jr_Tc/UhkDFhYJ_-I/AAAAAAAAbHA/9E8lc5LhMQI/P1020911_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-F5HyCi8NPJI/UhkDGRjTPQI/AAAAAAAAbHI/vAKjVOqB6Yw/s1600-h/P1020912%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020912" style="display: inline" alt="P1020912" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mbdDZfkDtwI/UhkDGyU71OI/AAAAAAAAbHQ/Kfsa1JgkzlI/P1020912_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Many people at the front rows chose to keep on standing after <em>Marbletown</em>; it was then when I started to realize that there’s still a long way for this audience to go in order to become true <em>Italy</em> material: people at the back started yelling at the standing people to sit down. Not wanted to piss anybody off, I went back to my seat however people found all sort of ways to keep being attached to the stage:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1GwD2_X3ya4/UhkDHA81RnI/AAAAAAAAbHY/D-Nwkb81S30/s1600-h/P1020913%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020913" style="display: inline" alt="P1020913" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nXIEG6hzTzI/UhkDHjf2SeI/AAAAAAAAbHg/LfnBr9FsbIs/P1020913_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cmYRN3wbgAQ/UhkDIGDr_8I/AAAAAAAAbHo/Ur8maX3sZDs/s1600-h/P1020915%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020915" style="display: inline" alt="P1020915" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wYFaLX2RwIU/UhkDIiUDqqI/AAAAAAAAbHs/07JY5EoU-e4/P1020915_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Now: most of these people in the pictures above were <em>already seated at the front row</em>. Try to think, for a second, what makes a person, who sits at the front row, take a small step forward and sit on the floor, ducking down, in a less comfortable position, just to be 30cm closer to the stage. This is <em>fascinating</em> to me but, having seen this band perform so many times before, I can begin to understand where it comes from. This band plays music that you just wanna get sucked into. Could anybody refute this statement?</p> <p>All and all, it was a fully‐seated encore except for people who chose to sit on the floor. It’s times like these when I miss the concerts in Italy the most.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JKxz79lOOHo/UhkDIzFMPiI/AAAAAAAAbH0/t4D5FBKCqSg/s1600-h/P1020917%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020917" style="display: inline" alt="P1020917" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TDGpo3pPJdE/UhkDJURtuuI/AAAAAAAAbIA/pVJ6oFTqoXE/P1020917_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BvFG0CUNDgQ/UhkDJ4jCe5I/AAAAAAAAbII/vZfGaIPxg2w/s1600-h/P1020918%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020918" style="display: inline" alt="P1020918" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kapnunK95hA/UhkDKaMOvQI/AAAAAAAAbIQ/CH0t4slZIgY/P1020918_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Beautiful encore and the show ended two hours after it started. Watching so many people cheering at the arena was a very pleasant sight:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Dh-ay7mfMLs/UhkDLNYXowI/AAAAAAAAbIY/PUQ9ELU3_0Q/s1600-h/P1020919%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020919" style="display: inline" alt="P1020919" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fkw2uZC0kN4/UhkDLtwRttI/AAAAAAAAbIg/jXNwUla1skI/P1020919_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AWfsRfJaD1M/UhkDMDiMsBI/AAAAAAAAbIo/4RT-kXxAxKQ/s1600-h/P1020920%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020920" style="display: inline" alt="P1020920" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6Coqw5UO66c/UhkDMuHTd5I/AAAAAAAAbIw/NsM0SC8BXyw/P1020920_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>One more shot before leaving…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ee8UjpVuqoY/UhkDNCT6jNI/AAAAAAAAbI4/1mvnsZZoiV4/s1600-h/P1020923%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020923" style="display: inline" alt="P1020923" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sT4sJoKu9RM/UhkDNjoUEeI/AAAAAAAAbJA/AOwRMn_qvhg/P1020923_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>I was very hungry after the concert, and thoughts of having a short‐night sleep (next day’s train leaving at 6:30am) didn’t really make me happier. About a dozen <em>AFMK</em> members went to a Brasserie just outside the venue, so I tagged along for a good steak (nothing like steak at 1:00am) and took the opportunity to bid everyone farewell. A short stroll to the hotel, packed everything for a swift departure the next morning and off to bed.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post while waiting for my turn for the reservation desk in <em>Barcelona‐Sants</em>, which is Barcelona’s main train station. This train station is fucked up beyond recognition and is absolutely useless for people who can only speak English. More details soon.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-78942227900622460152010-07-22T20:18:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:10:56.023-05:00Concert Day: Théâtres Romains de Fourvière, Lyon, France (July 21, 2010)<p>My train from Nice‐Ville to Lyon was scheduled to leave at 9:25am, so I slept‐in till around 8:00am, knowing that there’s a free shuttle from the hotel to the train station (so I’ve been told). That should leave enough time for a proper wake‐up / repacking cycle, I thought—and followed that exact plan. On 8:30am, I went downstairs for great breakfast at the hotel, but I thought to myself—hey, maybe I should first ask the concierge for the shuttle’s schedule?</p> <p>It’s always good to find out information as early as possible, because you can never know what you’re going to end‐up finding out, or at what angle exactly is the shit going to hit the fan. Approached the concierge and started the discussion as any properly polite Canadian would.</p> <p>– “Good morning. I understand that there is a free shuttle from the hotel to the train station?”</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>That’s “<em>fuck you</em>” serial number 001 for the day. Gee thanks. So… how should I get to the train station then, I thought.</p> <p>Thoughts mutated into words.</p> <p>– “So… how should I get to the train station then?”</p> <p>– “You can take a taxi…”</p> <p>That cost me €20 the day before. No thanks; I might as well have stayed in Monte‐Carlo.</p> <p>– “Is there a bus going there?”</p> <p>– “Yes, bus #12 right behind the hotel.”</p> <p>I guess the worst part of being a perfectionist is that you almost consistently see the empty half of the glass. Instead of being happy for finding a way back to the train station that costs €1, I started feeling bad about not knowing this the day before, so I could have saved €19 and the interaction with a mildly annoying taxi driver.</p> <p>But I guess that any learning process involves a price. It cost me €19 to get motivated to look at public transit schedules before arriving to uncharted territories, just as it had cost me €150 a couple of weeks ago in order to escape Poland on time. You live and learn; and you pay, too.</p> <p>Dreams of proper breakfast faded away with every step I made towards the hotel’s exit. a couple of minutes to circumnavigate around the hotel and I found the bus‐stop—or what I thought was my bus stop. Bus #12 went through there, yes, but it was located in some sort of a strange intersection between three lanes and I couldn’t figure out which direction buses approach this station. I know it sounds silly—perhaps I should have taken a picture to demonstrate—but the very location of the bus station and the layout of the lanes around it puzzled me.</p> <p>Bus #12 arrived about 10 minutes later. Approached the driver.</p> <p>– “To the train station?”</p> <p>– “No”, he said, gesturing with his hand towards the other side of the road.</p> <p>That’s “<em>fuck you</em>” serial‐number 002 for the day, aimed at the concierge. Bus #12 towards the train station is not—I repeat, NOT “behind the hotel”, unless “behind the hotel” means “about 50 metres north of the hotel, to the back”. I rushed there carrying 17kg worth of my world on my back, and arrived 2 minutes before the bus did—that would be the very last bus I could take while still making it to the train on time.</p> <p>You see how quickly can a beautiful relaxed morning turn into a day from hell in Kosovo? It doesn’t take much, really.</p> <p>When you ride the bus while being short on time, it’s easy to be led to believe that the public transport system, the bus driver, the other drivers on the road, the passengers, the traffic lights—all are against you and you’re trying to fight them all off just so you can make it to your train on time. Every time the bus stopped, I looked at people boarding bus thinking to myself “come on, wouldn’t you walk to your destination instead?”.</p> <p>At the end I made it, 15 minutes ahead of time.</p> <p><em>Nice</em>’s main railway station, <em>Nice‐Ville</em>, is a mess. This is one of the worst train stations I’ve ever been in, considering the fact that <em>Nice</em> isn’t exactly the unknown <em>fuck‐in‐the‐middle‐of‐nowhere</em> city. It’s a major tourist attraction, known all over the world for its beaches—and still it maintains a train station so small and poorly organized—sort of like <em>Wroclaw Glowny</em> with a few enhancements. Bought myself a bottle of water for the ride—there is <em>only one shop</em> at the train station for buying food, and they sell drinks and snacks <em>only</em>—no sandwiches. Good thing that most <em>TGV</em> trains have cafeterias in them.</p> <p>Four and a half hours ride to <em>Lyon</em>, during which I did some blogging and ate a sandwich and a croissant way too greasy and buttery. At around 2:00pm, I arrived at my destination—<em>Lyon Part‐Dieu</em>, one of <em>Lyon</em>’s main train stations (the other one being <em>Lyon Perrache</em>).</p> <hr /> <p><em>Lyon</em> (sometimes called “<em>Lyons</em>” in English; Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyon">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyon</a>) has the second largest metro area in France, after <em>Paris</em>. It is a major industrial and economical centre in France, and also the capital of the <em>Rhône‐Alpes région</em>.</p> <p>For foodies like myself, Lyon should be a good destination as it has the reputation of being France’s gastronomy capital; unfortunately though, as you will see, I had no chance to experience much of it.</p> <p>My hotel, <em>Best Western Charlemagne</em>, was located in <em>Cours Charlemagne</em> which is sort of a major shopping street. To get there, I needed to get three different subway trains—two stations each. I bet there was a shorter way to do so (maybe a tram) but I stuck with whatever <em>Google Maps</em> told me. Arrived at the hotel 20 minutes later, and… Ladies and Gentlemen, a first timer: This was my first time <em>ever</em> to receive an upgrade to my room. Well done, beautiful lady at the reception. I will probably remember you forever, Paolina.</p> <p>Was good to be in a quiet, air‐conditioned room; did some blogging, caught up with the world and enjoyed doing very little.</p> <p>The time has arrived to leave the hotel and go to the venue, not before stopping for an early dinner. A tip from the the hotel’s receptionist led me to a nearby Sicilian restaurant that turned out to be closed—open for dinner starting 7:00pm, thanks a lot for that. On my way to <em>Lyon Perrache</em> station, I came across a place selling Shawarma and other middle‐eastern goodies; €10 and I got myself a delicious plate filled with goodies—could barely finish everything and I was all set to go.</p> <p>Two subway stops, change to another line, one stop and I arrived at <em>Vieux Lyon</em>—or “The Old City” for you English‐speakers (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vieux_Lyon">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vieux_Lyon</a>). That’s one of the more interesting parts of Lyon, as history attacks you from each and every corner. Beautiful area that I wish I had more time to explore; took some pictures from along the way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rxJwpgfLmng/Uhj3gzCw5zI/AAAAAAAAavg/I4HtsZz9vB8/s1600-h/P1020778%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020778" style="display: inline" alt="P1020778" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wqaN2zgMz5A/Uhj3hS5WaEI/AAAAAAAAavo/2unQCUVaVu8/P1020778_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-p9zUWqcaFqs/Uhj3h9G9rfI/AAAAAAAAavw/kGdTWzIr6aM/s1600-h/P1020779%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020779" style="display: inline" alt="P1020779" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JQihFiA3c-k/Uhj3iX9UUNI/AAAAAAAAav4/coTmkWYncOU/P1020779_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As usual for old cities of this nature, streets here are convoluted, narrow and winding. I used <em>Google Maps</em> to chart my way to the venue—this time it worked OK, except for the fact that I had to take a 2,000,000 stairs stairwell to climb up the hill where the venue was located. Should have taken a taxi‐cab—it’s about 2–3 minutes ride from <em>Vieux Lyon</em> subway station; but then you wouldn’t have seen these images…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8UnLnzPfRAw/Uhj3iqWE-pI/AAAAAAAAawA/S8U2tL0JVSI/s1600-h/P1020780%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020780" style="display: inline" alt="P1020780" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6xX6nj4LSNk/Uhj3jO8XMjI/AAAAAAAAawI/ZWJYnDzSjXA/P1020780_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1wrZiiEmYfo/Uhj3jfx_u0I/AAAAAAAAawQ/UQxziqe_X2g/s1600-h/P1020781%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020781" style="display: inline" alt="P1020781" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nqyBhFM9Nbs/Uhj3j8i-LxI/AAAAAAAAawU/2jWaSqmIs4o/P1020781_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jef6EDMI2L4/Uhj3kViMVxI/AAAAAAAAawg/D20b4kVITHg/s1600-h/P1020782%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020782" style="display: inline" alt="P1020782" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WldSWnOM-do/Uhj3k3PO4MI/AAAAAAAAawo/_YeePDSfSts/P1020782_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Went up the wrong road at first…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3OSOySlZ0E0/Uhj3lQ4cadI/AAAAAAAAaws/3o9IpctjY_M/s1600-h/P1020783%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020783" style="display: inline" alt="P1020783" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RgYPQXjFkaM/Uhj3ly6GlxI/AAAAAAAAaw4/s25lPqc3tg8/P1020783_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pUpAhZbNVwc/Uhj3mSqQO5I/AAAAAAAAaxA/H9geX16hU-g/s1600-h/P1020784%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020784" style="display: inline" alt="P1020784" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ITn4UQ97gaY/Uhj3m9D9lzI/AAAAAAAAaxI/g66A9ddVnL0/P1020784_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Upon realizing my mistake, I backtracked a little bit (downhill, so not a huge problem) and found the narrow street I was supposed to take. Looks like an alley with 2,000,000 stairs leading up to heaven. Here’s a picture of the view you get about half way through:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-rVsri1KPATc/Uhj3nXPBzRI/AAAAAAAAaxQ/JMfwE7oKBLY/s1600-h/P1020785%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020785" style="display: inline" alt="P1020785" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZaLD3f4YPk0/Uhj3njFwbmI/AAAAAAAAaxY/RweuPMSkyFE/P1020785_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And there’s so much left to go:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ebv7fr-aIHk/Uhj3oTEHq7I/AAAAAAAAaxg/zqS4tJk66ec/s1600-h/P1020786%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020786" style="display: inline" alt="P1020786" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X9QHUsh-VpE/Uhj3o3WyEDI/AAAAAAAAaxk/2oqweR9oC-o/P1020786_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rzYoHhAj6q4/Uhj3pbZAISI/AAAAAAAAaxw/mmBtvnQ4hHE/s1600-h/P1020788%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020788" style="display: inline" alt="P1020788" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pz0H8nR_4Cc/Uhj3p80LsAI/AAAAAAAAax4/ZDpWQ0_eoOo/P1020788_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>I guess this cardio workout was one of the reasons for my almost‐collapse later (see below). See the grades I had to deal with while walking <em>after</em> the stairs were done and over with:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-M29-o0SwraQ/Uhj3qW4GTFI/AAAAAAAAayA/4wpOR_gA5pI/s1600-h/P1020789%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020789" style="display: inline" alt="P1020789" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kBnUNK3OIMg/Uhj3q4j0muI/AAAAAAAAayI/c387inQlfM8/P1020789_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Finally</em> I arrived at the venue—<em>Théâtres Romains de Fourvière</em>.</p> <hr /> <p>The <em>Théâtres Romains de Fourvière</em> is an ancient Roman amphitheatre… slightly in the ruins, though, which gives it some sort of a majestic look. One of the prettiest outdoor venues so far and I have evidence—see pictures below. It can hold around 5,000 people before things start getting <em>really</em> crowded in here. </p> <p>Upon arriving at the <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticketholder meeting‐point, there was already a bit of a line‐up there. I was, however, immediately recognized by a few fans, who belong to <em>AFMK</em> (<em>Association Francophone Mark Knopfler</em>; see link at the right‐hand side‐bar) who stood right at the front of the line‐up and were courteous enough to invite me to join them, which I did.</p> <p>Apparently as this journey is coming to an end, more and more people find it hard to believe that I actually managed to attend all shows so far (the concert in Lyon was the 79th). You know what? It is indeed puzzling, thinking about the challenges I had to face throughout. Quite the honest and sincere interest in my condition on behalf of the <em>AFMK</em> members, for which I was thankful.</p> <p>The first line‐up—outside the venue’s area—was soon converted into a line‐up <em>inside</em> the venue’s area. We were told to line‐up in two columns and wait until a few minutes before the doors are open for general public. Once the gates opened for us, we walked quickly (some ran) into the venue.</p> <p>The way this venue works is that there’s a standing‐area just in front of the stage, and the seating area all around. Well, an amphitheatre so that shouldn’t come as a huge shock. The front line was dominated by <em>AFMK</em> members. I began feeling tired already; sat down for a few chit‐chats, and two <em>AFMK</em> members invited me to squeeze‐in between them so I can enjoy the show from the front, while leaning on the barriers. That was <em>very kind</em> of them—a wonderful gesture and I can only be happy that this blog helps people in a way that they’re willing to help back.</p> <p>However, for once, I did not want to interfere and make a crowded situation even more crowded; and second, I started feeling a bit weak and decided that standing up may not be a good thing to do today, so I thanked them all dearly and went to the tribunes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-r0cSUgOi_Mc/Uhj3rKEZ_WI/AAAAAAAAayQ/itZP_CwkAYs/s1600-h/P1020790%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020790" style="display: inline" alt="P1020790" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-io-f1URM430/Uhj3r-uVMII/AAAAAAAAayU/DWoFvl7F0Tc/P1020790_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vukDf-FaXio/Uhj3sXoVUEI/AAAAAAAAayg/FVMbNPvPWhA/s1600-h/P1020791%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020791" style="display: inline" alt="P1020791" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UffGWNZrYVQ/Uhj3s4bewDI/AAAAAAAAayk/vua4CNPwddQ/P1020791_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-e4G52I78Evc/Uhj3tEAReHI/AAAAAAAAayw/FcCiK5-63ck/s1600-h/P1020793%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020793" style="display: inline" alt="P1020793" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bOQsMGuF3Tk/Uhj3tncIskI/AAAAAAAAay4/bru6zYsQ48k/P1020793_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WWwLEFR50ig/Uhj3uIaQxEI/AAAAAAAAazA/lHgRuGkvDck/s1600-h/P1020794%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020794" style="display: inline" alt="P1020794" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jcEdZdQMW4k/Uhj3unU48zI/AAAAAAAAazI/mVIo3tNJ7PA/P1020794_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aM4XkBaV3Hc/Uhj3vJI2kTI/AAAAAAAAazQ/Wp2QFgL9wD4/s1600-h/P1020795%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020795" style="display: inline" alt="P1020795" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-aI5RnNfrSTI/Uhj3vi8NwdI/AAAAAAAAazU/tRxcL8HOmBo/P1020795_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iDJBFAmQk9s/Uhj3v2ZWpCI/AAAAAAAAazg/lBQJDOkZTIk/s1600-h/P1020802%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020802" style="display: inline" alt="P1020802" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0Y8QkeEsuEA/Uhj3wRzNKxI/AAAAAAAAazo/4RUSHX2fUv4/P1020802_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Before getting seated, I decided to walk outside to buy some drinks and take a few shots… not necessarily of beautiful sights, but more in order for you to feel as if you were there.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rOYCxrJ116k/Uhj3wywFHBI/AAAAAAAAazw/9GKIlf7Q9m8/s1600-h/P1020803%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020803" style="display: inline" alt="P1020803" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kDX3cOKupUM/Uhj3xbigUVI/AAAAAAAAaz4/MSREmE5eZ6c/P1020803_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dnYvnZkZGt0/Uhj3xhlbdgI/AAAAAAAAa0A/g10p5c7uIGM/s1600-h/P1020804%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020804" style="display: inline" alt="P1020804" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NHiy7EaSaSA/Uhj3yE29eKI/AAAAAAAAa0I/bF1y7ogF0Bg/P1020804_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bbVXD0L-u0I/Uhj3ypsyijI/AAAAAAAAa0Q/zYYasvhZkYw/s1600-h/P1020805%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020805" style="display: inline" alt="P1020805" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aTu53i8NTvI/Uhj3zBawc0I/AAAAAAAAa0Y/DNDurrwm4pY/P1020805_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qgMf9pTowh4/Uhj3zqBg_XI/AAAAAAAAa0g/Z5YdwymBnQ8/s1600-h/P1020806%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020806" style="display: inline" alt="P1020806" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--QPwMTMzerk/Uhj30Hi6svI/AAAAAAAAa0k/PHf3UzPam44/P1020806_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CLk-WPS_G2s/Uhj30liwnlI/AAAAAAAAa0w/AD1wxWJEjg0/s1600-h/P1020807%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020807" style="display: inline" alt="P1020807" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9CtHNAOn8FY/Uhj31ChOfDI/AAAAAAAAa04/JJBhrlUiFsk/P1020807_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ODX0AVoa43I/Uhj31jp2lLI/AAAAAAAAa1A/WRQPKrX1Uco/s1600-h/P1020808%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020808" style="display: inline" alt="P1020808" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QfW7L_hdWA4/Uhj32N2YE9I/AAAAAAAAa1I/ftWwsC3gAts/P1020808_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>This next picture is a favourite of mine:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rbNFvpRYdEg/Uhj32YH4pqI/AAAAAAAAa1Q/Ypq2N6snP3A/s1600-h/P1020809%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020809" style="display: inline" alt="P1020809" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PGsDAhXHfGw/Uhj320Hpe4I/AAAAAAAAa1U/NzXBvjHRJb8/P1020809_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Gmb42LYpjNg/Uhj33aNdcRI/AAAAAAAAa1g/vFnV95LAOeU/s1600-h/P1020810%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020810" style="display: inline" alt="P1020810" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LflXByPxPR0/Uhj33zx3cBI/AAAAAAAAa1o/kSX9NKLtThI/P1020810_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AXcZVDrHtCU/Uhj34Nrd8HI/AAAAAAAAa1w/4SMV7xlqF6Q/s1600-h/P1020811%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020811" style="display: inline" alt="P1020811" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KB3XzBfTNFw/Uhj34imsd-I/AAAAAAAAa14/rbuTKDEkEOw/P1020811_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Lyon from above:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1bNJ_ig3LtM/Uhj35PE-SgI/AAAAAAAAa2A/Ov3aBmaAGeA/s1600-h/P1020812%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020812" style="display: inline" alt="P1020812" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IdROxht8MZg/Uhj35nwvNeI/AAAAAAAAa2I/nWor6OXgYPQ/P1020812_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And back to the amphitheatre, which started to get a bit full. The almost‐empty side that you see was actually a reserved part in the tribunes, for VIPs and invitees.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M-Ggy6EcW6g/Uhj35y0tscI/AAAAAAAAa2Q/vInBBDAXsII/s1600-h/P1020813%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020813" style="display: inline" alt="P1020813" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oNLmt8xQ5yQ/Uhj36tHfzCI/AAAAAAAAa2U/UOLTVRaS7V0/P1020813_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Forecasts called for potential rain. Before leaving <em>Trento</em> last week, Daria armed me with a Poncho “just in case”; at first I had doubts whether I should take it with me, but then decided that women always know better so I took it. As I checked the forecast before heading to the venue, I was happy to finally find use for the Poncho so I carried it with me. At about 8:30pm, it started raining—not too much but enough to cause discomfort. Pulled my Poncho out (that doesn’t really sound too good for someone who doesn’t know what <em>Poncho</em> is, does it) and I was happy. Thanks Daria, again.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-krTvxMurYzY/Uhj36w06lII/AAAAAAAAa2g/4-DGMYf_nKg/s1600-h/P1020814%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020814" style="display: inline" alt="P1020814" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Wi21F3r7_rk/Uhj37Tg_22I/AAAAAAAAa2o/H71zbrVb6-c/P1020814_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Kate Walsh</em> was scheduled to be Mark Knopfler’s opening act in London, as well as all shows in France. She went on stage a few minutes before 9:00pm and it was the first time for me watching her act. Beautiful songs—she plays the guitar and sings, and an amazing lady‐cellist plays along. Seems like great music to play at home in front of the fireplace for a serious chill‐out session.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A0ETDuLoQ7w/Uhj37z0kwvI/AAAAAAAAa2w/J9p9x8viSyE/s1600-h/P1020816%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020816" style="display: inline" alt="P1020816" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Xag2aRTYG80/Uhj38XC9V4I/AAAAAAAAa24/cv593uGJmKk/P1020816_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zn7wXQayeg4/Uhj386p7pyI/AAAAAAAAa3A/daVeZTSVZd4/s1600-h/P1020818%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020818" style="display: inline" alt="P1020818" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-r6hKUUcQAzc/Uhj39UzuECI/AAAAAAAAa3I/Yvwr4eKO-_g/P1020818_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After Kate’s 30 minutes performance, it’s intermission time as the the stage was being readjusted for the band and audience continuing flowing into the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lyUOPB3bRz8/Uhj398QVR0I/AAAAAAAAa3Q/ISd16vtO94E/s1600-h/P1020819%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020819" style="display: inline" alt="P1020819" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vjxC-1r7qP4/Uhj3-M1Jk1I/AAAAAAAAa3Y/nZwzgcPYTOo/P1020819_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Uwctl9Xzjrc/Uhj3-tdrDKI/AAAAAAAAa3g/xjIdN4D5de4/s1600-h/P1020821%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020821" style="display: inline" alt="P1020821" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-V1pc9_kuPJY/Uhj3-4kDQBI/AAAAAAAAa3k/Skpsb3Dpjik/P1020821_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was around that time when it happened, all of a sudden. One after another, each part of my body started screaming “I’m tired” and before I knew it I had severe trouble keeping my eyes open. Wondering whether this journey had already stretched my stamina to its fullest, I took comfort in the knowledge that, after the concert, I’m bound to a long night sleep as tomorrow’s train to <em>Nîmes</em> wasn’t going to depart before 11:30am.</p> <p>The concert started a few minutes before 10:00pm, with the rhythm of <em>Border Reiver</em> injecting some more adrenaline into my tired, weary blood flow.</p> <hr /> <p>A pretty good concert, however, having been to the two <em>Monte‐Carlo</em> concerts prior, I have to say that there was a bit less “excitement” in the air, at least for me. Sitting at the centre, about half way to the top in this <em>gorgeous</em> venue, the sound was very good but didn’t feel as much energy from the stage as I did the two nights before in Monte‐Carlo. Maybe it was because I was <em>very tired</em>—but having said that, I was dead‐tired at the first Monte‐Carlo concert as well.</p> <p>For sure, though, the concert yesterday proved once again that the venue contributes <em>a lot</em> to one’s overall enjoyment of a concert. My choice to sit at the back rather than stand at the front turned out to be a very wise one as the experience was quite majestic. Here are a few pictures to demonstrate; imagine listening to Mark Knopfler’s concert while watching these spectacular surroundings, a cool breeze caressing your face every now and then. Terrific, outstanding feeling.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-C4xqnE-gK8k/Uhj3_S4SiMI/AAAAAAAAa3w/FZNucGOJ32U/s1600-h/P1020822%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020822" style="display: inline" alt="P1020822" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DXOnCjaFW8c/Uhj3_ycxMAI/AAAAAAAAa34/x_2k0zC1CEU/P1020822_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-d9ZQm9ZpXvw/Uhj4AHT6YzI/AAAAAAAAa4A/jkXqXhvtmCM/s1600-h/P1020838%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020838" style="display: inline" alt="P1020838" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BmzM-6LVdjk/Uhj4Av7ORhI/AAAAAAAAa4I/x1iRK3g7FLE/P1020838_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>While the two evenings in Monte‐Carlo gave one the feeling of watching a concert in an intimate, super‐rich venue overlooking wealth and glamour, the Lyon concert gave one the touch of the past: the ruins around, so much history and so well lit, made all the difference. Fantastic.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ojUd8TrQu0U/Uhj4BGc7JyI/AAAAAAAAa4Q/2Aw2Rm1nXiM/s1600-h/P1020840%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020840" style="display: inline" alt="P1020840" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RXr9b0-UP10/Uhj4Bt5-ZII/AAAAAAAAa4Y/93cmEPuNyUU/P1020840_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nAVJrM2XWmc/Uhj4B0irp8I/AAAAAAAAa4g/1lt14HnKb5s/s1600-h/P1020829%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020829" style="display: inline" alt="P1020829" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Flxbrr6cIXI/Uhj4CizoKoI/AAAAAAAAa4o/vhd2axj9G3Q/P1020829_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After two nights playing short sets in Monte‐Carlo, the band went back to the normal sets. Fourteen songs, dropping <em>Prairie Wedding</em> from the standard setlist.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Jjg1BaIgLmM/Uhj4DHxrHNI/AAAAAAAAa4w/zSQhgZJkZDg/s1600-h/P1020823%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020823" style="display: inline" alt="P1020823" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-INQG9PBhi1c/Uhj4DmcAytI/AAAAAAAAa44/aXSchxPs_Hs/P1020823_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2ZsSBGf0qEc/Uhj4D9QGd7I/AAAAAAAAa5A/_dZ_LLD43Bk/s1600-h/P1020824%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020824" style="display: inline" alt="P1020824" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0FEWk0I3piY/Uhj4Ece2OJI/AAAAAAAAa5E/DLuHeHaqvcQ/P1020824_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vAMcms__SwI/Uhj4Ey_s4bI/AAAAAAAAa5Q/G0k4VACd2CE/s1600-h/P1020830%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020830" style="display: inline" alt="P1020830" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VLHvE5YqD9E/Uhj4FUrpNwI/AAAAAAAAa5Y/eMaORRngaaQ/P1020830_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mgd3AHga4NE/Uhj4F9Bw3CI/AAAAAAAAa5g/u-Tt-pqv9Is/s1600-h/P1020832%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020832" style="display: inline" alt="P1020832" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NLvQzN8MQnw/Uhj4GBbfOkI/AAAAAAAAa5o/MYEYeIT3YdY/P1020832_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There are a few ancient, semi‐ruined posts at the amphitheatre, located right behind the stage—another element adding to the superb atmosphere around. See:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BDwGYSETNBk/Uhj4Gh-gaoI/AAAAAAAAa5w/xdgDEN_gewc/s1600-h/P1020833%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020833" style="display: inline" alt="P1020833" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TkhTJlSmOaE/Uhj4HBEQr1I/AAAAAAAAa50/s97Sv2Jnsp0/P1020833_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bJZwiLgGTII/Uhj4HT1O2pI/AAAAAAAAa6A/zb07Z2gJOYk/s1600-h/P1020834%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020834" style="display: inline" alt="P1020834" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-saSlMGu23Vs/Uhj4H_s29yI/AAAAAAAAa6I/4jcI_lZstHg/P1020834_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tXqXtJR3Q00/Uhj4ITVbeqI/AAAAAAAAa6Y/PJnTlEnWh50/s1600-h/P1020836%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020836" style="display: inline" alt="P1020836" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-z_8120H4vZk/Uhj4JI6X1uI/AAAAAAAAa6k/CSSSALTHxGo/P1020836_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vaM8suNXD6I/Uhj4Jmw4yBI/AAAAAAAAa6o/3NLXrpqS6zk/s1600-h/P1020837%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020837" style="display: inline" alt="P1020837" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3H0gNcfZCcE/Uhj4JziPcwI/AAAAAAAAa60/anOZGViqBLA/P1020837_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, the French audience went for the traditional “oe‐oe‐oe‐oo”, which the four‐piece (Mark, Richard, Glenn and Danny) accompanied. This has happened before, but <em>that</em> particular performance of this unnamed “song” was particularly phenomenal due to some funky, amazing Stratocaster work by the leader. People looked at each other with disbelief, and the entire audience cheered immensely afterwards.</p> <p>It appeared as if many people were filming during <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, which triggered a fair bit of activity by security staff during <em>Sultans of Swing</em>, to locate violators and stop them. While they may have succeeded at the tribunes, obviously they had no chance whatsoever at the standing area. You can’t send people to the middle of an area populated by a few hundreds humans and fish violators out; a bit unfortunate, as here’s what it looked like (notice the lights amongst the audience members):</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RtsSsHyeEWk/Uhj4KYWK9KI/AAAAAAAAa68/pe85t1d6hWo/s1600-h/P1020842%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020842" style="display: inline" alt="P1020842" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pMtd6_q_oKc/Uhj4K0OOV4I/AAAAAAAAa7I/VO-tX1-52ZU/P1020842_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The show proceeded to a wonderful <em>Marbletown</em> performance… as almost usual, <em>Marbletown</em> was the best demonstration of musicianship by everyone.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-la4Z-Xn5_Qc/Uhj4LVlCmoI/AAAAAAAAa7Q/NhPO-sy70P0/s1600-h/P1020843%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020843" style="display: inline" alt="P1020843" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-O6nsUTpO050/Uhj4MLg9GgI/AAAAAAAAa7c/_BTtOHINAnU/P1020843_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UiTC7SZO_u0/Uhj4Mjlw97I/AAAAAAAAa7k/neTwX7AdRlc/s1600-h/P1020844%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020844" style="display: inline" alt="P1020844" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fPkCJQPr8Gk/Uhj4NHF1PDI/AAAAAAAAa7w/W1Ganrq7vaY/P1020844_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CdTS2fl7NWk/Uhj4N5s4fCI/AAAAAAAAa78/VUKR8VSHkd8/s1600-h/P1020845%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020845" style="display: inline" alt="P1020845" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WAM2b2IdREE/Uhj4ObPrkjI/AAAAAAAAa8A/m644SXZvxOA/P1020845_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uZ4BHvlil8s/Uhj4O1pCz9I/AAAAAAAAa8M/DCy1niaHPzc/s1600-h/P1020846%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020846" style="display: inline" alt="P1020846" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uNnbHI_r1Sw/Uhj4Pky4W8I/AAAAAAAAa8U/MG7hQcMm5hQ/P1020846_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Once <em>Telegraph Road</em> was over, I became familiar with a long‐standing tradition in this venue: the ass‐pillows, given to patrons before the show so their asses don’t wear the shape of a tribune, came flying in the air. Concertgoers threw those pillows between each other and onto the stage, with the band taking part and throwing the pillows back at the audience. Here is what it looks like:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LPMGNY66AEc/Uhj4QEnK_9I/AAAAAAAAa8c/3vUWME6gSms/s1600-h/P1020858%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020858" style="display: inline" alt="P1020858" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xS67J8UWoo4/Uhj4QXfUsdI/AAAAAAAAa8k/BGbBAOKYv_Q/P1020858_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LLzeY5QKe0M/Uhj4Q4YuW5I/AAAAAAAAa8s/H9UCjWW9PiU/s1600-h/P1020861%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020861" style="display: inline" alt="P1020861" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QDnbJPRNk_U/Uhj4ReTUW8I/AAAAAAAAa80/IoKsUpMn2qo/P1020861_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Some photos of what this venue looks like when everybody’s on their feet cheering:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VW3F_KZ0-Tc/Uhj4RyoI7LI/AAAAAAAAa88/XSwEIPKh0u4/s1600-h/P1020850%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020850" style="display: inline" alt="P1020850" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3sEvo0vwtRw/Uhj4SaYIGLI/AAAAAAAAa9A/DKBXFJQgNrQ/P1020850_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VyFAFKT8moI/Uhj4SjzyyZI/AAAAAAAAa9M/T4nbGDxjfZk/s1600-h/P1020851%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020851" style="display: inline" alt="P1020851" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-h44qABf1k20/Uhj4TGugA3I/AAAAAAAAa9U/C6czSdKuK-k/P1020851_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert ended, and evacuation was <em>very fast</em>. At last, people who know how to get the fuck out of a venue once the concert is over, without making people behind them wait forever.</p> <p>The venue and its surroundings looked terrific at night; very well‐lit, makes for a pretty pleasant experience to the eye. There you go… the last pictures for the day, and sorry if they’re a bit blurry—I was too tired to hold a camera still.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v2tPXk5ai7c/Uhj4T97aIfI/AAAAAAAAa9c/wHd2lVadFGQ/s1600-h/P1020863%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020863" style="display: inline" alt="P1020863" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GGNIeWcgD2I/Uhj4UK0jcKI/AAAAAAAAa9k/g90ptrP69lQ/P1020863_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EfbkfaYwBvs/Uhj4UrRU7YI/AAAAAAAAa9s/7jMfMcPbiu0/s1600-h/P1020865%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020865" style="display: inline" alt="P1020865" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5qbGUnm9nos/Uhj4VD2X8lI/AAAAAAAAa9w/bJ2eESBFKM8/P1020865_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bDXQXdi5HOg/Uhj4VorxxYI/AAAAAAAAa98/63NWy9x6wuM/s1600-h/P1020866%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020866" style="display: inline" alt="P1020866" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-l9FOSd3lr0s/Uhj4WBok9hI/AAAAAAAAa-E/Y-_HJr8i9u0/P1020866_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Prior to the concert, <em>AFMK</em>’s members invited me for a drink at the venue after the show. I was actually invited to post‐concert drinks after the Paris concert as well, but couldn’t make it—I did make it, however, this time. Was nice to get to know them, as we had a drink right outside the arena.</p> <p>Lyon’s public transport works until 12:20am daily; the concert ended at around 12:00am, so the venue had a few buses arranged in place to deliver the masses back to Lyon’s city centre. I missed both deadlines as it wasn’t 1:00am before we all departed our ways; one of AFMK’s members suggested that I get a ride with him, which I was very thankful for.</p> <p>Back at the hotel, I did nothing but transferring whatever was on the bed—to the floor, and just <em>crashed</em>. It took me seconds to fall asleep.</p> <p>Hope I don’t get sick again, with all of this tiredness…</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-40486717715661642042010-07-21T10:34:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:09:20.015-05:00Day Off & Concert Days: Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo, Monte‐Carlo, Monaco (July 18–20, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p>Dear readers: the reason for the delay in this post was that I had intended to sum‐up the entire Monte‐Carlo experience in one post. Thank you to those who emailed me to make sure everything’s OK—I appreciate the fact that you cared.</p> </div> <p>Woke up to an early, dead‐quiet Sunday morning in Würzburg, checked out and left to the train station. The plan: Hop on a train to <em>Stuttgart</em>, then hop on a local <em>S‐Bahn</em> train to Stuttgart airport, from there fly to <em>Nice, France</em> and then take a train to <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>.</p> <p>This may sound too much, but it isn’t. Total of two and a half hours train ride, plus one hour flight. What I should tell you, though, is that I came up with this schedule completely by accident. Want to know what was the <em>original</em>, train‐based plan?</p> <blockquote> <table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="456" border="0"><thead> <tr> <th valign="top" width="261">Departure (time)</th> <th valign="top" width="193">Arrival (time)</th> </tr> </thead><tbody> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Würzburg (12:56pm)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Frankfurt (2:05pm)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Frankfurt (2:50pm)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Offenburg (4:27pm)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Offenburg (5:04pm)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Strasbourg (5:34pm)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Strasbourg (6:04pm)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Lyon (11:29pm)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Lyon (0:50am) (that’s July 19 already!)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Nice (7:39am)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="261">Nice (7:53am)</td> <td valign="top" width="193">Monte‐Carlo (8:15am)</td> </tr> </tbody></table> </blockquote> <p>That’s more than <em>19 hours</em> on trains, with the night‐train (Lyon to Nice) being a <em>regular train</em> and not a sleeper. I suspect this crazy schedule was due to travel being done on Sunday.</p> <p>Therefore you can imagine how happy I was that day when I was sitting at a cafe in <em>Delft</em>, and accidentally came across the fact that <em>Air Berlin</em> operates flights from Stuttgart to Nice. Price? About €120. Not too bad.</p> <p>The streets of Würzburg were very quiet in the morning; I was walking towards the train station and it seemed as if I’m the only living thing on the planet. A quick sandwich, croissant and some terrible cappuccino at the train station, hopped on the train and dozed for a couple of hours.</p> <p>Arriving at <em>Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof</em> at 10:30am, I had an hour to kill before taking the 11:45am <em>S‐Bahn</em> to the airport (flight was scheduled to depart at 2:00pm). A short stroll down <em>Königstraße</em> revealed very few open businesses but quite a bit of people as there appeared to be some street show going on. Anyway, weather was very pleasant so the walk wasn’t very bad after all. Hopped on the <em>S‐Bahn</em> and arrived at <em>Stuttgart Airport</em> shortly after noon time.</p> <p>For some reason I had assumed Stuttgart’s Airport to be a small one; it isn’t. There are four terminals there and dozens over dozens of gates. This apparently is quite the air transportation hub. Having learned the lesson already, I did whatever I had to do (check‐in, security, etc) as soon as I got there to leave as much time for blogging worry‐free at the gate.</p> <p>My taste‐buds were urging me for compensation after the terrible cappuccino earlier at the train station so I went for a bar nearby the gate to make up for it.</p> <p>– “Cappuccino and a bottle of water, please.”</p> <p>– “With gas or without gas?”</p> <p>Now folks, allow me to rant for a bit. I haven’t been at home for nearly four months so I’m not sure whether this happens now in Canada as well, but in Europe, virtually everywhere I go asking to buy water, I get this question asked. Since when did carbonated water take over the water trade? It already happened more than once that I asked for water and the server <em>assumed</em> I was referring to carbonated water. What the hell is going on? “Water” means “water” (that’s <em>still water</em> for you), not “please tell me what kind of water you have”, and definitely not “carbonated water”.</p> <p>What’s next? Asking for orange juice and being asked “with pulp or without pulp”? Come on! If I have any further requirements of my water (or orange juice) <em>I will tell you</em>.</p> <p>In software architecture and design, one of the elements that distinguishes professionals from idiots is the adherence to a principle called “TPLS”: “<em>The Principle of Least Surprise</em>”. It basically means that, when software communicates with humans, it should make the least number of assumptions possible and, in times of doubt, prefer the scenario that would be the least surprising to the user. I strongly suggest people working in restaurants / bars to follow this very same principle. If I ask for water, give me water. Not water with gas, not water with flavour, and certainly not water with shrimps swimming in it (I’m telling you, this last one <em>will happen</em>).</p> <p>Anyway, what upset me more than the question was the water that I got. I poured some into the glass, took a sip and I am telling you, guys & gals, more disgusting water than this I have <em>never</em> had. I tasted tap‐water in Israel during drought years that tasted better than that. It had such an objectionable aroma that I was sure somebody was pulling a joke on me. Took a look at the bottle: an extremely fancy sticker labelling this water as “premium water”.</p> <p>I recall reading the other day about the new advents in water trade. Regular mineral water is out; enter the <em>water‐that‐will‐kiss‐your‐ass</em> era. There are laboratories out there working on, and businesses selling, water that supposedly bear further “benefits” to the drinker than just providing with the H₂O required for living and a few trivial minerals. This bottle I was drinking might have really been one of those, and if it has, then this “water priming” technology is one technology I would never invest my money in. Pure crap.</p> <p>Got the bill—<em>€8</em>. The water cost more than the cappuccino. Well, <em>shit</em> then. Now I have to look at the fucking menu before even ordering water, to make sure I’m not given “premium water” by accident. Perhaps I should adjust my investment portfolio to assign a specific asset‐class for “premium water”?</p> <p>My flight to <em>Nice, France</em> left about 15–20 minutes late but arrived on time. The views from the window showed nature at its greatest—snow‐peaked mountains, lots of lakes, and then, as if out of nowhere, there came the blue.</p> <p>The huge, brilliant, <em>smack‐your‐ass‐beautiful</em> blue of the <em>Mediterranean Sea</em>.</p> <p>Oh, just the thought that I spent my first 25 years of living 4km away from the Mediterranean Sea but rarely found the time to enjoy it. Sunny skies, and the sun makes this sea appear perfectly blue with way more glitter than the eyes can fathom. I gazed, awestruck, for about 15 minutes as the aircraft flew kilometres into the sea area and then back to land at Nice’s airport, with its runway being <em>just a few meters off the sea</em>.</p> <p>Temperature outside: 31℃, insane humidity as we’re <em>right at the sea</em>. Baggage pickup took forever; a few Euros for a direct bus to the train station, from where I took the train to <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>’s central train station—a short 210 minutes ride mostly ridden <em>by the sea</em>: hundreds of people were sunbathing, swimming and engaged in other sorts of activities (like volleyball; I suggest you all go get a good cold shower), and the views—tall cliffs, the Mediterranean kissing their feet—is nothing short of spectacular. As I was intending to spend a day in <em>Nice</em> before leaving the area, I decided to not take pictures—those would come later.</p> <p>Train arrived at <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>’s central train station right on time. A long walk through a tunnel and I found myself outside, in what I later learned was the main exit from the train station.</p> <p>Welcome to <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>, <em>Monaco</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Monaco</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monaco">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monaco</a>; lots of things in Monaco require payment, but don’t worry, its Wikipedia article is still free) is the second smallest country in the world (after <em>Vatican City</em>). 33,000 people live in this mini‐country (2.02 square kilometres). It is a <em>tax haven</em>; income taxes don’t exist here, which is one of the reasons why 84% of the people who live here are considered “wealthy”.</p> <p><em>Monte‐Carlo</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo</a>) is one of Monaco’s administrative areas, and perhaps the most famous of them all—mainly for its casino. 3,000 people live here, and it is considered one of the world’s top vacation spots.</p> <p>If you are a bit tired of where you live and consider moving, most chances are that Monte‐Carlo is not on your list. <em>Wish‐list</em>, maybe—but not much further than that. Monte‐Carlo has traditionally been leading the list of the “priciest place to own a home” (source: <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29183691">http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29183691</a>) on planet Earth. In 2009, the average property price in Monte‐Carlo was—take a deep, <em>DEEP</em> breath—$4,420 <em>per square foot</em>. For those of you who are used to the metric system, that’s about $47,576.48 <em>per square metre</em>. My house in Waterloo, Ontario is just over 1,800 square feet: had it been in Monte‐Carlo, I would be the owner of a $7,956,000 home.</p> <p>Do you even get the magnitude of this? How about looking at it from this angle: everybody claims London (UK) is expensive; the same survey I referred you to above has London’s property costing around $1,928 per square foot (third in the world; the second one being <em>Moscow</em>). <em>That’s less than half</em>. By these standards, places like <em>West Vancouver</em> and <em>Beverly Hills</em> don’t really measure up.</p> <p>As I exited the station, the first thing I did was ask <em>Google Maps for BlackBerry</em> for the route to my hotel.</p> <p>I think I should be frank here. I have always claimed that I am much less smarter than I appear to be. That was particularly true at that instance of looking for my way to the hotel. Last time I was burnt with <em>Google Maps</em> was when I tried to find my walking route in <em>Rome</em> and instead got instructions to break into private property and jump off a 40m cliff; that was good indication that Google Maps isn’t quite the brightest tool when it comes to getting walking instructions in hilly areas.</p> <p>Now, had I been nearly as smart as some people insist I am, I would pay attention to the fact that the word <em>Monte</em> sort‐of resembles “mountain”; in fact, it <em>is</em> the word “mountain” in Italian. That itself should have been enough warning to seek some alternate way of getting to the hotel—perhaps a taxi?</p> <p>But… no. Instead, I started following the instructions. That’s when things started to get <em>really</em> funny.</p> <p>Monte‐Carlo is actually built mostly on the slope of a mountain. In order to get to higher altitude, you <em>could</em> follow the roads but that creates a nightmare in case you have to travel really high up the mountain, as roads are, after all, subject to gravity and there’s only that much grade that a road can be built with. In other words, if your destination is high up the mountain, you’re going to have to walk <em>a lot</em> following the road in order to get there.</p> <p>Enter <em>stairways</em>. The stairways provide you with a way to go up the mountain without following any road. Think about a stairway in a park; same concept, only narrower, <em>much</em> steeper and built right by apartments, houses etc. You can literally look through apartments’ windows just by walking those stairs.</p> <p>It was a bit tricky for me to get adjusted to <em>Google Maps</em> providing me with directions to follow stairways, rather than streets. Stairways, apparently, have names too.</p> <p>The weather was very hot and humid; I found my first set of stairs—right next to the train station—and started walking up. With a 17kg backpack on my back, that was one hell of a cardio exercise in the sun. I had to stop multiple times on my way up, until I became a total and utter puddle of sweat. Just as I couldn’t take it any longer, the stairway (the second one I had to take) ended and I was finally facing a road.</p> <p>I felt <em>very smart</em>, but that feeling lasted only two seconds. Looking around me—that’s 20 minutes after extensive cardio work climbing up winding stairways—I realized that I was pretty much <strong><em><u>exactly</u></em></strong> where I started—only 30–40 metres higher.</p> <p>“It would be nice if somebody put an elevator here”, I thought to myself and continued walking and walking. I found my hotel completely by accident, on my way following <em>Google Maps</em>; the fucking program intended me to walk additional 1.5km as it thought that my hotel was further uphill (which it wasn’t); miraculously, the true location of my hotel was <em>on the path</em> that Google Maps asked me to go.</p> <p>I entered the hotel sweating like the most out‐of‐shape pig you could ever imagine. I was literally dripping sweat, which took the receptionist completely by surprise.</p> <p>– “Why didn’t you take the elevator?”</p> <p>I started seeing things a little blurry; I didn’t know whether it was because I was sweating my mind out and it’s my time to die, or maybe because of the sweat getting into my eyes making everything appear fuzzy. I had more water <em>on me</em>, than <em>in me</em>. I therefore had to look at her, concentrate, and ask the inevitable.</p> <p>– “What elevator?!”</p> <p><em>HA</em>. And now, ladies and gentlemen, is the encore in this ongoing punishment for my stupidity and ignorance.</p> <p>As Monte‐Carlo is wholly located on slopes of mountains, apparently people encountered the walking challenge before. To address that, Monte‐Carlo offers various escalators, elevators and stairways all over this tiny little city, to help people like me (or smarter than me) get around. Imagine my feeling of total failure once the receptionist told me that there’s an elevator to take me straight downstairs (to the train station, which is the best location to start exploring the city)—literally 3 minutes walk away from the hotel.</p> <p>I was too tired and sweaty to be impressed with that; took the key and headed to the room. Not only was I sweaty, warm and tired, now I also felt stupid. Long shower to wash away the pain and the sweat, and then drank 4 cups of water—I drank those as if I was breathing them in.</p> <p>A great nap for a couple of hours and I went outside to explore the city for a bit. After a very short visit to a local small restaurants—right by the train station—selling one of the worst pizzas I ever had, I went towards the port.</p> <p>I will let the pictures do most of the talking, folks. Even though I would probably <em>never</em> choose to live here (even if I could afford it; my ultimate dream location is <em>West Vancouver</em> and I find it very unlikely to ever change), I can totally understand why real‐estate in this place is so much in demand.</p> <p>View from uphill, where my hotel was:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3ch66lgL_Nc/Uhjsl5moIJI/AAAAAAAAaQM/dXV6gVf4zXs/s1600-h/P1020587%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020587" style="display: inline" alt="P1020587" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NWe2RqQS2WE/UhjsmVQBv4I/AAAAAAAAaQQ/y-5-hFArFlw/P1020587_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Down the escalators & elevators to the <em>Port</em> area: this area is where the yachts of the rich & famous are located. I’m pretty sure that, had I sold my house, I could afford a decent down‐payment for one of those.</p> <p>The port is also one of the major touristic areas; a few pricey tourist‐traps along the walkway, and quite a few facilities for kids.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-690nwQZsZ84/Uhjsm6hl-5I/AAAAAAAAaQc/0laKLF0UXQY/s1600-h/P1020589%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020589" style="display: inline" alt="P1020589" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cNmApBxF6Vg/UhjsniHaN-I/AAAAAAAAaQk/O1nMNPjQUGQ/P1020589_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sAoOS50-enc/Uhjsoe_kvdI/AAAAAAAAaQs/3WaypxBheYk/s1600-h/P1020590%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020590" style="display: inline" alt="P1020590" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GO4BhQCEgbI/UhjsoysYC_I/AAAAAAAAaQ0/GvncFZoQYhc/P1020590_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Views from the port:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mU7SZCNiE2E/UhjspUP54tI/AAAAAAAAaQ4/ZTdAkoPrTv8/s1600-h/P1020591%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020591" style="display: inline" alt="P1020591" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SQFD_Ft86NU/UhjspzlU1pI/AAAAAAAAaRE/bhbOEEb_2Dc/P1020591_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vgG0tXl23RI/UhjsqjT3INI/AAAAAAAAaRM/YOgocJdEWyM/s1600-h/P1020592%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020592" style="display: inline" alt="P1020592" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tuNF083oJcA/UhjsrE1I7qI/AAAAAAAAaRQ/iFF2JP70TMY/P1020592_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CQ2NkHWaOcQ/Uhjsrc_yElI/AAAAAAAAaRc/GlS7CRenoJQ/s1600-h/P1020593%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020593" style="display: inline" alt="P1020593" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-labvECIuAy0/Uhjsr543HyI/AAAAAAAAaRk/4SYL0tw3RMA/P1020593_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-e1IlMQXgYqM/UhjssYX8XZI/AAAAAAAAaRs/_H3zfp9mIxY/s1600-h/P1020594%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020594" style="display: inline" alt="P1020594" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3OnkRD4Gf4I/UhjstUoLuiI/AAAAAAAAaR0/xCVny8zQKVg/P1020594_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Walking around the piers…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uLO8-iZU88I/Uhjst5Ko8nI/AAAAAAAAaR8/9ajD9qN9fdI/s1600-h/P1020595%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020595" style="display: inline" alt="P1020595" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qX7R3Fk2B44/UhjsuXpb-LI/AAAAAAAAaSE/DanFHIVDmFA/P1020595_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Kn6EqGmPwnY/UhjsuxzKwZI/AAAAAAAAaSM/YhSm7sdQhAw/s1600-h/P1020596%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020596" style="display: inline" alt="P1020596" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bkZ85MTY99g/UhjsvU65h0I/AAAAAAAAaSU/CarapCG6_p4/P1020596_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2z5uZtRgzFE/Uhjsvw5lX2I/AAAAAAAAaSc/tMjlSQd_4AI/s1600-h/P1020597%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020597" style="display: inline" alt="P1020597" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--3unVEQdukc/UhjswpS8aTI/AAAAAAAAaSk/yzaiP98A9Zc/P1020597_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IOFaib1nM9A/UhjsxOwlu8I/AAAAAAAAaSs/31n_jMUsgEk/s1600-h/P1020598%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020598" style="display: inline" alt="P1020598" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QphnO9n47Ig/UhjsxcvriLI/AAAAAAAAaS0/KrMl5fhHuyw/P1020598_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After walking around for quite a bit, I became hungry again. Looking for a decent restaurant in Monte‐Carlo using <em>Google Maps</em> appeared tricky: the problem with this city is that roads are <em>very complex</em>. As there are actually multiple levels you can walk on, it’s very easy to lose your way even with a map. I was too hungry to cope with that and headed straight back to the port. The sun was down already; and at night, the port area is breathtaking.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mqJGJW0o3eI/Uhjsx8-TABI/AAAAAAAAaS8/2We12BQ3LjU/s1600-h/P1020599%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020599" style="display: inline" alt="P1020599" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jZZoBVYQ5Jg/UhjsyR5B8SI/AAAAAAAAaTE/_zWjD6-hYaQ/P1020599_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5-w_zvBlFhs/Uhjsy2KYOFI/AAAAAAAAaTM/FoZNAYig41Y/s1600-h/P1020600%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020600" style="display: inline" alt="P1020600" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OHVoZ5CkrSI/UhjszZSiZ0I/AAAAAAAAaTU/xLlLrqkqW00/P1020600_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9vqMgA0idmo/Uhjs0C7Va5I/AAAAAAAAaTc/YI1sL83s7Tc/s1600-h/P1020601%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020601" style="display: inline" alt="P1020601" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mOx4MyRJyWk/Uhjs0_t1jNI/AAAAAAAAaTk/_HTZzEsH_qM/P1020601_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ShZ0VQlKGj8/Uhjs1TIYpCI/AAAAAAAAaTs/RqCAFz0TJJY/s1600-h/P1020602%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020602" style="display: inline" alt="P1020602" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qpVoix-O-n4/Uhjs2EC_Z2I/AAAAAAAAaTw/vkrv4LZGIQ0/P1020602_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Fe0nHXox1b0/Uhjs2mZUIRI/AAAAAAAAaT8/z_S_9TqoYI0/s1600-h/P1020604%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020604" style="display: inline" alt="P1020604" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fbzzfvijH_w/Uhjs3Exy9nI/AAAAAAAAaUA/ydHjkQDZxpo/P1020604_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9xs6Nojk32c/Uhjs3vi2xeI/AAAAAAAAaUM/qiw4eBf9uTc/s1600-h/P1020605%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020605" style="display: inline" alt="P1020605" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fCuCNAoUzB0/Uhjs4EXmLYI/AAAAAAAAaUU/97xrVJIVb9E/P1020605_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3YV_AWKutV4/Uhjs4rgWr_I/AAAAAAAAaUc/Mn31KzUA2yc/s1600-h/P1020606%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020606" style="display: inline" alt="P1020606" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0Gzqb07HBUo/Uhjs5Bt9o1I/AAAAAAAAaUk/l7VtHiuYbzw/P1020606_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TnF_zhWG4tQ/Uhjs5oBuY_I/AAAAAAAAaUs/WnCdqdN7aBU/s1600-h/P1020607%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020607" style="display: inline" alt="P1020607" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HMpHYyLv-Ss/Uhjs6EeTb6I/AAAAAAAAaU0/zAG8sH6ZnCU/P1020607_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yaN7UgP8CvA/Uhjs6wfOcyI/AAAAAAAAaU4/FVvi5mGjM_I/s1600-h/P1020608%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020608" style="display: inline" alt="P1020608" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nVjtVetkTfo/Uhjs7ZfF3lI/AAAAAAAAaVE/UCkQRfhwkv8/P1020608_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-43Ugd2AhYSQ/Uhjs78yVddI/AAAAAAAAaVM/vOzzX64g3Gg/s1600-h/P1020609%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020609" style="display: inline" alt="P1020609" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6KOVqpfZRAo/Uhjs8pyrJcI/AAAAAAAAaVU/cbEq2K_koPE/P1020609_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-t_nHfQfeW4Q/Uhjs80DMQ-I/AAAAAAAAaVc/x8AGshCURvc/s1600-h/P1020611%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020611" style="display: inline" alt="P1020611" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xRAyquBRYxg/Uhjs9hJhB2I/AAAAAAAAaVg/FkDsiTzE0OY/P1020611_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ISzEQmOniLo/Uhjs-EjgVXI/AAAAAAAAaVo/FwGycA4nKjE/s1600-h/P1020612%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020612" style="display: inline" alt="P1020612" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ICVbd1zH2xY/Uhjs-3mJUOI/AAAAAAAAaV0/WnUa4C9yDfE/P1020612_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V9-ponHQp_c/Uhjs_RqgN1I/AAAAAAAAaV8/AypG_seUPws/s1600-h/P1020613%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020613" style="display: inline" alt="P1020613" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8JmaoaXKJpk/UhjtAN2dT3I/AAAAAAAAaWE/-MpfQBlf8QU/P1020613_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iSLTcYlCPvE/UhjtAo-xztI/AAAAAAAAaWM/7GeRwemAjAw/s1600-h/P1020614%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020614" style="display: inline" alt="P1020614" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Kn1b1wt6K7o/UhjtBOwarqI/AAAAAAAAaWU/TMu9uErAijw/P1020614_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IZCppoP5TvM/UhjtBvEDu_I/AAAAAAAAaWc/SSegpYQzqn8/s1600-h/P1020615%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020615" style="display: inline" alt="P1020615" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZGm9CgeEzcU/UhjtCfU55mI/AAAAAAAAaWk/PlQpfNBF-B8/P1020615_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-I50CRq9T8wg/UhjtCz70h4I/AAAAAAAAaWs/1-FyCr3CRaQ/s1600-h/P1020616%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020616" style="display: inline" alt="P1020616" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QVG0vphK4I4/UhjtDpxuVgI/AAAAAAAAaW0/k-Qv80NoirY/P1020616_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hmrooHYbNN0/UhjtEED0I4I/AAAAAAAAaW8/Uce6zbZnD6I/s1600-h/P1020619%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020619" style="display: inline" alt="P1020619" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_vTYvRjb3rw/UhjtEwvLXjI/AAAAAAAAaXA/2RML5AXLGEg/P1020619_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TziNX9NjUd8/UhjtFatFfkI/AAAAAAAAaXM/ARGTe67M0d4/s1600-h/P1020620%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020620" style="display: inline" alt="P1020620" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TDP6Qi_HETM/UhjtFz7uaII/AAAAAAAAaXU/tWRja5rm8iI/P1020620_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M-h8uThAIJc/UhjtGUvD5_I/AAAAAAAAaXc/u58hoMuizLc/s1600-h/P1020621%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020621" style="display: inline" alt="P1020621" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LZd3Bctv4rw/UhjtG3UsoYI/AAAAAAAAaXk/hsURKDXtcL0/P1020621_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_DtwI1m2i0g/UhjtHS89JoI/AAAAAAAAaXs/fBRJtAGjOSE/s1600-h/P1020623%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020623" style="display: inline" alt="P1020623" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2P6c3o9BH9M/UhjtIGta5_I/AAAAAAAAaX0/0Mc1aSUnrR0/P1020623_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Late already, so I went back to my hotel and decided to continue blogging from the panoramic terrace at the top. Sweet breeze, perfect weather late at night and here’s the view:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yUx0jWF62xM/UhjtIcDexCI/AAAAAAAAaX8/5yMUyEWqxMk/s1600-h/P1020624%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020624" style="display: inline" alt="P1020624" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XuDWRsezhOE/UhjtJNyvB4I/AAAAAAAAaYE/WYnJaM9tZ-E/P1020624_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Monte‐Carlo is indeed beautiful; however, all of this beauty does tend to make one wonder. What is it <em>really</em> good for, and how does it contribute to humanity, society, as a whole?</p> <p>I would take a wild rocky mountain, forest at its feet and a few lakes around, over <em>Monte‐Carlo</em> any day of the week without even blinking; and the mountain, forest and lakes don’t cost money—they are <em>free</em>. I am not saying that I am against money and what it’s used for: what I <em>do</em> object, however, is the shift in people’s minds towards over‐appreciating the power of money to the point of worshipping it. Places like Monte‐Carlo and Las Vegas simply pushes glamour and glitter in your face in such a way that challenges your belief in the <em>true worth</em> of things. As if flipping a finger in your face telling you “<em>we are the richest; here is what our money can make and, without money, you are worthless here</em>”. Apparently, there <em>is</em> such a thing as <em>too much money</em>.</p> <hr /> <p>The next day, I woke up in the morning and decided to tour Monte‐Carlo a bit further: went to the port and then started walking north‐east, along the water, until at some point I actually reached <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em>, where the concert was to take place. Sunny day, brilliant sky and here’s my camera talking again.</p> <p>Views from my way to the escalator—still up the mountain:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WZExHQdXVrk/UhjtJTiysbI/AAAAAAAAaYM/PTv-3MvqG1o/s1600-h/P1020626%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020626" style="display: inline" alt="P1020626" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a08i8TshVeo/UhjtJ4-RtiI/AAAAAAAAaYQ/bhtCJ0Zdr24/P1020626_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PeduZrxK05I/UhjtKYyRWDI/AAAAAAAAaYc/VDN3KFSGAz4/s1600-h/P1020627%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020627" style="display: inline" alt="P1020627" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uEj4B5KQw6U/UhjtK6nfzfI/AAAAAAAAaYg/HEwPzcxg5-s/P1020627_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2IIoLE51jWs/UhjtLfsNIiI/AAAAAAAAaYs/VyZH5FCCo0g/s1600-h/P1020628%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020628" style="display: inline" alt="P1020628" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0_QYe4-IgvM/UhjtL3mTJwI/AAAAAAAAaY0/5mjqu1mNr7g/P1020628_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Down at the port and starting to walk north‐east, the brilliant Mediterranean makes you understand why some consider this to be one of the best stretches of beach in the world.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pf_tLTRD_gs/UhjtMd5lnOI/AAAAAAAAaY8/g5ANpnQbJfc/s1600-h/P1020630%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020630" style="display: inline" alt="P1020630" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EjJ_y8ed1Gw/UhjtMzKAVII/AAAAAAAAaZA/5X6qL3Rd_AM/P1020630_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--Q_4RFR_y3Y/UhjtNbLaNnI/AAAAAAAAaZM/puMhou9o-IM/s1600-h/P1020631%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020631" style="display: inline" alt="P1020631" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yn83U0I4Fmg/UhjtONhTA1I/AAAAAAAAaZU/ZmWnZd6LoS4/P1020631_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SMe9G8h_xB4/UhjtORyMEsI/AAAAAAAAaZc/Q0voV5WVDlU/s1600-h/P1020632%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020632" style="display: inline" alt="P1020632" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Wzt5pzMxXU8/UhjtO-sFcCI/AAAAAAAAaZk/lY6xFg8q14c/P1020632_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nopDuhTdl0w/UhjtPnXYMNI/AAAAAAAAaZs/4EEURJ0suz0/s1600-h/P1020633%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020633" style="display: inline" alt="P1020633" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EDAvJ5mupVg/UhjtQKRqziI/AAAAAAAAaZ0/8e5QBe71ewo/P1020633_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I’m walking by the beach, you realize another thing about Monte‐Carlo: the cars. I am not a car‐lover myself—I own a 1998 Honda Accord with more than 330,000 clicks on it and will not consider changing it before it drops dead—but people with the eye for cars would call this place “heaven”. A <em>Porsche</em> is nothing out of the ordinary here: <em>Lamborghini</em>, <em>Ferrari</em>, <em>Lotus</em>, <em>Aston Martin</em>, <em>Audi R8</em> and such are very common here: <em>Bentley</em> cars are used by quite a few hotels as limousines. I walked by a <em>Lamborghini</em> store that just stood there in much the same way that your local <em>Honda</em> dealership does where (most of) you live.</p> <p>The sight of the see is a medicine for the soul; these pictures don’t do justice to the actual feeling of relaxation you get while watching this. If only those hotels and restaurants weren’t there, this place would be one hellish piece of heaven.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wl5anHZiy3o/UhjtQpe7YvI/AAAAAAAAaZ8/cY0B0EvX5Gw/s1600-h/P1020634%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020634" style="display: inline" alt="P1020634" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EZmOZ9t44VM/UhjtRC97utI/AAAAAAAAaaE/aYZY3FWzssk/P1020634_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-W73z0yq8t5A/UhjtRvcNBKI/AAAAAAAAaaM/8wqWFkM004o/s1600-h/P1020635%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020635" style="display: inline" alt="P1020635" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-T0zVBxGmUyU/UhjtSalsT8I/AAAAAAAAaaU/7MZINwVNAlo/P1020635_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Scores</em> of terraces at the beach area; most of them almost completely empty as most people are taking a dive at the sea.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QE3xnQwZBrs/UhjtTH-5jTI/AAAAAAAAaac/4ui6eIhGbLI/s1600-h/P1020636%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020636" style="display: inline" alt="P1020636" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nyv6SHZWS4o/UhjtTyYg0OI/AAAAAAAAaak/NRo7xqln_ws/P1020636_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qD9064-_PMA/UhjtUfzxzqI/AAAAAAAAaas/jN0_1d_rbVY/s1600-h/P1020637%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020637" style="display: inline" alt="P1020637" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6iXLjGUzRsQ/UhjtU9Uz3ZI/AAAAAAAAaa0/ednjSTO8D4c/P1020637_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9wcazg0ka_E/UhjtVCMjHeI/AAAAAAAAaa8/8YDflRSO3gA/s1600-h/P1020638%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020638" style="display: inline" alt="P1020638" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CkXojHRXuXc/UhjtVqrC1VI/AAAAAAAAabE/8fltoxaG2JM/P1020638_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A short walk past the beach, and the beach ends; I mean, it ends <em>for you</em>, the walker; at least for a little while. Some hotels and resorts have their own private beaches, occasionally with fences around them. Call me stupid (as some of you usually do) but I think this is pretty pretty low.</p> <p>The next picture shows a <em>huge</em> resort, I think it’s called “<em>Monaco Bay</em>”; it is adjacent to <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mLZpDUszd_M/UhjtWUImbFI/AAAAAAAAabM/1AD029yF_XM/s1600-h/P1020641%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020641" style="display: inline" alt="P1020641" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-c0x3FDle2As/UhjtWrYMNTI/AAAAAAAAabQ/O_obWVo6lIA/P1020641_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And its surrounding beaches…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ylnYwq9aE9Y/UhjtXN8ZbSI/AAAAAAAAabc/Q_noVr6u58Y/s1600-h/P1020642%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020642" style="display: inline" alt="P1020642" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eDjKUBXTK8s/UhjtXgnz6sI/AAAAAAAAabg/QeVqxz8W1Zs/P1020642_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3mNPGzqbDZg/UhjtYFBNMII/AAAAAAAAabs/Ic2PlhZN4bk/s1600-h/P1020645%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020645" style="display: inline" alt="P1020645" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VyHRypAtbGg/UhjtYsip0lI/AAAAAAAAab0/Rk9KIx43yIk/P1020645_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AdEhndY37hs/UhjtZBPlhUI/AAAAAAAAab8/Oftcud4ixn0/s1600-h/P1020646%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020646" style="display: inline" alt="P1020646" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MbgUkZZP-3c/UhjtZ45KFRI/AAAAAAAAacE/8pMx33vZ0L0/P1020646_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9j26M4GixsA/UhjtaWqKkHI/AAAAAAAAacM/Tg-AadfsMPw/s1600-h/P1020647%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020647" style="display: inline" alt="P1020647" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0nwtGaEd888/Uhjta3xwepI/AAAAAAAAacU/ThbSJ9n8pdA/P1020647_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I decided to make the <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em> the furthest point I’d get to, and started walking back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jfYHma9exbs/UhjtbQ2S_kI/AAAAAAAAacc/eD8NXyzXYuk/s1600-h/P1020648%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020648" style="display: inline" alt="P1020648" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OrPdn4Sq5hg/UhjtcETwGaI/AAAAAAAAacg/vhJuMHTD2QA/P1020648_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CKNHALDyUcg/UhjtcZTlWvI/AAAAAAAAacs/XEfFeXja-ZI/s1600-h/P1020649%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020649" style="display: inline" alt="P1020649" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lwpujmlykAY/UhjtdFPTm7I/AAAAAAAAacw/isHyqaK9HnI/P1020649_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On my way back, I stopped for about an hour worth of lunch, consuming a nice piece of steak, some goat‐cheese salad (heavenly) and dessert for the bargain price of €26. Things <em>are</em> very expensive here.</p> <p>Back to the port…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-iauDMu9ADZs/UhjtdsUMgGI/AAAAAAAAac8/jNtYS4aKeT0/s1600-h/P1020650%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020650" style="display: inline" alt="P1020650" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MrZkOsOHyyE/UhjteLNGF5I/AAAAAAAAadE/v-k9lcZQZ1c/P1020650_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And took the escalator up towards the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ihqKGvAlgZI/Uhjte6eb7EI/AAAAAAAAadM/vUxsgPC9Bqs/s1600-h/P1020651%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020651" style="display: inline" alt="P1020651" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7QFQnSQonjc/UhjtfMx3OBI/AAAAAAAAadU/nenLWVwx888/P1020651_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-moenMYg0Ar0/Uhjtf3gdgsI/AAAAAAAAadc/bxsmg_fE_Fw/s1600-h/P1020652%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020652" style="display: inline" alt="P1020652" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0HLUz0l0v-Y/UhjtgTG0TOI/AAAAAAAAadk/tiZ41qmEIfc/P1020652_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gXcjE0YifK0/Uhjtg5i4jgI/AAAAAAAAads/lNc3fj7Zfa4/s1600-h/P1020653%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020653" style="display: inline" alt="P1020653" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-iSGJKK7XKYQ/Uhjthe33YVI/AAAAAAAAad0/qAiqDVHSEFY/P1020653_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Quick shower and I decided to take a nap before heading to the concert. I knew that, due to the location, the venue, the nature of the event (dinner included etc) that this is going to be a memorable experience—maybe good, maybe bad, but <em>definitely memorable</em>; and, as you’ll shortly see, I was correct.</p> <hr /> <p>The two concerts in Monte‐Carlo were different from all other concerts in this tour. Contrary to a regular concert in which you pay for a ticket and being admitted to the show, things at <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em> work differently. You don’t pay here for a concert, but rather, you’re paying for a full <em>event</em>, or <em>experience</em>.</p> <p>The price for a ticket for any of the two concerts was €140; as the ticket sales went on before the Euro took a serious beating, it was about $250 CDN each when I had bought those. That’s almost twice the average of the North American shows.</p> <p>That price struck quite a few people as inappropriate, given the fact that concerts here are typically shorter (to compare: <em>Eric Clapton</em> was here a few years ago, same setting, same concept—ticket prices were around €200 each). I really can’t understand people’s puzzlement over this: if you’re looking for a <em>concert</em> proper—don’t go to <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em> as <em>this venue is not intended for a plain, admit‐watch‐go concert</em>. What you’re buying for this kind of money is <em>not</em> just Mark Knopfler performing in front of you—instead, it’s a unique 4‐hours experience in a setting that you’re <em>very unlikely</em> to come across elsewhere.</p> <p>Another different thing here was that the concerts in Monte‐Carlo are the only concerts in this tour for which there was a dress‐code. <em>Jacket & Tie Required</em>; without a jacket & tie, you’re not allowed into the venue. Some venues hold jackets and ties for those who neglected to show up with their own, but you can never just assume that you’ll be provided with a set. Also, there’s always the issue of size; you wouldn’t want to rely on the venue to provide you with garments and then end‐up walking into the venue in a suit that’s way too large on you.</p> <p>Therefore, yes; I actually carried some event clothes with me all along. As I packed before departing Toronto to Dublin, I tucked the jacket, the shirt, the tie and the elegant pants all the way at the bottom of the backpack. That’s a bit of extra backpack weight and volume, for just two concerts (out of 87). But still, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.</p> <p>Was <em>very</em> weird for me to dress‐up for this event. After cruising North America and Europe for nearly four (!) months dressed like an out‐of‐work teenager (well, you <em>have</em> to pack light), it was weird to dress‐up again the way that I often dress‐up for business. Last time I dressed like this was a few days before the tour began. To tell you that I’m happy to look sophisticated again? Well, I could say that, but that would be lying.</p> <p>Suits just look fake to me, that’s all. Whoever is in the habit of judging people for the “better” by the quality of their suits, is a complete and total moron that deserves a great deal of mockery. Whenever I’m in a suit—and that, unfortunately, happens more frequently than I’d wish—I feel as if I’m wearing some sort of a mask.</p> <p>But anyway, I did what I had to do; it was too warm outside so I decided to take a taxi to the venue. €13 for a 5‐minute drive and I arrived at <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em>.</p> <p>The schedule was to have dinner between 8:30pm and 10:30pm, and then concert between 10:30pm and 12:30am; arrived at 8:10pm or so, and there was already a line‐up at the entrance. Not quite the <em>Lucca</em>‐style line‐up, though: people here did the best they could to look sharp and smart, and the women? better not even mention as I have yet to glance at so many breathtaking women all at once within a radius of maybe 10 metres.</p> <p>Signs at the entrance, as well as instructions from ushers, called for no photographs <em>during</em> the show (before & after the show—OK).</p> <p>My turn at the line‐up and I was escorted to table #19. In all my history of dining out, I can only recall a handful of occasions being treated as superbly as here: these people here <em>know</em> how to host patrons.</p> <p>A quick glance at the wines list, looking for a glass (wouldn’t consume a bottle, or half a bottle, by myself), I noticed a long list of wines by the bottle—the most expensive of which went for around €2,300. I felt a bit stupid, but I had to ask the waiter to show me exactly where are the <em>by‐the‐glass</em> prices; those turned out to be in a separate menu. Cheapest glass went for €14—that’s <em>very expensive</em> but I have to say that it was worth it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hxxE-hfD_qU/UhjthwAq_wI/AAAAAAAAad8/6rvQHUHhWqg/s1600-h/P1020654%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020654" style="display: inline" alt="P1020654" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UfcmQYBWwXI/UhjtiSd5dXI/AAAAAAAAaeE/W_tLfX24pFc/P1020654_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>(By the way, the bottle of water you see by the wine is <em>not</em> of any “premium water” brand. Simple bottle of <em>Evian</em> I think. Who needs anything more than that)</p> <p>The venue—one of the most beautiful indoor venue I ever been to, if not the most beautiful one—filled‐up quickly.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4iF-QsGvi0U/Uhjti2xV6RI/AAAAAAAAaeM/bRRV4K8QcBs/s1600-h/P1020655%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020655" style="display: inline" alt="P1020655" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NhDxHXPWtKk/UhjtjtS4D_I/AAAAAAAAaeU/Zcx5DprF2LM/P1020655_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-006K8iQ9mVY/UhjtkYfTFPI/AAAAAAAAaec/NQUvxgbWnPk/s1600-h/P1020656%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020656" style="display: inline" alt="P1020656" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-htEbre-i0eE/Uhjtk7SaA5I/AAAAAAAAaek/pmGIsOOhk7U/P1020656_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s a picture showing you the number of people working <em>just at the entrance</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xSouY00jAnc/UhjtlsR4bdI/AAAAAAAAaes/0dTBZ-KrEKo/s1600-h/P1020657%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020657" style="display: inline" alt="P1020657" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NfbLnvBx05A/UhjtmHmPxkI/AAAAAAAAae0/nbCQyzlNPY8/P1020657_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Quite a bit of glass and mirrors in this venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k5tdFr6rzN4/UhjtmjZlC7I/AAAAAAAAae8/5unb4no7MY4/s1600-h/P1020658%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020658" style="display: inline" alt="P1020658" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AQGrZ02NClg/UhjtnZIuAUI/AAAAAAAAafA/-gV_UuhwYDs/P1020658_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>My neighbour agreed to take a photo of me. There you go, myself in a suit.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-s-hbZl2ijwM/Uhjtn51PiyI/AAAAAAAAafM/oyz7jQuOv9o/s1600-h/P1020668%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020668" style="display: inline" alt="P1020668" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LEw8-jB14L8/UhjtoY6aU4I/AAAAAAAAafQ/iuKSGRffMTU/P1020668_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bqpwtJC6U8E/UhjtoxQt8DI/AAAAAAAAafc/oW_DVFkM_vk/s1600-h/P1020670%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020670" style="display: inline" alt="P1020670" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8Pazjk_-MR4/UhjtpRO6CWI/AAAAAAAAafk/WTiGtEc_r-E/P1020670_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The menu was pre‐determined by the venue—you couldn’t really select anything but they put a “menu” there anyway to show you what you’re going to get.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pz4vwW4ft6w/Uhjtp4F3yaI/AAAAAAAAafs/MWuVLjiKiZE/s1600-h/P1020671%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020671" style="display: inline" alt="P1020671" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CqFydbdY6jg/UhjtqnwxNFI/AAAAAAAAaf0/isCNX0WA2so/P1020671_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ujJqg0H8fZA/UhjtrJXeC2I/AAAAAAAAaf8/jHH2cZxoDOo/s1600-h/P1020673%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020673" style="display: inline" alt="P1020673" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-k-3TaJWgSSo/Uhjtri7qJ1I/AAAAAAAAagE/FCiXT1Rbrtc/P1020673_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Let me read this to you. I suggest you fix your jaw in upright position.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Appetizer: Peas tartlet with chanterelle mushrooms with sweet‐and‐sour sauce, roasted quail, pan‐sauteed foie gras, wild mixed salad leaves.</p> <p>Main course: Sea bass with orange peel, artichoke and asparagus “poivrade”, spider crab, citrus fruit vinaigrette.</p> <p>Dessert: Frozen terrine with strawberries and fine jelly with raspberry vinegar, coconut salad, morellos sorbet.</p> <p>To finish: Sporting Monte‐Carlo delicacies and chocolates, with coffee.</p> </div> <p>Yes, ladies and gentlemen. That’s French. Remember what I wrote before about Italian cuisine and French cuisine? The Italians go for simple—and it’s <em>very tasty</em> (which is why it still is my favourite cuisine; the combination of simplicity and taste is a winner); the French are much more elaborate, putting a huge amount of effort into everything to provide you with the most delicate tastes possible.</p> <p>As I was waiting for the feast to begin, I suddenly realized that the hall was now better lit than before. Lo and behold, a retractable roof!</p> <p>The combination of sky, mountains and <em>lots</em> of glass and mirrors presented a fantastic look.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8nHk7xDPtsQ/UhjtsbvzeEI/AAAAAAAAagM/JhwyTcxMlEQ/s1600-h/P1020675%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020675" style="display: inline" alt="P1020675" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KiH_znKi128/Uhjts6DM6DI/AAAAAAAAagU/CAqmIoVY1PY/P1020675_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-rL9kg0sZ8P0/UhjttZCFTgI/AAAAAAAAagc/XPjgdO88umY/s1600-h/P1020677%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020677" style="display: inline" alt="P1020677" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-leRzKJ7AKb4/Uhjtt-HNCFI/AAAAAAAAagk/bH1gsXdP9S0/P1020677_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I was busy getting impressed by the venue and imagining how this all would look at night, there came the appetizer.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n4OWvt8VSIw/UhjtunOA1AI/AAAAAAAAags/_ZwZqvtdUnU/s1600-h/P1020679%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020679" style="display: inline" alt="P1020679" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9DJ1vhVnCZ4/UhjtvGSAjpI/AAAAAAAAag0/9097yG-qoqo/P1020679_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Every bite of this was a world of tastes. Eating such food makes you appreciate how much time and effort, as well as imagination, <em>somebody</em> had to come with in order to create such great food.</p> <p>About 800 people at the venue, dinner is on its way…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WLmCcK72edA/Uhjtv7EKXyI/AAAAAAAAag8/gjZA9t2YJQg/s1600-h/P1020681%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020681" style="display: inline" alt="P1020681" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ra_HM8RE144/UhjtwITLwOI/AAAAAAAAahE/wknTzaSdkXc/P1020681_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y8Pyefr1FCU/Uhjtwr8p8uI/AAAAAAAAahM/GmPWFro_4Rk/s1600-h/P1020683%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020683" style="display: inline" alt="P1020683" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xkrFmZz55jI/UhjtxfR1BOI/AAAAAAAAahU/I2LS63ixwEs/P1020683_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-U0LqXeAic4o/Uhjtx9HbiGI/AAAAAAAAahc/-xjV8o3WfRM/s1600-h/P1020685%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020685" style="display: inline" alt="P1020685" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lznujL8g2LQ/UhjtyULeTbI/AAAAAAAAahk/UH4RA47VhFE/P1020685_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Rsptd3r0SFA/Uhjty_PSIGI/AAAAAAAAahs/H3E3gNKtMjM/s1600-h/P1020687%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020687" style="display: inline" alt="P1020687" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2hN_Bhh8_rg/UhjtzcPDKxI/AAAAAAAAahw/YaBFlZcMqfg/P1020687_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And here’s the main course.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RpV-uZ4UCDQ/UhjtzwRTgRI/AAAAAAAAah8/VNL-WapTdcI/s1600-h/P1020691%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020691" style="display: inline" alt="P1020691" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MNufueQyknk/Uhjt0e_xcRI/AAAAAAAAaiE/2vItRN0XVVI/P1020691_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>You have to savour these dishes slowly, patiently. This is not the type of food you wanna rush through, and you <em>certainly</em> don’t want to go to a restaurant serving this food while you’re absolutely starving. This is food for enjoyment, not for survival. And yes, the sea bass was <em>great</em>.</p> <p>Went outside the concert hall…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6fNeD_Pvces/Uhjt1JBeP9I/AAAAAAAAaiM/qMkAjnDCUD4/s1600-h/P1020692%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020692" style="display: inline" alt="P1020692" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Rjf1s3tD4Hg/Uhjt14mr9xI/AAAAAAAAaiQ/LYu5jzl0A5A/P1020692_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>When I was back, looking at the hall I realized that it’s night time already. You need a professional photographer to take pictures that would do any justice to reality—I am telling you, folks: this is the indoor‐equivalent of Denver’s <em>Red‐Rocks Amphitheatre</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dKNJdI33LjM/Uhjt2UnHGYI/AAAAAAAAaic/tTuwTs9TuE0/s1600-h/P1020694%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020694" style="display: inline" alt="P1020694" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kBEEh1wtdyQ/Uhjt28RrXjI/AAAAAAAAaik/ZcjrPie5a1o/P1020694_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6NHeGX8fb5o/Uhjt3Wt9TLI/AAAAAAAAais/bruL8JoHIsM/s1600-h/P1020695%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020695" style="display: inline" alt="P1020695" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bO1v-NfTa9Q/Uhjt30P02qI/AAAAAAAAai0/UgV-gxruAqE/P1020695_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wpjX1-nWNDg/Uhjt4ZKyT1I/AAAAAAAAai8/xN7XUB8Qx9Y/s1600-h/P1020696%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020696" style="display: inline" alt="P1020696" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2rsOV6O3UcM/Uhjt4-CMsMI/AAAAAAAAajA/MOFa9FhCvMQ/P1020696_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Oh, dessert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-V5jzTWYX4nA/Uhjt5QdKJSI/AAAAAAAAajM/FcMM9NmOECM/s1600-h/P1020697%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020697" style="display: inline" alt="P1020697" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ccn4gz6FweU/Uhjt6FeNT2I/AAAAAAAAajU/fRWd9XaCtUw/P1020697_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Delicious. Here’s two of the waiters:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Q2oqxgtVzjY/Uhjt6hunmwI/AAAAAAAAajc/PYalKXOjaxY/s1600-h/P1020699%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020699" style="display: inline" alt="P1020699" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Fpr-mVX_dNY/Uhjt7F1St3I/AAAAAAAAajg/UPe5pytemJ8/P1020699_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A <em>lot</em> of glass:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uRFoPMymbDg/Uhjt7kbEFYI/AAAAAAAAajo/8A_cN_N_2F0/s1600-h/P1020701%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020701" style="display: inline" alt="P1020701" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NOPYVqFrl8M/Uhjt8XrJ1wI/AAAAAAAAajw/ZL7H0Ev95iE/P1020701_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kJpG1UHJZZA/Uhjt8yyA23I/AAAAAAAAaj8/Y74Q1c3hma0/s1600-h/P1020703%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020703" style="display: inline" alt="P1020703" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FMxKvG60am0/Uhjt9tfO5PI/AAAAAAAAakE/Y8kCT2qL3bM/P1020703_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rkYkC0iyPo0/Uhjt-HXDs-I/AAAAAAAAakQ/syJ5ngQAFu8/s1600-h/P1020704%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020704" style="display: inline" alt="P1020704" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MDDCfELV2Ss/Uhjt-3fNI3I/AAAAAAAAakY/zEsTT0-rVYo/P1020704_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-c78Zh-yUeYI/Uhjt_IHoyzI/AAAAAAAAakg/aye9v9lnAmM/s1600-h/P1020705%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020705" style="display: inline" alt="P1020705" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--n0AXVvWSnQ/Uhjt_v2DfLI/AAAAAAAAako/NViNN3BBCMo/P1020705_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I decided to finish it all with cappuccino. Also, very well done.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_I7nQxEfQOA/UhjuAJAH0uI/AAAAAAAAakw/ju8eU8J4bZY/s1600-h/P1020706%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020706" style="display: inline" alt="P1020706" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SuarH24JuJ0/UhjuAnzqsGI/AAAAAAAAak0/bzyCLRAhU0s/P1020706_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few last shots before the concert…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vu1AahCB4dw/UhjuA-jymAI/AAAAAAAAak8/XqXjM0clhwY/s1600-h/P1020708%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020708" style="display: inline" alt="P1020708" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-C3DL3C8hVXY/UhjuBfV972I/AAAAAAAAalI/0zhoFybT67I/P1020708_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9t8w9BZmMEQ/UhjuB9ymOfI/AAAAAAAAalQ/7FcZJuksL_g/s1600-h/P1020709%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020709" style="display: inline" alt="P1020709" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8xxyHGI-0_o/UhjuCSCk-xI/AAAAAAAAalY/ADEFo1zShIk/P1020709_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And the concert started at around 10:30pm.</p> <hr /> <p>Photos were not allowed so I didn’t take any (however, prior to the second concert, I understood that taking a few shots is OK—within reason, and without flash. So look below for concert pictures).</p> <p>The way the venue is laid out, there is a square dance‐floor in front of the stage; no tables were placed there; maybe one or two couples danced during the pre‐show (I suppose it was a local band; playing background tunes). For the main event, though, the stage was actually moved (and I mean literally moved; electronically, that is) forward until it captured the dance‐floor area.</p> <p>My seat was located at the left‐hand side of the stage; upon turning 90° to my right, I was facing Mike McGoldrick. Certainly not the ideal location to watch a concert from, but the sound—well, the sound in that particular location was better than the sound I had experienced from a few front‐row‐centre shows before.</p> <p>A very short setlist—eleven songs—not quite unexpected as this is how concerts work here. <em>Coyote</em>, <em>Prairie Wedding</em>, <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> and <em>Done with Bonaparte</em> were omitted.</p> <p>At the beginning of the concert—I believe it was right after <em>Border Reiver</em>—Mark asked the audience something that I heard as “Are there any fanclubbers here tonight?”. Quite the unusual question, therefore I’m not <em>entirely</em> sure that that’s what he said—however, apparently I wasn’t the only one hearing this because a handful of other people—of the younger members in the audience—appeared to have heard it as well and cheered. Mark’s response: “Good! Good to see you all”.</p> <p>It was a <em>great</em> concert and it was fun to see elegantly‐looking guests cheering and enjoying the music. Some, however, apparently were too occupied with their outside lives as usage of cellular phones was pretty apparent, especially in front of the stage where, I suppose, the “big shots” were seated.</p> <p>Even during the show, the venue’s staff were available for patrons to answer whatever need they might have had.</p> <p><em>Romeo and Juliet</em> and <em>Sultans of Swing</em> turned to be the cheer‐squeezers; lots of flowers (of the vases that were located on the dining tables) were thrown onto the stage, some during the show but most after the last <em>Telegraph Road</em> chord was struck. No “<em>Running of the Bulls</em>” this time—well, wouldn’t <em>that</em> be funny, seeing importantly‐looking people dressed‐up in suits rushing to the stage?</p> <p>Before proceeding to the encore, Peter McKay arrived at the stage armed with drinks for the band—this time, though, dressed elegantly, with a light‐pink jackets that… well… what can I say… looked peculiar. Some band members had a laugh; I did, too.</p> <p>The usual encore and the lights went on. Good concert, ended at around 12:30am.</p> <hr /> <p>Catching up with emails after the concert, I once again came across the ugly side of being famous (or, in my case, “mini‐famous”); forget the details—I’m just saying this in order to explain why it is that I arrived at my hotel very late (at around 2:00am), walking slowly along the beach, thinking about human nature and what motivates people to be jackasses. This trip is one big learning experience, I suppose; the fanatics, the jealous and the petty are all over, so might as well accept it and move on.</p> <p>A short night sleep and I woke up for my last day in southern France (for this tour, of course; I <em>will be back</em>).</p> <hr /> <p>I always heard of the nice beaches <em>Nice</em> (pronunciation in English: <em>Nee‐s</em>) has to offer so I decided to spend the day there. After having my BlackBerry collapse (again! but at least I have a lead as to why this happens. I suspect it has something to do with BlackBerry App‐World’s archiving feature) at the morning, I restored it to manageable state, hopped on a train from Monte‐Carlo and arrived at <em>Nice‐Ville</em> train station 20 minutes later.</p> <p>Well… Let the pictures tell the story.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8HCb1a_DS2Q/UhjuCzLcDkI/AAAAAAAAalg/SjjEHEgWHLY/s1600-h/P1020711%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020711" style="display: inline" alt="P1020711" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MuBDPzBBHJ8/UhjuDfdS4YI/AAAAAAAAalo/EkMO8M9a3k8/P1020711_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-f5ZavxKlvE8/UhjuD84FBwI/AAAAAAAAalw/ryfmaF-FR1I/s1600-h/P1020712%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020712" style="display: inline" alt="P1020712" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0zyj4wYahfs/UhjuEXJOC3I/AAAAAAAAal4/F3ojzZz2uDs/P1020712_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>View from the hotel’s panoramic terrace:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-S95nvCmp0uo/UhjuE7C-coI/AAAAAAAAamA/_v-rMpz7iSQ/s1600-h/P1020713%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020713" style="display: inline" alt="P1020713" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OYPl8Y_2kBY/UhjuFZjWRUI/AAAAAAAAamE/ip7MRzguDrg/P1020713_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BFbYeTEh9kk/UhjuF1srSYI/AAAAAAAAamQ/clDKe9lWPXk/s1600-h/P1020714%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020714" style="display: inline" alt="P1020714" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-APMZZ-zmAD8/UhjuGfdh3WI/AAAAAAAAamY/AUPJZJXCUfg/P1020714_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tV3FHc366Wc/UhjuGxDs69I/AAAAAAAAamg/R2gNztNs9tQ/s1600-h/P1020715%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020715" style="display: inline" alt="P1020715" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_8nEh7NeDyY/UhjuHR6n2GI/AAAAAAAAamk/T7OqmR6VS64/P1020715_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OcyfkyKUwQU/UhjuH_4UsgI/AAAAAAAAamw/S000lOoNsYE/s1600-h/P1020716%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020716" style="display: inline" alt="P1020716" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NsBXK2nKKhM/UhjuIfKchLI/AAAAAAAAam4/R4Lm0CBvveY/P1020716_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Quick lunch with Elian and Arnaud who left Paris at 4:00am to get to Nice ten hours later, and I went for a short—perhaps too short—nap before the concert.</p> <p>Shower, dress‐up… and then it came to me that I am very, <em>very</em> tired. I don’t know what was the reason for this but I was exhausted to the point of hardly being able to keep my eyes open. As we drove to Monte‐Carlo, though, I found enough reasons to keep my eyes open.</p> <p>The city of Nice from above:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3g0eSL6c0aY/UhjuI_L6C-I/AAAAAAAAanA/ypnbBq8LzO8/s1600-h/P1020718%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020718" style="display: inline" alt="P1020718" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rAE9szFIb4A/UhjuJegagKI/AAAAAAAAanI/BwXvoXD33A4/P1020718_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WTlH_YW_yY0/UhjuKLywWgI/AAAAAAAAanQ/atFzK2SAzc8/s1600-h/P1020720%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020720" style="display: inline" alt="P1020720" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZRKoDGS_NUE/UhjuKgE2HeI/AAAAAAAAanU/aV_6WHq050U/P1020720_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GqnDldNLm5E/UhjuLAyMrdI/AAAAAAAAang/MDUnxpmlltA/s1600-h/P1020722%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020722" style="display: inline" alt="P1020722" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KO6t_VcU-BQ/UhjuLgh1MXI/AAAAAAAAano/JlLcmulqPqw/P1020722_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few minutes drive, and then you get this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aLMGVgIJe6U/UhjuMFY6zhI/AAAAAAAAanw/OhtLOFWdPSw/s1600-h/P1020723%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020723" style="display: inline" alt="P1020723" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-N9dZNp-vzlk/UhjuMaddSxI/AAAAAAAAan4/Tt8X8y7u950/P1020723_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xTl_Cv8sl4U/UhjuM3QzOjI/AAAAAAAAaoA/04fs04Cf_xM/s1600-h/P1020725%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020725" style="display: inline" alt="P1020725" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RACg3Gq8BtU/UhjuNeUEYOI/AAAAAAAAaoI/Hz792TlwCbk/P1020725_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-X7mOQ9Y7eQ0/UhjuNzCufwI/AAAAAAAAaoM/S8pvRYaTLDw/s1600-h/P1020726%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020726" style="display: inline" alt="P1020726" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bPkyYoErlU8/UhjuOXbWW1I/AAAAAAAAaoU/nO9nlb-JHGY/P1020726_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The south of France is gorgeous, isn’t it.</p> <p>Arrived at the venue: same deal as yesterday—actually, I was seated almost exactly where I was seated the night before, just two tables to the right (better view).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jCOMDNccmHg/UhjuO4wGfRI/AAAAAAAAaog/y1YZySoH3Sk/s1600-h/P1020727%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020727" style="display: inline" alt="P1020727" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-psbMX80PvXU/UhjuPWqVA6I/AAAAAAAAaoo/Jgpur03OEaQ/P1020727_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ao9dcWXVAzA/UhjuP354CYI/AAAAAAAAaow/ko4zLH1vLy4/s1600-h/P1020729%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020729" style="display: inline" alt="P1020729" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CDR_g8ptMWE/UhjuQcA2aBI/AAAAAAAAao0/hSd8qCv88as/P1020729_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The tiredness just killed me. I didn’t know what to do with myself to make me wake up, and I’m even more worried that I don’t know <em>exactly</em> what caused it. Nevertheless, I took some time before the concert to go to the venue’s terrace and take a few shots.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1jjBvP8T_ic/UhjuQqE1klI/AAAAAAAAapA/QT8oywctP_k/s1600-h/P1020731%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020731" style="display: inline" alt="P1020731" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oJY_AcN-Afk/UhjuRHqtLTI/AAAAAAAAapI/2rlT0vPEHHE/P1020731_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7P21jKvDrmY/UhjuRkn6OpI/AAAAAAAAapQ/0QXpzVrWDdE/s1600-h/P1020732%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020732" style="display: inline" alt="P1020732" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-phf7Og_pr1g/UhjuSJTFXaI/AAAAAAAAapU/2JQxrp4oV3w/P1020732_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Gt6kR6duwuQ/UhjuSig2Z3I/AAAAAAAAapg/yNlD_DQfodU/s1600-h/P1020733%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020733" style="display: inline" alt="P1020733" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4DCUzIpeV58/UhjuTJV8MKI/AAAAAAAAapo/_-BCy9hx1q0/P1020733_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6jJXm7S6igw/UhjuTpZ1oYI/AAAAAAAAapw/0gd3OVGjQdw/s1600-h/P1020737%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020737" style="display: inline" alt="P1020737" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EpmP2U381QU/UhjuUKcdiII/AAAAAAAAap4/1dAEFcmCURo/P1020737_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DwClWnDb6D8/UhjuUjr2XoI/AAAAAAAAaqA/FaONeiuydF0/s1600-h/P1020739%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020739" style="display: inline" alt="P1020739" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AQpQPV4Nx3A/UhjuVFb3hNI/AAAAAAAAaqI/Grf4S8kiIrw/P1020739_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Same dinner, same almost everything—but with dinner like this, I really have no trouble eating it more than once in my life. The concert started a bit later today—very close to 11:00pm.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pajs3n7EB6k/UhjuVgiMaKI/AAAAAAAAaqQ/nsk4NyIc4uI/s1600-h/P1020740%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020740" style="display: inline" alt="P1020740" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6uIYtVBZIds/UhjuWN92TdI/AAAAAAAAaqY/Pl0tr8dQWG0/P1020740_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ziSU_cLcgmk/UhjuWq0UayI/AAAAAAAAaqg/V3Yx7FCBULc/s1600-h/P1020741%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020741" style="display: inline" alt="P1020741" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gc94RR5iPd8/UhjuXKV9QtI/AAAAAAAAaqo/qNQc5dMYKyQ/P1020741_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The July 20 concert was slightly better than that of the night before with impressive performances of almost all songs; unfortunately, the Monte‐Carlo concerts are not included in the <em>Simfy Live</em> recordings—too bad, I’m sure you would have enjoyed it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_60mcjCNS-w/UhjuXkrMrrI/AAAAAAAAaqw/nwkrjEBzySU/s1600-h/P1020742%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020742" style="display: inline" alt="P1020742" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7OzRertEiYM/UhjuYNXj6JI/AAAAAAAAaq4/_VlZJSaB1Ew/P1020742_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7MXW0u8uzgk/UhjuYolFlHI/AAAAAAAAarA/jM9bhDnOtS4/s1600-h/P1020743%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020743" style="display: inline" alt="P1020743" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fxqoihEPvaI/UhjuZDIeEEI/AAAAAAAAarI/DGT9g_Sel0c/P1020743_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3QNh1x8IP8k/UhjuZn6bBTI/AAAAAAAAarQ/aT7Fn1BIgMk/s1600-h/P1020744%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020744" style="display: inline" alt="P1020744" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FxrCeU2FmIM/UhjuaKcD3xI/AAAAAAAAarY/zfWALZcEQYM/P1020744_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OFskijSfaLA/Uhjua5753qI/AAAAAAAAarg/2l6ZrrpMBm0/s1600-h/P1020745%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020745" style="display: inline" alt="P1020745" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YbJb2etEnAk/UhjubcmvKCI/AAAAAAAAaro/MQx2AjeeCFc/P1020745_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>One particular performance that stood out was <em>Telegraph Road</em>: Mark performed the outro solo—at least the first minute of it—in a slightly different “way”, as if approaching the solo from a different angle. More work on the lower tones; superb work which made lots of limbs appear in the air afterwards.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9Kr3vx-GKDg/Uhjub8ozuRI/AAAAAAAAarw/uDQOG2gHwgc/s1600-h/P1020747%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020747" style="display: inline" alt="P1020747" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hgxyNaPXhQM/UhjucZAiSnI/AAAAAAAAar4/uMOuwSllo7I/P1020747_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--Q76XxuYq7I/Uhjuc7D-q0I/AAAAAAAAasA/vT1jj1o7jHk/s1600-h/P1020749%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020749" style="display: inline" alt="P1020749" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TEKjNxw79FA/UhjudFqVP0I/AAAAAAAAasI/TIBabL9nF50/P1020749_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dLjP-ZqUGUg/UhjudkpEJZI/AAAAAAAAasQ/FD8To58fczk/s1600-h/P1020750%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020750" style="display: inline" alt="P1020750" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-puh4nfCAXx0/UhjueDZvKEI/AAAAAAAAasY/3Qxjaq150j4/P1020750_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R2zmBBYG5c8/UhjueiIDF5I/AAAAAAAAasg/lpKeqn5Ch1A/s1600-h/P1020751%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020751" style="display: inline" alt="P1020751" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ANRzKrHRMiM/UhjufJU_FCI/AAAAAAAAaso/gau22U8621Y/P1020751_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Something <em>very</em> bizarre took place once <em>Telegraph Road</em> was over and the encore was about to start. Some mature fellow was standing by the right corner of the stage, and started howling at Mark—it sounded more like a howl than speech—an act that didn’t impress Mark in the slightest, to say the least. I have no idea what has been said there, but Mark kept nodding his head repeatedly, in a way that I had never seen him nodding before—there was quite a bit of disapproval there.</p> <p>As the band members returned to their positions for the encore, Mark mimed those howls as he was looking at the band members—some of which (including myself) responded with more than a fair share of laughter.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PPBLgSGyqmU/UhjufltOwDI/AAAAAAAAasw/0AZw83jYlsg/s1600-h/P1020756%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020756" style="display: inline" alt="P1020756" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NFiFTjG6dPo/UhjugD1EV4I/AAAAAAAAas4/yEWuazWxkJc/P1020756_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ycIOVt02FIU/UhjugolRgNI/AAAAAAAAatA/jsV6M5k_z-s/s1600-h/P1020757%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020757" style="display: inline" alt="P1020757" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hhmdQeGn30I/UhjuhAz-0jI/AAAAAAAAatI/u1MBxv6YEY0/P1020757_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended close to 1:00am and we were on our way to the terrace again, to take a few photos of the stunning surroundings of <em>Le Sporting Monte‐Carlo</em>:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5BrIFUwngIs/UhjuhayIa-I/AAAAAAAAatQ/n7GlwQ6aAnM/s1600-h/P1020761%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020761" style="display: inline" alt="P1020761" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--wm_iUFjKXE/Uhjuh4701xI/AAAAAAAAatU/LtuGReQqk5o/P1020761_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MdmJB5zcQxY/UhjuibiFzvI/AAAAAAAAatg/WfYJYKowoMs/s1600-h/P1020768%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020768" style="display: inline" alt="P1020768" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-og2UDUF7zkY/UhjuiwPgA_I/AAAAAAAAato/Od_6Ht8-uIE/P1020768_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Hu7ZsCLx7pU/Uhjujas1clI/AAAAAAAAatw/c1Cqk6DwyGQ/s1600-h/P1020769%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020769" style="display: inline" alt="P1020769" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IkDnJV0y0lo/Uhjuj_hZROI/AAAAAAAAat4/5nxdt6DAQeQ/P1020769_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nZ3NK7JDtGU/UhjukUqbVaI/AAAAAAAAauA/Ek6rYZa2NgY/s1600-h/P1020771%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020771" style="display: inline" alt="P1020771" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LGD7rOZEMsU/UhjukwDau-I/AAAAAAAAauI/oQZ2LZeX86c/P1020771_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-knzWtRFAslY/UhjulTRfIrI/AAAAAAAAauQ/Bq0-NXp_Fl8/s1600-h/P1020773%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020773" style="display: inline" alt="P1020773" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qRuR6KtiVmQ/Uhjul77qr9I/AAAAAAAAauY/Ux2bTYByblg/P1020773_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Dy-xxUer4sk/UhjumoEMF-I/AAAAAAAAaug/czWuSmtEPZ4/s1600-h/P1020774%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020774" style="display: inline" alt="P1020774" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nqay3OeoRYA/Uhjum_0T50I/AAAAAAAAauk/OBvznGz079A/P1020774_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Left this wonderful venue…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RjGr8xlDc94/Uhjund8bYwI/AAAAAAAAauw/9QNdO2EuAC8/s1600-h/P1020776%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020776" style="display: inline" alt="P1020776" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--va4dF8ppcA/Uhjun3U0ivI/AAAAAAAAau4/YjTO4b-HC0w/P1020776_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OvF_JaEaODo/UhjuodGhPQI/AAAAAAAAavA/DxTgZ4jN6oI/s1600-h/P1020777%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020777" style="display: inline" alt="P1020777" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--uy4QtqNom0/Uhjuo3VjJLI/AAAAAAAAavI/G3jaDv5jusw/P1020777_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And dozed‐off for most of the ride back to <em>Nice</em>. Fell asleep in matter of seconds.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post as I am sitting in my hotel room in <em>Lyon</em>; will go for dinner before hitting tonight’s show. Lyon seems to be a pretty town.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-22021738995782952342010-07-19T03:52:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:06:13.957-05:00Concert Day: Feste Marienberg, Würzburg, Germany (July 17, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: on board the InterCity Express (ICE) train from Basel to Frankfurt, on my way to Würzburg.</em></p> </div> <p>Woke up this morning at 6:00am, facing one of the most difficult and time‐sensitive train‐riding days for this tour. How about this for a Saturday morning?</p> <blockquote> <table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="400" border="0"><thead> <tr> <th valign="top" width="200">Departure (time)</th> <th valign="top" width="200">Arrival (time)</th> </tr> </thead><tbody> <tr> <td valign="top" width="200">Locarno (7:03am)</td> <td valign="top" width="200">Bellinzona (7:27am)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="200">Bellinzona (7:36am)</td> <td valign="top" width="200">Basel SBB (10:53am)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="200">Basel SBB (11:04am)</td> <td valign="top" width="200">Frankfurt Hbf (1:53pm)</td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="200">Frankfurt Hbf (2:16pm)</td> <td valign="top" width="200">Würzburg (3:31pm)</td> </tr> </tbody></table> </blockquote> <p>As any missed connection has the potential of completely destroying my plans, I decided to eliminate one weak point, and take the earlier (6:33am) train from Locarno—half an hour earlier, turning a 9 minutes connection time into 39, even enough to have a decent breakfast. That’s why I woke up so early despite the fact that my hotel is about 2 minutes walk from the station.</p> <p>When I woke up, it wasn’t warm anymore. The temperature in the room was perfect; a bit cloudy outside, and pleasant wind made its way through the open balcony doors onto my body, where it frowned and reflected back as quickly as wind can go. Fifteen minutes to get myself together and I left the room, not before taking a few shots from the balcony.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RN4Dhk_73Io/Uhh78NrvvEI/AAAAAAAAZ-I/LyU4AYfRbg0/s1600-h/P1020489%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020489" style="display: inline" alt="P1020489" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XzqD92eLf4c/Uhh78uDEIuI/AAAAAAAAZ-Q/hg26TOMnPS4/P1020489_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0SBGpi2t1dg/Uhh788_wP_I/AAAAAAAAZ-U/PRjwFcQrhHw/s1600-h/P1020490%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020490" style="display: inline" alt="P1020490" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FlFyQK_xkeU/Uhh79W4cQLI/AAAAAAAAZ-g/i_ngbFyghpE/P1020490_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Xh4rHlqtbOk/Uhh79o0ajWI/AAAAAAAAZ-o/6AVli7aboa8/s1600-h/P1020491%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020491" style="display: inline" alt="P1020491" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lVR8-BNc454/Uhh7-E_sQ1I/AAAAAAAAZ-w/UwD3rqFTPEU/P1020491_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I turned around in the balcony to head back to the room, I noticed that a couple were sleeping in the neighbouring balcony! They literally moved all bedding items from the bed onto the balcony’s floor and slept the night there. I have no idea whether “sleeping” is the only activity that took place on the premises, though—it was hard enough falling asleep the night before due to a bunch of fucking drunken morons singing songs in Swiss‐German up until around 2:00am when they stopped—possibly due to the police popping for a visit.</p> <p>Went downstairs to the reception; not a living soul there. Left my key and as I was about to exit the door, I noticed two huge crates of croissants—I figured these were delivered by a local bakery to provide breakfast to the hotel’s guests. Breakfast was included in my room’s rate (I think; it <em>better be</em> for 185 CHF a night!) so I grabbed a croissant and headed out.</p> <p>The look of <em>Lake Maggiore</em> in the morning is nothing short of breathtaking. I unloaded my backpack onto a nearby bench, pulled the camera out and took some shots to brighten your days, folks.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RBd_9gTRtzs/Uhh7-cb84eI/AAAAAAAAZ-0/szkPCEPyPWg/s1600-h/P1020493%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020493" style="display: inline" alt="P1020493" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WtEqXCuL1Kc/Uhh7--z3k_I/AAAAAAAAZ-8/d7599vFByzo/P1020493_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-isAyzuy_Ujs/Uhh7_c3ICCI/AAAAAAAAZ_I/gNqUOTUDzF8/s1600-h/P1020494%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020494" style="display: inline" alt="P1020494" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cy5wflV6xCs/Uhh7_xRtU4I/AAAAAAAAZ_Q/PnDU-Rl_-YQ/P1020494_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gVqLpdOL6II/Uhh8AR86kmI/AAAAAAAAZ_Y/okVdzfBibHo/s1600-h/P1020495%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020495" style="display: inline" alt="P1020495" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ekw7j5IA31s/Uhh8AybghgI/AAAAAAAAZ_g/5QvaKBsByGE/P1020495_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>During this trip, there are only a handful of countries I was so terribly sad for leaving after such a short time. I wouldn’t count The Netherlands here because I’ve been there before; notable examples are Norway, Sweden and Denmark—and now Switzerland has been added to the list. This is <em>such a beautiful country</em>. Right after the Locarno concert, Daniel & Jacqueline invited me over to their residence next time I’m in Switzerland—well, folks, it won’t be too long before it happens. I <em>will</em> come back, and that’s a promise (or a threat, depending on your point of view).</p> <p>It’s a short <em>S‐Bahn</em>‐type train ride from <em>Locarno</em> to <em>Bellinzona</em>. All stops were met in such accuracy you could calibrate your watch by it, so I had 39 minutes to kill in Bellinzona. Went outside the train station and noticed an open cafe there with a terrace.</p> <p>One thing I discovered in <em>so many</em> restaurants and cafes in Europe is that they are very often understaffed. Many times before I had meals in establishments where the waiters/patrons ratio was so ridiculously low that no wonder service took bloody forever. This is in contrast to most places I had dined in while in North America, where it’s not uncommon to see waiting staff twiddling their thumbs waiting for action. I guess it’s either the norm here to have slow service, or the fact that waiting staff earn respectable salaries (contrary to USA / Canada where waiting staff typically earn minimum wage—sometimes even less—and rely primarily on tips); or both. Anyway, when going to a restaurant in Western Europe, my advice to you is to plan for delays.</p> <p>The experience in <em>Bellinzona</em> was no exception as I actually had to bypass the waitress and go directly to the cashier to place the order. One poor waitress serving about 25 people; I felt terrible for her.</p> <p>Back to the train station and I hopped on the second train; destination—<em>Basel</em>. Did almost nothing but attempting to doze off—with limited success. The ride itself was a total thrill to the eye, though; this part of Switzerland is gorgeous; I took photos however, due to the direction of travel and the fact that the windows weren’t perfectly transparent, there’s a fair bit of reflection going on. Sorry, that’s all I have.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MJNEALYAaJM/Uhh8BcBdr4I/AAAAAAAAZ_o/HIU5hx7w2QE/s1600-h/P1020496%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020496" style="display: inline" alt="P1020496" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KtOZEqh-Qs8/Uhh8Bpqd1aI/AAAAAAAAZ_w/D-Ee1TGzTPk/P1020496_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-T32-MHcNshk/Uhh8CJNZdEI/AAAAAAAAZ_0/d6aM4Z_kBnI/s1600-h/P1020498%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020498" style="display: inline" alt="P1020498" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bk2BPp5ck-4/Uhh8CYK4OFI/AAAAAAAAZ_8/iezMJQpsKgI/P1020498_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>In the following photo, you get two in one: a sight of a lovely hill, plus the whatever it is you needed to know about the capabilities of my camera.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-y4dbaLLnIxg/Uhh8DIfD8rI/AAAAAAAAaAI/V4Z11ww3dgI/s1600-h/P1020499%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020499" style="display: inline" alt="P1020499" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3y0U4eGRiqU/Uhh8DaIQHnI/AAAAAAAAaAQ/9mbkaAW6KB0/P1020499_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fQgS33525v8/Uhh8D9QSWFI/AAAAAAAAaAY/_dG1hhnF8QM/s1600-h/P1020503%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020503" style="display: inline" alt="P1020503" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8w3UJYaR8Hs/Uhh8EYfzcYI/AAAAAAAAaAg/T_WpVhAbBnE/P1020503_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As the train approaches <em>Basel</em>, the scenery becomes less and less pretty until it becomes urban, boring and often times ugly. The train made it right on time and I used the short connection time to acquire a sandwich to consume during the next ride—from <em>Basel</em> to <em>Frankfurt</em>.</p> <p>As <em>Frankfurt</em> was this train’s terminal station, dozing off was less risky as there’s very little chance to miss your stop. Almost 3 hours ride and I made it to <em>Frankfurt</em> right on time. Was good to be in Frankfurt’s train station—not because it’s such a beauty but more because I’m quite familiar with this place. Been here more than a few times already, and returning to a familiar place is always soothing for the soul. Twenty minutes or so, and I boarded the last train for the day—to <em>Würzburg</em>—a short 1 hour ride. Peanuts.</p> <p>I knew absolutely <em>nothing</em> about Würzburg before the announcement of Mark Knopfler’s concert there. Just like in <em>Middelfart</em>’s case, I knew nothing—assumed that it’s a shithole—and turned up wrong. As the train left Frankfurt and rode towards Würzburg, the landscape changed significantly and before I knew it we were riding through vast farmlands, low rolling hills, the occasional forest here and there… Memories of home started creeping in, as <em>Waterloo</em>—where I currently live—is surrounded by such landscape.</p> <p>Another neat element in the landscape is the abundance of castles, towers, old houses and such along the way. It was cloudy outside, started to rain (!) for a bit and looking through the train’s windows I got the impression as if I’m entering some sort of an enchanted place.</p> <p>I started to feel awfully tired as the ride neared its end (perhaps that’s the explanation for the feeling of entering an “enchanted place”). The train arrived at 3:31pm sharp and it was time to calculate my next moves.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers received a strange email with the subject of “early entry instructions” (as the concert was a general‐admission standing show) but with no instructions whatsoever as for how to take advantage of that offer. All I got in that email was the location of the box office and the time in which the doors open for the general public—4:30pm—which was one hour away.</p> <p>Meanwhile, it started to rain and it didn’t seem like the rain was going away any time soon. So I had two options:</p> <ol> <li>Put my stuff in the hotel, rush to the venue in the rain, pick‐up my ticket, wait in line, enter the venue at 4:30pm and wait another three and a half hours at the open air (it was raining) for the show to begin; reward—watching the concert from the front. </li> <li>Go to the hotel, unload my stuff, go to sleep, take things easy and go to the concert at 7:55pm, five minutes before it starts, and enjoy it from the back. </li> </ol> <p>Believe you me, I know of many people who would happily choose option number (1). However, I wasn’t in the mood for risking my health again a few days after I healed—and my experience showed me what happens to the body’s resistance when one neglects to sleep well. I opted at the second option and started walking very fast towards my hotel as rain started pouring down harder than before.</p> <p>My hotel, <em>City Partner Hotel Strauss</em>, was located right at the city centre, less than one kilometre from the main train station. No air conditioning—well, as almost usual—luckily the weather wasn’t that hot. No Wi‐Fi either, but they did have some strange solution—an Ethernet cable stretched from the reception’s router so you could plug its other end to your laptop, sit in the lobby and work away. I have never seen anything like this before… I mean, I appreciate the gesture but it’s a bit funny that only one guest can use their Internet at any one time. Come on guys; a wireless router costs $30, just buy one and get it over with.</p> <p>Quick shower and I had a pretty good nap while the rain stopped gradually.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Würzburg</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wurzburg">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wurzburg</a>) is located about 100km away from <em>Frankfurt</em>. It has a pretty interesting history. During the Nazi regime, virtually all Jewish and Gypsy population had been wiped out, and during World War II, the city took a beating far worse than <em>Dresden</em>’s: 90% of the city was destroyed in 17 minutes (!) following a massive attack of the British air force, while the city centre was destroyed in a fire storm, killing 5,000 people on its way. The city was rebuilt over the 20 years following the war, mostly by women—as most of the city’s men were either dead or held hostage.</p> <p>The venue, <em>Festung Marienberg</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fortress_Marienberg">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fortress_Marienberg</a>), is actually a famous ancient fortress which lays on the banks of the <em>Main</em> river (by the way, here’s a piece of useful information I only learned a few months ago: if you’re ever in Frankfurt, remember that the main central station is called “<em>Frankfurt am Main Hauptbahnhof</em>” <u>not</u> because it’s a “<em>Main</em>” station but because the full name of Frankfurt is <em>Frankfurt am Main</em>—which means “Frankfurt on the (river) Main”). This is one hell of an impressive fortress, nowadays serving as a museum. Much of the fortress’ area is now used as a park—which is sometimes used as a concert venue.</p> <p>My hotel was about 20 minutes walk from the venue so I started walking there at around 6:30pm or so. I would have gone later, but for some reason I was worried that <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket pickup would not be available close to show time (I recall a few concerts in which there was actually a certain period of time during which you could pick‐up your ticket, the limit being about 30 minutes before the concert’s start time). My plan, then, was to pick up the ticket, then go back to have some dinner, and then head to the venue.</p> <p>The walk from the hotel to the venue goes along the <em>River Main</em>—a pleasant sight that warranted taking a few photos.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0RYGoIU1W1Y/Uhh8EzbpBqI/AAAAAAAAaAo/E0NkHqLdsdw/s1600-h/P1020506%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020506" style="display: inline" alt="P1020506" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qC16E1u7PZ0/Uhh8FKJNeDI/AAAAAAAAaAw/0FyNJxCrkkA/P1020506_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-acDOEjZLasg/Uhh8Fk3iJGI/AAAAAAAAaA4/ah19FeWZ9Do/s1600-h/P1020507%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020507" style="display: inline" alt="P1020507" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aMaQKgW_5ls/Uhh8GFD4nZI/AAAAAAAAaBA/XtNM_VjHvc8/P1020507_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WlfSnuLEtlI/Uhh8GngomCI/AAAAAAAAaBE/SqAcHfbGGTQ/s1600-h/P1020508%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020508" style="display: inline" alt="P1020508" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Nytry29puMA/Uhh8HKGKalI/AAAAAAAAaBQ/zuR2Lx0KkaU/P1020508_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0--7vZd_v3M/Uhh8HlFHRAI/AAAAAAAAaBY/e8R01sbR2Po/s1600-h/P1020509%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020509" style="display: inline" alt="P1020509" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uSLeFkEK3XA/Uhh8Hzm1AjI/AAAAAAAAaBg/Z7TJxrq_sCc/P1020509_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The following photo shows the <em>Festung Marienberg</em> as it’s seen from across the river:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ykJ_IdS88l0/Uhh8IlG5gnI/AAAAAAAAaBo/ABNMSI8jRxc/s1600-h/P1020510%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020510" style="display: inline" alt="P1020510" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xlHEHimExz8/Uhh8JBMfG2I/AAAAAAAAaBw/_4LWgUQKELo/P1020510_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>One of the bridges crossing River Main is the old, very impressive bridge called <em>Alte Mainbrücke</em> (The Old Main Bridge). On the east side of the bridge (which is the side I was walking on; the <em>Festung Marienberg</em> is on its west side) there are quite a few businesses—shops, cafes, restaurants and whatnot—all very nicely designed to bring one to the realization that this is a city with a lot of mileage on it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wEg25pJDEPE/Uhh8JtEheKI/AAAAAAAAaB4/qfjsi1CZiCc/s1600-h/P1020511%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020511" style="display: inline" alt="P1020511" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7IKnLq_CdjE/Uhh8KIM_lOI/AAAAAAAAaCA/0F89fDHMd2k/P1020511_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AsJKngHL4dQ/Uhh8KupByyI/AAAAAAAAaCI/K2wRCQRc8YY/s1600-h/P1020513%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020513" style="display: inline" alt="P1020513" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5i497ocp-ic/Uhh8LBola1I/AAAAAAAAaCQ/RPqkYkYv8J0/P1020513_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lEfnszsnmMY/Uhh8LUEDZPI/AAAAAAAAaCY/f_Bpf7yIN1U/s1600-h/P1020514%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020514" style="display: inline" alt="P1020514" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XoAL-QPJAfA/Uhh8L9Eb4jI/AAAAAAAAaCc/2J2GH4bjMzk/P1020514_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-t71s0BYGVOk/Uhh8MGstbLI/AAAAAAAAaCo/Co7Kl9wCAMo/s1600-h/P1020515%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020515" style="display: inline" alt="P1020515" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-h9LC52ipUC8/Uhh8MkwHkYI/AAAAAAAAaCw/AjBQ_jGm8xU/P1020515_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>River Main as it looks from the bridge:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ngo30bIK2-U/Uhh8NEQKwhI/AAAAAAAAaC4/YFw75FSddgQ/s1600-h/P1020516%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020516" style="display: inline" alt="P1020516" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Cj-OPMh6qPs/Uhh8NjesW5I/AAAAAAAAaDA/Gu41IytGu3o/P1020516_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ikzUE7cf8mM/Uhh8NzotYPI/AAAAAAAAaDI/PgOABQjRvKQ/s1600-h/P1020519%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020519" style="display: inline" alt="P1020519" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uJ7gkM7RwMc/Uhh8Of8_aBI/AAAAAAAAaDQ/bI2uXLFW2g8/P1020519_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The bridge, which makes for a short (yet very pleasant) walk, offers statues of notable figures erected on both sides. Whoever had the luck to walk down Prague’s <em>Charles Bridge</em> would find this bridge very similar in nature and not much less impressive.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Bj5cfrckZIM/Uhh8OgSwmxI/AAAAAAAAaDY/RzUZUPzdI9Y/s1600-h/P1020517%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020517" style="display: inline" alt="P1020517" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-46BdlRp4eO4/Uhh8PADiL_I/AAAAAAAAaDg/9agqmgnf9Es/P1020517_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Tv7AsdtI2QQ/Uhh8PkANYJI/AAAAAAAAaDo/fNF2uhXQ8qA/s1600-h/P1020518%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020518" style="display: inline" alt="P1020518" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-X5MQv40lcos/Uhh8QMr___I/AAAAAAAAaDw/-yJK4XkxAAA/P1020518_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zAN2NcNWIl4/Uhh8Qvkap9I/AAAAAAAAaD4/spY9WFXO83o/s1600-h/P1020520%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020520" style="display: inline" alt="P1020520" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1xqf2VWTfzY/Uhh8RGS6syI/AAAAAAAAaEA/hRJ2RWMDHLk/P1020520_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8IxBfTXkvIc/Uhh8RoppK-I/AAAAAAAAaEI/-PSelr7whBM/s1600-h/P1020521%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020521" style="display: inline" alt="P1020521" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v3bMHcA8ddA/Uhh8RwfWwRI/AAAAAAAAaEQ/JC2zYCtG9ms/P1020521_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Once crossed to the other side of <em>River Main</em>, I followed the herds of people. I figured most of them are going to the concert, and their direction of walking aligned with the map I was holding, so why not. Now, this is a <em>fortress</em>, and as such, it is, after all, on a <em>hill</em>. After climbing about two million steps, we arrived to the park area of the fortress, where I found this neat little spot to take good pictures of the city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GGuvZxUTjmY/Uhh8STHUOmI/AAAAAAAAaEY/BC3KLk02sc8/s1600-h/P1020522%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020522" style="display: inline" alt="P1020522" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bgLt7oiOfWg/Uhh8S_0bfyI/AAAAAAAAaEg/udA1w0tjP5M/P1020522_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-C7pQ4WnAhJ8/Uhh8TEVTk0I/AAAAAAAAaEo/9IgXSaQkCqo/s1600-h/P1020523%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020523" style="display: inline" alt="P1020523" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YkDeAChC-PU/Uhh8TpkdXyI/AAAAAAAAaEw/sZL0yE6Z9pY/P1020523_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hzpkULE_suQ/Uhh8UfemAmI/AAAAAAAAaE4/XiAFtLsmvuY/s1600-h/P1020524%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020524" style="display: inline" alt="P1020524" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2xN31FXMFpE/Uhh8UvEOojI/AAAAAAAAaFA/Lw8usLJ0sqs/P1020524_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-L1vtia2WIPg/Uhh8VLqux4I/AAAAAAAAaFI/w3icFHLorbA/s1600-h/P1020525%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020525" style="display: inline" alt="P1020525" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J6jEt0FbHWU/Uhh8Vn4sE9I/AAAAAAAAaFQ/gugJhCVlF9c/P1020525_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4AfuCaznVbE/Uhh8WAyiYpI/AAAAAAAAaFY/vBi6ZDi--eU/s1600-h/P1020526%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020526" style="display: inline" alt="P1020526" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9h9yLByEFJg/Uhh8WXCvH7I/AAAAAAAAaFg/FUrtEG8s9ko/P1020526_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Once I picked‐up the ticket, I backtracked a little bit and sat in a restaurant, about 5 minutes walk from the venue, for some quick meal before the show. The lovely waitress helped me pick something that would be fast enough to prepare—a schnitzel baguette.</p> <p>Now, when thinking of a schnitzel baguette, one has to wonder how to involve the schnitzel and the baguette together. I mean, a schnitzel is sort‐of like a blob of meat, of random shape, while a baguette is… well… a baguette. Cut it into stripes? Cubes? Surely something must happen to the topology of the schnitzel.</p> <p>… But that would be too easy. Instead, those chaps over there decided to take the short way out of this mess. “Schnitzel baguette” there means “Schnitzel baguette”, pronto. It was very funny to look at, and quite tricky to eat.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1jLbLJ-oP10/Uhh8W4cWj-I/AAAAAAAAaFo/3rp1Nczcn30/s1600-h/P1020527%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020527" style="display: inline" alt="P1020527" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-g0EbTLP3yuc/Uhh8Xfhy5UI/AAAAAAAAaFw/HrQ9smrZNM0/P1020527_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>At least it tasted well. Went down very well and I started making my way towards the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YhBw18YFLoY/Uhh8Xq2afMI/AAAAAAAAaF4/H5do0eGXZSI/s1600-h/P1020528%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020528" style="display: inline" alt="P1020528" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_1_CePNBLWM/Uhh8YFP7UgI/AAAAAAAAaF8/ozOkXKgOPOU/P1020528_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-f8zPTYubHt4/Uhh8YqD_DfI/AAAAAAAAaGE/BIRHOp--hwU/s1600-h/P1020529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020529" style="display: inline" alt="P1020529" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GFihObOD3hw/Uhh8Y1HM7xI/AAAAAAAAaGQ/U8zajrC0P7g/P1020529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7aP3TvCClng/Uhh8ZQuDKMI/AAAAAAAAaGY/TPCQqqC9jZU/s1600-h/P1020531%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020531" style="display: inline" alt="P1020531" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-F78V8BNYGaM/Uhh8ZxuskII/AAAAAAAAaGg/PJChBUrcE9I/P1020531_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OmXqom9G8nc/Uhh8aHb0ufI/AAAAAAAAaGo/q04bNSwDXOw/s1600-h/P1020532%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020532" style="display: inline" alt="P1020532" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2lZWyV4NwI0/Uhh8asVfzPI/AAAAAAAAaGw/f4cW0vCCAfM/P1020532_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Three minutes after I arrived, the concert started—at 8:00pm sharp.</p> <hr /> <p>So here’s something you should know about attending a concert in this venue: unless you’re standing within 20–25 metres from the stage, you should be prepared to the possibility of seeing nothing of the band at all. Normally, you would expect some sort of a plain, or maybe even a slope where the people at the back are located higher so they could see something.</p> <p>Well, here it was a bit strange. Sort of like random terrain. This must be by far the worst outdoor venue for concertgoers who enjoy concerts with their eyes as well as their ears—unless, of course, they arrived very early and managed to stand close to the stage.</p> <p>When I arrived, the venue was almost full already. No chance to get <em>anywhere</em> with any reasonable view of the stage. Anywhere I stood, my view was blocked by either people or trees. Yes, trees; there are trees all over the place (should I repeat myself? this is <em>a park</em>).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mC6FHBHU7vQ/Uhh8bKKaSjI/AAAAAAAAaG4/wlaAXTeoQlk/s1600-h/P1020533%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020533" style="display: inline" alt="P1020533" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZfbXVHLfCiQ/Uhh8boUxvEI/AAAAAAAAaG8/F-s-1uK_45U/P1020533_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vfmzxJcQNvw/Uhh8b1drhbI/AAAAAAAAaHI/Xo0XOOHQv4I/s1600-h/P1020534%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020534" style="display: inline" alt="P1020534" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MGFpePvOFQg/Uhh8cX9Ly3I/AAAAAAAAaHM/ssQqARPpURc/P1020534_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After wandering around for a few minutes, I finally found a reasonable place to stand:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m2-oqFGcRVA/Uhh8c2_M7dI/AAAAAAAAaHY/Dvh5v0fhSIk/s1600-h/P1020535%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020535" style="display: inline" alt="P1020535" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GNKP7TusPcg/Uhh8dOVc1zI/AAAAAAAAaHc/j4m2NByo6_k/P1020535_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I decided to try for a better place, so proceeded a bit to the east until I found myself facing exactly the centre of the stage. Hooray! BUT—see this inconveniently located tree. Could it be located in a more obstructive spot?</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BpDAqGR5vlM/Uhh8dnC4pGI/AAAAAAAAaHo/Zk7g1o6GzbI/s1600-h/P1020536%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020536" style="display: inline" alt="P1020536" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-inFQGQzO5KI/Uhh8eIX7ClI/AAAAAAAAaHs/mGsqWgAac3Y/P1020536_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A couple of songs into the concert, I realized that I should just cease trying looking for a place with a view, and instead look for a comfortable place to sit down and enjoy the music.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vVd5RpCazi0/Uhh8ebcTXcI/AAAAAAAAaH0/e54weHspo1Q/s1600-h/P1020538%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020538" style="display: inline" alt="P1020538" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Rrf2aWI6K_4/Uhh8e9bIJcI/AAAAAAAAaH4/92V4aZGITyY/P1020538_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-t4hA8EUEQsU/Uhh8fMI7l5I/AAAAAAAAaIE/cHND8W96tok/s1600-h/P1020539%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020539" style="display: inline" alt="P1020539" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0wwz7w70v7Q/Uhh8f8g3tbI/AAAAAAAAaIQ/cWi6Kz4IdbE/P1020539_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-W6gFdV691Zc/Uhh8gFIDVbI/AAAAAAAAaIY/1UCqsq2lTCs/s1600-h/P1020543%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020543" style="display: inline" alt="P1020543" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-G_tuvE2i2ng/Uhh8grcVa4I/AAAAAAAAaIc/3HbBd5raqmU/P1020543_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Vz9RtapTydU/Uhh8hDs5MhI/AAAAAAAAaIo/sP-cVWr9eI4/s1600-h/P1020544%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020544" style="display: inline" alt="P1020544" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uj4AnDDy4Po/Uhh8hm6kLbI/AAAAAAAAaIw/HTptUXxfjIU/P1020544_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DiFFoNrS3C8/Uhh8h33cENI/AAAAAAAAaI4/5k37f_lQd4s/s1600-h/P1020545%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020545" style="display: inline" alt="P1020545" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Va9k3VXXupM/Uhh8iVvoTQI/AAAAAAAAaI8/uDe5tjoCBf0/P1020545_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--mP6UqsZ09A/Uhh8i5zimuI/AAAAAAAAaJI/2n0uZS-x1tM/s1600-h/P1020546%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020546" style="display: inline" alt="P1020546" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FQ7aq-rC90c/Uhh8jZBmiiI/AAAAAAAAaJQ/0LKhPdV-QMI/P1020546_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I think it was around <em>Coyote</em> when I got tired walking around, went almost <em>all the way</em> to the back, sat down on the semi‐wet grass and started enjoying the concert without the visual component. The sound was… well… harsh. No wonder, as trees have this interesting feature that sound waves reflect off them. If you ever wondered why none of your friends decided to plant a tree in the middle of their entertainment room, there’s you reason. It simply kills the sound.</p> <p>(OK, I guess the wife might have something to do with it as well)</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FhhklVLdQpA/Uhh8jzoOJGI/AAAAAAAAaJY/DVloCypHibA/s1600-h/P1020548%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020548" style="display: inline" alt="P1020548" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1gcvBtuu8Nc/Uhh8kRUazfI/AAAAAAAAaJg/i0uPARQvtPc/P1020548_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y6u-amRazao/Uhh8k0kQUJI/AAAAAAAAaJo/88hhfEYSMbM/s1600-h/P1020549%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020549" style="display: inline" alt="P1020549" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uJ9KllnITvE/Uhh8lNceTcI/AAAAAAAAaJs/5dWof6GVoYg/P1020549_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YfSRXuw6DMA/Uhh8lpi9aKI/AAAAAAAAaJ4/gafQ0p5sLUE/s1600-h/P1020551%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020551" style="display: inline" alt="P1020551" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QKXx_HSIZm8/Uhh8mJIinfI/AAAAAAAAaKA/GvjAXo7LBa0/P1020551_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qQX5n06qFkU/Uhh8mvLt2EI/AAAAAAAAaKI/nQZZb9nMEok/s1600-h/P1020552%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020552" style="display: inline" alt="P1020552" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-No_JrkqiX_w/Uhh8mz8_EII/AAAAAAAAaKQ/yKuEzflTsHc/P1020552_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Why Aye Man</em> made a comeback to the setlist, after quite a while of being put on the shelf (since <em>Munich</em>). Happy to hear it again, as I really like this song (more accurately: I really like the outro solo of this song and what the band makes of it, it’s always a pleasure).</p> <p>A 15‐songs setlist featuring (again) only two songs from <em>Get Lucky</em>; it’s been like this for a while now—the last concert featuring three songs from <em>Get Lucky</em> was July 9 in <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BcuX29BvBWo/Uhh8nTDafiI/AAAAAAAAaKY/ovwubq5YuBU/s1600-h/P1020554%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020554" style="display: inline" alt="P1020554" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9E5L4hpkXkg/Uhh8n-FKVkI/AAAAAAAAaKc/6TtW7pBZYZs/P1020554_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-L4_HJzGeunY/Uhh8opRoibI/AAAAAAAAaKo/12MibModTJ8/s1600-h/P1020556%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020556" style="display: inline" alt="P1020556" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zoknMBqbtsg/Uhh8o4nUTrI/AAAAAAAAaKs/yoSwepfSsoQ/P1020556_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The audience? Well, apparently we’re not in <em>Locarno</em> anymore. As I was at the back, I could see three different behaviours exhibited by the audience.</p> <p>Those who were standing where they could actually see something, appeared reasonably active but not too much. Those who were standing at the mid‐level could rarely see anything of whatever was going on on the stage, so most of them were attentive to the music but often worked their mouths speaking to their friends. Those who were at the back—and that’s about 50m distance from the stage, mind you—seemed to use the music as a soundtrack for any other type of activity: making out, chatting with friends, drinking a lot… a few people were even engaged in long phone conversations.</p> <p>There’s something about this venue, I tell you. The sound at the back sucked—well, no wonder, considering the topology of the place—but what <em>does</em> come out of the speakers, combined with the ancient‐looking surroundings with the park and the trees etc—makes you feel as if you stepped into an enchanted castle with trees all around. Very relaxing, soothing environment—but definitely not for concerts.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qBk_ERZiIsU/Uhh8pbeRnlI/AAAAAAAAaK4/i_hWKCZUpL0/s1600-h/P1020558%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020558" style="display: inline" alt="P1020558" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RgBesbUgCgw/Uhh8pyI2BzI/AAAAAAAAaLA/92tq5DLxWO4/P1020558_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-efgM-2GoUDA/Uhh8qQuptUI/AAAAAAAAaLI/U3QN3A6UIq8/s1600-h/P1020560%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020560" style="display: inline" alt="P1020560" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-n26QpGzg4mg/Uhh8q0DskCI/AAAAAAAAaLM/thkpN3wlDJc/P1020560_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uEuUsg0FqgI/Uhh8rAKbrkI/AAAAAAAAaLU/fh42VqQKM8o/s1600-h/P1020561%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020561" style="display: inline" alt="P1020561" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cXaJ9UyurFk/Uhh8r1YF-XI/AAAAAAAAaLg/8X_v7UNx0e4/P1020561_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0eYVOE7vHyk/Uhh8sHjlY4I/AAAAAAAAaLo/FIX8URVaM1s/s1600-h/P1020562%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020562" style="display: inline" alt="P1020562" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vorvalbh6so/Uhh8sgHnZlI/AAAAAAAAaLw/Ik2kewV2VDA/P1020562_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>This entire fortress went rumbling after <em>Sultans of Swing</em>, <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> and <em>Telegraph Road</em> which evidently were the audience’s favourites.</p> <p>It was a good concert, after all—discounting the fact that I couldn’t see anything of it; the audience appeared to have enjoyed it a lot, and that’s what matters. For me, however, having <em>Locarno</em> still ringing in my head, it would be hard to say that we have hit Locarno’s heights again; that’s the problem with going to so many concerts—once you attend a significantly great one, it’s hard to avoid looking at following concerts objectively.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8Jyd31Wc4Dg/Uhh8tK7sp7I/AAAAAAAAaL4/qjt3cwPfvag/s1600-h/P1020563%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020563" style="display: inline" alt="P1020563" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TnB5woPvu1Q/Uhh8tc8wMaI/AAAAAAAAaMA/CuaVgx14t5s/P1020563_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cbZCQoM_nKc/Uhh8t47E3uI/AAAAAAAAaMI/sJYK4vWYTNM/s1600-h/P1020564%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020564" style="display: inline" alt="P1020564" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uT299od4MN4/Uhh8uOnUpfI/AAAAAAAAaMQ/PMEwHQs4Q5o/P1020564_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert ended at 10:00pm; as I was standing very close to the exit, I was of the first ones to leave and was able to take a few photos of the city from above before the masses caught up with me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cQeXnJtOQzI/Uhh8ulbfZII/AAAAAAAAaMY/tKlBn4ndc_8/s1600-h/P1020565%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020565" style="display: inline" alt="P1020565" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vjq15zvnz_o/Uhh8vImo8rI/AAAAAAAAaMg/v1QOG6lQIEc/P1020565_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cWWRtK35amE/Uhh8vXJdT1I/AAAAAAAAaMo/zECbwQYEkT0/s1600-h/P1020566%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020566" style="display: inline" alt="P1020566" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oWP0B7MF1x4/Uhh8v8vBcbI/AAAAAAAAaMw/oLRGUmV4rZI/P1020566_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-R2HsrBkcErk/Uhh8wfEGqxI/AAAAAAAAaM4/5CDZA6YXF7Y/s1600-h/P1020568%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020568" style="display: inline" alt="P1020568" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qlIVt2M_PI8/Uhh8wgAqCQI/AAAAAAAAaNA/jpuUKiB2Idg/P1020568_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5Sg5Jyqm9KY/Uhh8xZJu54I/AAAAAAAAaNI/4A5duO1ToF8/s1600-h/P1020571%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020571" style="display: inline" alt="P1020571" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Q5rHZkEjovA/Uhh8xwVPuCI/AAAAAAAAaNQ/boQRsD5oJSc/P1020571_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-O4lB4qURCNc/Uhh8yGinTmI/AAAAAAAAaNY/WTqXEFtkcMc/s1600-h/P1020572%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020572" style="display: inline" alt="P1020572" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MOtP3x2jGh4/Uhh8ynxWynI/AAAAAAAAaNg/29JhutH5U4I/P1020572_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As you can see, Würzburg isn’t by any mean the ugliest city in Germany. Down the stairs, and back to the bridge…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4to0YGw5F6w/Uhh8ywgiS3I/AAAAAAAAaNo/DJ-vIvpdQnQ/s1600-h/P1020573%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020573" style="display: inline" alt="P1020573" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PslGOcdeBss/Uhh8zVoO1TI/AAAAAAAAaNw/iNzWKUO8g3E/P1020573_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uDi5R9Bw-CY/Uhh8z73PSOI/AAAAAAAAaN4/zhwMAbjJjCk/s1600-h/P1020574%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020574" style="display: inline" alt="P1020574" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cQBnMv5vX14/Uhh80ZBIXAI/AAAAAAAAaOA/GKzoSpiJKN0/P1020574_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FFzLGescwBc/Uhh80_NXDxI/AAAAAAAAaOI/L7YI0MxPFsc/s1600-h/P1020577%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020577" style="display: inline" alt="P1020577" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-r3QciPPpXlA/Uhh81aDb6dI/AAAAAAAAaOM/ZZEyEYqhsqA/P1020577_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8vX_xj8aTIU/Uhh815_wMqI/AAAAAAAAaOY/Z9vWesbSohs/s1600-h/P1020579%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020579" style="display: inline" alt="P1020579" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4z9kY_eNkmQ/Uhh82F8-5QI/AAAAAAAAaOg/k36KP5Y5dbk/P1020579_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2bb0vtR1diE/Uhh82q73mYI/AAAAAAAAaOo/mWbNF3xTWVo/s1600-h/P1020582%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020582" style="display: inline" alt="P1020582" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2-TR2MstHYE/Uhh83MDeqiI/AAAAAAAAaOw/hyrMKXc3q8U/P1020582_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QFcXSzMxVnk/Uhh83kA8_MI/AAAAAAAAaO4/M2AEEkTQAro/s1600-h/P1020585%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020585" style="display: inline" alt="P1020585" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hYoWBd0pEd4/Uhh84NQoM-I/AAAAAAAAaO8/-YHac-cE-NA/P1020585_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was a Saturday night, and all of the pubs, clubs, restaurants, cafes, whatever—everything was occupied to its fullest. I stopped by some cafe offering ice‐cream to go, consumed it happily on my way to the hotel and just crashed into bed upon arrival.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing‐off this post while laying down on a beach chair on the panoramic terrace of my hotel in <em>Monte‐Carlo</em>, <em>Monaco</em>. It’s around 12:00am now. You probably are wondering what the view is like from here… and you should. So, see you at the next post.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-65629975564400967732010-07-17T10:22:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:04:11.654-05:00Concert Day: Piazza Grande, Locarno, Switzerland (July 16, 2010)<p>While a few train connections are possible from <em>Montreux</em> to <em>Locarno</em>, the easiest one—involving one change only—departs <em>Montreux</em> at around 8:30am daily so that meant another early wake‐up for me. The night before, Elian told me that he’s like to have breakfast at the hotel together before I depart, so we both woke up at around 7:00am.</p> <p>As the days pass I’m getting pretty efficient in re‐packing. I have mastered the art of “minimum impact” so, unpacking what I need for the night takes exactly two minutes, same as re‐packing it the morning after. That’s one of the cool things in such extended trips—you learn to distinguish important things from the unimportant ones; you become more and more versed with what I call “overhead procedures”—procedures and tasks that you must follow and perform for the sole purpose of maintaining yourself through tight schedules and demanding environments.</p> <p>Learning to minimize overhead takes longer than you might think, and requires quite a bit of mental strength especially when you come to meet <em>your own</em> limitations: what you’re willing to sacrifice and for what; what brings you closer to your comfort zone and what keeps you away from it; and so forth.</p> <p>So many things are subject to change without notice during a journey like this. Too many variables; and just like in mathematics, systems based on many variables become much simpler once you take a few of those variables and fix them in place. In other words—come up with principles you’re absolutely unwilling to break. For me, one major principle is the willingness to give up <em>ANYTHING</em> that is within the realm of money and time, in order to make it to each and every show (or, better phrased—minimize the risk of missing a show. As I wrote a few posts ago, crap tends to hit the fan in various angles; I am not afraid much of challenges I can think of—I am much more afraid of challenges I hadn’t imagined already).</p> <p>Keeping such goals and standards in mind has the inexplicable side‐effect that your mind starts working and adjusting itself to achieve those goals. If your goal is to not miss any show, your mind starts working in that direction, learning how to minimize overhead and maximize efficiency—all so you can actually realize the goal you had set for yourself. This may sound counter‐intuitive to some of you, but it is true: the very act of establishing goals and standards is already an important step on your way to success. Doubt leads to stagnation, which in turn almost inevitably translates to failure.</p> <p>That’s why, even though <em>Montreux</em>’s main train station is within 5 minutes bus ride from the hotel (almost zero traffic in the mornings), I chose to not play with matches this morning as missing any of the two trains today could mean havoc. Elian and myself had breakfast on the terrace overlooking a magnificently‐quiet Lake Geneva. I could gabble here for hours in an attempt to describe to you how soul‐filling and relaxing experience it was—consuming superb breakfast in perfect morning weather watching heaven right in front of you—however any such attempt is bound to fail. Close your eyes and think of yourself at the most peaceful scene you can imagine; that’s how it was.</p> <p>Out of the hotel, crossed the street to the bus station; Elian kept me company until the bus arrived, when I bid him goodbye (not for long, though; just for a few days) and boarded towards the station.</p> <p>I was sorry to have left <em>Montreux</em> so early. I have spent less than 24 hours in Switzerland and already fell in love with it—not just the city of Montreux (which is pretty touristic, so it’s not a pure representative of Swiss life) but with the typical scenery, the people, the sense of freedom and peace in the air… just adopt the <em>Euro</em>, guys. Come on, make life simple for everybody, will you.</p> <p>The train from <em>Montreux</em> to <em>Domodossola</em> (Italy) left on time and arrived on time—not entirely contradicting what you would expect from the ultra‐accurate Swiss. I have taken exactly the same route only at the other direction, the day before; was good to lay my eyes on those wonderful sights once again.</p> <p>From <em>Domodossola</em>, the train to Locarno is not exactly the type of train I got used to. It’s actually a <em>panoramic train</em>, boasting extremely large windows. Two or three cars at the most.</p> <p>I wasn’t sure whether I took the right train so I asked a couple who were seated next to me—confirmed: that’s the train to Locarno, which in fact doesn’t stop anywhere worth visiting other than Locarno itself.</p> <p>The views… Oh my dear Lord, the views! Different in nature from the views one enjoys through the <em>Oslo‐Bergen</em> route in Norway, but I’m telling you, it’s just as pleasant. The train rides slowly—sometimes <em>very</em> slowly—as the route winds significantly through and around mountains, lots of tunnels, and there’s almost always a breathtaking valley right beside you.</p> <p>I took the liberty to take a few shots. You may see some reflections in some of the pictures—well, the panoramic train’s windows are sealed so I’m sorry about your luck but that’s all I could do.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CkCubOKRV8o/Uhh0ujBAQXI/AAAAAAAAZtg/BeER8Un0dYU/s1600-h/P1020413%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020413" style="display: inline" alt="P1020413" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9ajTOz5mDo0/Uhh0vBM056I/AAAAAAAAZtk/bNGibuqe3r8/P1020413_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LEfv0b-WCQQ/Uhh0vu8BGdI/AAAAAAAAZts/vXv-05ve_u8/s1600-h/P1020414%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020414" style="display: inline" alt="P1020414" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dPbkZ3Uurfs/Uhh0v3tvmgI/AAAAAAAAZt4/xBkqtibNAWI/P1020414_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0tRqxpy78p8/Uhh0wbrj9GI/AAAAAAAAZuA/kBHnftXbyNI/s1600-h/P1020415%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020415" style="display: inline" alt="P1020415" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XPCoR4ukiEk/Uhh0w4HFuCI/AAAAAAAAZuI/9fTSCXo2zXk/P1020415_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FRAY_6fGb9o/Uhh0xXurcRI/AAAAAAAAZuQ/YLyXsDJC3PQ/s1600-h/P1020416%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020416" style="display: inline" alt="P1020416" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-r77ylEFH7DU/Uhh0xpxANAI/AAAAAAAAZuY/QLXclFghLM4/P1020416_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-z0fOR2g2-ac/Uhh0yUL-8vI/AAAAAAAAZug/7xv29DQPvlM/s1600-h/P1020418%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020418" style="display: inline" alt="P1020418" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qPcIwGzjiiA/Uhh0yoE5IrI/AAAAAAAAZuo/OrofQ4eAQns/P1020418_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-q-cKBa5zi-E/Uhh0zJ1dTyI/AAAAAAAAZuw/2Jk0rtjZT5k/s1600-h/P1020419%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020419" style="display: inline" alt="P1020419" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GC2uhpD8k7E/Uhh0zmFw05I/AAAAAAAAZu4/t--Wdn_RhTc/P1020419_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cLzRn79wAXE/Uhh00MlLqfI/AAAAAAAAZvA/Qd6QYHjGvL0/s1600-h/P1020420%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020420" style="display: inline" alt="P1020420" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-P_1gLn6Ijrk/Uhh00q8djfI/AAAAAAAAZvI/9HPQ5kanJaU/P1020420_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-N13SlUlDnfk/Uhh01BIb3DI/AAAAAAAAZvQ/PEIR0eZzAF0/s1600-h/P1020421%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020421" style="display: inline" alt="P1020421" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YCybsiuhx4s/Uhh01cbhNAI/AAAAAAAAZvY/uzi7aljC36A/P1020421_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PUW-uFJkcjM/Uhh015kG3NI/AAAAAAAAZvc/OjGXtcLeNXI/s1600-h/P1020422%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020422" style="display: inline" alt="P1020422" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B7579yoRNr0/Uhh02Us6NYI/AAAAAAAAZvk/el1JDR67QAI/P1020422_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-F6Zdtz00p5Y/Uhh025y4qKI/AAAAAAAAZvw/z4-_uGCIgqw/s1600-h/P1020424%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020424" style="display: inline" alt="P1020424" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-d6H93MT1ybc/Uhh03U96n4I/AAAAAAAAZv4/67uiaY1_VsY/P1020424_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s a picture of my entire compressed world:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pq-DF2CSwZo/Uhh034dqiRI/AAAAAAAAZv8/twPHDzQtZ-A/s1600-h/P1020417%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020417" style="display: inline" alt="P1020417" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7Z0XletmJno/Uhh04XF2AQI/AAAAAAAAZwI/32Eg4pTgRdU/P1020417_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>At around 12:30pm, the train arrived at <em>Locarno</em>’s train station.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZE7oRKW1P5Q/Uhh04xaENBI/AAAAAAAAZwQ/lGe8g5x4k_A/s1600-h/P1020425%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020425" style="display: inline" alt="P1020425" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nKubrMzKalc/Uhh05JePQgI/AAAAAAAAZwY/aSeV3FIcSok/P1020425_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-z4QB7wlCVsM/Uhh05nlnEYI/AAAAAAAAZwg/qhKmfMfNtBs/s1600-h/P1020427%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020427" style="display: inline" alt="P1020427" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-eAHKVu2OJkQ/Uhh06I8zseI/AAAAAAAAZwo/zpgzjjT2zK4/P1020427_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Left the station and started walking towards my hotel—located less than 200m from the train station. I booked that hotel only a week ago, once I realized that my chances to get a ride from Locarno to Milano after the concert are slim to none. Very expensive (185 CHF for a double room; single rooms were sold out) but, this being the <em>Moon & Stars Festival</em> season, I’m pretty sure I actually got a bit lucky to find <em>anything</em>.</p> <p>As I was walking the short stretch towards the hotel, I realized that I have just left one heaven (Montreux) to get to another. <em>Locarno</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locarno">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locarno</a>), like <em>Montreux</em>, is also located at the foot of the Alps. Around 15,000 people call Locarno home, and the town offers a breathtaking walk along <em>Lake Maggiore</em>: most of what there is to see and do in Locarno is within close proximity to the lake—well, lets face it, with an area of just under 20km², some of which is at the mountains’ slopes, it is very hard to be too far away from the lake when you’re in Locarno.</p> <p>While Locarno is in Switzerland, the official language in the town is <em>Italian</em>; this may have something to do with the fact that <em>Milano</em> is a mere two hours drive away, and the Switzerland‐Italy border is even closer than that. I was interested to see how the Swiss accuracy and reliability was going to blend with the Italian mentality of informality, open‐heartedness and, well, inaccuracy.</p> <p>The sun definitely shone that day; there’s a heat wave going on in Europe and Locarno wasn’t spared from it by any means. The average high temperature in Locarno during July‐August is just around the 25℃, however the temperature yesterday was significantly higher than that—I’d estimate it at around 30℃, not including the unbearable humidity. Most hotels in Locarno don’t offer air conditioning—for the mere fact that, on average, those aren’t really needed.</p> <p>Arriving at the hotel, I encountered some really stressed‐out staff who were trying to cope with the fact that their hotel was completely sold out for the night. Piles of suitcases were scattered around and the chances of an early check‐in (normal check‐in time was 2:00pm) were kissing 0%—from the bottom. As I had just about two hours to kill, I decided to step out for lunch. On my way out, I ran into the very same couple I previously met at the train to Locarno (the ones who confirmed that I was on the right train). Funny coincidence, I thought; would be even funnier if I met them at the concert.</p> <p>Locarno is a tourists town and so tourist‐traps abound. There are many, <em>many</em> dining options; searching the Internet for a <em>good</em> restaurant yielded results directing me to restaurants found in 5‐star hotels having ridiculously high prices, while reviews for local restaurants were rather unfriendly. Having nowhere in particular to go, I decided to roam the city centre area until I find something that “clicks”…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-my9ReGxvaGo/Uhh06qrIrrI/AAAAAAAAZww/4m28VFbp0hk/s1600-h/P1020428%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020428" style="display: inline" alt="P1020428" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jwb3dGDBnq8/Uhh07Hcp77I/AAAAAAAAZw0/PT0ol8wde7w/P1020428_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J_mGl2-LbQs/Uhh07klMAJI/AAAAAAAAZxA/ocuHklJdX8s/s1600-h/P1020429%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020429" style="display: inline" alt="P1020429" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UCDpmp4ZFeQ/Uhh07_fFbOI/AAAAAAAAZxE/E1VyStAiXwA/P1020429_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8HiaDI_p-ZY/Uhh08hIl2nI/AAAAAAAAZxQ/d16QkcH_MHA/s1600-h/P1020430%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020430" style="display: inline" alt="P1020430" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tjGTDk5s-8s/Uhh0847sGGI/AAAAAAAAZxY/dt23GOhq6LA/P1020430_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7DyC5fd8FK0/Uhh09XNNwQI/AAAAAAAAZxc/JvG_w1fQuwY/s1600-h/P1020431%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020431" style="display: inline" alt="P1020431" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qLSwaUer5Dg/Uhh091Ua0eI/AAAAAAAAZxo/KYNaCe0ldCI/P1020431_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XpvpldHxa-8/Uhh0-HsPA9I/AAAAAAAAZxw/WiVv8kupA-s/s1600-h/P1020432%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020432" style="display: inline" alt="P1020432" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kgiTmsCkXTg/Uhh0-poGz5I/AAAAAAAAZx4/hP5bK1d9t-E/P1020432_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… Nothing did, though, so I found myself eating at a restaurant right next to my hotel, offering mediocre pizzas for not‐so‐mediocre prices and stupidly‐inadequate service. Next time in Locarno, I’ll be cooking my own food, thank you very much.</p> <p>Back at the hotel’s lobby, I caught up with blogging until my room was ready. With every step I made towards my room, I was praying for an air‐conditioner to exist there. I suppose I have been committing way too many sins recently, as I opened the door and realized a big spacious room but no air‐conditioner whatsoever. What the room <em>did</em> have, though, is a great balcony with half lake view.</p> <p>Quick shower and I went to bed for about an hour, to catch up with some sleep; it wasn’t before 5:00pm when I left the hotel room again, on my way to the venue to collect my ticket.</p> <p>Took the opportunity to take a few shots for you folks. Neat, isn’t it?</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VK-i86p5CiU/Uhh0_LFoo4I/AAAAAAAAZyA/ImE_KsiFCWE/s1600-h/P1020433%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020433" style="display: inline" alt="P1020433" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vfFE1K09HQc/Uhh0_awck2I/AAAAAAAAZyI/hWtJ2R3YYoA/P1020433_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-au0Tcl5-hoQ/Uhh0_2nIu2I/AAAAAAAAZyQ/I4YQ1HSOCMI/s1600-h/P1020434%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020434" style="display: inline" alt="P1020434" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5BqCcKzfT-Y/Uhh1AdOQiPI/AAAAAAAAZyY/D4MO4jv4u5U/P1020434_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HMefI0JZONU/Uhh1AyE8WQI/AAAAAAAAZyg/m9ZD1cmALYA/s1600-h/P1020435%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020435" style="display: inline" alt="P1020435" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UfoEacTrRR4/Uhh1BVlObxI/AAAAAAAAZyo/q2BKWXPkUrc/P1020435_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-y2cM7HxB7tY/Uhh1B-vS_nI/AAAAAAAAZyw/z10x4FcksD0/s1600-h/P1020436%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020436" style="display: inline" alt="P1020436" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DQmOSRvNMeo/Uhh1CH2nzqI/AAAAAAAAZy4/9SJAjQ8N93k/P1020436_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QXlmz3Gzj0k/Uhh1C20t0YI/AAAAAAAAZzA/dG8Y9saD7-U/s1600-h/P1020437%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020437" style="display: inline" alt="P1020437" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--ULvU-BB4DI/Uhh1DSIFOdI/AAAAAAAAZzE/pqX_z0HyAc0/P1020437_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PSRhe625vbY/Uhh1Dq3rORI/AAAAAAAAZzQ/NCsvAXfBCgY/s1600-h/P1020438%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020438" style="display: inline" alt="P1020438" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vlfMLX7dPcU/Uhh1EPPd6xI/AAAAAAAAZzY/ha-wnSgAvAE/P1020438_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <em>Piazza Grande</em> (at that stage I didn’t really know what the venue is all about; it turned out to be one of the most gorgeous venues I’ve seen—see pictures below), was located right at the city centre, not far from the lake, about 5 minutes walk from my hotel. These days, the <em>Moon & Stars Festival</em> is taking place in Locarno, and the <em>Piazza Grande</em> is the venue where major performances take place. <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket pickup started at 5:00pm so I decided to pick‐up my ticket first, then sit at a nearby cafe to finish some blogging.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-icVelE-P8Vk/Uhh1Erm-95I/AAAAAAAAZzg/K309WZwX7jo/s1600-h/P1020439%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020439" style="display: inline" alt="P1020439" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kv4YFpd2x1M/Uhh1FLpr0ZI/AAAAAAAAZzo/TMzCdm068c0/P1020439_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-O6wm93v_FbM/Uhh1FpKcfYI/AAAAAAAAZzw/4FYlL0xahMY/s1600-h/P1020441%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020441" style="display: inline" alt="P1020441" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bMsUOFFIwtk/Uhh1GClkXTI/AAAAAAAAZz4/nFS_AwuA-XY/P1020441_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I approached the will‐call booth (see pictures below), I noticed quite a few activity in the area, in the form of various food stands, drink stands and bars in the area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Zac0DKAHC6g/Uhh1Gp2Nj8I/AAAAAAAAZ0A/YYn70Eb0goM/s1600-h/P1020442%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020442" style="display: inline" alt="P1020442" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nACMb70ynRQ/Uhh1HAfplAI/AAAAAAAAZ0I/VAhfMr5aPck/P1020442_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-U3yZAlUzyoc/Uhh1HqQTxgI/AAAAAAAAZ0Q/TdsvGi1GD9s/s1600-h/P1020443%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020443" style="display: inline" alt="P1020443" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ca4YOGj1Ugc/Uhh1H26r4uI/AAAAAAAAZ0Y/3oaAEwoLqkQ/P1020443_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Picked‐up my tickets and off I went to a nearby Gelateria offering free Wi‐Fi to customers. I was very happy to be a consumer of this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-p78--72LxGM/Uhh1ImotRtI/AAAAAAAAZ0g/zqiQs_Pbk3k/s1600-h/P1020445%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020445" style="display: inline" alt="P1020445" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Z3Bae6bcogc/Uhh1IxBRf2I/AAAAAAAAZ0k/QaI8aDhHO2Y/P1020445_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Walked back to my hotel…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-obt3v2dLMyM/Uhh1JY6n84I/AAAAAAAAZ0w/WYGO-JTSXcw/s1600-h/P1020446%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020446" style="display: inline" alt="P1020446" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J7rn2jNyiZM/Uhh1J-uDCJI/AAAAAAAAZ00/I2y2wmCja30/P1020446_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… Finished blogging, left my laptop in the room and went to the venue.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket buyers received early entrance privileges for this time. The instructions I received were to arrive at 6:30pm and wait near a bus somewhere next to the venue (not a crew bus; I think that bus actually belonged to the <em>Moon & Stars festival</em>), where I should await further instructions. As I was walking towards the agreed‐upon location, a roast‐beef sandwich in one hand and a cup of water in the other, two <em>Mercedes Benz</em> cars slowed down just before entering the venue. I traditionally shy away from stage / staff entrances so it was the first time for me to witness the band’s cars entering a venue; waved a friendly hello and proceeded to the meet‐up location, which actually was two or three steps away from the performers’ entrance.</p> <p>I happened to be the first one there—surprising, as the time was around 6:15pm and the early entry was scheduled for 6:30pm; people, however, started arriving and within minutes there were around 20–30 of us at the meet‐up area. Even though the early entry was scheduled for 6:30pm, this is after all semi‐Italy we’re talking about; after moving from one line‐up to another, we were finally allowed into the venue a couple of minutes past 7:00pm. Parked my ass on one of those metal plates at the centre of the stage and tried to forget the fact that the sun was cooking my scalp.</p> <p>A few minutes later, the doors were opened for the general public so I took two photos demonstrating the <em>Running of the Bulls</em>. Behind the people, you can see what the <em>Piazza Grande</em> is all about (at daytime; at night, it’s a completely different story)—essentially a huge square surrounded by colourful old apartment buildings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xdDJoiia5TE/Uhh1KZ81YRI/AAAAAAAAZ1A/Q_Adv7cRxMY/s1600-h/P1020448%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020448" style="display: inline" alt="P1020448" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-C5dlEQRP_oo/Uhh1Kmg6J_I/AAAAAAAAZ1I/7x1ihV6wJ5Q/P1020448_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cDPJRKx1knY/Uhh1LEmgZPI/AAAAAAAAZ1Q/TmSWPunCqFM/s1600-h/P1020449%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020449" style="display: inline" alt="P1020449" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-p8vluDLWLyw/Uhh1Lnn7iqI/AAAAAAAAZ1Y/S6Hr2d0kRAc/P1020449_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Not a lot of time passed until I was recognized by my neighbours. One of them, <em>Marco</em>, was actually the first Knopfler fan I have ever met that attended a Dire Straits concert back in 1979 (!)—that’s 31 years ago… I’m 32.</p> <p>The <em>Piazza Grande</em> quickly filled‐up and, by the time the concert started, you couldn’t possibly speak without accidentally spitting on someone. A lovely sight to look at so I took a few photos, trying to capture as much as I could with my camera—to give you an idea of what it was like; luckily, my camera features a wide lens.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-v7FLcz5Dkcs/Uhh1MAhYzFI/AAAAAAAAZ1g/mKyOx920Kdo/s1600-h/P1020451%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020451" style="display: inline" alt="P1020451" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--M8V-Jv-g4s/Uhh1MiX18II/AAAAAAAAZ1o/QA8UMZTS0Oc/P1020451_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-c2oelQ8BFgo/Uhh1NJ05a0I/AAAAAAAAZ1w/L87GNnQwRUM/s1600-h/P1020457%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020457" style="display: inline" alt="P1020457" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hHh97ktVMHM/Uhh1Nq2FxhI/AAAAAAAAZ14/0SMxs8bYHXo/P1020457_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--ZgzZyN9cQA/Uhh1OJFHBbI/AAAAAAAAZ2A/qd5EpCrm9hs/s1600-h/P1020458%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020458" style="display: inline" alt="P1020458" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J-dxDYj2284/Uhh1OtHAlZI/AAAAAAAAZ2I/E9B6psJrtWs/P1020458_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I know what you’re thinking: it must have been a great deal of fun to be a part of such a lively and happy audience. Indeed, it has been. I could have stayed there forever.</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>Back to reality…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-I47LJdHiC4Y/Uhh1PPsAZ1I/AAAAAAAAZ2Q/V7iUEfjtwTI/s1600-h/P1020450%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020450" style="display: inline" alt="P1020450" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-09pX1mFDqGg/Uhh1PQuCS2I/AAAAAAAAZ2Y/hl6QYpUGKu4/P1020450_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KeHkXWyJoMo/Uhh1Px9vzNI/AAAAAAAAZ2g/aDvsHkGCEGM/s1600-h/P1020452%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020452" style="display: inline" alt="P1020452" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-b_RHsy95J7M/Uhh1Qqzt9aI/AAAAAAAAZ2o/MHDfFkeY4aQ/P1020452_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lUvrLS2RDi4/Uhh1RFcEXBI/AAAAAAAAZ2w/AdbETikcsc0/s1600-h/P1020453%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020453" style="display: inline" alt="P1020453" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KPbUqjQWprE/Uhh1R4zRKxI/AAAAAAAAZ20/h11R4ze3iac/P1020453_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M6m5gN8PPtI/Uhh1SWN7swI/AAAAAAAAZ3A/aHBUuKY1K70/s1600-h/P1020454%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020454" style="display: inline" alt="P1020454" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-O5Lp_chZUu8/Uhh1S8tppDI/AAAAAAAAZ3I/9ySMSLCJLQQ/P1020454_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Look at the last picture above (bottom right). See the balconies? well, people who live in these apartment buildings are lucky to enjoy concerts from the comfort of their own homes, for free!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JxmXx7NPRqg/Uhh1TT-pw6I/AAAAAAAAZ3Q/2rysyMx9ot4/s1600-h/P1020455%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020455" style="display: inline" alt="P1020455" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-26gFJ5prJpo/Uhh1Tx7-B-I/AAAAAAAAZ3U/zUbqeeIJ0lc/P1020455_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3MiOWBY-3sM/Uhh1UTwuYII/AAAAAAAAZ3g/302HlP3mDlE/s1600-h/P1020456%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020456" style="display: inline" alt="P1020456" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RgkjMNgBTSM/Uhh1UynlU2I/AAAAAAAAZ3o/SkAG_J47ssc/P1020456_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few minutes before the concert, I noticed <em>Peter McKay</em> looking at me. I guess he finally realized that it is my face that he sees on an almost daily basis for the last three months or so, so he smiled and gestured a motion with his finger against his head implying that I am insane. I replied using hand movements trying to somehow communicate the message “no, I really am not”. A minute later he showed up with a couple of ice‐cold bottles of water, and a couple of ice‐cold cans of <em>Heineken</em>. Took me by surprise I gotta tell you—thanks Peter, much appreciated mate!</p> <p>The concert started <em>exactly</em> on the advertised time, 8:30pm.</p> <hr /> <p>I have met so many people during my travels and, except for very, <em>very</em> few, <em>everybody</em> seemed to be concerned with the answer to one question: <em>which was the best concert so far in the tour</em>?</p> <p>I can see why people are so interested to know the answer to this question; however, as much as I can sympathize with the need to know, I must say that it really is hard to tell concerts apart. OK, so there can be one “most memorable experience”; that’s easy, and for me the answer has always been—the concert in <em>Toronto</em>. Admittedly, the fact that the <em>Toronto</em> concert took place in familiar territory—namely, about 100km from my house, in a city I know very well—had something to do with the entire experience being pleasant; the music that night was also exceptionally brilliant, led by Mark doing unbelievable things with his guitars.</p> <p>Including the <em>Locarno</em> concert, there have been 74 concerts in the tour so far. Most of the shows were great; some of the shows were good; and a tiny minority were… well… “leaving some to be desired” would be a good way to put it. However, up until tonight, I had a single answer to “what was the best show”; and after tonight’s concert in Locarno, I have to say that I now have two answers.</p> <p>The <em>entire concert experience</em> was absolutely stunning, exceptional by all means. In my books, the Locarno experience is the best <em>Get Lucky</em> experience in Europe so far.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-X09u9StZqK8/Uhh1VU7K9XI/AAAAAAAAZ3w/xgvHhYeJYno/s1600-h/P1020460%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020460" style="display: inline" alt="P1020460" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WQ3hxdnz_z0/Uhh1VxULsYI/AAAAAAAAZ34/-wvJsPgKcBY/P1020460_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-aAmIaOCUbio/Uhh1WdI-cyI/AAAAAAAAZ4A/_mFkIkQNYic/s1600-h/P1020461%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020461" style="display: inline" alt="P1020461" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zFdpzI_Pb0o/Uhh1W4Zl--I/AAAAAAAAZ4I/RB2XRXOtIkE/P1020461_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>If any band member(s) is / are reading this: I suggest you take good note of what time you woke up in the morning; what you had for breakfast; who you spoke with during the day; who made you smile; who made you think, and about what; what you had for lunch / dinner; which leg you put first on the floor upon waking up—take note of all of that, print it, hang it on the wall, read it a few times a day until you know it by heart. Congratulations: you gave the audience a <em>stunning</em> performance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bmie5r-ouZA/Uhh1XcTG5KI/AAAAAAAAZ4Q/JObhHB8r_VE/s1600-h/P1020462%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020462" style="display: inline" alt="P1020462" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KHFgtZMwM0c/Uhh1X3GeSyI/AAAAAAAAZ4Y/FMGqzgGbcDk/P1020462_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-45Xd9pcmRyk/Uhh1Ys28CzI/AAAAAAAAZ4g/976YcA4Hm6I/s1600-h/P1020463%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020463" style="display: inline" alt="P1020463" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8jEV64A4fv4/Uhh1YzxkCWI/AAAAAAAAZ4o/15MoQhBU6VY/P1020463_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Some people assume direct correlation between “mistakes” during the concert to its quality; I strongly disagree and the Locarno concert would be my best case in point. Some minor faults did take place (there seemed to be a bit of a problem with the <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> drum samples—started playing too early, then went off and then restarted again as Guy and a couple of crew members were addressing the problem during the first 30 seconds of the song), but still, I consider this to be the best concert in Europe so far.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kv25_lUEMNw/Uhh1ZazcAUI/AAAAAAAAZ4w/9izATh0SHYY/s1600-h/P1020464%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020464" style="display: inline" alt="P1020464" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IgGu19hS41c/Uhh1Zx_GqDI/AAAAAAAAZ44/ZfRKL3ub9eY/P1020464_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Why, you ask? I suppose my writing “talent” is too limited to express it well enough in words; figuratively speaking, there was something going on on the stage that made this band play <em>extremely</em> well. You could look at the face of each and every one of them and immediately conclude that there was a great deal of passion on their faces—passion to give the best show eight musicians could give—which is exactly what they did.</p> <p>The audience? some Swiss some Italian, this audience was an absolute blast. There wasn’t even <em>one song</em> that didn’t involve vocal <em>and</em> visual participation by the audience. Hands were thrown into the air during the entire concert, people singing—not humming; <em>singing</em>—the songs out loud… thrilling. Even during <em>Done with Bonaparte</em>, quite a few members of the audience sang along with Mike’s pipes between verses. How’s that for a thrill?!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zycA8E2gz1Y/Uhh1afKPkJI/AAAAAAAAZ5A/eYXVmg9-H20/s1600-h/P1020466%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020466" style="display: inline" alt="P1020466" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2n-R5vNgzJU/Uhh1aiEjAjI/AAAAAAAAZ5I/-uLk6cO5tY0/P1020466_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tJEh9aVLQ6g/Uhh1bV2bc4I/AAAAAAAAZ5Q/JFfJ6Gmghzs/s1600-h/P1020467%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020467" style="display: inline" alt="P1020467" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0Em7URZs2Ug/Uhh1cL2FmBI/AAAAAAAAZ5Y/WzrTOz6pJPQ/P1020467_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The setlist that was played was identical to that of <em>Montreux</em> except for <em>Prairie Wedding</em> which went missing.</p> <p><em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> featured one of the best instrumental works so far this tour (past the last verse all the way to the end); usually, what makes <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>’s outro performance is fantastic work by John and Matt, but this time, it was Mark who set the tone with guitar work that sent shivers down many thousands of spines.</p> <p>Even <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>, traditionally having a relatively short outro solo, was very impressive: there was a <em>lot</em> of soul pouring into the electric guitar work here, by both Richard and Mark, and the final solo by Mark was truly remarkable—significantly more touching than usual.</p> <p>Wild cheers and Danny started hitting those cymbals—<em>Sultans of Swing</em> started playing and it was amazing to see this <em>huge</em> audience—to my sides, behind me, or on the balconies of the apartments surrounding the square—all dancing, jumping, singing and having an altogether a great time.</p> <p>It was Jordan and Val, two of my American friends, who opened my eyes to the following truth: superb feedback from the audience is one of the key factors making this band play better; and with this audience being of clear Italian mentality, it’s not surprising that the band kicked some serious ass.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ev5eRdvOkH4/Uhh1ca8p82I/AAAAAAAAZ5g/22OwJ2z2-I8/s1600-h/P1020468%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020468" style="display: inline" alt="P1020468" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vKfCN6cqUTE/Uhh1c9d7btI/AAAAAAAAZ5o/ztrudJHIF54/P1020468_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kU4q-dgMCbA/Uhh1dULtVSI/AAAAAAAAZ5w/O7s2juve6tk/s1600-h/P1020469%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020469" style="display: inline" alt="P1020469" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Ap5g-Vyk2fM/Uhh1d_oZsRI/AAAAAAAAZ54/UiRcsLayFDI/P1020469_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> threw thousands over thousands of hands into the air; people on the balconies were jumping and cheering as if we were in ancient Rome witnessing some serious Gladiators at work. The cheers, once the last chord was struck, were deafening.</p> <p>Off we went to a superb performance of <em>Marbletown</em>; this <em>Marbletown</em>‐jam performance was mostly around John leading the way with strong—still very touching—violin work and Mark going exceptionally wild on his <em>Martin</em> guitar—I can’t recall seeing him strumming the Martin that way before during <em>Marbletown</em>; something tells me he was pretty excited with the audience giving him and the band such great feedback.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MiYzQyQT9vA/Uhh1eEqSVpI/AAAAAAAAZ6A/YDK7Uhq3EFQ/s1600-h/P1020470%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020470" style="display: inline" alt="P1020470" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ucXGXAmI9Qs/Uhh1e-8uJ6I/AAAAAAAAZ6I/-QjPDtMuuX0/P1020470_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KVFCIB6jook/Uhh1fI9k_UI/AAAAAAAAZ6Q/A_niRiEKkfg/s1600-h/P1020471%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020471" style="display: inline" alt="P1020471" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iPu0g9UQRd0/Uhh1fzTsS0I/AAAAAAAAZ6Y/DfXUyvRh4Wk/P1020471_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>If I even begin writing to you how great <em>Telegraph Road</em> was, I’d run out of free space on my hard drive so I’ll just tell you that it was a perfect performance to conclude the first part of the show. The outro solo was so amazing, it was just as if the entire audience bent over and the band kicked us all in the ass with a giant foot.</p> <p>Great encore, and by the time <em>So Far Away</em> was over, the audience didn’t look even one bit shorter of breath. That concert could have last 4 hours longer and everybody would be happy. Then came <em>Piper to the End</em>—stunning performance to conclude a stunning concert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NDgSt-qV8IM/Uhh1gOyNHtI/AAAAAAAAZ6g/lSlS1a270lc/s1600-h/P1020472%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020472" style="display: inline" alt="P1020472" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-alLYJJ8Qzu4/Uhh1gxjZfxI/AAAAAAAAZ6o/_RuKcguQ7vk/P1020472_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d3tIbd4lG_E/Uhh1hdy_RqI/AAAAAAAAZ6w/Ji4GKImavDM/s1600-h/P1020473%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020473" style="display: inline" alt="P1020473" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4oFayxYVHwQ/Uhh1h1yf4sI/AAAAAAAAZ64/KyXQUsNlEpo/P1020473_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CJ2mIqTeZOQ/Uhh1iUDRLVI/AAAAAAAAZ7A/kdcHn3uqgGc/s1600-h/P1020474%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020474" style="display: inline" alt="P1020474" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Rzyysd45YNU/Uhh1i8RiajI/AAAAAAAAZ7I/MZrSpaoSUSQ/P1020474_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--QdrpfWxy-M/Uhh1jHcFRYI/AAAAAAAAZ7M/65N6R0SD4Fw/s1600-h/P1020477%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020477" style="display: inline" alt="P1020477" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n5FLSliI9Qg/Uhh1j5br4FI/AAAAAAAAZ7U/xraSz6_91k8/P1020477_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The show ended at around 10:30pm. Folks, attending an entire tour is worth the while if only for a handful of concerts like this one.</p> <hr /> <p>Walking back to the hotel, I took a few photos of the <em>Piazza Grande</em> at night. An “eye candy” would be an understatement here: absolutely gorgeous, no words.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-eA7xsAhzOUU/Uhh1kKLv6sI/AAAAAAAAZ7g/wPI-O8zcNpU/s1600-h/P1020478%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020478" style="display: inline" alt="P1020478" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-eK4bptYf28k/Uhh1ksfxs6I/AAAAAAAAZ7o/pep5qhfieOU/P1020478_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nlZ-oyTFw90/Uhh1lOdtOjI/AAAAAAAAZ7w/N8Hr4bM9gCU/s1600-h/P1020479%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020479" style="display: inline" alt="P1020479" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-arEsavqgwnA/Uhh1loprtFI/AAAAAAAAZ74/MgrtY1uioxo/P1020479_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SMd8swdnvEc/Uhh1mAQ8d0I/AAAAAAAAZ8A/KuMJl2FqikM/s1600-h/P1020480%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020480" style="display: inline" alt="P1020480" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JXd59OO0R0g/Uhh1mjPsREI/AAAAAAAAZ8I/VOCGJ4yb6w4/P1020480_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-e-7VhNj2BeY/Uhh1mzbNLPI/AAAAAAAAZ8Q/ncQD4rg5teM/s1600-h/P1020481%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020481" style="display: inline" alt="P1020481" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--wKQthGeLIs/Uhh1nUWkRbI/AAAAAAAAZ8Y/76XRKCje6fg/P1020481_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nKmTCYAsBZA/Uhh1nw1C0lI/AAAAAAAAZ8g/Suk3EeoG7E4/s1600-h/P1020482%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020482" style="display: inline" alt="P1020482" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HAxB4OyfCu4/Uhh1oRCehjI/AAAAAAAAZ8o/_1OBDwOiWZQ/P1020482_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V4G0tuz9M9I/Uhh1o4ty1DI/AAAAAAAAZ8w/isDrkSy9U4o/s1600-h/P1020483%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020483" style="display: inline" alt="P1020483" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-39fOw5l7wmc/Uhh1pSDwPHI/AAAAAAAAZ84/TNMkqOQMAjA/P1020483_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8Pxl9J8CLis/Uhh1pnVRWfI/AAAAAAAAZ9A/-T7_wPzrBko/s1600-h/P1020484%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020484" style="display: inline" alt="P1020484" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DThxuzlOJQE/Uhh1qH-C0cI/AAAAAAAAZ9I/_V-SecmLm3Q/P1020484_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Walking back to the hotel, I walked among a sea of people. Friday night and everybody’s out having fun—thousands of people around and music is played very loud.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XP8-nshzuuk/Uhh1qm9S64I/AAAAAAAAZ9Q/EMKCbYPcNm8/s1600-h/P1020486%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020486" style="display: inline" alt="P1020486" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mSkBvpoGYRM/Uhh1rJFqTuI/AAAAAAAAZ9Y/nBqMqebbfK0/P1020486_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Decided to stop over for an ice‐cream, and I think that now would be a good time to tell you that the face that dominated the audience pictures above belonged to the female half of the couple I had met in the train and in the hotel before. Why a good time? simply because as I was waiting for my turn at the ice‐cream stand, the couple just appeared out of nowhere making their way back to the hotel. It was then when I decided to put an end to this series of weird encounters and introduced myself. Well, what do you know: his name was <em>Didier</em> and her name was <em>Claudia</em>; <em>Didier</em> is the leader of the only <em>Dire Straits</em> tribute band in Switzerland. We stood there and talked for about fifteen minutes during which I de‐prioritized anything even remotely concerned with ice‐cream. Was good meeting such nice people—hell, meeting nice people is one part of this journey that makes it all so interesting, isn’t it?</p> <p>Got my ice‐cream and walked back to the hotel, taking a few photos of the lake… didn’t turn out so good so here’s the best of them:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pKNSPCEMCx4/Uhh1rsNvNWI/AAAAAAAAZ9g/aMy7YHv1fZQ/s1600-h/P1020487%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020487" style="display: inline" alt="P1020487" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TIl6kMcMGTo/Uhh1sCBju-I/AAAAAAAAZ9o/YETrHjFxB1c/P1020487_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_FrrMov8sZ8/Uhh1sYT_SxI/AAAAAAAAZ9w/3PwD33fELQU/s1600-h/P1020488%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020488" style="display: inline" alt="P1020488" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xMjRigb-GQk/Uhh1sznqjxI/AAAAAAAAZ94/hkcRrjBqKco/P1020488_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Back at the hotel room, it was <em>very</em> warm. Took a shower and went out to the balcony, the towel around me, and started writing this post. Went to sleep at around 1:00am; when I woke up today and went to the balcony, I noticed people <em>sleeping</em> at the neighbouring balconies. I’m telling you, folks… it was <em>very warm</em>.</p> <p>Signing‐off this post on board the <em>InterCity Express</em> train. Long train‐riding day today to get to <em>Würzburg</em>.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-44185161186924699472010-07-16T12:08:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:02:08.661-05:00Concert Day: Auditorium Stravinski, Montreux, Switzerland (July 15, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: on board the 8:39am EuroCity train from Montreux to Domodossola, where I will change trains to Locarno.</em></p> </div> <p>Attempting to squeeze‐in as much sleep as possible, I woke up on Thursday a bit too late to my taste—putting my travel plans in jeopardy. I didn’t have much sleep the night before; for whatever reason I couldn’t figure out, the air‐conditioner stopped conditioning the air some time around 3:00am and started working on “fan mode”. Tried to re‐educate it, to no avail. Falling back asleep was hard and it wasn’t before I wetted a towel and covered myself with it when I finally fell asleep again.</p> <p>A bit of a nerve‐wrecking experience to get to Milano’s central station. First, I had to take a tram to <em>Cadorna FS</em>; when I say a “tram”, I refer to some sort of a vehicle that was so old that I believe it was <em>Alexander the Great</em>’s preferred method of transportation before he started using horses. It was almost entirely made of wood, which gave it a bit of a kitschy‐picturesque‐kitschy look—for which I couldn’t possibly care less as I really wanted to get to the station already.</p> <p>It took that tram 20 minutes to cover a route of just about 2 kilometres, and I sprang out of it into <em>Cadorna FS</em> and into the Metro line as if a snake was just biting my ass. From there on everything went OK and I got to my train on time.</p> <p>The ride from <em>Milano</em> to <em>Montreux</em> took about three hours; for the most part, it was an immensely pretty drive as we left the hustle and bustle of the big city and approached Switzerland; with the mountains around (the Alps? Need to check) and the rock‐flour‐coloured river it reminded me a lot of <em>Yoho National Park</em> in the Rockies, with the <em>Kicking Horse</em> river crossing through making any set of eyes watching it experience the closest feeling to orgasm eyes can experience. If this is what Switzerland is all about, then I must be up to some serious scenery.</p> <p>I was excited to go to Switzerland; members of my extended family have distant relatives there, and whenever they went for a visit they came back with fantastic stories.</p> <hr /> <p>Switzerland is <em>not</em> a part of the European Union; more than three quarters of Swiss people rejected the motion to join the EU when the subject was last brought to the public by means of a referendum, back in 2001. In fact, Switzerland’s relationship with the EU is based upon a series of <em>treaties</em>—formulated specifically by the EU and Switzerland—treaties which essentially makes Switzerland subject to most EU laws.</p> <p>As a consequence of not being a part of the European Union, Switzerland keeps maintaining its own currency—the <em>Swiss Franc</em>—which at the moment is very close in value to the <em>Canadian Dollar</em>; however, being surrounded by countries who use the <em>Euro</em>, the Euro is generally accepted in Switzerland. In most places tourists would bother getting to, they could at least <em>pay</em> with Euros—at worst, they would get the change in Swiss Francs (often using an exchange rate much less favourable than that offered by Swiss banks).</p> <p>People speak multiple languages here, depending on the region: Italian, French and Swiss are all spoken here, and English is generally well‐understood, especially in touristic areas. You are not very likely to encounter problems communicating in English in Switzerland so that’s one less thing to worry about when travelling here. However, while a language barrier may not hinder your plans to visit, something else might—the prices: the tourism industry flourishes all year round—Alpine ski in winters, country trips / sightseeing trips in summers, depending on location—and if you don’t book early, you’re in for some serious hit to your wallet.</p> <p>So, my suggestion: book early and accept the fact that prices here are higher than most other places—after all, this is Switzerland and it’s <em>beautiful</em> here; I noticed that as soon as my train arrived at <em>Montreux</em>, at around 11:30am.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QHe2jhcS8ng/Uhhuzpw0J6I/AAAAAAAAZcY/p-2-bnzXlec/s1600-h/P1020324%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020324" style="display: inline" alt="P1020324" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EktTV0CKIWs/Uhhuz6T33dI/AAAAAAAAZcg/0ErUVq58kqk/P1020324_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p><em>Montreux</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreux">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreux</a>) is a small touristic town located at the north‐east shore of <em>Lake Geneva</em>, to the foot of the <em>Alps</em>. Now read that last sentence again: a touristic town, on the lake shore, right by the Alps. Close your eyes and try to imagine what it looks like just <em>based on that sentence</em>; done? Very well. In reality it probably looks better than in your imagination; try <em>Google Images</em> and see for yourself.</p> <p>Reading about Montreux in Wikipedia I am amazed of the fact that I had <em>never</em> heard of this place before. This place is <em>very</em> popular; hell, <em>Bill Gates</em> owns a residence here. <em>Freddie Mercury</em>, <em>Queen</em>’s late frontman, used to live here, and so did <em>Shania Twain</em> (not that I’m a big fan of her music, but I found it worth noting. You know what? Here’s one to balance the impression: Ian Anderson, frontman of <em>Jethro Tull</em>, lives / lived here as well).</p> <p>A few important festivals take place here annually: the <em>Montreux Jazz Festival</em> is one example (Mark Knopfler’s concert yesterday was in fact a part of the <em>MJF</em>’s schedule). This place holds special sentiment to <em>Freddie Mercury</em>: the first weekend of every September (since 2003) is the <em>Freddie Mercury Memorial Day</em>, and there also is a <em>Freddie Mercury</em> statue just facing <em>Lake Geneva</em>, at the part of Montreux called <em>Place du Marché</em> (“Market Place” in English).</p> <p>Only yesterday I learned that Montreux is also the subject of Deep Purple’s mega‐hit “<em>Smoke on the Water</em>” (I never really listened to the lyrics; told you I’m not that much of an intellectual). The inspiration for that song came after an event in 1971 when some fan of <em>Frank Zappa</em>, “armed” with a flare gun, accidentally set the <em>Montreux Casino</em> on fire.</p> <p>So much cultural history in this place and I had <em>never</em> heard of it before. I feel stupid for some reason (some of you must be thinking “well it’s just about time”).</p> <hr /> <p>I decided to walk the 2.1km route to the hotel—<em>Hotel Bristol</em>. Right now there’s the <em>Montreux Jazz Festival</em> going on, and 4‐star hotel rooms cost a ridiculous amount of money; a room for 3 guests in a reasonable area in town, booked two weeks in advance (<em>very late</em> when talking about popular destinations in high‐demand periods such as this) went for <em>€300</em>. I happen to know this because that’s the alternative that Elian and myself took—him, his girlfriend <em>Loan</em> and myself shared a suite here for the night of the concert.</p> <p><em>Google Maps for BlackBerry</em> showed me the most direct route to the hotel, which I started following while taking a few pictures of the picturesque buildings around:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9PKZ6JKb-LE/Uhhu0fdVNFI/AAAAAAAAZck/LWDxQpwSCF0/s1600-h/P1020325%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020325" style="display: inline" alt="P1020325" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-K32hvoBkTOc/Uhhu04gnD-I/AAAAAAAAZcw/u4vP7xPCnbE/P1020325_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Tu63Rkv9xh0/Uhhu1Bm4V5I/AAAAAAAAZc4/cFa07dqvVvc/s1600-h/P1020326%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020326" style="display: inline" alt="P1020326" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5hHrRvoB5DY/Uhhu1vWTe4I/AAAAAAAAZdA/zPMcFD1fo8Q/P1020326_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Y6Uz5ek3kTU/Uhhu12O-QeI/AAAAAAAAZdE/aWoAuCbIWlw/s1600-h/P1020327%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020327" style="display: inline" alt="P1020327" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6_qjLOahXTA/Uhhu2UoTHpI/AAAAAAAAZdQ/CuwluUeMCwY/P1020327_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-w141W9v-T8c/Uhhu2w_BpoI/AAAAAAAAZdY/HeT7XdI3fvY/s1600-h/P1020328%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020328" style="display: inline" alt="P1020328" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OJbYkcyqqTA/Uhhu3EwYhhI/AAAAAAAAZdg/0LMPxXANlok/P1020328_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Soon enough, though, the map told me that I’m supposed to take a curve but what I saw in front of me was a short pathway going down right to the lake:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-tUhxQ6QHkfo/Uhhu3s80SbI/AAAAAAAAZdo/-4jLOkTdoG8/s1600-h/P1020329%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020329" style="display: inline" alt="P1020329" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J9EVUWS1_VA/Uhhu4FJmHRI/AAAAAAAAZdw/tCz4X7hgoL8/P1020329_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Now, you know me. The first thing I did was to verify that there <em>is</em> a lake‐side route to the hotel. There was; it was a bit longer, but who the <em>hell</em> cares? I hope that the following pictures will demonstrate why: the long route took much longer to walk as I couldn’t stop taking pictures.</p> <p>The first set of pictures below were taken as I was standing on a boat‐launch boardwalk—the very same one you can see in the last picture above (right next to the right‐hand car). It was all quiet around, and the weather… well, I’ll let you conclude that by the pictures. Closing my eyes I felt I was in heaven, and re‐opening them I realized my feelings weren’t too far from the truth.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7o6lwsT9C_4/Uhhu4bNIFnI/AAAAAAAAZd0/4SoEUwRAob8/s1600-h/P1020330%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020330" style="display: inline" alt="P1020330" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zFkIln5ecwA/Uhhu4_v3NEI/AAAAAAAAZeA/GsSkbBCcR_Q/P1020330_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kQGMuKNXCkM/Uhhu5Xv7BoI/AAAAAAAAZeI/Sa-UaeAEB2Y/s1600-h/P1020331%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020331" style="display: inline" alt="P1020331" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WEFk4yn3q50/Uhhu5j3U8II/AAAAAAAAZeQ/gJscAn6bzvg/P1020331_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--wMQtiHJt1k/Uhhu6KbsjDI/AAAAAAAAZeY/-c8zGhaGu2g/s1600-h/P1020333%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020333" style="display: inline" alt="P1020333" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uATVaX5TtrY/Uhhu6m8xEPI/AAAAAAAAZeg/k8DAoltm50U/P1020333_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TssVvUgH2X8/Uhhu67_4pKI/AAAAAAAAZeo/JEswovgoBl0/s1600-h/P1020334%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020334" style="display: inline" alt="P1020334" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-amXDm8Dy3eU/Uhhu7cs3FvI/AAAAAAAAZew/Lvh0IfdEArM/P1020334_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rKMkwxvSPBo/Uhhu7jMpv3I/AAAAAAAAZe4/OYH9qXf1-yE/s1600-h/P1020335%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020335" style="display: inline" alt="P1020335" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x-uQ_rVqcgU/Uhhu8CCppDI/AAAAAAAAZfA/7F4Njyuoooc/P1020335_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2fMuAb9AADg/Uhhu8qq0ZhI/AAAAAAAAZfI/O6Z8OrttcMM/s1600-h/P1020336%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020336" style="display: inline" alt="P1020336" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BeGyXtcOygE/Uhhu88OQlMI/AAAAAAAAZfQ/vEJYDRCAsMo/P1020336_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GJ_pkf8H0KE/Uhhu9QNo58I/AAAAAAAAZfY/3kdLIpr7c_g/s1600-h/P1020337%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020337" style="display: inline" alt="P1020337" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2xW7TuIQR-c/Uhhu9v-j4ZI/AAAAAAAAZfc/1ZqO9qqunBQ/P1020337_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-umuESR4nsXk/Uhhu-L6pQaI/AAAAAAAAZfo/SPcjfkI1M7M/s1600-h/P1020338%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020338" style="display: inline" alt="P1020338" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-eWdht2TDBq0/Uhhu-t-I-rI/AAAAAAAAZfw/zJOqA7imHkU/P1020338_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Can a walk by <em>any</em> lake be any prettier than this? I doubt it. Equivalent in beauty to the route surrounding <em>Lake Patricia</em> in <em>Jasper</em>, this route is a must‐do. I took quite a bit of photos here so bear with me as I’m trying to put you in my shoes as I walk through this beauty.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Eq0ETMWI6hM/Uhhu_ZDRrFI/AAAAAAAAZf4/loWskHOq6a0/s1600-h/P1020339%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020339" style="display: inline" alt="P1020339" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zb9rk3kwvEw/Uhhu_xuipeI/AAAAAAAAZgA/CqzsL4t-HVc/P1020339_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uabCVdzmC20/UhhvAX-kDBI/AAAAAAAAZgI/m2DToN7iq2s/s1600-h/P1020340%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020340" style="display: inline" alt="P1020340" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qPq-p9LUh1Q/UhhvAiuyL_I/AAAAAAAAZgQ/xQTGn8SwkOM/P1020340_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-B5-BdAS9tIk/UhhvBIHIbBI/AAAAAAAAZgY/1qJqIP8CLuk/s1600-h/P1020341%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020341" style="display: inline" alt="P1020341" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aLnt-okBWfQ/UhhvBtJ85gI/AAAAAAAAZgg/YegEM0L191M/P1020341_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HEPgHWdF1T8/UhhvCMuhR4I/AAAAAAAAZgo/f2vK8vSoXp8/s1600-h/P1020342%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020342" style="display: inline" alt="P1020342" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XSNjpwhv2t0/UhhvCe2k9bI/AAAAAAAAZgs/XKqpeLh1yEY/P1020342_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DnQVDf3SCd8/UhhvCzGLTAI/AAAAAAAAZg0/F7VIeVSCY1s/s1600-h/P1020343%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020343" style="display: inline" alt="P1020343" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2fQjNgZcZxE/UhhvDHRbcgI/AAAAAAAAZhA/lGQ2y_IsvD8/P1020343_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bSD6C4Uu-Lg/UhhvD9QLPgI/AAAAAAAAZhI/Bhr12hBi7b0/s1600-h/P1020344%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020344" style="display: inline" alt="P1020344" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-45Ef4neEwug/UhhvEOtzAlI/AAAAAAAAZhQ/VcTXQLUdW0U/P1020344_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MfvMwZo2v7Q/UhhvEtGkfvI/AAAAAAAAZhY/yRKPvSUfdoE/s1600-h/P1020345%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020345" style="display: inline" alt="P1020345" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ftZ4u2CcL5Q/UhhvFNjUGoI/AAAAAAAAZhg/srdkXb7iWL4/P1020345_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HTRDzAJ0Y-k/UhhvFiw61JI/AAAAAAAAZho/jKpiS20ymSQ/s1600-h/P1020346%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020346" style="display: inline" alt="P1020346" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Tb157yf2vWc/UhhvGNgokVI/AAAAAAAAZhw/tBC9SyYRACM/P1020346_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-urgXklqFQas/UhhvGVBrbVI/AAAAAAAAZh4/X2TzZMIjCm0/s1600-h/P1020347%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020347" style="display: inline" alt="P1020347" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s42I6i399kA/UhhvG08ZtqI/AAAAAAAAZiA/bZo2iQKrmg4/P1020347_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1TFU90Wk2_k/UhhvHU0EriI/AAAAAAAAZiI/nw0VuojY_hQ/s1600-h/P1020348%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020348" style="display: inline" alt="P1020348" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-i5tZtDJ3BqY/UhhvH02os0I/AAAAAAAAZiQ/gxG83iO6wIo/P1020348_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YLMNTc4LrK0/UhhvIEMy3HI/AAAAAAAAZiY/tK8cu-csoC8/s1600-h/P1020350%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020350" style="display: inline" alt="P1020350" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zYTh9idDVWc/UhhvIhGkvDI/AAAAAAAAZig/QTOIYmnAaNw/P1020350_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--QHwjpSNnoc/UhhvJNWhRDI/AAAAAAAAZio/pCYdVlzznuc/s1600-h/P1020351%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020351" style="display: inline" alt="P1020351" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mo7GGgL9Zpw/UhhvJsvx7rI/AAAAAAAAZis/49toz7lPBh8/P1020351_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bChMYROiDKs/UhhvJ_H1bCI/AAAAAAAAZi4/a25Ftidzs1E/s1600-h/P1020352%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020352" style="display: inline" alt="P1020352" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GKaoTCQCdxQ/UhhvKYFrzlI/AAAAAAAAZi8/2lzTF_X3468/P1020352_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I would write “<em>Finally</em> I got to my hotel”, but “finally” isn’t a good word in this context; for a change, that was a train‐hotel route I wouldn’t mind being <em>longer</em>. Every good thing though must come to an end, and so I arrived at the hotel after about 40 minutes of walking and taking pictures.</p> <p>Unloaded my backpack in the room, a few glasses of water and then <em>Elian</em> and his girlfriend <em>Loan</em> arrived. Was good seeing this slightly‐insane individual again—this time escorted by his girlfriend who I didn’t get to meet when I stayed in Elian’s place in Paris about a month ago. Lovely gal who tends to light‐up the room with her smile—and she smiles a lot.</p> <p>Elian must have been really hot as he immediately started abusing the portable air‐conditioner that stood in the room.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jAEDqx0gD60/UhhvK58t5iI/AAAAAAAAZjI/aumkQNxScC4/s1600-h/P1020353%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020353" style="display: inline" alt="P1020353" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wx0QWbI06_g/UhhvLShK4uI/AAAAAAAAZjQ/kvvJmUVT9R0/P1020353_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Later we started talking about practical & useful gifts, which is when Elian decided to describe, in much detail, one of the gifts he considered buying to a very close (perhaps too close) “friend” of his.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-f2aiKteTD3o/UhhvLx3xSYI/AAAAAAAAZjY/OnHtP17_dt8/s1600-h/P1020355%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020355" style="display: inline" alt="P1020355" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rTDAZ0_v2w0/UhhvMDxAxpI/AAAAAAAAZjg/_5PQmg94nqw/P1020355_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Everybody in the room was starving so we decided to hit the restaurant at the hotel. The duo informed me that the restaurant boasts an interesting menu and I didn’t need much convincing, especially considering the restaurant’s location—or, more exactly, the restaurant’s terrace’s location. I’ll let the pictures speak.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FW6h2yDlaj8/UhhvMills3I/AAAAAAAAZjo/vUm3cl9guYg/s1600-h/P1020356%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020356" style="display: inline" alt="P1020356" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TVjWXYYBW3A/UhhvM8HcGyI/AAAAAAAAZjw/ZOcUcfmdZCg/P1020356_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GvwbpRxQp6g/UhhvNaCP7FI/AAAAAAAAZj4/ynFPw5TCEA4/s1600-h/P1020357%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020357" style="display: inline" alt="P1020357" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LM5Ub4qm85g/UhhvN4Fal6I/AAAAAAAAZkA/aI_MUY5q_WQ/P1020357_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s the sweet couple:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8q5d2o6RwFo/UhhvOGTWfVI/AAAAAAAAZkI/f_vObzzzDik/s1600-h/P1020358%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020358" style="display: inline" alt="P1020358" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hAkcKPLu6HE/UhhvOgOfmtI/AAAAAAAAZkQ/uYUw3JLO_mE/P1020358_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And here’s myself being very excited to have Loan all over me:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vo-jo6rVfTQ/UhhvPdN3suI/AAAAAAAAZkY/lErVxfVi8Y0/s1600-h/P1020360%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020360" style="display: inline" alt="P1020360" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yUTPLyV2D50/UhhvP304rcI/AAAAAAAAZkg/qdvUbQHEyaM/P1020360_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s myself wearing Elian’s glasses. Loan said “YES”, Elian said “not even as a joke”. Your opinion?</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-I3kuNlsCf8U/UhhvQQXuWLI/AAAAAAAAZko/zbQucMbE1YY/s1600-h/P1020361%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020361" style="display: inline" alt="P1020361" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3DlC6PvjphI/UhhvQ1FC4rI/AAAAAAAAZkw/S543hYTUpPw/P1020361_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Time came to order some food. Try enlarging the following picture and get a glance at the menu. Almost each item here sounded mouth‐watering… too bad I didn’t take pictures of the rest of the menu.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zelthi89AWE/UhhvRZi4XVI/AAAAAAAAZk4/QszgxhJzWMY/s1600-h/P1020362%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020362" style="display: inline" alt="P1020362" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-GZzfQO_k6Bw/UhhvRvNuMoI/AAAAAAAAZlA/-R3JyTnael4/P1020362_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>While waiting for our appetizers, we engaged in some picture‐taking practice. Here’s one for good times:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Fj8deLl7MYQ/UhhvSDMMPBI/AAAAAAAAZlI/o9SxDqMRp0U/s1600-h/P1020364%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020364" style="display: inline" alt="P1020364" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-89DDIXK8KJI/UhhvSmLGh1I/AAAAAAAAZlQ/YU8p_XZZCYE/P1020364_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Appetizers arrived. Mine: warm goat cheese, breaded (?) and fried, along with some seriously fresh salad.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Nb-Gv1x91Hk/UhhvTLki2mI/AAAAAAAAZlY/gpoAc7GU2Ro/s1600-h/P1020368%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020368" style="display: inline" alt="P1020368" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-TIc4dRzHEFo/UhhvTmDE0gI/AAAAAAAAZlg/ENCdqW_ibeo/P1020368_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Whenever I see “goat’s cheese” in the menu, regardless of the exact menu item it appears on, I must take it. I am a sucker for goat’s cheese in much the same way that Jeroen Gerrits is a sucker for sweets; in much the same way that George W. Bush is a sucker for wars; and in much the same way that Poland’s railway system is a sucker for… well… erase that. It just sucks in every context.</p> <p>(Yes, Poland; I’m still deeply offended)</p> <p>Main courses followed shortly, mine being a delicious cut of beef rib‐steak—despite its questionable look:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hEnZRolKlq8/UhhvUGF0mTI/AAAAAAAAZlo/ydLMJ108z_o/s1600-h/P1020369%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020369" style="display: inline" alt="P1020369" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MQ1Y4-N3nPQ/UhhvUtcUfbI/AAAAAAAAZlw/H0vdGnUIEJk/P1020369_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Spicy red butter on top, and consuming this entire meal while gazing at one of the prettiest views I have <em>ever</em> seen—felt like I’m in heaven. I just wanted to sit there and sit there and never get up. It was just <em>so</em> relaxing.</p> <p>However, there’s also a writing part to this journey so at around 3:00pm I bid the couple goodbye; they went to swim in the pool and I, despite <em>really</em> wanting to take advantage of the pool, decided to go back to the city centre and finish blogging. Took exactly the same route as I took on my way to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GEy2hmlCR98/UhhvVFFqpTI/AAAAAAAAZl4/5Qc-_C9vj-o/s1600-h/P1020370%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020370" style="display: inline" alt="P1020370" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fvk5LeutSYI/UhhvVYrHR7I/AAAAAAAAZmA/zWH0SFtjpM4/P1020370_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ARtXYp5AAIw/UhhvV94x7qI/AAAAAAAAZmI/2ltJd5FmeH0/s1600-h/P1020371%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020371" style="display: inline" alt="P1020371" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FD3y3jFcUgU/UhhvWaSD5YI/AAAAAAAAZmQ/Cto7MGQCn_0/P1020371_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>One of the many festivals and cultural events taking place in Montreux on an annual basis is the <em>Montreux Jazz Festival</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreux_Jazz_Festival">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreux_Jazz_Festival</a>). This festival is the best‐known one in Switzerland and one of the most important festivals in Europe. It started on 1970 as a purely‐Jazz festival, but as years went by, more and more “genres” were allowed in. The list of famous artists who have performed here—some more than once—is very long (refer to the Wikipedia link above for a list of performances over the years).</p> <p>During the Jazz Festival days, Montreux is swamped with tourists coming in from all over the place to celebrate. Businesses are open until late and the town, at day time as well as night time, is full of action. The festival, which at its earliest years was held at the <em>Montreux Casino</em>, now takes place on the promenade along the lake shore—there’s action <em>everywhere</em> you go on that promenade.</p> <p>The buildings—apartment buildings, hotels, businesses—along the main streets of Montreux are so picturesque one finds it hard to resist the temptation to take photos.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1kkmYbjkQVg/UhhvWqoaIDI/AAAAAAAAZmY/yCAdz4QoLl0/s1600-h/P1020372%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020372" style="display: inline" alt="P1020372" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A67jNqYT_yQ/UhhvXAa3GII/AAAAAAAAZmc/LQdQ6llyGVY/P1020372_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Gecg_XtlQmM/UhhvXS2L7jI/AAAAAAAAZmo/_XSkWIS8HrA/s1600-h/P1020373%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020373" style="display: inline" alt="P1020373" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GnrIwQ_tKyA/UhhvX77GRtI/AAAAAAAAZms/gD5HZY4F4ck/P1020373_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>In Montreux, you can never be too far away from the lake; the main streets are literally a stone‐throw away from Lake Geneva, and in spring / summer, flocking the terraces is so pleasant it should be mandated by law in my opinion.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hiqMRt4qy2s/UhhvYYDJv3I/AAAAAAAAZm4/IPXmY4Tl6lQ/s1600-h/P1020374%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020374" style="display: inline" alt="P1020374" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kqRvRR4XMw0/UhhvYxAaHrI/AAAAAAAAZnA/EWI_9SV-rtE/P1020374_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-J2b9w0QufVk/UhhvZOkhOWI/AAAAAAAAZnI/g5h53hgJFw0/s1600-h/P1020375%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020375" style="display: inline" alt="P1020375" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XY8_xn5F2ho/UhhvZlcMzRI/AAAAAAAAZnM/M2swDoEvVyM/P1020375_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The <em>Montreux Palace</em> hotel is located right at the centre of things and is a beauty to look at.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-X-mV_zdNOSY/UhhvaE5gMUI/AAAAAAAAZnU/LYjvtbtphUI/s1600-h/P1020376%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020376" style="display: inline" alt="P1020376" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QrvFcGj_x6E/UhhvanRuCsI/AAAAAAAAZng/aXtTxNGGo1A/P1020376_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EnPJcduBO2o/UhhvbBw9yoI/AAAAAAAAZno/z77ePlrF9jI/s1600-h/P1020377%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020377" style="display: inline" alt="P1020377" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hZBT8gicnBE/Uhhvbu5Kk7I/AAAAAAAAZns/1mZggBfW9Vk/P1020377_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I stopped in two different coffee shops for about two hours, catching up with blogging and uploading whatever I wrote; Wi‐Fi at the hotel was just too expensive to bear and I was lucky enough to find a coffee place offering complimentary Wi‐Fi access.</p> <p>Once done, I took the bus to the hotel—very convenient as buses are <em>free</em> starting 6:00pm on festival nights—unloaded my laptop and took the bus back again to the city centre, heading to the venue.</p> <hr /> <p>There’s so much action at the city centre area that you can’t tell where one venue (being a closed auditorium or an open‐air area) ends and another one begins.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qZ1f3OHGkhI/Uhhvbwh10NI/AAAAAAAAZn4/ET6lQdQtrPg/s1600-h/P1020378%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020378" style="display: inline" alt="P1020378" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qzGzFsa8WsA/UhhvcSM1fUI/AAAAAAAAZoA/Co3QFd3G4E4/P1020378_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <em>Auditorium Stravinski</em>, is located by the promenade. There’s even more action in side than outside: food and drink stands aside, there are even a few bars in here, terraces watching over magnificent views of Lake Geneva and <em>lots and lots of people</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-H8x_58ezgbM/Uhhvc8knmtI/AAAAAAAAZoI/Xe1Ugp5bd7g/s1600-h/P1020379%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020379" style="display: inline" alt="P1020379" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KL-CSHDTuWY/UhhvdRzNouI/AAAAAAAAZoQ/-Fdy-Qc-oSU/P1020379_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0eUcZS81w80/Uhhvd2N-wzI/AAAAAAAAZoY/GXx-ZEro1KA/s1600-h/P1020380%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020380" style="display: inline" alt="P1020380" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lb4hTJOra3E/UhhveX9PzhI/AAAAAAAAZog/OwpgO8T1tZM/P1020380_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fZt-dBW9wtU/UhhverR4ZCI/AAAAAAAAZoo/cNUbOzWgOe8/s1600-h/P1020381%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020381" style="display: inline" alt="P1020381" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-t1T7gRL0wb4/UhhvfL08GBI/AAAAAAAAZow/N1MygkwuTWI/P1020381_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert time approached so I entered the venue at around 7:30pm—fifteen minutes prior to the scheduled start time.</p> <hr /> <p>This venue has a strict no‐camera policy. I entered with mine however vowed to not make use of it (and I didn’t), so, sorry about your luck folks but no concert pictures here.</p> <p>Inside, the venue was split into two—a seated section at the front, and a general‐admission section at the back. My seat was at row 1, between Mark and Richard—however, as it turned out, row 0 existed as well. I have recognized nobody at the front row so something leads me to believe it was reserved for special invitees, perhaps members of <em>something</em>.</p> <p>Some extremely serious filming equipment existed there at the gap between the front row and the stage; the entire concert was filmed from various angles, and video shots were shown on two big screens on either side of the stage. One consequence of the filming equipment being there was that it rendered the <em>Running of the Bulls</em> completely irrelevant (see below).</p> <p>The concert was scheduled to begin at 7:45pm; minutes before that, I already noticed Guy Fletcher spending some time next to one of his keyboards, along with a few crew members. He looked <em>very worried</em>, and so did the others. Flashlights were used. “<em>Feelin’ Good</em>” started playing—and ended, and so did a few songs past that. The guys attempted to fix something that went wrong with the keyboard for about 10 minutes past the concert’s scheduled start time, which prompted Paul Crockford to approach his microphone and apologize to the audience for delay.</p> <p>The concert started at around 8:00pm.</p> <hr /> <p>Other than the slightly disappointing sound—Mark’s voice appeared as if it was broadcasted from a speaker high up in the skies—we had a generally good concert. Nothing out of the ordinary comparing to previous concerts—no setlist surprises and no particular ups or down.</p> <p>A noticeable change comparing to Milano’s concert was, of course, the audience. The Swiss audience doesn’t even come close to the Italian audience when it comes to loud cheers; not to say that the audience didn’t appear to like the show—they did—but going to a concert in Milano and then to a concert in Switzerland is like eating a pizza in Italy and then eating one in Sierra‐Leone: something <em>is</em> missing.</p> <p><em>Sultans of Swing</em> and <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> were the cheer‐squeezing performances of the evening; one good thing that happened (in my opinion) is the <em>Marbletown</em> jam session returning to its “roots” with a good, relaxing quiet period at its beginning.</p> <p>The <em>Running of the Bulls</em> did not take place as the gap between the front row and the stage was occupied by the video‐shooting crew. Not too many fans liked it, it appeared—but the Swiss stage‐security crew stood there and allowed absolutely no interference by anybody.</p> <p>During <em>Piper to the End</em>, some mature fellow approached the stage, ducked during the entire performance holding what looked like a sunflower in his hand; I concluded that he was going to hand it to Mark at the end of the concert—which is exactly what he did. I don’t know, something just appeared very odd in that image—looking around me I noticed other faces with puzzled expressions just as mine. I think even Mark was surprised; he took the sunflower and shook the guy’s hand before departing the stage.</p> <p>The concert ended at around 10:00pm; once the concert was over, leaving the venue took <em>forever</em>. I got a note from Elian saying that Loan is very tired after standing for two hours, so they were staying in one of the bars at the venue. I was hungry so I left.</p> <hr /> <p>After grabbing something quick to eat, I walked back to the hotel, through the Jazz Festival along the lake shore. The views were great and quite a few shots taken for your pleasure.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-t8YgDuyDMEY/UhhvflgzUQI/AAAAAAAAZo4/jf3bX3cNmK0/s1600-h/P1020383%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020383" style="display: inline" alt="P1020383" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-os5YjtPuYW8/UhhvgGCtagI/AAAAAAAAZpA/aG9rWjoDRMw/P1020383_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1S56bz6x-gc/UhhvgVdc9_I/AAAAAAAAZpI/PXIt6oSPCss/s1600-h/P1020384%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020384" style="display: inline" alt="P1020384" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fAdVn3ieVV0/Uhhvg-Lv2ZI/AAAAAAAAZpQ/TyQt8eGgOlI/P1020384_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gXU5XRLlJEE/Uhhvhe4bx8I/AAAAAAAAZpY/YiMoEq5SHtk/s1600-h/P1020385%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020385" style="display: inline" alt="P1020385" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xJuYgPScPOw/UhhvhkZcJYI/AAAAAAAAZpg/Pcg58WKZSx4/P1020385_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hRemDl-3wQA/UhhviP0VlzI/AAAAAAAAZpo/chZxrkzyvnc/s1600-h/P1020386%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020386" style="display: inline" alt="P1020386" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ajo35FJ5GJc/Uhhvis7U46I/AAAAAAAAZps/eVsMUoc5jjg/P1020386_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6b-LJSn01T4/Uhhvi-Z9pbI/AAAAAAAAZp0/AexOdM9ptGs/s1600-h/P1020387%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020387" style="display: inline" alt="P1020387" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eFvBOPQtBuk/Uhhvjv57pkI/AAAAAAAAZqA/uxacBJMKYdY/P1020387_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-G39ZCAxqQYA/Uhhvj7JHwPI/AAAAAAAAZqI/1tpgSnv6-NA/s1600-h/P1020388%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020388" style="display: inline" alt="P1020388" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_6yrV5nTTMg/Uhhvkfgk_3I/AAAAAAAAZqQ/VkRGgsNqyXE/P1020388_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-C3pwaFbN1d0/UhhvkzN-dwI/AAAAAAAAZqY/isH-BHZVZBw/s1600-h/P1020390%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020390" style="display: inline" alt="P1020390" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_bmOUhKl0nY/UhhvlLQ269I/AAAAAAAAZqg/rd_5vpE0CTo/P1020390_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gl6gnIzxJrI/Uhhvlo3GtKI/AAAAAAAAZqo/KmlTMGzf2Pc/s1600-h/P1020393%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020393" style="display: inline" alt="P1020393" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HcnM76bREXw/UhhvmOZUGWI/AAAAAAAAZqw/SICRYhyRReI/P1020393_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-u7MVcWc66tQ/UhhvmUxReTI/AAAAAAAAZq4/BgDF_itkRf8/s1600-h/P1020395%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020395" style="display: inline" alt="P1020395" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ju4MVN1Yhbs/UhhvmwNa1eI/AAAAAAAAZrA/782yBEDEJaU/P1020395_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bie7juRgJBY/Uhhvnu5UysI/AAAAAAAAZrI/-O71SY6uI5s/s1600-h/P1020396%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020396" style="display: inline" alt="P1020396" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-y-Y51RGTIpo/UhhvoKAVzGI/AAAAAAAAZrQ/sKlSqn2RAr8/P1020396_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-iN6poPKkDVI/UhhvoS-mk8I/AAAAAAAAZrY/0MNr55x-LNg/s1600-h/P1020397%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020397" style="display: inline" alt="P1020397" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-U9JxaSyduQA/Uhhvo7erEJI/AAAAAAAAZrg/nYmuqCe-qHg/P1020397_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5Om4dOGLT4k/UhhvpcN56BI/AAAAAAAAZro/-Ln6vKgqR_w/s1600-h/P1020398%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020398" style="display: inline" alt="P1020398" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Rx4-iGITjFY/Uhhvp6qODYI/AAAAAAAAZrs/6MnhP8tbBPA/P1020398_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The <em>Freddie Mercury</em> statue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9r44EughvV0/UhhvqRvR_6I/AAAAAAAAZr4/2dIyoPrYjHk/s1600-h/P1020400%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020400" style="display: inline" alt="P1020400" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JswHUvO2qpk/Uhhvqi38M8I/AAAAAAAAZsA/vBk-_jslwq4/P1020400_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>… And then walking back to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pu9gADaqZVM/UhhvrK2yyiI/AAAAAAAAZsI/QU5fCiVJmXE/s1600-h/P1020402%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020402" style="display: inline" alt="P1020402" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SEQWrM0iYCI/UhhvrqvKwyI/AAAAAAAAZsQ/gQ7Jc2RHkac/P1020402_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JYNzxeAakew/Uhhvr3zNOmI/AAAAAAAAZsY/PdxkweFa6tg/s1600-h/P1020408%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020408" style="display: inline" alt="P1020408" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DgyII7qHls8/UhhvsY4kQvI/AAAAAAAAZsg/LUe0Uq_enRo/P1020408_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2M87aVYr3Ws/UhhvspRDf9I/AAAAAAAAZso/BuU-aKohscQ/s1600-h/P1020409%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020409" style="display: inline" alt="P1020409" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WDY6i9j5-mc/UhhvtH3vmUI/AAAAAAAAZsw/IIdsVx5O9Vk/P1020409_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-d9OO8__Q7aA/UhhvtS7xB3I/AAAAAAAAZs4/qVNQuVdxeYM/s1600-h/P1020410%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020410" style="display: inline" alt="P1020410" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rAqSSyKwow8/Uhhvt2ZWByI/AAAAAAAAZtA/DvuGThyKzfY/P1020410_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qQ1lq9DlO8Q/UhhvucjO_KI/AAAAAAAAZtI/v-r85Ff03i4/s1600-h/P1020411%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020411" style="display: inline" alt="P1020411" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qIOd_TOFy90/Uhhvu011D0I/AAAAAAAAZtQ/nUva2UaG3vM/P1020411_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back at the hotel, took an extended shower and off to bed—July 16 was going to be a long day, travelling to <em>Locarno</em>.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-4470647887051278322010-07-16T05:16:00.001-04:002010-10-13T01:18:37.199-04:00Comment Moderation…<p>Hi,</p> <p>I am writing this while on board the panoramic train from Domodossola to Locarno… Through my BlackBerry.</p> <p>I recently noticed that, for whatever reason, the “Captcha” challenge (the blog functionality presenting commenters with random word to type in an attempt to block spamming) doesn’t work in all cases. Two comments like these were just posted for the Milano concert.</p> <p>Until I get the time to investigate (can’t really do it through the BlackBerry), I turned on comments moderation again so I can block spam comments before they make it to the blog itself and to the RSS feeds. I will delete the offending comments as soon as I get to a Wi‐Fi area.</p> <p>Sorry about that and rest assured that all non‐spam comments will be published.</p> <p>Yours, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-76887540349278807722010-07-15T11:43:00.001-04:002013-12-11T04:00:04.709-05:00Concert Day: Arena Civica, Milano, Italy (July 14, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: in my hotel room in Hotel Nasco, 12:11am, about an hour after the concert.</em></p> </div> <p>Before I go on, here are the pictures taken with Anna’s camera, with herself, Renato and I. Again it was a pleasure to meet such nice and kind people.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Ow1UHEUkAS4/UhhpFeDzLbI/AAAAAAAAZTQ/J7b-TGH6GM4/s1600-h/Isaac%252520e%252520Renato%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Isaac e Renato" style="display: inline" alt="Isaac e Renato" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EWtkscZEf1I/UhhpFxg7wXI/AAAAAAAAZTY/m8E7cIDzUVA/Isaac%252520e%252520Renato_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="228" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Uvg0VHQBrBs/UhhpGUlIR9I/AAAAAAAAZTg/U8_ATNYLn_Y/s1600-h/Isaac%252520ed%252520Anna%252520%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="Isaac ed Anna " style="display: inline" alt="Isaac ed Anna " src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-fwXxNnh6JZg/UhhpG9pM9OI/AAAAAAAAZTo/s4zcfZ4bLEk/Isaac%252520ed%252520Anna%252520_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="229" /></a></p> <p>My train from Rome to Milano was scheduled to depart at 10:15am. As I tucked myself in last night, I had thoughts about postponing the train so I can leave a few hours later—train connections from Rome to Milano (and vice versa) are frequent during the day; however, money for the reservation has already been paid and I had no intention to open another can of worms. While risk is minimal, there are times during this trip that I have absolutely no inclination to take on <em>any</em> sort of risk.</p> <p>Woke up at 8:00am and headed downstairs for breakfast. Before that, I asked the hotel’s receptionist about my route to the central station; the only thing she could suggest to me was a taxi. The most expensive alternative, plus—according to her—nobody could really tell me <em>when</em> the taxi should make it to <em>Roma Termini</em> as morning traffic in Rome is hell on earth.</p> <p>That’s very good news to get less than two hours before your departure time, when the walking distance to the train station is just over an hour in the blazing hot sun—and you hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Entered the breakfast room, threw some random cold cuts and cheese on my plate and chewed while thinking.</p> <p>Decided to walk to <em>Flaminio</em> station and from there take the subway. That’s 20 minutes walk plus 7 minutes on the subway. Sounds trivial, huh? You don’t need to be an expert in Rome’s public transport system to come up with this news‐breaker. Decided to not take much chances though, so I compressed my breakfast experience to about five minutes, went upstairs to grab my stuff and back downstairs for a checkout.</p> <p>– “I decided to walk to Flaminio and from there take the subway”, I said.</p> <p>– “… Oh…”</p> <p>That’s odd, I think. It’s a popular 4‐star hotel and my destination wasn’t some obscure location in a suburb of Rome—it was the damn <em>main train station</em>. You would expect the hotel’s staff to know transport links a bit better than a tourist that has been in Rome for less than 24 hours.</p> <p>Having said that, I should mention that after hearing “Difronte A…”’s worker telling me that the cook hasn’t arrived to work yet and nobody knows when food will be available for serving, I’m pretty much in the stage where nothing can surprise me anymore. The goal of preparation and planning is <em>not</em> to guarantee anything—rather, it is to <em>minimize risk</em>. Shit hits the fan from various angles, so instead of playing it smart and mumble “I didn’t see that coming” when it happens, might as well just accept the fact that you <em>are</em> going to get hit by crap and work on your mental power to withstand that.</p> <p>Walked to Flaminio station and it felt like the sun was angry that morning. I mean <em>come on</em>, <em>sun</em>. Just throw fireballs at us humanoids and get it over with. At least now I know what being roasted feels like; it is <em>not</em> pleasant.</p> <p>Arrived at <em>Roma Termini</em> half an hour before the train’s departure time; job well done. Passed the time doing <em>nothing</em> except gazing at the departure board until the platform number announcement, boarded the train and embarked on a three and a half hours voyage to <em>Milano</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Milano</em> (English: <em>Milan</em>; Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milan">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milan</a>) is the capital of a region named <em>Lombardy</em> in Italy. Its urban area is the largest in Italy and is home for about 7.5 million people.</p> <p>While <em>Roma</em> is so rich in history, and has had tremendous influence on civilization ever since it was established some 2,500 years ago, <em>Milano</em> is still the largest city in Italy and is also the economic and business centre of the country. Transportation‐wise, Milano is of the most important transportation hubs in Europe.</p> <p>One thing Milano is particularly known for is its fashion industry, considered to be a “fashion capital” alongside with NYC, Paris and London. Money‐sucking organizations such as <em>Gucci</em>, <em>Versace</em>, <em>Prada</em> and <em>Armani</em> are headquartered here. Nightlife‐wise, the scene here is just as vibrant as it can get in Italy—and perhaps in the world; people come to party here from all over.</p> <p>My hotel, <em>Hotel Nasco</em>, is located about one kilometre away from the venue however getting to it from the main train station was a bit tricky. Sure I could walk the 4–5 kilometres stretch but that would later translate to thousands of dollars paid to psychiatrists in futile attempts to regain my sanity as the weather there was <em>not pleasant at all</em>. Instead, I decided to email my Personal Assistant #1, Daria, and asked (or, should I say, <em>instructed</em> her) to provide me with the best route to the hotel.</p> <p>Well, apparently Daria gives instructions in the very same manner that she packs for a trip. <em>WAY</em> too much information. I considered hiring a secretary just to read those long three emails I got full of instructions—often contradictory, always misleading. At first I considered maybe I should walk to the hotel after all—at least, I have three long emails to read while being baked walking in Milano’s sun. If one’s going to die under the blazing sun, might as well die while deciphering convoluted instructions.</p> <p>Ended up taking the subway to <em>Cadorna FS</em> and then the regional train to <em>Milano Nord Domodossola</em>, about 500m from the hotel. Total travel time was about 25 minutes and I was happy to step into air‐conditioned space.</p> <p>It was about 3:00pm so I thought how I should pass the time before the concert. One option was to travel to the city centre and explore; the other option was to sleep. I decided to minimize risk again—I was a bit tired and who knows how my night sleep was going to be—and opted at sleeping. Refreshing shower and I headed to bed for a massive three and a half hours nap—waking up at 7:00pm, which was the door opening time at the venue (concert scheduled to start at 9:00pm).</p> <p>I will explore Milano some other time.</p> <hr /> <p>Fresh, alert and happy, I left the hotel and started walking towards the venue. Time’s on my hand and food’s not in my stomach; I didn’t know whether there are any restaurants near the venue, which appeared to be in some sort of a park; so I opted at the first dining option I encountered—a restaurant offering a very interesting menu, mainly around seafood and pizza. Very quick service and I got the best pizza I had in Italy so far—except, of course, for the pizza I had in Trento with Daria which still is a question mark (I couldn’t really taste or smell much at the time of chewing on that pizza; perhaps I should revisit Trento for another attempt at that restaurant).</p> <p>Dessert came in the shape of a nugget‐flavoured ice‐cream, topped with whipped cream and accompanied by a few mushroom‐shaped chocolate buttons infused with something that I’m sure had alcohol in it. It tasted as brilliantly as it sounds.</p> <p>As it was the first time I’m actually <em>reading</em> a restaurant bill in Italy, I noticed an unrecognized charge. I couldn’t recall ever ordering, let alone eating, a dish called “<em>Coperto</em>” so I asked the waiter what it’s all about.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>So there’s another travel information tip for you: “<em>Il Coperto</em>” is actually a <em>cover charge</em>. The government of Italy allowed restaurants to charge this amount—usually a couple of Euros or so—some time ago and of course all restaurants jumped on the opportunity. It is, however, up to the restaurant to decide whether to bill the <em>Coperto</em> individually (as a separate item) or to factor it into the price of the menu items (so you never actually see that charge in your bill).</p> <p>Either way, whether you see that charge on your bill or not, you <em>are</em> charged a cover charge—the only question is whether the price is factored into the price of your order or not. Don’t feel ripped‐off about it; menus should include a notice whether the prices include the <em>Coperto</em> or not.</p> </div> <p>Very good meal and I proceeded to the venue—<em>Arena Civica</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Corso Sempione</em> (Wikipedia—Italian only: <a href="http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corso_Sempione">http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corso_Sempione</a>. English translation by Google: <a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=auto&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fit.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCorso_Sempione">http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=auto&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fit.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCorso_Sempione</a>) is a long tree‐lined boulevard in Milano; my hotel is in that boulevard, and at its south‐end there lies <em>Parco Sempione</em>—a huge park in which the <em>Arena Civica</em> is located.</p> <p>As you approach the park, you come across the <em>Arco della Pace</em> (“Peace Arch”), which reminds a lot of Paris’ famous <em>Arc de Triomphe</em>. The closer you get to the <em>Arco della Pace</em>, the more bars, clubs, pubs and restaurants you see. Turns out (see below) that this area boasts one hell of a nightlife scene.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6IPPRajcjmM/UhhpHQd4NBI/AAAAAAAAZTw/Sb093avYe98/s1600-h/P1020281%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020281" style="display: inline" alt="P1020281" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WElCWMvuHMs/UhhpHic_rEI/AAAAAAAAZT0/eZ08xBybLro/P1020281_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c9XNF1ezOMU/UhhpIHzLXHI/AAAAAAAAZT8/3l5FJMeVma0/s1600-h/P1020282%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020282" style="display: inline" alt="P1020282" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wt19Vy_1pJ8/UhhpIn4tkUI/AAAAAAAAZUI/KGZFVc3-rR4/P1020282_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The <em>Arco della Pace</em> itself is very pretty so I took a few shots of it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-h8IHocCD4Hw/UhhpJCmI-bI/AAAAAAAAZUQ/OoSpJv0apH8/s1600-h/P1020283%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020283" style="display: inline" alt="P1020283" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vhANdqUGCI8/UhhpJZrVjLI/AAAAAAAAZUY/agrOqDgrelo/P1020283_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-o0HBmD_-DZ8/UhhpJ383VpI/AAAAAAAAZUg/LWZdlmfm32g/s1600-h/P1020285%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020285" style="display: inline" alt="P1020285" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9wVcfzS9WzI/UhhpKX-R9cI/AAAAAAAAZUo/8nAHC11bRJg/P1020285_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PT-kL8YLpZM/UhhpKg6m8PI/AAAAAAAAZUw/qodjCdMONP0/s1600-h/P1020287%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020287" style="display: inline" alt="P1020287" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oLBuQoPW5fQ/UhhpLG4hUJI/AAAAAAAAZU4/ORxJ6XNYd_w/P1020287_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PYfzF2TuMGA/UhhpLqRqUGI/AAAAAAAAZVA/s0SONXyHVb0/s1600-h/P1020288%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020288" style="display: inline" alt="P1020288" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-S6DDX3qO0bk/UhhpMISh3gI/AAAAAAAAZVI/cyiq5emjUsk/P1020288_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I then approached the venue and noticed that it was basically a stadium surrounded by a very old‐looking wall.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VG9iJWjJ3Sc/UhhpMZQDahI/AAAAAAAAZVQ/j6KhKbfRcRg/s1600-h/P1020289%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020289" style="display: inline" alt="P1020289" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wTnNHpYgfxk/UhhpM6Uc4sI/AAAAAAAAZVY/ZtXydzOQ7vo/P1020289_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-d8AMiKQiZ1I/UhhpNZvgArI/AAAAAAAAZVg/5HG0j4wg0Hg/s1600-h/P1020290%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020290" style="display: inline" alt="P1020290" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xRnujw6VbNg/UhhpN_zQQrI/AAAAAAAAZVo/4a5G53FBeRQ/P1020290_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ta3fnayFHWk/UhhpOX5U81I/AAAAAAAAZVw/ZBCSTs5xSdw/s1600-h/P1020291%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020291" style="display: inline" alt="P1020291" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DB8K0aripI0/UhhpOnRjc0I/AAAAAAAAZV4/Yar3i-bgoFU/P1020291_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Picked up my ticket—front row, dead centre again—and entered the arena which was almost full at that point.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-854W8wRaZBs/UhhpPH9IZjI/AAAAAAAAZWA/kkO0sDvIRSg/s1600-h/P1020292%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020292" style="display: inline" alt="P1020292" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uz7j6p6SrwI/UhhpPuRWDgI/AAAAAAAAZWI/2pHbOq_1VxQ/P1020292_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mmxqg5-y7GM/UhhpQHOFpwI/AAAAAAAAZWQ/n7QcFwkOHzA/s1600-h/P1020293%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020293" style="display: inline" alt="P1020293" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yhzJ1bPG8nM/UhhpQV0GBqI/AAAAAAAAZWY/v6YmNqqNw24/P1020293_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wac8xvA6LmA/UhhpQzQAwiI/AAAAAAAAZWg/LJYQcjJG-sA/s1600-h/P1020294%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020294" style="display: inline" alt="P1020294" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Bwhxk2YYmrw/UhhpRkpqkZI/AAAAAAAAZWo/y_7RSMTA92s/P1020294_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CvOdEPUmrKs/UhhpSA3nHTI/AAAAAAAAZWw/QwgmbcpUUw0/s1600-h/P1020295%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020295" style="display: inline" alt="P1020295" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2PEB8aRH4tk/UhhpSpPmUBI/AAAAAAAAZW4/lzEm_PIgOpA/P1020295_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9CNRXv17ZUI/UhhpTDQuD7I/AAAAAAAAZXA/_yndv5nUCRY/s1600-h/P1020296%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020296" style="display: inline" alt="P1020296" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1dqXPku43XQ/UhhpTnPf0eI/AAAAAAAAZXI/eupPCSi4T7g/P1020296_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p><em>Mimmo Carrata</em> was there so we greeted each other and agreed to meet later during <em>Telegraph Road</em> by the barriers, following our agreed‐upon positioning strategy. Mimmo appears to be quite the popular figure as I swear he was greeted by at least two million people there. Well, truth be told, he does seem like an extremely nice individual.</p> <p>Concert started at 9:15pm to the sound of particularly loud cheers.</p> <hr /> <p>I can’t exactly recall what was going on during the first two or three songs in the concert. I mean, I do recall what happened; I just can’t recall anything that is related to music. What I do remember, though, was that I was gradually losing weight.</p> <p>If you’re asking yourself how could one lose weight quickly while sitting on his ass watching eight musicians playing, I suggest you go sit at the <em>Arena Civica</em> in a hot, humid evening in mid‐summer. The mosquitoes will do the rest. I’m telling you, folks, they came by the dozens and they feared <em>nothing</em>. Often I clapped my hand to the sound of music while trying to aim the clap at a mosquitoes, hence getting two birds at once (cheering & killing mosquitoes). My success was limited; they just kept on coming and making my life miserable.</p> <p>Looking to my sides, I realized that I was not the only one. Well, they say that misery likes company but my misery didn’t. My misery didn’t care at all; I just wanted <em>out of this hell hole</em>.</p> <p>The band didn’t seem too happy with the mosquitoes either. Not that it affected their playing much, though; how could they play with such a mosquito attack? That’s beyond me.</p> <p>After a few songs, I realized that it’s not worth it. Having defeated Poland and its stupid, degenerate railway system, I am almost ashamed to say that I was going to abort mission and miss the first concert in the tour because of those damn annoying mosquitoes.</p> <p>An enthusiastic Knopfler fan was sitting right beside me. Before the concert, he mentioned that he recognized me as he’s reading this blog but he never actually told me his name; I’m pretty sure on that. He was there with his spouse.</p> <p>The reason I’m telling you this is because after a few songs, the guy just looks at me and hands me something that I was willing to pay €50 right on the spot for. It was a transparent plastic bottle with an image of a mosquito on it, plus some red letters.</p> <p>Whatever has a picture of a mosquito on it and red letters above—regardless of the language—must be a good thing. I think I emptied half of that bottle on my limbs, my neck, face, forehead, you name it. I was still itchy due to previous bites but things improved dramatically from there on.</p> <p>Thank you, buddy. I was just about to leave my seat when you offered your mosquito killer. Hats off to you my man.</p> <p>Anyway. The concert took place as part of the <em>MJF</em>—which I <em>would like to believe</em> stands for “Milano Jazz Festival” (no Internet connection at the moment so I can’t verify). Perhaps that was the reason why taking photographs was considered an act of utter disrespect to local law: whoever was seen holding a camera was immediately approached by an usher and asked to cease and desist. Before the guy approached me, I thought he was just bothering people who appeared to be filming, so I managed to take a few shots for you.</p> <p>(I should mentioned at this point that this blog is the one single reason I am taking shots during concerts; they serve very little purpose to me, but I do realize they serve readers better than they serve me)</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--KQr6bX1vKc/UhhpUKbI4hI/AAAAAAAAZXQ/hTJpNGCd-ng/s1600-h/P1020297%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020297" style="display: inline" alt="P1020297" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8ZWZ-wo7rFU/UhhpUX5sEMI/AAAAAAAAZXY/sQ7cxTfdjmc/P1020297_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cHXrAx1b6wc/UhhpU0wMQ_I/AAAAAAAAZXg/rGCIG8pBzFE/s1600-h/P1020298%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020298" style="display: inline" alt="P1020298" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EegUFF0Y_nU/UhhpVaqOSoI/AAAAAAAAZXo/wLU7FkzDAEU/P1020298_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After a bit of a rocky <em>Coyote</em> solo and an uneventful <em>Prairie Wedding</em> (nothing unusual ever happens during this song), came a <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em> that shook the audience with yet another great outro solo. It was then when I realized that Milano’s audience was the loudest, most passionate audience in Italy so far (and, being the Milano concert the last one in Italy, I guess Milano’s audience wins here). Waves of cheers came from the terraces at the back, much like a hydrogen bomb cutting through seats and people all the way to the front.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XycH-NGPzPw/UhhpV7fbEkI/AAAAAAAAZXw/y4sctrAdgK0/s1600-h/P1020300%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020300" style="display: inline" alt="P1020300" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-byMOUZAojyc/UhhpWFXy38I/AAAAAAAAZX4/GZM4LyACiH4/P1020300_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HOLu6dFhWdc/UhhpW2stTQI/AAAAAAAAZYA/3VF9nl13_Hc/s1600-h/P1020302%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020302" style="display: inline" alt="P1020302" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FXRA3LDWQu8/UhhpXKaFw7I/AAAAAAAAZYI/_QKe9nNomoo/P1020302_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Marbletown</em> in Milano was a bit strange… unusual. Normally, the jam session starts as the last verse fades into a quiet piece, which then gets stronger until Danny hits that cymbal and it’s an all‐out war again with everybody improvising their asses off. This time, however, the “quiet part” was actually <em>at the end</em>; the fade out of the last verse didn’t reach to tones as low as usual—basically a short bridge and then it’s full power again. The quiet part came at the end.</p> <p>I should note though that Matt’s involvement in the Marble‐jam session was much more evident than usual, which is a good thing as he knows how to lead it. Mike kept on reinventing his flute part into something I haven’t heard before—sort of a mixture of his previous routines.</p> <p>Try giving it a listen. Maybe I am deaf.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SZEsMriutjs/UhhpXvEzyqI/AAAAAAAAZYQ/qUEymbsnb20/s1600-h/P1020303%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020303" style="display: inline" alt="P1020303" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NWKc95jWDHI/UhhpYPH5dYI/AAAAAAAAZYY/xnuVI9K2ENY/P1020303_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xmIpL5Zjezs/UhhpYf518eI/AAAAAAAAZYg/jZi-IEr4woE/s1600-h/P1020305%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020305" style="display: inline" alt="P1020305" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tk_etMe0crs/UhhpY5qG12I/AAAAAAAAZYo/tM_TLg8L_bQ/P1020305_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> took some audience members off their feet even before it ended. I was looking around me as the song was approaching its climax and I saw faces ready for war. People had the look on their faces as if they’re hypnotized, just waiting for the last chord to be struck so they can jump and yell their souls out—which is exactly what they did. I knew it was coming so I blocked my ears beforehand—which might be the reason I can still hear today.</p> <p>The last chord in <em>Telegraph Road</em> marked the beginning of the most violent <em>Running of the Bulls</em> I have witnessed so far. All I had to do was just jump one meter ahead; how Mimmo made it from the far‐right to be just steps to my right is way beyond me, but what I do recall is a 55–60 years old man running from behind me and simply crashing full force into me. It was so rude and I was really on the verge of losing it; turned to him and gave him a yell that, regardless of your mother tongue, universally means “<em>WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!</em>”. He mumbled something in Italian and that was that.</p> <p>With the masses attached to the barriers, security had absolutely no chance to control photographing. Lots of people video‐recorded whatever went on from then after; here are two shots of the audience cheering after the first part of the encore.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QcefCK0T8-w/UhhpZJ5IREI/AAAAAAAAZYw/iPQPF8SlyVE/s1600-h/P1020307%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020307" style="display: inline" alt="P1020307" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--g86LUzSkOQ/UhhpZvEd4qI/AAAAAAAAZY4/nIG8N12iaMU/P1020307_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9sVZDC722Qg/UhhpaA3ykoI/AAAAAAAAZZA/XgBJ92J7Y-s/s1600-h/P1020308%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020308" style="display: inline" alt="P1020308" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gS8wSZcaAMk/UhhpauuUYJI/AAAAAAAAZZI/sAFRiQzEZho/P1020308_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As the band took off the stage prior to the last song, fans who were at the first “row” started banging on the metal barriers creating thundering noise. I looked at one of them who was standing to my left; he basically ducked forward and banged on those barriers as if he’s a gorilla trying to break free from a cage. I have only seen animal‐like behaviour such as that on the discovery channel… amazing.</p> <p>The band showed up minutes later with a good performance of <em>Piper to the End</em>, followed by immense cheers from this Knopfler‐hungry audience.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d4iJvHJxdys/UhhpbZMTYyI/AAAAAAAAZZQ/Bbb5VpQO4z4/s1600-h/P1020309%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020309" style="display: inline" alt="P1020309" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_ME2LtuG5DI/UhhpbncsJLI/AAAAAAAAZZY/hi6TB1BdR-I/P1020309_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Q_TeGOyi_Ek/UhhpcI517xI/AAAAAAAAZZg/-_clRRYFlw4/s1600-h/P1020310%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020310" style="display: inline" alt="P1020310" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Tc5xl89HbaE/UhhpckqlCYI/AAAAAAAAZZo/QdLnrzJspOQ/P1020310_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-olJTdubOJLM/UhhpdNudCbI/AAAAAAAAZZw/UihX_nzapnU/s1600-h/P1020311%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020311" style="display: inline" alt="P1020311" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SvDgAugSivY/UhhpdTJq7bI/AAAAAAAAZZ4/81glZi1GqHE/P1020311_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zxwIxHsa8WA/Uhhpd0Q_AKI/AAAAAAAAZaA/KL5I1dzVcAw/s1600-h/P1020312%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020312" style="display: inline" alt="P1020312" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lIksf5EGx70/Uhhpea__x-I/AAAAAAAAZaE/rHXTIVS4kZA/P1020312_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fS7VbweJLbc/UhhpeyctdfI/AAAAAAAAZaM/Y47hbWouVu0/s1600-h/P1020313%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020313" style="display: inline" alt="P1020313" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UagFnrM0bPA/UhhpfBmEtFI/AAAAAAAAZaY/vWTL2Bcd1Qw/P1020313_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hOTKclcZF5I/UhhpftRlwzI/AAAAAAAAZag/iECoAr6nkiA/s1600-h/P1020314%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020314" style="display: inline" alt="P1020314" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6NdF-hTrJbI/UhhpgEGeMLI/AAAAAAAAZak/yka2tqt4Kt0/P1020314_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Show ended at around 11:15pm and it took a while to leave the venue due to bottlenecks at the exits.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-693oubEGRkY/UhhpgsVDQSI/AAAAAAAAZaw/wLt-g90jW3o/s1600-h/P1020316%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020316" style="display: inline" alt="P1020316" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CO089NFa9JU/UhhphFg3aoI/AAAAAAAAZa0/0JbnQURwJEg/P1020316_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lMUqJSwv8bo/UhhphtPWtUI/AAAAAAAAZa8/xPLOgBg42vU/s1600-h/P1020317%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020317" style="display: inline" alt="P1020317" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mou3ZoBWn8A/UhhpiNESndI/AAAAAAAAZbI/VTclC4n_FQM/P1020317_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Walking back to the hotel at the very same route I arrived, I couldn’t believe it was mid‐week. <em>THOUSANDS</em> of people on the streets, flocking the terraces of all pubs, bars, clubs—<em>EVERYWHERE</em>. I don’t even want to know what happens in this city on Saturday nights, or when <em>Milan</em>’s football club wins the national championship (when was the last time that happened, by the way?), or what would happen if Italy won the world cup. Young people in Milano appear to be averse for staying at home: flocking the streets at 11:30pm on weekdays… thrilling.</p> <p>(I should note though that <em>Tel‐Aviv</em> is even crazier in that respect)</p> <p>The <em>Arco della Pace</em> looks magnificent at night. Here are some photos—the first one also capturing the scores of people occupying all available seats on all terraces.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DN3tCEgfSTk/UhhpihtPAAI/AAAAAAAAZbQ/yRyPGLZW0sM/s1600-h/P1020318%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020318" style="display: inline" alt="P1020318" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rlTJZX2OHq0/UhhpjCTjrdI/AAAAAAAAZbY/wE31olW9rM0/P1020318_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QqPExFkWp-Y/UhhpjnkuxCI/AAAAAAAAZbg/q5-dkYX2w6A/s1600-h/P1020319%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020319" style="display: inline" alt="P1020319" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sWBfQVkrLow/UhhpkGmLtQI/AAAAAAAAZbo/cxLp7aI6axc/P1020319_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B_tAt5NY118/Uhhpk7ZcdTI/AAAAAAAAZbw/ZPbqW4eJsqU/s1600-h/P1020320%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020320" style="display: inline" alt="P1020320" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4tZWR6RJ_Bc/UhhplKo-5FI/AAAAAAAAZb4/IL9H5NGBoS0/P1020320_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Uo0ch101kR4/Uhhpln09nDI/AAAAAAAAZcA/IBgHRqqJWHU/s1600-h/P1020323%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020323" style="display: inline" alt="P1020323" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SgYmzsZybH8/UhhpmG7vtiI/AAAAAAAAZcI/TvqE3Vi_c7U/P1020323_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Went back to the hotel and pretty much directly to bed. The next day—July 15—had a 3 hours train ride to Switzerland waiting for me.</p> <p>Signing off this post in a cafe called <em>Mokaccino</em> in Montreux, Switzerland. I arrived here before noon and I was <em>amazed</em> by the beauty of this place. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post for pictures; trust me, you will <em>not</em> regret it.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-38228077409503783762010-07-14T10:05:00.001-04:002013-12-11T03:58:34.693-05:00Concert Day: Cavea (Auditorium Parco della Musica), Rome, Italy (July 13, 2010)<p>It is hard, after spending a few days in the company of two beautiful Italian women (or, as I refer to them, “<em>Personal Assistant #1</em>” and “<em>Personal Assistant #2</em>”. I, of course, was “<em>The Boss</em>”) who were kind enough (or should I say obedient enough) to make me feel like home every minute, to go back again to the routine of wake‐up / train / hotel / nap / concert / hotel. The first element in the chain—“wake‐up”—is arguably the most difficult one to get re‐adjusted to; gone are the days of waking up at 11:00am. I had to wake up early, so my two assistants could drive me to Arezzo’s train station from where I was going to take the train to Rome.</p> <p>Quick breakfast and we were on our way. As we were driving through Toscana’s winding roads through valleys, hills and millions of green, I was thinking to myself when would be the next time I’ll have to privilege to see all of this. What a beautiful country. Perhaps my two assistants will remember the preferred treatment given to them by their Boss and re‐invite me for a few days; who knows. At least I know that I did my best and gave everything I had to my employees.</p> <p>Kisses and hugs on the platform and I bid the duo goodbye; and there the sense of loneliness creeps in again as I depart Arezzo’s train station towards Rome; schedule is going to be quite difficult for the next couple of weeks until the tour is over. Wish me luck.</p> <p>A boring train‐ride to Rome—about two hours and a half—out of which about half an hour was spent dozing off. As we approached <em>Roma Termini</em>, some ugly sights of nasty graffiti (including a few swastika’s; thanks for the warm welcome) dominated the view from the cabin’s windows. Minutes later I arrived at the train station.</p> <p><em>Roma Termini</em>, which is Rome’s central train station, turned out to be more comfortable and easier to navigate that I had thought. It is a fact that the English literacy rate in Italy is not the greatest, so I had a reason to be concerned—who knows when (if at all) I will find someone to give me a hint where to go in case I lost my way?</p> <p>No worries, though. There are around 25 train platforms in this station, which also serves as a bus / tram / subway hub. Looking at Rome’s public transport map, Daria and I figured that I should take metro line A (there are only two metro—subway—lines in Rome) for a few stops, then take another subway to <em>Euclide</em> which is the nearest stop to the hotel.</p> <p>After grabbing a sandwich at the train station—oh, what a wise decision that was (see below)—I followed the signs to the subway line and walked. And walked. And walked. For about 15 minutes!</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Independent travel tip: unless you are absolutely and positively familiar with where you’re going and how long it’s going to take—knowledge that one can only get after actually <em>arriving</em> at the destination—<em>do not</em>, I repeat, <em><u>do not</u></em> stay hungry. If you’re feeling like hunger / thirst is going to strike soon—get something with you for the way, or eat something small even if you have plans for a big meal 20 minutes later. Shit <em>tends to happen</em>, and when you’re in stress, last thing you need is your stomach to yell at you.</p> </div> <p>Got a day‐pass for public transport in Rome for €4. Once again I realized that if there is a way to make money in this world, somebody must already have thought about it: right next to the automated ticketing machines, old women were standing trying to instruct tourists how to use the machine—then extending their hand to you asking you for a tip. Now, granted, the process of ordering a ticket is <em>very complex</em>: it consists of pressing one button to select <em><u>your language</u></em>, another button for the ticket type, inserting coins to the machine and picking up the ticket. 15 seconds and you’re done. I was shocked when a <em>British</em> couple next to me was actually very happy to use this service… but hey. There are many things I don’t understand.</p> <p>Once arriving to <em>Euclide</em>—about 20 minutes later—I activated <em>Google Maps for BlackBerry</em> to guide me to the hotel. About one kilometre away—no problem, so I started walking through insanely winding streets, inclines, declines and whatnot in what appeared to be an upscale area of Rome. The weather: highly unacceptable for human living, very hot, sunny and humid. I had to stop a few times and sprinkle some water on my head; my back, attached to the backpack’s rear pads, became one tremendous pool of sweat.</p> <p>(Sorry about the last one; I’m apparently too much in the habit of providing extraneous details)</p> <p>After about 20 minutes of slow walk (due to the terrain), I noticed that, at the point where <em>Google Maps</em> wanted me to proceed straight instead of turn right, there stood a gate.</p> <p>Now, when you’re hot, semi‐hungry, with a 70L backpack tied around your hips, the last thing you want to see in front of you while navigating in foreign territory is a gate. Especially when the gate is tall, closed, and carries the number “22” on it next to the street’s name.</p> <p>In retrospect, I realized that the entire area I was walking on was actually on a hill; zooming into the map revealed a disturbing fact—<em>Google Maps</em> decided to draw a walking‐line between two paths that have no connection between them. Following <em>Google Maps</em>’ route would first involve trespassing into private property, crossing it to the other end and them jump off a cliff about 40–50 metres high. I figured that this would be a bit tricky to do with a 70L backpack tied around me (and, besides, I’m not a big fan of trespassing) so I decided to seek an alternate route.</p> <p>Retraced and attempted a seemingly‐possible route. About half way through it, I realized that the walking path I was supposed to go through—a walking‐only route down the hill through some crowded bush—was closed to pedestrian access.</p> <p>There I was, stuck in a pretty fancy area in Rome, not knowing where to go and what to do. Looking at the map for yet another route, I realized the distance is going to be too great to bear.</p> <p>Had I not had the <em>Wroclaw Glowny</em> experience stretching my nerves to never‐seen‐before records, I would probably have started panicking already. However, I have already defeated Poland; and whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.</p> <p>Someone was doing painting work at a nearby apartment building. Turned out he spoke a bit of English—just enough so I can understand him after 5 or 6 attempts for each sentence. Conclusion: I’m screwed, and have to walk about 3km walk as penalty.</p> <p>Just as I turned around to leave, a UPS truck approached the very same building. The driver couldn’t speak English if his life depended on it, however through that worker I sort‐of had the idea that yes, the pathway I was going to take is closed for public access.</p> <p>I then asked whether I can hitch a ride to the bottom of the hill, from where I could walk. I didn’t quite understand the response, but I think it had something to do with “I can’t, I am working”. Finally, the delivery recipient showed up and—lo and behold—an almost fluent English speaker!</p> <p>The UPS driver agreed to drive me to the hotel if I am patient enough to wait until he finishes his route—3 stops left. You bet I do! hopped on the truck and for some reason he decided to take me all the way to my hotel before doing any stops. What a kind man—I owe him quite a bit of sweat. Needless to say I made it well worth the while for him.</p> <p>How crazy is that, huh… getting lost at the dead‐ends of a foreign city, and being rescued by a UPS truck after having a 4‐way discussion having only 2 participants speak English. Life <em>is</em> an adventure, I suppose. I was <em>very</em> happy to arrive at the hotel.</p> <p>My hotel, <em>Hotel Villa Garni</em>, is a 4‐star hotel close to the venue (about one kilometre). Super‐quiet location—not too far from Rome’s touristic areas (about two kilometres), and still has lots to see and do around. Great room, fantastic facilities and the price—€55/night—is nothing to complain about. I arrived at around 3:00pm; <em>long</em> shower and straight to bed for a nap.</p> <p>Not for long, though. I just wasn’t in the mood to sleep; after an hour or so, I decided to pack my laptop and go for a stroll around Rome—then have dinner.</p> <p>While walking I realized a <em>much</em> easier route from <em>Roma Termini</em> to my hotel. It’s about 20 minutes walk to <em>Flaminio Station</em>, from where Metro Line A takes you directly to <em>Roma Termini</em> within 10 minutes. Oh, the things you learn just by walking around.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Rome</em> (or <em>Roma</em> in Italian; Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rome">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rome</a>) is the capital of Italy. Now there’s a city with quite a bit of mileage on it—its history spans more than 2,500 years and walking through its streets and looking at the sights makes you realize how small and insignificant you are. Rome is, and always has been, a major influence over western civilization; it is nicknamed “<em>Capital of the World</em>” for that reason exactly.</p> <p>There is <em>no way in hell</em> you can cover everything there is to see and do in Rome in less than, say, a week; let alone one single afternoon. I, of course, accepted it but I <em>will</em>—I repeat: <em><u>I will</u></em> return. If you were thinking about being <em>shot with a cannonball of history</em>, well, Rome is a pretty darn good place to get your fix (I, however, bear stronger sentiments towards <em>Jerusalem</em>; it is, after all, older and is no less impressive than Rome—perhaps even more).</p> <p>Back to my route: <em>Piazza del Popolo</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_del_Popolo">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_del_Popolo</a>) is right next to the <em>Flaminio Station</em>. A huge square that used to be a favourite site for public executions (the last one taking place in 1826), boasting impressive statues and fountains. The square as it looks today was designed by <em>Giuseppe Valadier</em> who was clever enough to link the square with <em>Pincio</em>, the Pincian Hill of ancient Rome; you can see some of the linkage at the last picture of this bunch.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-c_RJ6VFdYY8/UhhkWuxEhyI/AAAAAAAAZIc/cjR53VMG6lo/s1600-h/P1020228%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020228" style="display: inline" alt="P1020228" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nBYeseoq5pY/UhhkW_FNy3I/AAAAAAAAZIk/OZ2mHMBIkDg/P1020228_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SCCuAYqthMM/UhhkXXNTkhI/AAAAAAAAZIs/XyWIsPSoYlU/s1600-h/P1020229%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020229" style="display: inline" alt="P1020229" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_rITjFe7O3M/UhhkXt-pfRI/AAAAAAAAZI0/BkQZ-mZPFZM/P1020229_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OwAX7yaZP8I/UhhkYEvfOBI/AAAAAAAAZI8/5FnNtH_79dE/s1600-h/P1020230%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020230" style="display: inline" alt="P1020230" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Xl46j7hClbA/UhhkYt2TjVI/AAAAAAAAZJE/TRs6Kz4yXSY/P1020230_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-P1_cDkDWwco/UhhkY4LXGGI/AAAAAAAAZJM/B5mt0R6NJ9E/s1600-h/P1020231%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020231" style="display: inline" alt="P1020231" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jgbgQU2mPXo/UhhkZQyLyYI/AAAAAAAAZJU/qmi_cUHmc1U/P1020231_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-q4R2TN22Kfs/UhhkZyY7rZI/AAAAAAAAZJY/2kNXmm82MaU/s1600-h/P1020232%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020232" style="display: inline" alt="P1020232" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-f4weExn5ths/UhhkaFmiAXI/AAAAAAAAZJg/fJpVZ76T7H0/P1020232_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uJJKXlTq6aQ/Uhhka4WZzHI/AAAAAAAAZJs/H8KqaVqgcw0/s1600-h/P1020233%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020233" style="display: inline" alt="P1020233" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xnyIrNMbaIA/UhhkbSatNpI/AAAAAAAAZJ0/w7hITXSM2IY/P1020233_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QSkqLmSZpSQ/Uhhkb-YevJI/AAAAAAAAZJ8/1Bh25N7spHY/s1600-h/P1020234%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020234" style="display: inline" alt="P1020234" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-urffWC0Odlg/UhhkcawWp-I/AAAAAAAAZKE/gYbXgm-_wrU/P1020234_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4onsE9YN2yo/Uhhkcl0I3sI/AAAAAAAAZKM/z8EeTD445MM/s1600-h/P1020250%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020250" style="display: inline" alt="P1020250" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bAESnEemcpc/UhhkdHpPcSI/AAAAAAAAZKQ/V3GUE4QdS7E/P1020250_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Past the <em>Piazza del Popolo</em>, the path splits into three; I chose the middle one (for no apparent reason other than instinct) and proceeded straight ahead. Welcome to Rome’s old city centre area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4UwuWnBINyI/UhhkdvG7TEI/AAAAAAAAZKc/jCq4BibA32g/s1600-h/P1020235%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020235" style="display: inline" alt="P1020235" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-4LVmSc9cPUs/Uhhkd3DIhFI/AAAAAAAAZKk/mY51Q8KixTM/P1020235_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OuqGzHFq5cE/UhhkebFK_fI/AAAAAAAAZKs/PA9sFvChmw4/s1600-h/P1020236%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020236" style="display: inline" alt="P1020236" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7poBUEqt9LY/Uhhke2DCaZI/AAAAAAAAZK0/66-lmt3KG08/P1020236_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>History just screams at you everywhere you look while walking down the narrow streets here.I vowed to return to this place at night time as I just <em>knew</em> it <em>had</em> to be gorgeous.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-03XBzcanFSo/UhhkfJlQ8oI/AAAAAAAAZK8/woTlAcc73AM/s1600-h/P1020237%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020237" style="display: inline" alt="P1020237" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XGL5Eb56BSM/Uhhkfo7ViSI/AAAAAAAAZLE/hcbnSkx8aT0/P1020237_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BA15k0edDlY/UhhkgKm6pPI/AAAAAAAAZLM/_YFC_4Gt6QE/s1600-h/P1020238%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020238" style="display: inline" alt="P1020238" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ApsELbp0IQM/UhhkgSj8fwI/AAAAAAAAZLU/xlKWj9TtjeA/P1020238_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PmaUSXL_jfY/UhhkgzaceWI/AAAAAAAAZLc/JCOev04hBzI/s1600-h/P1020239%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020239" style="display: inline" alt="P1020239" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W2jA_oEZOPs/UhhkhZT_VWI/AAAAAAAAZLg/dDMNKepT574/P1020239_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vQAyJhLz_Uw/Uhhkh5rGaxI/AAAAAAAAZLs/TEXdMgyJy0o/s1600-h/P1020240%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020240" style="display: inline" alt="P1020240" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-naSnawgXy1Y/UhhkiZZgiRI/AAAAAAAAZL0/OmeXLmMXjPg/P1020240_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was around 5:30pm when I decided to sit down for lunch. I got a lead to a place called “Difronte A…” by someone who is familiar with my strong emotional ties with <em>pizza</em>’s and suggested I give the place a chance. Upon entering, I was informed that pizza’s only start serving at 6:00pm.</p> <p>I was already hungry but decided to wait till 6:00pm. In the meantime, I continued rambling around the streets of this magnificent city, all the way down the street to <em>Piazza Venezia</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_Venezia">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_Venezia</a>) where I chose as the boundary of my short exploration of this city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-25LJfPa4-A4/Uhhkirx0JlI/AAAAAAAAZL8/wne0LZdslII/s1600-h/P1020241%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020241" style="display: inline" alt="P1020241" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Uy7YZS62gyk/UhhkjFx9hKI/AAAAAAAAZME/C_r86fteZpo/P1020241_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FyPMtDSswa8/UhhkjgmZ8MI/AAAAAAAAZMM/1_rZOa17dMk/s1600-h/P1020242%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020242" style="display: inline" alt="P1020242" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-z-LZIPK_O1o/Uhhkjyb6FxI/AAAAAAAAZMU/FkEpQjAVXzM/P1020242_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Piazza Venezia</em> is an extremely pretty sight: it is located near (and named after) <em>Palazzo Venezia</em> where the former embassy of the <em>Republic of Venezia</em> used to stand.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uLbAK4O2wYo/UhhkkbkVjQI/AAAAAAAAZMc/upSy4SfJHc8/s1600-h/P1020244%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020244" style="display: inline" alt="P1020244" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-N0zCrvT030A/UhhkkvBuT6I/AAAAAAAAZMk/cA98bnZ5feg/P1020244_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OMZ77RHlWz8/UhhklKqx_dI/AAAAAAAAZMs/w01zU-bzHdo/s1600-h/P1020245%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020245" style="display: inline" alt="P1020245" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-sq7zXFiyngI/Uhhkltm8ecI/AAAAAAAAZMw/rbVcPpkKJ8w/P1020245_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rJ_cGh9kftQ/UhhkmPerHYI/AAAAAAAAZM8/IFxqWWjaL5A/s1600-h/P1020246%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020246" style="display: inline" alt="P1020246" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qudZ0H3gLZM/UhhkmbQ_fTI/AAAAAAAAZNE/B94JMgG2cwo/P1020246_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-r5HCV_RQmq4/Uhhkm2c2owI/AAAAAAAAZNM/Fcrkolfm6Dc/s1600-h/P1020247%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020247" style="display: inline" alt="P1020247" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3xpeGtl4t4A/UhhknVQlVsI/AAAAAAAAZNU/TE0-Mcwk0O8/P1020247_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was 6:00pm already so I started walking back towards “Difronte A…”. Entering the place at 6:15pm and looking forward to chew on some seriously thrilling pizza, I was informed by one of the workers there that <em>someone</em> (either the server or the cook; couldn’t exactly understand) hasn’t arrived yet so unfortunately my pizza cannot be made and / or served. No ETA for arrival either so I was welcome to sit and wait but hey, no guarantee.</p> <p>Just when I thought I experienced <em>everything</em>… I keep getting surprised. At the end of this tour, I’ll have so many stories to tell.</p> <p>As time started to become a sensitive issue, I decided to eat at a nearby restaurant. Don’t really recall its name, but no harm done—it’s not exactly one of those places one would be proud to have visited. Just OK pizza, nothing special. Overpriced too: €12 for pizza & drink and I was still hungry.</p> <p>Another restaurant nearby had an interesting selection of desserts so I sat down for a brilliant tiramisu and the best cappuccino I had in Italy so far. <em>Very well done</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yIQyHYxI39U/UhhknhHMPzI/AAAAAAAAZNc/Vcr_k598ZfM/s1600-h/P1020249%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020249" style="display: inline" alt="P1020249" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-909pKqr__BY/UhhkoNmSYZI/AAAAAAAAZNk/z6RJmqvrW0g/P1020249_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Half an hour walk back to the hotel, unloaded the laptop and headed to the venue—about 10 minutes walk north.</p> <hr /> <p>The name of the venue as it appeared on the official <em>markknopfler.com</em> website is misleading: there is no such thing as “Cavea Auditorium” in Rome: what there <em>is</em> is a huge music complex called <em>Auditorium Parco della Musica</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parco_della_Musica">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parco_della_Musica</a>), which is a music complex offering four locations in which concerts can take place—one of which is called “<em>Cavea</em>”.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket owners were instructed to pick their tickets up at a certain booth; well, this is Italy after all—order and organization aren’t exactly the most evident traits here so after waiting in line for 10 minutes I was instructed to go to a different line.</p> <p>Was good to meet <em>Mimmo Carreta</em> and <em>Marco Caviglia</em> there—the sight of familiar faces is always a good boost for morale, especially when the faces are the facade of interesting & nice people. Picked‐up the five tickets—one for myself and four for sale to the lucky two couples who purchased my American friends’ tickets—and went outside.</p> <p><em>Pasquale</em> and <em>Giacomo</em> were there already with their spouses. Tickets transferred and <em>thank you everybody who helped out</em>. Anna & Renato were there too, was great seeing them; took some photos and they will be published here once I get them by email.</p> <p>Concert time approached so I entered the venue. The <em>Cavea</em> is an open‐air theatre which looked <em>very small</em> to me. I couldn’t find information as to the Cavea’s seating capacity but it reminded me of the venue in <em>Santa Rosa</em>, <em>California</em> (oh Lord, I can’t believe it has been <em>three months</em> since Santa Rosa!) for its size.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--diJOGL5wHA/Uhhkohj-pAI/AAAAAAAAZNs/f86xMoh6Iug/s1600-h/P1020251%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020251" style="display: inline" alt="P1020251" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KPXfwc46Gbk/UhhkpKey67I/AAAAAAAAZN0/1KEyeDmP8fc/P1020251_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1i3qcPCSEtg/UhhkpsGbH6I/AAAAAAAAZN8/xn3SozIYmkU/s1600-h/P1020253%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020253" style="display: inline" alt="P1020253" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-h8fLRMdS6fs/Uhhkp0mgiSI/AAAAAAAAZOE/Iz4zYt-cCxI/P1020253_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TWvy-AFcGOk/UhhkqVzTUgI/AAAAAAAAZOM/dCtb0_gNneE/s1600-h/P1020254%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020254" style="display: inline" alt="P1020254" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SgODua6g6Gg/Uhhkq2nePJI/AAAAAAAAZOU/ThRvgxFmMUo/P1020254_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9bzr5q2bIxs/UhhkrUPjp-I/AAAAAAAAZOc/EcGdQCgIHC0/s1600-h/P1020255%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020255" style="display: inline" alt="P1020255" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UH6h-9SuR54/Uhhkrx2S4MI/AAAAAAAAZOk/KqzfidjlNT8/P1020255_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Another interesting thing about the Cavea is the low stage. the stage couldn’t have been more than 80cm high, and combined with the venue being so small, it felt pretty intimate; while not as impressive as the previous venues in Italy (with regards to surroundings), still it was a concert experience to look forward to. Here’s a shot of my shoes (still the same pair! Yes, my shoes survived the rainy concerts in Scandinavia and the huge mud puddle called <em>Norwegian Wood Festival</em>) and the stage, demonstrating how close everything was.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LipZjVDZa8c/UhhkseB7T7I/AAAAAAAAZOs/freAGaAl47Q/s1600-h/P1020258%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020258" style="display: inline" alt="P1020258" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LKjkUBoQiFM/UhhksqYmcRI/AAAAAAAAZO0/RuuQNy6K0s4/P1020258_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>My seat was at the front row, dead centre and the two couples who got the tickets from me were seated to my immediate right. The concert was scheduled to start at 9:00pm, and by 9:15pm—the concert’s start time—the venue was completely full.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lP5asM8CBUg/UhhktD5-OuI/AAAAAAAAZO8/p_K-61Bdn4c/s1600-h/P1020256%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020256" style="display: inline" alt="P1020256" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6d_QHQA37Iw/UhhktqkMhGI/AAAAAAAAZPE/-OyQhAaKy9w/P1020256_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3syzt4vSKR4/Uhhkt7dpwTI/AAAAAAAAZPM/7ygtoA8lYWo/s1600-h/P1020257%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020257" style="display: inline" alt="P1020257" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-F28chzlM3T4/UhhkuSpiM7I/AAAAAAAAZPU/KmVMboE-69A/P1020257_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The venue’s staff appeared to be a bit averse to the practice of taking photographs so I’m sorry for the somewhat crappy pictures. The pictures which are shot from the side of the stage were taken during <em>Sultans of Swing</em> as I apparently drank way more water than my body could sweat.</p> <p>The <em>Cavea</em> is a small, very small venue but had you heard the audience throughout the concert you would think that you’re in a sold‐out <em>Molson Amphitheatre</em> filled with moderately‐drunk Canucks. The cheers often came long seconds before songs ended, as well as during the songs—any slow‐down by the band was a reason for a wild cheer.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qgMHAIeMwwM/UhhkuwTkspI/AAAAAAAAZPc/-iPZz0QoAk0/s1600-h/P1020260%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020260" style="display: inline" alt="P1020260" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6tXEZEWaCI8/UhhkvJr0DjI/AAAAAAAAZPg/pI7_0NBiNME/P1020260_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SJJZcUXthAE/Uhhkvid4nrI/AAAAAAAAZPs/kXkRwjPKMMI/s1600-h/P1020262%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020262" style="display: inline" alt="P1020262" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RqXi0eB5tOI/UhhkwG7ZqLI/AAAAAAAAZP0/qFjF1Szspbg/P1020262_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YkzO9Ppp7wE/UhhkwVwjbiI/AAAAAAAAZP8/dp4On7AOloU/s1600-h/P1020263%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020263" style="display: inline" alt="P1020263" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qzKIWwENq-4/Uhhkw2gqrYI/AAAAAAAAZQA/7FW2iLqFdlo/P1020263_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MFD_oEuG5CA/UhhkxeGtwiI/AAAAAAAAZQM/OjLvOrhtW-Q/s1600-h/P1020264%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020264" style="display: inline" alt="P1020264" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-miDMsz1R6Mg/Uhhkxkiar4I/AAAAAAAAZQU/udrBnhy1pWw/P1020264_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Unusually strong cheers, though, came during and after <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em>. Mark appeared to have checked his inhibitions somewhere in the dressing room and worked out such a beautiful, touching solo that most audience member (myself included) started cheering half way through it. I can’t seem to recall such a haunting outro solo for this song.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vyyzOHN7UEk/UhhkyHUtAQI/AAAAAAAAZQc/k8ToNcqI8Uk/s1600-h/P1020265%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020265" style="display: inline" alt="P1020265" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LbtbVvTQCyg/UhhkygnfJOI/AAAAAAAAZQk/H24tyfYv0ME/P1020265_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5ZEZgVheY4k/UhhkzJAS5rI/AAAAAAAAZQs/h0w5QfZGKEM/s1600-h/P1020266%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020266" style="display: inline" alt="P1020266" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-17Hf9r74gMM/UhhkzflPrFI/AAAAAAAAZQ0/EffvIKtRE8g/P1020266_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The outro solo of <em>Sultans of Swing</em> also extracted massive cheers as it was of the better ones this tour. I listened very carefully but could only spot one semi‐muted fingerpick towards the end.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-D9Uk7n-pJRY/Uhhkz9dwrEI/AAAAAAAAZQ8/SSrCT8A2plM/s1600-h/P1020268%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020268" style="display: inline" alt="P1020268" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ySdEtG6p18E/Uhhk0UlhgGI/AAAAAAAAZRE/yzhuWzR8MN0/P1020268_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Telegraph Road</em>’s outro solo—not of the top ones during this tour yet pleasant nonetheless—sent the masses towards the stage. Now mind you, there was no barrier between the audience and the stage, and the stage line was not one long straight line but rather shaped like a polygon. My voyage forward—to ensure I can see something during the encore—amounted to one short hop forward; <em>Mimmo</em>, on the other hand, somehow managed to travel a distance of about 10 metres in less than a second, ending his long journey right next to me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wjM1rzfeoSg/Uhhk0qVr45I/AAAAAAAAZRM/IzJnCkYAe4s/s1600-h/P1020269%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020269" style="display: inline" alt="P1020269" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0OzCeKEkfJ0/Uhhk1PjyHbI/AAAAAAAAZRU/5BfjxqolYzs/P1020269_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ArfZNcy6kMo/Uhhk1b8FwnI/AAAAAAAAZRc/O4v-B8YwqYk/s1600-h/P1020270%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020270" style="display: inline" alt="P1020270" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XXpTUZtIM3M/Uhhk10YcGfI/AAAAAAAAZRk/VIQqDJasmbA/P1020270_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I tried to take a few shots while aiming the camera at the audience while stabilizing it on the stage. It didn’t go too well—sorry—but I tried my best to take pictures that will demonstrate what was going on and show you how intimate this entire gig has been.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mefA_Q38_6Y/Uhhk2aL8UEI/AAAAAAAAZRs/XcvWE9jX5pc/s1600-h/P1020271%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020271" style="display: inline" alt="P1020271" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VZwhOBTGeDg/Uhhk2lTsVGI/AAAAAAAAZR0/l5X1SjpH_Mk/P1020271_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AhLcCGqwsm8/Uhhk3AhfrOI/AAAAAAAAZR8/bzTe5UuKmFw/s1600-h/P1020272%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020272" style="display: inline" alt="P1020272" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QdLsZp6-SgA/Uhhk3sJo-YI/AAAAAAAAZSE/UiUsGvmplgM/P1020272_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lOWIs2-J1p8/Uhhk4HtHktI/AAAAAAAAZSM/8YH9GXzP-Gk/s1600-h/P1020273%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020273" style="display: inline" alt="P1020273" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vH3yNJvTL1Q/Uhhk4qOnj5I/AAAAAAAAZSU/3XFtlLJIMDA/P1020273_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-L9tlhablrAo/Uhhk40D-_SI/AAAAAAAAZSc/IpVbF9VKNgI/s1600-h/P1020275%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020275" style="display: inline" alt="P1020275" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-H8EMbLRswBc/Uhhk5Qcw03I/AAAAAAAAZSk/vMTl-b1sxaY/P1020275_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Great encore with wild cheering throughout—I had to duck forward a few times just to not have my eardrums pinched by the massive noise—and the concert ended at around 11:20pm.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WJWo-hc6Iv4/Uhhk5-VFyjI/AAAAAAAAZSs/rznO_6nVxhw/s1600-h/P1020276%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020276" style="display: inline" alt="P1020276" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hk3M9KfmSxU/Uhhk6YVADSI/AAAAAAAAZS0/j4PdLvZwQBg/P1020276_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>By the time I left the venue, I started feeling hungry again. After short contemplation as to what I should do, I decided to go back to the old city area—the same area I walked around earlier that day—and find something to eat there. Took the bus from nearby the hotel all the way to <em>Flaminio</em> station, and started walking from there. Hardly anything was open but people still walked the beautiful streets. I grew hungrier as I walked, really hoping to find some food at the end of my journey—the wonderful <em>Piazza Venezia</em>.</p> <p>Just facing this breathtaking square, there was a small restaurant with a terrace. Ordered a Panini and some water, sat down watching the Piazza and the cars drive by; once done, a small gelato cone from a nearby gelateria and then walked all the way back to the hotel—not before taking one final shot:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-18dXcZJ72MI/Uhhk67cB-WI/AAAAAAAAZS8/FAKm8ZBGBn0/s1600-h/P1020279%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020279" style="display: inline" alt="P1020279" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VQ_lRXouhEI/Uhhk7PWhicI/AAAAAAAAZTE/R0HbGk24W_Y/P1020279_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back at the hotel, caught up with quite a bit of blogging and went to sleep at around 3:00am—short night sleep before the travel to Milano early next morning.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-15522464570906813442010-07-13T21:01:00.001-04:002013-12-11T00:14:40.871-05:00Day Off in Arezzo, Toscana & Concert Day: Arena Santa Giuliana, Perugia, Italy (July 11–12, 2010)<p>Returning to Carmen & Roberto’s home after the hot, humid, sweaty and somewhat obnoxious day, I opened up the room’s windows and went pretty much straight to bed for a good night sleep. Even though there have only been two concerts since the last day off, it seemed as if forever and a day had passed and a day off was certainly due.</p> <p>I spent my first 25 years in a country where the springs and summers equally unbearably hot, with temperatures rising to annoying levels and humidity at the 90% zone. Believe it or not, the summer of 2002 was the last time I experienced such hot & humid Mediterranean weather; I decided to schedule my annual visits back home for December, mostly because that’s considered “winter” there and it’s the only weather I can live with.</p> <p>Spending some time in Toscana, though, brought up distant memories of unbearable summers. I remember the terminal effect that such hotness and humidity have on one’s alertness and altogether will to carry on; it is <em>very annoying</em> and I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody.</p> <p>It seemed like neither the two Italian sisters nor myself were looking for any challenges today; we were invited to visit Roberto’s farm, also in Toscana, about 10–15 minutes drive from the house we stayed at. Quick breakfast, a quick visit to the city centre and off we went to the farm.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0Nm7em01dV4/Uhhe_6L3X1I/AAAAAAAAY64/o58NsptJ948/s1600-h/P1020144%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020144" style="display: inline" alt="P1020144" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-b89lta1VUpw/UhhfAW1No6I/AAAAAAAAY68/HSNYaGkNVh4/P1020144_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YxXxsu3hSjY/UhhfAqZw1hI/AAAAAAAAY7I/hvLjyo-qLXA/s1600-h/P1020147%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020147" style="display: inline" alt="P1020147" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4Z6QHeb2R68/UhhfBA0BonI/AAAAAAAAY7Q/fZjkObLawdA/P1020147_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vzb1h3tfcK0/UhhfBZu0u1I/AAAAAAAAY7Y/rk1qFMxIj7o/s1600-h/P1020148%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020148" style="display: inline" alt="P1020148" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-h8AUJaUmeyk/UhhfB3tH6wI/AAAAAAAAY7g/J5_y7JOhqyI/P1020148_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-u-fRkR4wrss/UhhfCZuC1DI/AAAAAAAAY7o/k1AvAdvopV0/s1600-h/P1020150%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020150" style="display: inline" alt="P1020150" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bJzj3u0AN2o/UhhfCjjN8qI/AAAAAAAAY7s/n8uPM_u20PA/P1020150_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_oW-FnikK9M/UhhfDDRIPEI/AAAAAAAAY74/PbZm_5A9e2U/s1600-h/P1020152%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020152" style="display: inline" alt="P1020152" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XNGBMwk9__M/UhhfDWZPapI/AAAAAAAAY78/-UC2zMpID_4/P1020152_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vZwO82ycEaM/UhhfD-8VepI/AAAAAAAAY8I/_aqreK-sJqk/s1600-h/P1020157%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020157" style="display: inline" alt="P1020157" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Shgm-D9B0lQ/UhhfEf5zWqI/AAAAAAAAY8Q/Eq4p2tmnN18/P1020157_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OGfC62p4pmo/UhhfEzb040I/AAAAAAAAY8Y/_Wacm3gzVJQ/s1600-h/P1020160%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020160" style="display: inline" alt="P1020160" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ia-e6_o2OYg/UhhfFU1I8XI/AAAAAAAAY8g/lszXgZSjb5Y/P1020160_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ri7zM5fYAA8/UhhfFwj4OrI/AAAAAAAAY8o/1eZIAo9Ekig/s1600-h/P1020163%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020163" style="display: inline" alt="P1020163" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-336bfek2izk/UhhfGf1SlqI/AAAAAAAAY8w/Dzq2ZNRtIjU/P1020163_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The farm we visited lies on a <em>huge</em> area—basically, a small hill. Roberto is in the stage of building a few small houses and utility structures there; already made quite the progress and the views of the farm and from it are breathtaking; <em>that’s</em> what life in Toscana are all about, according to Daria. People work very hard here to build and maintain their farms.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YewLNfXv3_c/UhhfGlkzOuI/AAAAAAAAY84/ZTGnz9oy5uk/s1600-h/P1020164%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020164" style="display: inline" alt="P1020164" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kSDz-DSF9oU/UhhfHElFr1I/AAAAAAAAY88/n4R25dZ3ygI/P1020164_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PD2zwFkxrgs/UhhfHS_Q6UI/AAAAAAAAY9I/VUgEvmRIDxI/s1600-h/P1020166%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020166" style="display: inline" alt="P1020166" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Flbpz1uf3VY/UhhfHy9YOhI/AAAAAAAAY9M/OdiBqH-s5Ow/P1020166_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0qfR1xsF2mo/UhhfIfciobI/AAAAAAAAY9Y/0HE9GHRS9rs/s1600-h/P1020167%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020167" style="display: inline" alt="P1020167" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-rMNIYwCYOF0/UhhfIttMrhI/AAAAAAAAY9g/mAEO5vlflz4/P1020167_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qSMia_klaws/UhhfJHtE-aI/AAAAAAAAY9o/Li_hKqANlF8/s1600-h/P1020173%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020173" style="display: inline" alt="P1020173" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1v_qtM6z61U/UhhfJvgOGRI/AAAAAAAAY9s/BQM77bcY9NE/P1020173_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I always claimed that the Italian cuisine is my favourite; however, at the farm, finally I had the chance to eat some home‐made food, courtesy of Carmen who turns out to be one hell of a cook. We had pasta stuffed with spinach and cheese, with meat sauce… but with a twist: other than the meat in the sauce, <em>all ingredients</em> were products of the farm itself. Talk about fresh home‐made <em>organic</em> meal: my <em>God</em> was that delicious.</p> <p>Even the water used to make the pasta are actually “farm‐made”; rather than using municipal water, this pasta was made using water taken from a well in the farm. The side salad? that’s right, <em>everything</em> grown in that same farm.</p> <p>What can I tell you, folks. That’s dining at its best. We also had some <em>Chianti</em> wine (which wasn’t produced at that farm; I don’t think Roberto is planning on a winery).</p> <p>Right after lunch, Roberto took us all for a tour around the farm, showing us the ducks, geese, goats, chickens and other items that he has there in his disposal and you probably don’t.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NSeRg-WS498/UhhfKEXm3II/AAAAAAAAY94/Yn39J2k8vpg/s1600-h/P1020174%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020174" style="display: inline" alt="P1020174" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9Z0zTW2HWOQ/UhhfKnVG4WI/AAAAAAAAY98/MEwjkuDezlQ/P1020174_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6aR45CE78uw/UhhfLPwxJwI/AAAAAAAAY-I/8otd24m2dek/s1600-h/P1020175%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020175" style="display: inline" alt="P1020175" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7eW7E4UtTSQ/UhhfLvlElYI/AAAAAAAAY-Q/IQpxpVzmVaE/P1020175_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0CyU-4kpl7c/UhhfMXVYEPI/AAAAAAAAY-Y/_-Zzt63ZCmA/s1600-h/P1020176%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020176" style="display: inline" alt="P1020176" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wM0bVtGwWh8/UhhfMvnZ_MI/AAAAAAAAY-g/SfH1LoQ4zQY/P1020176_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--Q19Wr9Urkw/UhhfNSxC38I/AAAAAAAAY-o/7_AA6XYnfXo/s1600-h/P1020177%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020177" style="display: inline" alt="P1020177" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LhSLhGHUwqk/UhhfNslkAYI/AAAAAAAAY-w/j5xzobqdwjs/P1020177_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hfpXWTn4FmA/UhhfOPcKIQI/AAAAAAAAY-4/RvvKcuDdISY/s1600-h/P1020178%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020178" style="display: inline" alt="P1020178" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NpM7uNeUaxA/UhhfOhGQFRI/AAAAAAAAY_A/B3UVYpV48as/P1020178_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After the tour, I took some more photos of the area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sER_blj_T0A/UhhfO9BmK4I/AAAAAAAAY_I/QyxTb_gKcGs/s1600-h/P1020179%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020179" style="display: inline" alt="P1020179" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-aHUtFOTROWI/UhhfPp_VyoI/AAAAAAAAY_Q/wrtT0ZpgGI0/P1020179_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9TdmOi7crKk/UhhfQEtTCFI/AAAAAAAAY_Y/wVXGJ2_oXJY/s1600-h/P1020180%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020180" style="display: inline" alt="P1020180" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rm-ZS55fDNY/UhhfQlP5CUI/AAAAAAAAY_c/5GfuUkfTm3U/P1020180_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NAzG34RcXmA/UhhfQ3F37VI/AAAAAAAAY_o/5FrSBknZe3k/s1600-h/P1020182%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020182" style="display: inline" alt="P1020182" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m7Z4y5DKxeE/UhhfRW363YI/AAAAAAAAY_w/Sb5k1NkFm58/P1020182_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Roberto & Carmen probably knew, a long time ago, that I’ll be visiting one day. That’s probably why they set‐up a hammock right there between the trees; I took advantage, of course. I actually spent a few hours on that hammock, resting my head off.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tOtYsxxuZm0/UhhfR-xuDWI/AAAAAAAAY_4/6gkb2dp6pCo/s1600-h/P1020186%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020186" style="display: inline" alt="P1020186" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6TasiEg6vz8/UhhfSfItY6I/AAAAAAAAZAA/c_HzD4aS5u0/P1020186_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--RwphuIPzOQ/UhhfTKGVZRI/AAAAAAAAZAI/KWbNMn_y2Gk/s1600-h/P1020188%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020188" style="display: inline" alt="P1020188" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9piGKWmuANM/UhhfTmSSBWI/AAAAAAAAZAQ/V0fXPccMOIQ/P1020188_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>For dinner, we all went back to the house we were staying at for another round of Toscana farm food, which was of course delicious. That day was a very good eating & resting day, granted. I can only wish for more days like that.</p> <p>Went to bed feeling <em>very happy</em> for a day off well‐spent.</p> <hr /> <p>The next day (July 12) was our last day in Tuscany. <em>Perugia</em> is located about an hour drive from the house we stayed in, so we left home late and got to Perugia about three hours before the concert’s scheduled start time.</p> <p><em>Perugia</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perugia">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perugia</a>) is not located in <em>Toscana</em>; it is located in <em>Umbria</em>, which borders with Toscana. It is the capital of the Italian province by the same name, and is known for its artistic character.</p> <p>The concert was to take place as part of the <em>Umbria Jazz Festival</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umbria_Jazz_Festival">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umbria_Jazz_Festival</a>) which is one of the most important Jazz festivals <em>in the world</em>. Not only Jazz is played at the festival; <em>Sting</em>, <em>Eric Clapton</em> and <em>Phil Collins</em> performed here at least once before.</p> <p>The view from the car’s windows as we entered the city of Perugia wasn’t too promising, however it wasn’t too long before I started noticing the beauty around, as well as the insane terrain this city is built on. As we were driving to get to the venue, we drove uphill, very high grade, roads and alleys so narrow that we all had doubts whether a car can actually pass through. Sharp turns as well; it was such a convoluted ride—one of those rides during which you keep thinking to yourself “no, this can’t be right; I must be doing <em>something</em> wrong”.</p> <p>At the end, though, we arrived at our destination; the entrance to <em>Arena Santa Giuliana</em> is actually located a few steps away from Perugia’s main bus terminal. We parked the car at the parkade right below the bus terminal and went to see what’s what.</p> <p>There appeared to be problems with the <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket collection, with respect to availability time; the tickets were supposed to be available for pickup at 7:00pm but due to technical difficulties they weren’t. That has put us in a bit of a problem as I made plans to meet with the two couples who bought my American friends’ tickets. Anyway, we all met shortly after and decided to meet again closer to show time to do the exchange.</p> <p>Our next task was to find a place to eat. As I was returning from meeting with the ticket buyers, Daria and Valeria were busy talking to somebody. Turned out that was <em>Marco Caviglia</em>, a famous figure within Dire Straits / Mark Knopfler fans as he is in the habit of playing guitar with John Illsley and Chris White from time to time; also, a personal friend of a few band members including Mark Knopfler himself. Daria introduced us to each other as we all started to make our way towards Perugia’s city centre, looking for something to eat. Had a very interesting discussion with Marco on our way there; was interesting to find out that we share similar career paths. Interesting and lovely chap, I must say.</p> <p>(Marco, I’m telling you, flip that “חי” already; come on, make us all proud)</p> <p>Walking through tunnels, following obscure stairwells, we found ourselves at the top of yet another hill in Perugia’s landscape, which appeared to be where most <em>Umbria Jazz Festival</em> action takes place. That city centre area is <em>beautiful</em> to say the least. That’s Italy at its best, folks.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-v3NtbPm6m0s/UhhfUBrneGI/AAAAAAAAZAY/Z_btNCfAbNo/s1600-h/P1020191%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020191" style="display: inline" alt="P1020191" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v_9WATlgAOw/UhhfUQwUNFI/AAAAAAAAZAc/imnboqMFjJM/P1020191_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n-NCsPh47jE/UhhfUxIXO5I/AAAAAAAAZAk/Lc40--Q6goU/s1600-h/P1020192%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020192" style="display: inline" alt="P1020192" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CzISFuZBAaY/UhhfVPj_zeI/AAAAAAAAZAw/KcV3aRKzxNw/P1020192_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0lyq5U-XkkM/UhhfVvfJjjI/AAAAAAAAZA4/2zinzPQ9des/s1600-h/P1020193%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020193" style="display: inline" alt="P1020193" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6pTOI915kOo/UhhfWAB4rHI/AAAAAAAAZBA/63QU42K_W4g/P1020193_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>We all ended up sitting in a pizzeria that offered moderately‐acceptable pizza and absolutely terrible service. As I mentioned to Valeria and Daria at the table, Italian food may be the best food in the world but sometimes I get the feeling that, in restaurants, there sometimes is nobody who’s willing to <em>feed</em> you as quickly as you may wish. It took forever for our orders to arrive, during which everybody at the table was speaking Italian and I kept wishing I could make any sense of what they’re saying.</p> <p>There’s something in the Italian language and the way that Italians speak that makes you really want to be a part of the conversation. People here talk right from the heart, very passionately; laughter here is, at most cases, <em>very real</em>. I should learn Italian. Anyway, I used the waiting time to take a couple of shots of the place, as well as catch‐up with blogging.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c-UPYu83Pgw/UhhfWjI9tKI/AAAAAAAAZBI/FRPROJIJoDk/s1600-h/P1020189%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020189" style="display: inline" alt="P1020189" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-wlQHlWRgEuk/UhhfW5GZ8sI/AAAAAAAAZBQ/QsgkD7xkApE/P1020189_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7I9e8fKn1II/UhhfXe1gHGI/AAAAAAAAZBY/dAjTOOjHKkg/s1600-h/P1020190%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020190" style="display: inline" alt="P1020190" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-o2Y1jlZYALw/UhhfX9syYRI/AAAAAAAAZBg/Vv2mC5L4Qr8/P1020190_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>left the table as soon as I finished eating as I was supposed to meet with the ticket buyers near the venue. However, as I was too busy talking to Marco on our way to the restaurant, I completely neglected to pay attention to the path we took, making me lose my way within one minute of departure. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; see the viewpoint I came across.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-woIDXOqMwR4/UhhfYSl_QcI/AAAAAAAAZBo/cmgXVjGQ5Kk/s1600-h/P1020194%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020194" style="display: inline" alt="P1020194" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a5O3VbBuJYY/UhhfYs0GnZI/AAAAAAAAZBw/03AKr_N4G1U/P1020194_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-t1U92tO92cs/UhhfZEYlG3I/AAAAAAAAZB4/GvJ223C5jYk/s1600-h/P1020195%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020195" style="display: inline" alt="P1020195" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lZEwn31xCsE/UhhfZv2r1CI/AAAAAAAAZCA/DZnZ4g2tqNQ/P1020195_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zHSDKVfq12c/UhhfaMydDAI/AAAAAAAAZCI/-LVz0JtWxUo/s1600-h/P1020196%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020196" style="display: inline" alt="P1020196" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2H54WLtrAz0/UhhfaWvIcbI/AAAAAAAAZCQ/2fazPZfgHdo/P1020196_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As I noticed that my end goal is to actually get to the bottom of the hill, I realized that walking along the road will take about 2,000 years and I should seek those stairs again. I found them, and as I was walking down, I realized how great and convoluted those paths are. I think I stepped down about two millions steps altogether.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lue9KVzuF0k/Uhhfa-eTfCI/AAAAAAAAZCY/glXsYmJ3s-I/s1600-h/P1020197%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020197" style="display: inline" alt="P1020197" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wAoFYhfPnMs/UhhfbRK9h5I/AAAAAAAAZCg/AuneiYWf4r4/P1020197_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dppStoHHCbw/Uhhfb1lFMzI/AAAAAAAAZCk/8iL4hcGhSFM/s1600-h/P1020198%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020198" style="display: inline" alt="P1020198" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gqKz7tVRzlw/Uhhfcb9H8BI/AAAAAAAAZCs/SPV5Afn5PXg/P1020198_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Finally, I made it to the venue; the buyers—one couple from Toronto (!) and one couple from Denver—showed up on time and we had a lovely little chat during which I heard about how they all met and they heard about this little trip I’m doing. They found it a bit hard to fathom at first, but once they noticed I was dead serious about it we were all good and happy.</p> <p>Concert time approached so I entered the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kbJjhO_X8Bg/Uhhfcw6SxfI/AAAAAAAAZC4/2HQ6_0k3Soo/s1600-h/P1020199%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020199" style="display: inline" alt="P1020199" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-rcznLs-mmw0/UhhfdFFSvcI/AAAAAAAAZDA/NNtBORTFYjU/P1020199_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Didn’t take photos of the venue prior to the concert, because I am stupid; I took some during the concert and a few after it was over, so bear with me.</p> <p>What can I tell you, folks… Italy did it again. So far, the <em>Get Lucky</em> venues in Italy are the most impressive of them all. The venue is located right next to the <em>Santa Giuliana Church</em>, featuring a brilliant tower rising behind the arena. You can only see it, however, if you’re standing on the stage looking at the audience.</p> <p>Prior to the concert’s start, I ran into Anna & Renato—two hard‐core Knopfler fans who are also following this blog. <em>Super nice</em> individuals, it’s fun to see nice people getting so excited about concerts. They were kind enough to give me a present—thank you, Anna & Renato! Was great meeting with you.</p> <p>Ran into a few fans who also made it to previous shows in Italy, including <em>Mimmo Carrata</em>, who accidentally met my elbow during the encore at the <em>Lucca</em> concert. Mimmo is well‐known amongst Knopfler fans for his exquisite collection of Mark Knopfler / Dire Straits related items. He is also one of the best English‐speaking Italians I have met so far—very nice chap.</p> <p>The concert started right on time, on 9:30pm.</p> <hr /> <p>Just as the concert in <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em> a few days earlier, the concert in <em>Perugia</em> was also one to remember for many things—not just the music.</p> <p>First of all, the weather. As this arena is in fact in high altitude, a <em>brilliant</em> gentle breeze makes for some lovely experience weather‐wise. It just could not possibly be any better; total feeling of relaxation during the concert.</p> <p>Second, the surroundings. Mark took the time to express his satisfaction with the beauty around us; in fact, Italy wins big in this category so far in the tour, and I am reluctant to believe it’s going to change (although I have heard that the venues in <em>Lyons</em> and <em>Nîmes</em> also have some beauty to offer; we’ll see in a few days). </p> <p>Music‐wise, the concert in Perugia featured one of the most memorable <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> performances. The band played great—as usual—however it was Mark’s work during the outro solo of this song that took this particular performance two steps further. Brilliant, touching Stratocaster touch beautifully complementing John’s whistle work. I am considering purchasing the <em>Simfy Live</em> recording of this show if only for the <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em> performance. It was a total gem.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x4AnGQqA0-w/UhhfdrOvIcI/AAAAAAAAZDI/3mwGZUs1DM4/s1600-h/P1020200%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020200" style="display: inline" alt="P1020200" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5kQP5LHb7zo/UhhfeO8mBeI/AAAAAAAAZDQ/TOSTj6ZOuGI/P1020200_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pWJLLBTUruY/UhhfehWZF4I/AAAAAAAAZDY/LOje_4G3kpw/s1600-h/P1020202%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020202" style="display: inline" alt="P1020202" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yDJo01j_0HM/Uhhfe7KvBmI/AAAAAAAAZDg/M62ZnQk-Vn4/P1020202_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WV-ldIxzqds/UhhffaQx3GI/AAAAAAAAZDo/H7XEstmYXhc/s1600-h/P1020204%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020204" style="display: inline" alt="P1020204" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KykRLuenq-U/Uhhffx-rZ9I/AAAAAAAAZDw/zlwPuyai8fs/P1020204_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yKgqOXU5MH0/UhhfgZvtJMI/AAAAAAAAZD4/0QVJVMl2kLI/s1600-h/P1020207%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020207" style="display: inline" alt="P1020207" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Gk9zNxsVj8g/UhhfgshW_3I/AAAAAAAAZEA/1Kn-vHEFdEI/P1020207_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Unlike the concert in <em>Lucca</em>, nobody was in any rush here; still, two songs less than the median number of songs (14; Lucca—13). No setlist surprises other than that.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UughZfixzjY/UhhfhOCL_eI/AAAAAAAAZEI/avhKeLeomq4/s1600-h/P1020208%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020208" style="display: inline" alt="P1020208" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s10s_QKC8Dc/Uhhfhqz-pKI/AAAAAAAAZEQ/OH-B4Bm7XSk/P1020208_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zQpCK_IuJQY/Uhhfhy7a0zI/AAAAAAAAZEY/632h7Nprjnw/s1600-h/P1020209%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020209" style="display: inline" alt="P1020209" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V3g9HwFy2No/UhhfiYPgTaI/AAAAAAAAZEg/KacnKCrQbrU/P1020209_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The two lucky couples who purchased my American friends’ tickets were <em>very lucky</em>; their seats were actually better than mine, as they were seated to my left, as you can see in the following picture.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0p1beamRp4Y/UhhfipVGf5I/AAAAAAAAZEo/jn29yibKrgI/s1600-h/P1020210%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020210" style="display: inline" alt="P1020210" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5DBCbZxOv7E/UhhfjGPu9GI/AAAAAAAAZEw/FvhQF2u581I/P1020210_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>So except for a spectacular <em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, we also had a very good <em>Marbletown</em> performance. The band is still in the habit of expanding it and exploring ways to make it more and more beautiful—sometimes even working a bit too much, to my taste. Still a beautiful performance but my taste is for a simpler, a bit less bombastic performance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VV5cnQrI1UA/UhhfjuEP0hI/AAAAAAAAZE4/RBOAHumG16k/s1600-h/P1020211%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020211" style="display: inline" alt="P1020211" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-40ysXQzYnZ0/UhhfkGNtoUI/AAAAAAAAZFA/j4KEmX6cw1g/P1020211_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YL7yeDE9P_Y/UhhfkuDaa7I/AAAAAAAAZFI/fV367f5NYiU/s1600-h/P1020213%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020213" style="display: inline" alt="P1020213" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dqi3RU2xlnU/UhhflGX7GHI/AAAAAAAAZFQ/rcv5DqxF4_k/P1020213_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The security staff in Perugia appeared to understand the rules of the <em>Running of the Bulls</em>; a good <em>Telegraph Road</em> performance sent the masses to the stage. Prior to the concert’s start, I informed the two couples of what was going to happen, so they don’t get stuck watching people’s backs during the encore. They complied and got the thrill of watching a great encore from the best standing position in the house.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dtL0pWqVyus/UhhfllvTE6I/AAAAAAAAZFY/G4sccQphVQg/s1600-h/P1020214%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020214" style="display: inline" alt="P1020214" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WtjMdpYx86U/UhhfmDEyhSI/AAAAAAAAZFg/WUyBovEqwOQ/P1020214_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-80wb0fwW9F0/Uhhfmmh-cvI/AAAAAAAAZFo/NOwmiWV8mww/s1600-h/P1020215%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020215" style="display: inline" alt="P1020215" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SkMAFEA3Ino/UhhfnKQTajI/AAAAAAAAZFw/qgxWYfiDVNo/P1020215_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B-IWCLwtyuM/UhhfnrgJNPI/AAAAAAAAZF4/SaTTRm469hQ/s1600-h/P1020216%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020216" style="display: inline" alt="P1020216" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lXhyduLoGXQ/UhhfoJqg8BI/AAAAAAAAZF8/xncPL3Soxfo/P1020216_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-57Z_mG5Il-8/UhhfoYTziKI/AAAAAAAAZGI/fOcVWJ-z6QE/s1600-h/P1020217%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020217" style="display: inline" alt="P1020217" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7y44SWGCXDg/Uhhfo3Js4gI/AAAAAAAAZGQ/exXmvJRmUzw/P1020217_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As usual in Italy so far, fantastic participation of the audience. Before coming to Italy, I was told by many people that Italian fans are crazy, insane, sometimes rude, very noisy and such; I disagree. I don’t consider the Italian fans to be overly‐crazy; in fact, my impression so far is that the Italian audiences are very participating, very hearty and cheer right from the soul. I <em>really</em> am enjoying my time in Italy, and my enjoyment during the concerts has a lot to do with the audience.</p> <p>Hats off to the great Italian audience; with all honesty, folks, I am impressed. It’s not an accident, I think, that Mark & the band play <em>very well</em> here—they get <em>fantastic</em> feedback.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MHbomAKn2SQ/Uhhfpus-pII/AAAAAAAAZGY/3cic2vYhXWU/s1600-h/P1020218%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020218" style="display: inline" alt="P1020218" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ASl3wJJaUzY/Uhhfp8yFCrI/AAAAAAAAZGg/6nKNR_hcNvk/P1020218_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ltcO2-jN1pc/UhhfqmlWOjI/AAAAAAAAZGo/TfiL2CKxJzI/s1600-h/P1020219%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020219" style="display: inline" alt="P1020219" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R4xaHipZbA8/Uhhfq3r6QOI/AAAAAAAAZGw/CAWV_EePmKA/P1020219_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert ended at around 11:30pm. Before heading back to the car, I had the chance to meet with <em>Isabella Lari</em>, an Italian Knopfler fan who’s been following this journey of mine. We kept in Facebook‐touch over the last couple of months and got the chance to finally meet yesterday. She was there with her boyfriend, Carlo Alberto—and was surrounded by many of her friends, also Knopfler fans. We took a few photos together—not with my camera though (if any of you guys is reading this, how about emailing those photos to me? thanks).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-y1PGbdP6Cto/Uhhfre3JEwI/AAAAAAAAZG4/7jUzc3-buGQ/s1600-h/P1020220%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020220" style="display: inline" alt="P1020220" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cNp4LdLMrk4/Uhhfro5V2bI/AAAAAAAAZHA/uKTCSYqku2g/P1020220_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZYeYc-wTuWQ/UhhfsDypO-I/AAAAAAAAZHI/bu6fZs1Ruxg/s1600-h/P1020221%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020221" style="display: inline" alt="P1020221" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-wkZhyTUd7iY/UhhfssBfleI/AAAAAAAAZHQ/ShgpFn1TPhU/P1020221_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Took a few shots of the empty venue before leaving…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ilLKHhMuAPk/UhhftP8NBXI/AAAAAAAAZHY/0liHAUQ_ggA/s1600-h/P1020223%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020223" style="display: inline" alt="P1020223" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a3qKfddFsrI/UhhftqcibzI/AAAAAAAAZHg/p2ENpA_hXJo/P1020223_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ItnKzELgctA/Uhhft5pUD3I/AAAAAAAAZHo/vc-0joK3qbg/s1600-h/P1020224%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020224" style="display: inline" alt="P1020224" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ha_UM8kvJBQ/UhhfuXppDNI/AAAAAAAAZHs/AzB0Luh7aeY/P1020224_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… as well as the surroundings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qnYleAzcsUQ/Uhhfu9DGEzI/AAAAAAAAZH4/HiiHPNhcMes/s1600-h/P1020225%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020225" style="display: inline" alt="P1020225" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YWenW7jzTUo/UhhfvIW-47I/AAAAAAAAZIA/wtOJSSMqnk0/P1020225_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JWPN8FUxtD8/UhhfvzVIL8I/AAAAAAAAZII/Bm_bHgb6P3c/s1600-h/P1020226%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020226" style="display: inline" alt="P1020226" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kRqusNkC3fs/UhhfwBQpzuI/AAAAAAAAZIM/Z-GmExCB_qM/P1020226_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the car and we drove back to Carmen & Roberto’s home, an hour drive away. Straight into bed as the next day (July 13; which is today) was going to be a bit of a long day.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-8608373253401515462010-07-12T21:13:00.001-04:002013-12-11T00:13:07.219-05:00Concert Day: Piazza Napoleone, Lucca, Italy (July 10, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: sitting at the back seat of Daria’s car on our way back from the Lucca concert. We’re driving to Arezzo, and will spend the next three nights there at Daria’s friend’s house.</em></p> </div> <p>I woke up this morning fresh and alert; no more signs of sickness, thank God, but still I had to take those antibiotics I had been prescribed. No problem, Sir: if that’s what it takes to eliminate nasty germs over the next few weeks, so be it.</p> <p>After making Valeria’s apartment my home over the last few days, it was time to pack again. Carefully selected the items to escort me during the next 3 weeks: except for one long‐sleeve shirt, all long‐sleeve shirts are out, as well as the coat. The new shoes I bought, as well as the T‐shirts, turned out to occupy less space than the space I had evacuated; that’s very good news. Nobody wants to carry any unneeded ounce while scouring Italy and Spain in July.</p> <p>Everything I needed fit perfectly in a 70L backpack; as we loaded our belongings onto the car, I once again experienced yet another phenomenon that <em>everybody</em> here, who has ever been a part of a couple, could relate to: <em>the packing</em>.</p> <p>I don’t understand how it is that I squeeze 4 months worth of living into a 70L backpack—<em>one</em> backpack—while these two lovely ladies I’m doing Italy with take three bags. EACH. Their part of the Italy trip consists of spending three nights at a friend’s house; if you seen what they loaded onto the car, you would think they were sent to serve as undercover agents in Zimbabwe for the next 12 years.</p> <p>On behalf of all men, please allow me, the ladies amongst you, to ask you…</p> <p><em>WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH ALL THIS PACKING?!</em></p> <p>Don’t worry, though; we (men) will continue carrying those for you; we all are, after all, only good for very few purposes.</p> <p>The plan was to drive to <em>Lucca</em>—about 4 hours drive—and then drive to <em>Arezzo</em>, in Tuscany, right after the concert. In Arezzo, we would spend three nights—up to and including the night after the <em>Perugia</em> concert. Daria & Valeria have friends there, <em>Roberto</em> & <em>Carmen</em>, who were happy to host us all for a few days.</p> <p>The ride to Lucca was very long, however much longer for Daria & Valeria as they did all the driving. I would be happy to drive but we were not sure whether Daria’s insurance policy would cover anything in case the shit hits the fan (myself being a foreign driver), so we decided to not take any chances.</p> <p>During the ride, all windows were closed and the air conditioner set at maximum capacity; the car was in a pretty good shape but you could see that the air conditioner couldn’t keep up. The temperature outside was <em>unbearable</em>, sunny skies and insane relative humidity. As we stopped along the way to refuel, I was determined to get my tongue on some ice‐cream just to cool off a bit.</p> <p>About an hour after leaving Trento, the terrain became less and less hilly until mountains were nowhere to be seen. From there on, for about a couple of hours, it was a ride through quite the boring plain—until we saw the signs of prettiness again, roughly around the time we were greeted with a sign saying “<em>Toscana</em>”.</p> <p>We were now in <em>Toscana</em> (English: <em>Tuscany</em>), a part of Italy I had heard more than a few good things about; I was excited.</p> <p><em>Toscana</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuscany">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuscany</a>) is a region in western Italy that is known for its terrific landscapes, distinctive food, superb wine (if you ever had the chance to have some <em>Chianti</em>, you may wish to know that it’s produced here in Toscana), as well as a long list of influential people who were born / raised here (Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Galileo Galilei to name a few). The regional capital is <em>Firenze</em> (or “Florence” as it is known in English) and is considered to be one of the world’s top touristic attractions—on average, 10 million tourists flock this city annually.</p> <p>Driving (or, in my case, sitting on my ass in the back seat) through Toscana is quite the thrill with terrific views reflecting through the windows—mountains cover 25% of Toscana’s area while plains cover just over 8%, leaving the rest covered by rolling green hills. Wineries and farms abound as Toscana’s soil is pretty fertile; this is one good region in Italy worth visiting.</p> <p>After a long, long, <em>long</em> ride, we finally arrived at <em>Lucca</em>; found a parking spot and decided to wander around for a bit.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Lucca</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucca">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucca</a>) is the capital city of the Italian province by the same name. It is a beautiful little town, known for its city walls that remained intact since the Rainessance era. The old town area, where most action takes place, is small, full of winding narrow streets through which it’s <em>very</em> easy to get lost. The pictures below show the entrance to the old town area (what looks like a big building), as well as a part of the city walls:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5KhkgTn1Q3c/UhhWShgBJlI/AAAAAAAAYzg/93kGVaGu3pg/s1600-h/P1020100%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020100" style="display: inline" alt="P1020100" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-o4mHjve1hiY/UhhWTBuEA5I/AAAAAAAAYzo/_F_Cda7vBPY/P1020100_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fuhg_qvFzGM/UhhWTg3YSEI/AAAAAAAAYzw/bIT2fryXJp8/s1600-h/P1020102%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020102" style="display: inline" alt="P1020102" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-v59QFWbNEwc/UhhWT5mcMII/AAAAAAAAYz0/mU1Mtm7mvX4/P1020102_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Walking through the gate feels like going back in time…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kGDXF38QkP0/UhhWUYtHfnI/AAAAAAAAY0A/OpURJnElT8I/s1600-h/P1020103%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020103" style="display: inline" alt="P1020103" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OyuDgSV0yuE/UhhWU7Y0KeI/AAAAAAAAY0I/JCJl5f36xMM/P1020103_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UvbMCfr1EIA/UhhWVBgmcCI/AAAAAAAAY0Q/SRfhzacQ6Xg/s1600-h/P1020104%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020104" style="display: inline" alt="P1020104" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gWAO5C2IF3A/UhhWVm0ueEI/AAAAAAAAY0Y/pITI6MI_ddQ/P1020104_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The old town area boasts a decent number of shops and quite a bit of character. The old town area has been going through some modernization over the last few decades but still, there’s a fair bit of history in the air as you walk down the streets.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-siyPVqdKguE/UhhWWV1G10I/AAAAAAAAY0g/nj2dTcDT43E/s1600-h/P1020105%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020105" style="display: inline" alt="P1020105" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_IvMzhfPmF0/UhhWWlHSfBI/AAAAAAAAY0o/aLS6lj4UeKc/P1020105_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v4H-F5EIbuU/UhhWXF_52UI/AAAAAAAAY0w/Hl3ML5q_eYo/s1600-h/P1020106%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020106" style="display: inline" alt="P1020106" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UrrJpqC5rbg/UhhWXowgejI/AAAAAAAAY04/0ijB4PQZB68/P1020106_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Lucca is known to host the annual <em>Lucca Summer Festival</em>; Roger Waters, Eric Clapton and Santana played here in 2006—actually, at the very same square as the band was going to play. The square—<em>Piazza Napoleone</em>—is within 2 minutes walk from the old town’s entrance. Yes, you’re reading this correctly: the concert venue was actually located <em>in a square inside the city</em>. Very peculiar, somewhat exciting, I have to say… I have never experienced anything like this before. Here are pictures of the square, as well as the venue:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZkwF6gu9e8o/UhhWYDOsdMI/AAAAAAAAY1A/HYXS6qUY-HI/s1600-h/P1020107%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020107" style="display: inline" alt="P1020107" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-geH_3WpDCFA/UhhWYb-aI9I/AAAAAAAAY1I/00B0W0vDv7o/P1020107_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sXJhj8KFnfA/UhhWY8aeEYI/AAAAAAAAY1Q/wbLOkRU0FHY/s1600-h/P1020108%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020108" style="display: inline" alt="P1020108" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XJk8VksIFtE/UhhWZXXTFzI/AAAAAAAAY1Y/2iXlrqJcQPg/P1020108_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-h72ZCIE3kO4/UhhWaO4xEqI/AAAAAAAAY1g/bq0RxHW5mK0/s1600-h/P1020109%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020109" style="display: inline" alt="P1020109" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W4RZWO-aLNc/UhhWavxyTTI/AAAAAAAAY1o/oA0Zhq0OJp4/P1020109_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The weather in Lucca was hot & humid beyond any reason; one of those days that you’d much rather spend at home, in the shade, while millions of air conditioners work in harmony to fight the heat that threatens to conquer your fort. Perhaps the obnoxious heat was the reason for Daria, Valeria and I to wander aimlessly for about an hour before settling down in a restaurant for dinner.</p> <p>While doing so, we ran into a few fans we had met before in Padova. Daria also ran into <em>Mimmo</em>, a friend of hers who also turns out to be quite the famous collector of Mark Knopfler / Dire Straits items. Nice chap. We ran into each other (literally) later on during the concert… read on.</p> <p>Helping my American friends out, I also met Thomas, his girlfriend and their two friends (another couple) who were there on time to collect their four tickets at the front row. Thomas is Austrian and apparently this blog has made it to Austria as well. Nice bunch—thanks Thomas & Co for helping out!</p> <p>We finally found a place to cool off for a bit and have some proper dinner. The hot weather really got into us all and we really just needed to rest. Decent pizza and a beautiful salad in a restaurant…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DXUxs3jQL3M/UhhWa8ho9mI/AAAAAAAAY1w/Mvf6rMA3OM8/s1600-h/P1020113%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020113" style="display: inline" alt="P1020113" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6WAcPk5ztZg/UhhWbVOkCbI/AAAAAAAAY14/tz8QkftRI10/P1020113_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>… and then we hopped to the next restaurant—two steps away—for some desserts. Lo and behold, Thomas & Co were there as well and we all had quite a few laughs over ice‐cream and drinks. Good times.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RHyclmzfymE/UhhWb_3kSCI/AAAAAAAAY2A/2aEqy3b-rSA/s1600-h/P1020116%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020116" style="display: inline" alt="P1020116" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SfSKVd5KGqc/UhhWcXBTuVI/AAAAAAAAY2I/AKbj3suQYXo/P1020116_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Then everybody left and I remained on site with my laptop, trying to catch up with some blogging. I’d like to take this opportunity to (again) apologize for the delays but I really have been having so much fun lately.</p> <p>Half an hour later, I returned to the car to unload my laptop and then quickly back to the venue. The time was 9:15pm—about 15 minutes before the concert’s scheduled start time.</p> <p>And that was when things started to get obnoxious, all the way up to the end of the concert—making the <em>Lucca</em> experience one that I would probably prefer to keep in a distant memory block in my subconscious, neighbouring with that of Oslo’s <em>Norwegian Wood Festival</em>. I am not talking about the music, which was good after all—considering; the poor concert experience in Lucca has everything to do with one determining factor: the venue.</p> <p>It started when I approached the venue’s entrance and noticed a line‐up as long and convoluted as <em>Exodus</em> must have been. As the venue was actually a square right at the city centre, blocking all entrances and allowing only the Chosen People in was already a task that would be difficult for any concert planner—and it showed.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0m6JYfKLH4M/UhhWc4HWnoI/AAAAAAAAY2Q/p_oVcGBdjKo/s1600-h/P1020117%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020117" style="display: inline" alt="P1020117" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-k1I8tbz8Tiw/UhhWdAbi6SI/AAAAAAAAY2Y/BZ4R8TwSWQ4/P1020117_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There were two line‐ups: one for the “general admission” section (standing), and one for the “numbered” (seated) section. Well, I should really say that there were two <em>signs</em> pointing to two different line‐ups; what ended up being is a huge bulk of people gathered together with no order whatsoever about 30–40m before the entrance. The first bottleneck was, then, the point where people had to split into either of the line‐ups as that was when the ticket inspection took place.</p> <p>Doesn’t sound too bad, right? well, hang on.</p> <p>You might think that that would be it, but no. Due to the way the venue was laid out, the “numbered seats” line‐up had to continue another 20–30m. There was <em>only one path</em> leading to the seating area, and the entrance to the seating area was at the left‐hand side of the stage, <em>at the front row</em>. That means that whoever needed to get into the seated area had to walk through the same path, cross the front row all the way to the middle and then spread out to the respective seating blocks.</p> <p>That took fucking forever as everybody entering the seated area needed to get instructions as to where their block is. Now you might think that there should be signs there showing where each block starts and where it ends: <em>THERE WASN’T</em>, and that’s why some people had to actually <em>walk back</em> to the entrance to get further instructions, bumping into people who were on their way in.</p> <p>I’m telling you folks, it was complete mayhem. 20 minutes after joining the line, I made it into the seated area (after bypassing a few extremely slow people who just seemed to stand there doing nothing) <em>exactly</em> when “<em>Feelin’ Good</em>” started playing. I had absolutely no clue where my block was (as I couldn’t understand Italian and there was no signage) so I had to rely on recent history and conclude that my seat should be somewhere near the centre.</p> <p>I quickly ran into Thomas and his bunch; I knew that they’re at the same block as I am, just a few seats away. From Thomas’ seat, I started counting seat numbers until I reached number 16: it was occupied by a chap that was apparently full of hopes for the seat to remain empty. I could see his motive: it was the dead‐centre of the front row. He left, and as I sat down, the girl sitting next to me mumbled something in Italian towards me. I told her “I only speak English, sorry”, to which she replied with “Oh” and that was that.</p> <p>You think the mess is over, huh? You wish.</p> <p>The line‐up outside was so long that it wasn’t before the end of the third song (!) when people finally stopped walking out and about the front row. For some people who were entering the venue at this stage, finding their seats wasn’t their top priority, as they quickly reached for their camera and just stood there taking photos of the band, completely oblivious to the fact that they’re fucking up other people’s enjoyment.</p> <p>The three first songs, then, basically didn’t exist for me as I was too busy ensuring that nobody was stepping on me on their way to their ass‐park, as well as enjoying the view of some assholes’ backs.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dlFPpnFX0-8/UhhWdkSJ3GI/AAAAAAAAY2g/MdmJC60cCqs/s1600-h/P1020118%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020118" style="display: inline" alt="P1020118" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZuTtyVkr5XI/UhhWeG3AyLI/AAAAAAAAY2o/n6uOHP7xSNQ/P1020118_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ftsngWLSjpo/UhhWeWQtL2I/AAAAAAAAY2w/RRQVhRGshOg/s1600-h/P1020120%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020120" style="display: inline" alt="P1020120" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KKAiMC7vVB8/UhhWei0eq3I/AAAAAAAAY20/YCdf9zPr1oQ/P1020120_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PyOThbNKuKs/UhhWfCqmDTI/AAAAAAAAY28/7CxqhfiUEhY/s1600-h/P1020121%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020121" style="display: inline" alt="P1020121" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NMNh3kNOQss/UhhWfs8ODCI/AAAAAAAAY3I/LQGCpRZXoGY/P1020121_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YsugtGLvRd0/UhhWgM6OWrI/AAAAAAAAY3Q/B1gkNQ9eGvg/s1600-h/P1020122%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020122" style="display: inline" alt="P1020122" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5TzsG9ykK3o/UhhWgUL7VII/AAAAAAAAY3Y/A3huh_Iegns/P1020122_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Once people traffic stopped, at last it was time to enjoy the concert. Short concert tonight—not only with respect to the number of songs played (<em>Sailing to Philadelphia</em>, <em>Prairie Wedding</em> and the alternating post‐<em>Marbletown</em> song were not played); the band seemed as if time wasn’t their best friend. Most songs are “open ended” in the sense that the band (well, Mark) can choose when to end them, and in this concert, it seemed as if there was no time to stretch solo‐work beyond minimum. I assumed this was due to some sort of a municipal curfew—after all, the concert is right at the city centre—however, in his diary, Guy Fletcher later mentioned that this was due to air traffic scheduling restrictions.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-crCDHaNb0Og/UhhWg2QEPPI/AAAAAAAAY3g/CyAJAHXHdBw/s1600-h/P1020123%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020123" style="display: inline" alt="P1020123" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-IiY2ntXRUQI/UhhWhTJ5sSI/AAAAAAAAY3o/0YpUl7wp2Jc/P1020123_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bGt1yuf6H5Y/UhhWhuEdWJI/AAAAAAAAY3w/ChbtNgGamyw/s1600-h/P1020143%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020143" style="display: inline" alt="P1020143" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7PUdJq8XR-I/UhhWiNItCHI/AAAAAAAAY30/9VWwbyZ539E/P1020143_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eTcQmft7330/UhhWiQQM2BI/AAAAAAAAY38/v2HM2nrFXfw/s1600-h/P1020127%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020127" style="display: inline" alt="P1020127" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uGAUTYhyMPM/UhhWjPwomvI/AAAAAAAAY4I/p2q8ehp9Jv0/P1020127_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fCYuNECnx_E/UhhWjuy2mHI/AAAAAAAAY4Q/Zk1itv2KD_Q/s1600-h/P1020128%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020128" style="display: inline" alt="P1020128" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-H3TWttAxHMw/UhhWj6g4NEI/AAAAAAAAY4Y/v1WZEFeln5s/P1020128_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The audience’s participation in the concert was, well, Italian: very loud; and as the performance didn’t really leave much time for any pauses, we had shortly less than two hours of continuously active audience participation.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9TVPGmTw6l0/UhhWkX3EFmI/AAAAAAAAY4g/cSmlCyZERzc/s1600-h/P1020130%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020130" style="display: inline" alt="P1020130" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uaYUmyvCHzY/UhhWk-UEz0I/AAAAAAAAY4k/oemTgJ6_4ww/P1020130_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-76n2aV9x1Mg/UhhWlHbdzKI/AAAAAAAAY4w/GgjCwcFtg0M/s1600-h/P1020131%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020131" style="display: inline" alt="P1020131" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qQRFlTSa_So/UhhWlkd481I/AAAAAAAAY40/ya9K5pF6sW0/P1020131_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nOtJTcPMUmY/UhhWmTwlQZI/AAAAAAAAY5A/_hPZ-RbwL0c/s1600-h/P1020133%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020133" style="display: inline" alt="P1020133" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IA_UETfLP8o/UhhWmnmPLCI/AAAAAAAAY5I/G47dr62LhYs/P1020133_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PpJTUMKH61c/UhhWnIIoV5I/AAAAAAAAY5Q/iGKj_iEDJqs/s1600-h/P1020135%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020135" style="display: inline" alt="P1020135" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CiPr1Mm7IxY/UhhWnuCoCaI/AAAAAAAAY5Y/sVsy2DgsLoY/P1020135_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Things, though, started getting ugly and obnoxious again coming the encore. As soon as the last <em>Telegraph Road</em> bar was struck, the bulls started running towards the stage. For me it was a no‐brainer—one step forward—and still I got hit by a flying elbow. My instinctive reaction made me accidentally strike a stray elbow at Mimmo. We turned to each other, recognized each other and agreed to treat this incident as a mere accident and laughed about it (thanks Mimmo, sorry for any pain that might have been caused).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3hJ75zC4wV0/UhhWnwJ-wYI/AAAAAAAAY5g/xf3lVvsoTMo/s1600-h/P1020137%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020137" style="display: inline" alt="P1020137" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-l0Lhxz_O9-s/UhhWoSQnH3I/AAAAAAAAY5o/Dns08uFYMKQ/P1020137_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ixmrfHctTyg/UhhWo3FpmbI/AAAAAAAAY5w/k1742dMs6p0/s1600-h/P1020138%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020138" style="display: inline" alt="P1020138" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JFXj-NKoEB0/UhhWpL-YTDI/AAAAAAAAY50/Ufi8hoMO-2g/P1020138_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-O6Pn39KFkDs/UhhWpsW6U8I/AAAAAAAAY58/QMq015xnYzA/s1600-h/P1020139%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020139" style="display: inline" alt="P1020139" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ltlnSU0Nhu8/UhhWqXKpOJI/AAAAAAAAY6I/jtYP3sx56w8/P1020139_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The sight of the audience standing by the barriers, however, didn’t strike the security staff as much of a desirable sight. They were either misinformed or just not doing their job right, but either way, they started sending people back to their seats. I should say though that they did it quite light‐handed, mostly talking people back to their seats however a few individuals in the audience (a bit far from me, to the right‐hand side of the stage) didn’t appear to like it all too much. I sort‐of got the feeling that a fist fight was to follow; luckily it didn’t happen.</p> <p>It wasn’t before half way through <em>Brothers in Arms</em> when everybody went back their seats, trying all sorts of tactics in order to avoid doing so. One guy decided to sit on the aisle between the two central blocks, right next to me. A security guard came by and the two seemed to have a long discussion with no side showing any sign of retreat. The guy appeared to have taken the new “policy” rather badly so I decided to help him out. I can’t speak Italian to save my life but still, I squeezed a bit to my left and tapped on the right‐hand side of the seat, signalling to him that he’s welcome to share my seat. He appeared to be very happy about it; the security guard, however, didn’t quite know how to compute that chain of events as he was looking at me, looking at the guy next to me, then back at me, then went away.</p> <p><em>So Far Away</em> played wonderfully so I was the first one to stand up and urge everybody around me to follow—which they did. Another gathering next to the barrier and the security guards seemed to take it badly, started talking everybody back to their seats again. <em>Paul Crockford</em> then appeared out of nowhere and instructed the security guards to give us all a break. At the same time, a few fans managed to get Mark’s attention and point at the security guards, asking for his help—which he provided, by signalling to the security people that what they’re doing is absolutely unnecessary.</p> <p>Only then we were left for our lives.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s6Ep4Y1iufA/UhhWqqtOAUI/AAAAAAAAY6Q/9s4sfKFYHmc/s1600-h/P1020140%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020140" style="display: inline" alt="P1020140" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JvUj-FObDfY/UhhWrEXU6iI/AAAAAAAAY6Y/9AfCAHaMreY/P1020140_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-d83jGTw-Cy8/UhhWri11aPI/AAAAAAAAY6g/IYzS0gW5twY/s1600-h/P1020142%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020142" style="display: inline" alt="P1020142" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-va4_piSoK7s/UhhWsGUomyI/AAAAAAAAY6o/cSQ212UoSs8/P1020142_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>So we did actually have a good concert amidst the mayhem concerning the venue. I should also say that the surroundings of the venue—the <em>Piazza Napoleone</em>—is a brilliant place at night and so far Italy wins big time in outdoor venues selection. Having said that, sometimes certain elements make the total experience less favourable; doesn’t matter how well the band would play, still the mayhem at the venue makes it very hard to have great memories left of the experience once the concert is done and you’re on your way home.</p> <hr /> <p>We left Lucca at around 11:45pm. Destination: <em>Arezzo</em>, about 2 hours drive. My great Italian hosts did the driving and for some reason they kept laughing the entire way… not sure why. Shortly after 2:30am, we finally arrived at Carmen’s & Roberto’s house, where we were going to spend the next three nights.</p> <p>Up to my room and just crashed into bed. The day later (July 11) was a day off so no reason to rush anywhere.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-46287771545854793992010-07-11T20:04:00.001-04:002013-12-11T00:12:05.768-05:00Concert Day: Anfiteatro Camerini, Piazzola sul Brenta, Italy (July 9, 2010)<p>Waking up at the morning of July 9, the first concert day after four days off, I was feeling fantastic. Great night sleep; I was alert and full of energy. Of course, the first thing I did was hit the fridge to get some syrup and see whether my taste‐buds were functioning again.</p> <p>They were not, and I was disappointed. I started thinking about what happens if I can never taste anything again? Now about that for a T‐shirt slogan… “I attended the <em>Get Lucky</em> tour in its entirety and all I got is this lousy T‐shirt—and, oh by the way, <em>I can’t smell / taste anything</em>”.</p> <p>The plan for the day was to get a haircut, rest‐up and then drive to <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em>, where the concert was to take place (<em>Padova</em>, mentioned at the various websites as the location of the concert, is actually the nearest sizable city to the venue). Daria’s family was going to join us for the concert.</p> <p>It wasn’t before noon time or so before Daria took me to a barber shop so I can once again resemble a human being rather than an ape. Well, a “barber shop” wouldn’t quite be it. It actually was a unisex hair salon.</p> <p>My past experience with women cutting my hair has so far been… well, how to put it gently… <em>terrible</em>. I never quite knew what it is that made my hair so offensive towards female haircutters that they had to massacre it oh so badly—and, quite frankly, I never really wanted to know. This time however it was different: quick & great work and I was very happy. Finally my scalp could breathe again.</p> <p>On our way walking back to Valeria’s house, we stopped by a <em>Gelateria</em> to get some ice‐cream. I knew I couldn’t taste anything—what I really wanted was just something to cool off with. It was steaming hot outside.</p> <p>A biscuit was stuck in it.</p> <p>I reached to it and took a bite.</p> <p>…</p> <p>… Hey…</p> <p>… Hey! What’s that?</p> <p>… … …</p> <p>YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!</p> <p>OH was I ever so glad to be able to smell and taste anything. I’m back, baby—with full power! <em>HAHA</em>, Italy—there’s no turning back now! Nothing would stop me anymore as I am going to explore your pizzas, pastas, desserts, coffees, ice‐cream and whatever it is you’re going to be throwing at me!</p> <p>I shall never take my taste buds for granted again. And, by the way… that ice‐cream was to die for.</p> <hr /> <p>We were all planning to leave Trento at around 4:00pm. As Daria were finishing up a few things, Valeria and I went to the supermarket to buy some groceries for the road ahead. I was instructed to prepare sandwiches, and you can’t say no to Valeria (she has some impressive authoritative voice); I have always been a good student… so I have been told.</p> <p>At around 4:00pm, Daria showed up with her family; loaded everything onto the vehicle, buckled up and started driving towards <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em>. A pleasant ride of two hours, during which I took a few photos. The other inhabitants of the car didn’t quite understand what it is that I’m so enthusiastic about; I gave up trying to explain.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ymeMkRl5424/UhhSyFcX6nI/AAAAAAAAYqM/cT3Twfg79PM/s1600-h/P1020045%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020045" style="display: inline" alt="P1020045" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QIavaTonYk0/UhhSyuDWNJI/AAAAAAAAYqU/x48OsCVmLEc/P1020045_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1uVt0mdMtrs/UhhSy6fCVPI/AAAAAAAAYqc/MlWUSY7xXtc/s1600-h/P1020046%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020046" style="display: inline" alt="P1020046" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hiA6P2PS8XU/UhhSzk5I3QI/AAAAAAAAYqk/9CqWc87WcXc/P1020046_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XTcq9UEC4hc/UhhS0HMtZTI/AAAAAAAAYqs/o3BaYJXq2iM/s1600-h/P1020047%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020047" style="display: inline" alt="P1020047" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WBcfG0sb_Dc/UhhS0lItNWI/AAAAAAAAYqw/NpTdyoE8BJs/P1020047_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ojwY9FZ5GqY/UhhS0xv_uVI/AAAAAAAAYq8/6m94c6532kA/s1600-h/P1020048%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020048" style="display: inline" alt="P1020048" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HUuUaUBFx_E/UhhS1glj4jI/AAAAAAAAYrE/XLlfYfeCTic/P1020048_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Driving in Italy—and I’m saying this as a passenger as I haven’t had the chance to actually drive in here—must be quite the tedious endeavour. To the typical North American driver—especially the Canadian one—I would definitely recommend to avoid driving here whatsoever, or take some defensive driving training beforehand. Drivers here are far from being courteous; the Canadians might think of Montréal’s drivers as crazy… well, wait till you get to Italy.</p> <p>I guess this is a part of Italian being; not just on the road, but everywhere. Life here is very informal; people here don’t tend to strictly stick to social norms just for the sake of following the herd. For example, the concept of a “line‐up” here is rather elusive comparing to North America (however I have seen worse. Go stand in a line‐up in Israel and tell me what you think). People step into each other’s boundaries, assuming that the other side will be forgiving as the other side will eventually step into theirs.</p> <p>In many respects, Italian & Israeli mentalities are alike; the concepts, then, weren’t new to me.</p> <p>A couple of hours after leaving Trento, we arrived at <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em>.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazzola_sul_Brenta">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazzola_sul_Brenta</a>) is a very small community (less than 11,000 people call this place home) about 15km away from <em>Padova</em>. There really isn’t much to do there; the main attraction there is, as a matter of fact, the area surrounding the venue—<em>Villa Contarini</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Contarini)">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Contarini)</a>—a beautiful set of Baroque‐styled buildings amidst vast greens, alleys and lakes.</p> <p>It was hot, my friends; hot and <em>very humid</em>. After picking up the tickets, we all went to a nearby <em>Gelateria</em> for some cooling aids:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mUBVMFkkyRU/UhhS14SmVSI/AAAAAAAAYrM/P0hVg956CP8/s1600-h/P1020052%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020052" style="display: inline" alt="P1020052" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-z5zjtuVMikk/UhhS2XCf3RI/AAAAAAAAYrU/g3ZFvJZiHrI/P1020052_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>It was there where I met Riccardo and Barbara—a beautiful young couple who bought two of the four front‐row tickets from my American friends through me. Turned out Riccardo has been reading this blog over the last little while; was great to meet the two, and even greater to see them later during the concert enjoying their minds off while being seated at the best seats in the house—heck, their seats were even better than mine! (and you know that sentence can’t really be said too often)</p> <p>Glad you enjoyed it, Riccardo & Barbara, and thank you for helping my friends in time of need!</p> <p>After devouring the sweets and spending almost two (!) hours in that Gelateria, we all decided to head to the venue—a few minutes walk away.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7daqyhyaKRs/UhhS29PLn-I/AAAAAAAAYrc/mMXN4SsrpbI/s1600-h/P1020054%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020054" style="display: inline" alt="P1020054" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gThryiY4TEI/UhhS3SCm4II/AAAAAAAAYrg/AHhpgUQ5Qbs/P1020054_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Villa Contarini</em> is indeed a pretty sight; scores of concertgoers walked by and took pictures, myself included.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ASOs_i6_cLo/UhhS3pNYYiI/AAAAAAAAYrs/r1AfAyDWeKk/s1600-h/P1020055%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020055" style="display: inline" alt="P1020055" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GDdg4uj7yiU/UhhS4RZZR5I/AAAAAAAAYrw/EeQF_EJRBWA/P1020055_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jwtZhqjnRI0/UhhS4lyxYdI/AAAAAAAAYr4/d9Yi8k5YcdY/s1600-h/P1020057%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020057" style="display: inline" alt="P1020057" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9FVdO_EhMsU/UhhS5NVo8xI/AAAAAAAAYsA/CNNA79XJP5I/P1020057_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dAMQ7AsX1tM/UhhS5v6p1lI/AAAAAAAAYsM/N0Wrc5t7a9g/s1600-h/P1020058%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020058" style="display: inline" alt="P1020058" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PCaj0Pc51t4/UhhS6F2rD3I/AAAAAAAAYsQ/Dz-UOMqzUAY/P1020058_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mtA7rrBETc4/UhhS6QjC9hI/AAAAAAAAYsY/5tiAHTqq-kE/s1600-h/P1020059%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020059" style="display: inline" alt="P1020059" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yI4i_BVk1CU/UhhS7LxV_eI/AAAAAAAAYsk/-7kcnrqnK1U/P1020059_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert took place at the huge square just facing the <em>Villa</em>; the audience area was divided in two—reserved seating and general admission (at the back).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-38cNhvrV-po/UhhS7aD8Z5I/AAAAAAAAYss/dYWwzpbRY4c/s1600-h/P1020060%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020060" style="display: inline" alt="P1020060" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-cJTW6qVB54k/UhhS78NOCgI/AAAAAAAAYs0/037oSSsw2uQ/P1020060_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5HCO-ZgqeLY/UhhS8WJkHUI/AAAAAAAAYs8/9xaILNClaVw/s1600-h/P1020062%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020062" style="display: inline" alt="P1020062" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sQWVarQdvsc/UhhS8uiZyjI/AAAAAAAAYtA/RRiKq8v_5ZY/P1020062_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OAFKenMkx2M/UhhS9Fomv-I/AAAAAAAAYtM/eCsEa1S4csM/s1600-h/P1020063%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020063" style="display: inline" alt="P1020063" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-keo2B7r7BNI/UhhS9jucs2I/AAAAAAAAYtQ/KXIcoR0L58U/P1020063_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6VrH4iaVTnQ/UhhS90QwusI/AAAAAAAAYtc/b957d4sT9cM/s1600-h/P1020064%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020064" style="display: inline" alt="P1020064" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8Kk0puL4Euc/UhhS-ST52HI/AAAAAAAAYtg/Fj3W0MATOUo/P1020064_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I was very excited for this concert: I have heard a lot about Italy being quite the thrilling place to attend a concert in, Knopfler being a good case in point as his fan base here is substantial.</p> <p>Many fans who attended this concert also attended other concerts in Europe prior to this one, so it was interesting to meet them again here. I was once again humbled by the exposure this blog has, as people kept coming by to introduce themselves along with very kind words. Thanks guys, much appreciated.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hv-HyW3BwVo/UhhS-1xAJ7I/AAAAAAAAYts/HugPo_TDQD8/s1600-h/P1020068%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020068" style="display: inline" alt="P1020068" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9rgBB7o6V9k/UhhS_QLS7II/AAAAAAAAYt0/Brx8E6lz1pg/P1020068_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-D0W8vXU8_oY/UhhS_4XyJ_I/AAAAAAAAYt8/BM24w0StRIg/s1600-h/P1020069%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020069" style="display: inline" alt="P1020069" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KUIyQr4QO_I/UhhTAGLIKSI/AAAAAAAAYuE/_Wpc5TfSVvs/P1020069_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Rocco</em> from Parma—a fan whom I had met just outside the <em>Royal Albert Hall</em> a month and a half ago, showed up. Turned out that Federico was there as well; Federico is the leader of a Dire Straits tribute band called “Glasgow Sailors”, and he contacted me after the <em>Hurlingham Club</em> gig. We chatted a few times but never met until yesterday. Good chap, and also a talented guitar player by his own right. Good to meet you finally, Federico.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UYA8_j37Qpg/UhhTAt4wCvI/AAAAAAAAYuM/kAnHdhZIVZg/s1600-h/P1020070%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020070" style="display: inline" alt="P1020070" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JlnuVzXIbrs/UhhTBNKlQ3I/AAAAAAAAYuU/LwO57rPZm-Y/P1020070_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert was scheduled to start at 9:30pm and started a few minutes late.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Tk5qCcYYwsY/UhhTBbHGquI/AAAAAAAAYuc/6eR9QoZXiys/s1600-h/P1020071%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020071" style="display: inline" alt="P1020071" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QuHG5jY1zQk/UhhTCH3yw9I/AAAAAAAAYuk/Q5tgullxx_4/P1020071_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zadL3ODkVYk/UhhTCVf0h6I/AAAAAAAAYus/7cJUaQy1a7Q/s1600-h/P1020072%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020072" style="display: inline" alt="P1020072" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KnnvB4quKaw/UhhTC6IsjEI/AAAAAAAAYuw/C9ulzQdxPyo/P1020072_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>My overall impression from the entire concert experience in <em>Piazzola sul Brenta</em> was that, if this concert is of any indication to what Knopfler concerts in Italy are going to be like, then I really am happy to be here.</p> <p>Mark featured a glaring white shirt that I can’t recall being worn so far; as a matter of fact, the band as a whole looked quite fresh as I believe they all had their hair cut (well… except for John).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EpScovcsWGM/UhhTDCZhhFI/AAAAAAAAYu8/8QvCH3eMi6A/s1600-h/P1020073%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020073" style="display: inline" alt="P1020073" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XaNUhC_V298/UhhTDs3ZQII/AAAAAAAAYvE/2fq3c7tHd7s/P1020073_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-EJqiaojXl24/UhhTEduv2OI/AAAAAAAAYvM/fk9zGUeug4k/s1600-h/P1020074%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020074" style="display: inline" alt="P1020074" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6spbLxKE9e8/UhhTE_mkItI/AAAAAAAAYvU/X0V-iScUC4k/P1020074_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YYFfEG2oz6c/UhhTFVRSVxI/AAAAAAAAYvc/MUZPdPGHDfo/s1600-h/P1020076%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020076" style="display: inline" alt="P1020076" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cskpbhoqOlk/UhhTFz84VhI/AAAAAAAAYvk/vSqoM11Y0qM/P1020076_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>An unusually upbeat & positive Mark; something must be going well with his recovery as he was actually standing during most of <em>What It Is</em>. I tell you folks, it was weird to see the man standing and playing for more than a few seconds, after over two months of seated concerts. <em>Very</em> weird. I sure hope though that he sticks to the stool as he <em>does</em> play better this way (my opinion of course). Lots of smiles to the crowd as well.</p> <p>Over the first few songs, I was feeling as if the sound was just way too loud; I didn’t know to what I should attribute the pain in my left ear over the high guitar pitches—could either be the loudness, or maybe some side‐effect from my illness that hadn’t fully gone away. I was led to believe, though, that it was due to the sound; fact is that the problem was addressed about 20 minutes or so into the show.</p> <p>The <em>Anfiteatro</em> is surrounded by many buildings, not all of which are a part of <em>Villa Contarini</em> I’m led to believe. Quite a few people gathered on the balcony of a nearby building and enjoyed a great concert for free. Yes, they <em>did</em> applaud, and very heartily so.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Dwzv6qotDdc/UhhTGKtIzdI/AAAAAAAAYvs/BtbQrNJKYkM/s1600-h/P1020088%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020088" style="display: inline" alt="P1020088" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-60mEEZp02RQ/UhhTGUsjVoI/AAAAAAAAYv0/qTvqQKkppFw/P1020088_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>At night time, the area surrounding the <em>Anfiteatro</em> is really breathtaking. If you don’t believe me, ask Mark himself who, at some point, spread his hands apart and said something along the lines of “what a beautiful place we have here”.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Vsh50KNVo3c/UhhTHHm3caI/AAAAAAAAYv8/530j8cbMz3g/s1600-h/P1020078%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020078" style="display: inline" alt="P1020078" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-70wEDhVFKgM/UhhTHoXCj3I/AAAAAAAAYwE/1Xy9jlYdg0k/P1020078_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KWA9vAg15lM/UhhTH22E0HI/AAAAAAAAYwM/FVCR8jbyvEA/s1600-h/P1020079%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020079" style="display: inline" alt="P1020079" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WT6CZ2-lIP0/UhhTIdEi7sI/AAAAAAAAYwU/GS9BnpjwuPM/P1020079_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rcI8dRmcBhA/UhhTIxnGMpI/AAAAAAAAYwc/vtcq3Tzqay8/s1600-h/P1020087%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020087" style="display: inline" alt="P1020087" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VgwHlDwZgnc/UhhTJdfZyOI/AAAAAAAAYwk/RZJ3jsd-muM/P1020087_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Super‐quick introduction of the band members after <em>Sultans of Swing</em>; <em>Done with Bonaparte</em> and <em>Marbletown</em> followed and I was very curious to see what song was going to play next. Have to say that I wasn’t expecting this—<em>Monteleone</em> came back to life after spending a while off the setlist.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-q_AwQmLfrr0/UhhTJvdfcTI/AAAAAAAAYws/VwAIy_kNvFE/s1600-h/P1020081%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020081" style="display: inline" alt="P1020081" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7biEJpE1VoI/UhhTKLHgRJI/AAAAAAAAYw0/Ppci_L0YJv8/P1020081_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vWrD79D861o/UhhTKms72fI/AAAAAAAAYw8/bUOX9kA1msI/s1600-h/P1020082%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020082" style="display: inline" alt="P1020082" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-o5OVLgMVaCY/UhhTLAWmhWI/AAAAAAAAYxE/LBFSs20yJKw/P1020082_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Dw2FQlpSS2Y/UhhTLvfNe4I/AAAAAAAAYxM/g50Zeh9Z5EI/s1600-h/P1020083%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020083" style="display: inline" alt="P1020083" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LCMWJ_L5NK4/UhhTMCEb_SI/AAAAAAAAYxU/d6oMNK0jtm0/P1020083_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Zuiife7csr8/UhhTM4rJacI/AAAAAAAAYxc/YJHvkH9k8sE/s1600-h/P1020085%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020085" style="display: inline" alt="P1020085" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hKN--BHyPFc/UhhTNHhl-SI/AAAAAAAAYxk/dfYd3r6IrcQ/P1020085_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-x__9TlvY3pI/UhhTNuq2T_I/AAAAAAAAYxs/JgAZfPsyals/s1600-h/P1020090%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020090" style="display: inline" alt="P1020090" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Yp0XTBtI17c/UhhTN8610YI/AAAAAAAAYx0/Lqd_uTPZleY/P1020090_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>This last picture was taken as a reminder for myself of the awe I felt once noticing Richard playing the accompanying acoustic guitar during <em>Monteleone</em>. I believe it was the first time for me watching his fret work closely during this show; definitely not the easiest piece of guitar to play, but somehow this guy just sits there in the dark, looking around while moving his left‐hand fingers so quickly and accurately as if no effort was involved whatsoever.</p> <p><em>Telegraph Road</em> sent the masses to the barriers; that triggered some very swift response from the security team—a bunch of people who appeared to have spent <em>way</em> too much time at the gym. They attempted to get people back at their seats—by talking, of course. Federico, who was standing next to me, explained the situation to one of the security staff who then went ahead to reaffirm the newly‐learned information with his peers; we were all allowed to stand during the encore.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eVi8Xbf1CVE/UhhTOf6DkuI/AAAAAAAAYx4/1WeLV_Mq3iw/s1600-h/P1020093%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020093" style="display: inline" alt="P1020093" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gG4zmWlzFKU/UhhTOkBkpGI/AAAAAAAAYyA/2-2OFPm_-rM/P1020093_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1fDTcuyLsUI/UhhTPQvEVCI/AAAAAAAAYyM/BTP0mzmpgsQ/s1600-h/P1020094%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020094" style="display: inline" alt="P1020094" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Zs1DeMHTcNY/UhhTP3EYvYI/AAAAAAAAYyU/an8aLpEYqPg/P1020094_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Photos were, for whatever reason, disallowed during the encore. The restriction has been lifted towards the end though.</p> <p>The overall experience was fantastic: sitting under clear skies, pleasant wind blowing, beautiful surroundings… and the audience? <em>excellent</em>. I know that the Italian audiences are infamous for being overly vocal to the point of being rude at times, so I was surprised to find the audience to be not much different than, say, <em>Munich</em>’s audience.</p> <p>Great participation by the audience! I think it was the first time for me to hear applause coming <em>from the back</em> all the way forward, rather than the other way around. Also, nobody got killed during the <em>Running of the Bulls</em>; we all had a great standing experience during the encore.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PrDGRMhtEa4/UhhTQRVlKRI/AAAAAAAAYyc/6Rtw4kzmvKA/s1600-h/P1020095%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020095" style="display: inline" alt="P1020095" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CDX9hzgrIls/UhhTQpwJx0I/AAAAAAAAYyk/LR2W42fKKys/P1020095_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert ended at around 11:40pm. Good to have the band back after 4 days of rest; very enjoyable concert!</p> <p>A few pictures of the <em>Villa</em> at night and we went back to the car.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0tZybfmNQoM/UhhTRBQYCdI/AAAAAAAAYys/IdWXcn0RgyE/s1600-h/P1020096%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020096" style="display: inline" alt="P1020096" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Pmr9L7UzWJw/UhhTRsjvl3I/AAAAAAAAYy0/UQQ2CA2cJto/P1020096_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yY0vf4k8Rko/UhhTR4gLg3I/AAAAAAAAYy8/m59OkvYRy3o/s1600-h/P1020098%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020098" style="display: inline" alt="P1020098" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HNwXnWywNjk/UhhTSYfsKkI/AAAAAAAAYzA/gYVr5nA6z70/P1020098_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>Long ride home to Trento, during which, I believe, I dozed for a bit. It wasn’t before 2:30am or so when we arrived to Trento, where we all split to our ways.</p> <p>I am signing‐off this post at 1:53am. It’s July 12 already (Spain won… well‐deserved)—sorry for the late post but, really, I was having way too much fun over the last few days—very well celebrated as I recovered from my illness.</p> <p>We’re actually also past the <em>Lucca</em> concert… which was a totally different experience, and definitely not in a good way. Stay tuned for an upcoming post about it.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-73597102716756444822010-07-11T10:10:00.001-04:002013-12-11T00:10:51.187-05:00Days Off in Northern Italy (July 6–8, 2010)<p>Good to be back, writing nonsense in a small grey font over dark background.</p> <p>The last thing I wrote here before going on hiatus was that I became sick. I remember signing‐off that post while on the train towards <em>Trento</em> in Northern Italy.</p> <p>Here’s a bit of background information: I am rarely sick. I don’t like being sick, so I took a strategic decision a long time ago to not become sick all too often. Therefore, any case of sickness makes me completely miserable.</p> <p>I should say though that I may not be too much of an exception, you know, myself being a man (last time I checked) and all. Comparing to women, men are known to have a inferior pain tolerance when it comes to being ill, and my case is somewhat extreme. Past girlfriends would tell you that when I am sick, I become an unbearable person to be with, speak with, eat with, breathe with, communicate with, coexist with. I can be a major, super pain in the ass when I am sick because I see absolutely <em>nothing</em> more important in the world but the cure for my own sickness.</p> <p>And the reason I wrote all of the above was to introduce this following statement: as the train ride to Trento progressed, the combination of feeling sick as well as tired gave me one of the worst feelings I ever remember experiencing.</p> <p>In retrospect, the reason for me becoming sick <em>must</em> have been the continuous lack of sleep, combined with the obnoxious stress involved with getting into Poland and out of it. I guess my immune system decided to let some questionable organisms through.</p> <p>I remember that, during the train ride, I tried to fall asleep but couldn’t. Instead, my weary head went swaying left and right as my eyes were closed, trying to put itself to sleep with no success whatsoever. At some point, I opened my eyes, looked through the windows and thought I was in another world. The views around me were simply superb—narrow & tall mountains, castles, small red‐roofed houses almost completely hidden beneath the vast trees upon the hills. Attempts to take pictures didn’t go well—I wasn’t even focused enough to get a decent picture to serve as a representative to what I had seen as the train crossed the border from Germany to Austria and then to Italy. All I have is this; sorry:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LSpWpWpXYUQ/UhhPnzSqdTI/AAAAAAAAYZA/pGz0rz-kaw0/s1600-h/P1010860%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010860" style="display: inline" alt="P1010860" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GliQxlz2v4I/UhhPouOYSjI/AAAAAAAAYZI/bByBry3HKxU/P1010860_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qEtIF5zxEC4/UhhPpHgcWMI/AAAAAAAAYZQ/pr4U784wsLY/s1600-h/P1010859%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010859" style="display: inline" alt="P1010859" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-opIvXpjYhPA/UhhPps2GXfI/AAAAAAAAYZY/HMlnyOm577I/P1010859_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It’s about 4 hours train ride from Munich to Bolzano, then an hour ride to Trento: as the train crossed the invisible border from Austria to Italy, the weather became clearer and clearer and the views prettier and prettier. A resident of <em>British‐Columbia</em>, <em>Canada</em> would probably feel at home here as the views are very similar: green high hills, winding rivers, the occasional waterfall. Add blue sky to the combo and you get yourself something very pleasing to the eye. I was happy to depart the train in Bolzano so I could take some pictures.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sn15CTjZQ0E/UhhPqNMxhrI/AAAAAAAAYZg/wy7kwU1bWTg/s1600-h/P1010862%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010862" style="display: inline" alt="P1010862" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Wk1fTVezIk4/UhhPqodHDtI/AAAAAAAAYZk/8xmz9gD7i3Q/P1010862_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZVEPrKmc3uc/UhhPq_RHo-I/AAAAAAAAYZw/O_JNltrtXek/s1600-h/P1010863%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010863" style="display: inline" alt="P1010863" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gg1XyapXTWQ/UhhPrlfXRyI/AAAAAAAAYZ4/3G7eoVFBndg/P1010863_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On top of being in very poor physical condition, I was also very hungry when I got to Bolzano’s train station. A quick ham sandwich and the hunger went away—one problem gone, but my brain still feels like pulp. I started getting really worried once I realized some weird trembling in my hands and legs, signs of a relatively low blood pressure.</p> <p>You shouldn’t be surprised, then, to read how happy I was once the train arrived to Trento. Valeria, Daria’s sister, made it clear that she was there waiting for me as she jumped up in joy to the sight of the half‐dead Canadian wandering around the train station aimlessly looking for a friendly face. Daria showed up a few seconds later; off to the car and we drove to Valeria’s apartment, where I ended up staying for the entire period in Trento.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Trento</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trento">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trento</a>) is the capital city of the <em>Province of Trento</em> in Northern Italy. A bit of a hilly terrain, it is surrounded by impressive hills and mountains; two rivers—<em>Fersina</em> and <em>Avisio</em>—meet here, and the view of the rivers—featuring the brilliant “rock‐flour” color I have only before seen in the Canadian Rockies—creates a view that I can really only describe as <em>GRAND</em>.</p> <p>Call me an ignorant (wait, wait… not so fast, not everybody at once) but my idea of Italy, before coming here for the first time in my life, was different. I never knew that there are parts in Italy featuring such views—it was a great surprise.</p> <p>Daria and Valeria both live in Trento, a few blocks from each other in this quiet city of Trento. Exactly the kind of place suitable for spending a few days in before embarking on the home stretch of this journey; that is, spend a few days by mostly resting and, due to my poor physical condition, healing.</p> <p>As we arrived at Valeria’s house, a quick meal and I finally realized that what I’m going through is pretty much the worst thing I could have imagined would happen to me in Italy.</p> <p>I lost my senses of smell and taste; my nose was running, my throat a bit itchy and I could smell and taste absolutely nothing.</p> <p>Now, please take a moment to consider this. You probably already know that I <em>LOVE</em> Italian food; and now, as I was in the only country in the world where “Italian food” is actually called “food”, I couldn’t enjoy <em>ANYTHING</em> I eat or drink. How ironic is that, huh.</p> <p>It’s just outright cruel. Me having a cold while in Italy is like Diego Maradona having a cold while visiting a room full of cocaine. Like you entering Las Vegas’ “Hard Rock Hotel”’s VIP club on a Saturday night with your spouse. <em>Quite awkward</em> and almost positively destined to be a waste of time.</p> <p>I decided to take a shower immediately after lunch and went straight to bed; and as I thought that my physical condition could not get any worse, how about this—the air in Trento is <em>VERY DRY</em> with relative humidity nowadays bouncing up and down just around the 50% range. It was drier there than in Richard Simmons’ bedroom. Have you ever had a throat infection when the air is so dry?</p> <p>Well, if you didn’t, may I suggest you never do.</p> <p>I was very tired, though; somehow, within I believe about 15 seconds, I fell asleep, waking up about 3 hours later.</p> <hr /> <p>When I woke up, I wasn’t tired anymore but my nose started running so badly that I couldn’t possibly get away without some tissue for more than 2 minutes. I mean it: 2 minutes. The two beautiful Italian women I had the greatest luck in the world spending time with, were already waiting for me in the living room for a trip to a restaurant.</p> <p>Yes, it was a trip to a restaurant. Not your typical 10–15 minutes drive to the city centre: the restaurant we were at was a restaurant serving food that is unique to that particular area of Italy we were at. “<em>Malga Brigolina</em>” (that’s the name of the restaurant) was located at the peak of <em>Bondone Mountain</em>, requiring about 25–30 minutes drive uphill to magnificent views of Trento & its suburbs all around.</p> <p>It was then when I fell in love with this area, as well as felt the sense of victory over the shit I had to go through. Fucked‐up train ride into Poland? Missed train out of Poland? Polish taxi‐cab driver speeding 160 km/h to catch up with a train? Seriously, fuck it all, I say. At the end, I remained standing at the top of the mountain, overlooking absolutely gorgeous surroundings and knowing that I’ll get better during the upcoming days.</p> <p>I had to summon each and every brain‐cell in order to get the tiniest sense of the taste of whatever it was that I ordered (or: whatever it was that Daria & Valeria ordered for me). I can’t recall what it was called (Daria, <em>hit the “comment” button now</em>) but, from the very little taste that I managed to interpret, it was a really tasty dish. The experience altogether was quite surreal: a small restaurant, basically located inside a shack; outside, a few people that look like park rangers sitting sipping some drinks; their dog lying around next to them looking aimlessly at a few bugs that kept buzzing around it. Toilets? outside, in a separate tiny shack.</p> <p>And the views… Oh, the views.</p> <p>An hour and a half at the restaurant for a full, proper meal and we went back. Tucked myself in and blessed the Lord Almighty for the fact that I had <em>NOTHING</em> to do the next day.</p> <hr /> <p>… I am lying. I did have a few things to do: buy some T‐shirts (as I had to get rid of the spring clothes I brought with me. I find it hard to believe I’ll need a coat and four thick long‐sleeve shirts for the next few weeks), buy elegant shoes for the <em>Monte‐Carlo</em> shows, get a haircut… but I couldn’t do <em>any of these</em>. Hell, I couldn’t even concentrate on writing anything for my blog; my sickness got to its worst part as my nose was running like crazy, non‐stop, and I had a terrible headache for the <em>entire day</em>. I had a proper night sleep the night before, but when you’re sick, you tend to get tired faster.</p> <p><em>Screw it</em>, I thought. A quick phone call to the Doctor and Valeria fixed me up with an appointment for noon. Went there, and heard the verdict: basically, a throat infection with all bunch of side‐effects. My sentence: antibiotics and anti‐cough syrup for one week. You know what? It was worth paying €55 (I was too tired to even consult my travel insurer for this) just to know what the hell is going on with my body and when it’s (supposedly) going to end.</p> <p>That day (July 7) was obviously on its way to be a waste of a day as I couldn’t do anything. This is such an annoying thing for a person like myself who has trouble sitting down doing <em>nothing</em> for too long: always has to create something, do something, learn something, optimize something.</p> <p>Witnessing that it wasn’t going to be a very productive day, I resorted to completing my travel arrangements for this journey. Locarno hotel—booked (unless someone here is driving from Locarno to Milan after the concert and is willing to give me a ride); hotels for Spain—booked. The only part that remains open is the last day in Spain, July 31 (Bilbao to Gredos)—still have to decide how I’m approaching this.</p> <p>At the evening, Daria and I went to a restaurant in Trento’s city centre that, according to Daria, is in the business of selling very good pizza: <em>Alla Mostra</em>. On our way there, I was crossing my fingers for my taste‐buds to get some sort of relief—to no avail. I had to concentrate really hard in order to get even the slightest hint of smell. It was very good; what I could easily notice, though, was that the crust—such a majorly important element in a pizza that is often overlooked—was perfect. If that pizza really tasted as I think it tasted, then I think I found the Italian peer to “Wooden Heads” (Kingston, Ontario, Canada; so far the best pizza I ever <u>tasted</u>).</p> <p>Millions of tissues later and we went back home—that is, Daria to her own apartment and myself to Valeria’s. Off to bed, hoping for my sickness to fade away the day after.</p> <hr /> <p>And you know what? It did. In the morning, I woke up feeling very alert; clear nose, headache is gone. I was excited: did I regain my senses?!</p> <p>Let Ben Johnson consume steroids for one year straight, and he still won’t do the run from bed to the fridge as fast as I did. Pulled out the syrup, added water, stirred, started drinking—</p> <p>Drank more—</p> <p>And more—</p> <p>…</p> <p>No taste whatsoever.</p> <p><em>COME ON</em>, I screamed internally at my body. <em>COME ON, WE ARE NEVER SICK</em>. And this is <em>FUCKING ITALY</em>. I NEED TO BE ABLE TO TASTE STUFF HERE. WHAT THE HELL, COULDN’T MY SENSES BE SHUT IN BELGIUM INSTEAD?</p> <p>It didn’t appear to help much.</p> <p>Well, at least my physical condition was pretty good, so I decided to make the day productive. Went with Daria to the city centre to get some T‐shirts and shoes—this time, armed with my camera. Here are some pictures I took from the 5 minutes drive to the city centre—this should give you an idea of what the surroundings of Trento are all about.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SP9Lx6zaHbw/UhhPsF2SsJI/AAAAAAAAYaA/NvouRzAC7kg/s1600-h/P1010868%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010868" style="display: inline" alt="P1010868" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TXyPOdWTKkg/UhhPspCPQ5I/AAAAAAAAYaI/vtDpNaLnf6o/P1010868_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5CNnbbrulF4/UhhPtCqMNuI/AAAAAAAAYaQ/sUsC-dPGJhw/s1600-h/P1010871%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010871" style="display: inline" alt="P1010871" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EGs0S3LlcYg/UhhPtkn3OuI/AAAAAAAAYaY/3Gd10LXzn2M/P1010871_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Jgc5aMw_hJ4/UhhPuHmlTdI/AAAAAAAAYag/nRlspsyrvw8/s1600-h/P1010872%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010872" style="display: inline" alt="P1010872" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pwzeo1aK7kE/UhhPupWwVII/AAAAAAAAYak/8DmyJB85kxQ/P1010872_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HADSZFGqxj0/UhhPvJLqE1I/AAAAAAAAYaw/O-FP9uVxmdw/s1600-h/P1010873%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010873" style="display: inline" alt="P1010873" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7hdV-jVO198/UhhPvYypm4I/AAAAAAAAYa4/Kom4vtDswVc/P1010873_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The city centre of Trento is <em>very pretty</em> with well‐decorated old buildings pretty much everywhere you go. Lots of shortcuts here to get from one place to another through almost invisible passages—after following Daria for about a minute I was already feeling lost and disoriented.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m-yUcB-9V_k/UhhPvwVoEKI/AAAAAAAAYbA/Vov-jaFKUAA/s1600-h/P1010879%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010879" style="display: inline" alt="P1010879" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-L4KjpSGs20I/UhhPwRukW7I/AAAAAAAAYbI/wuHxQLz8t_I/P1010879_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3jOlHi21zmY/UhhPw1uWPQI/AAAAAAAAYbQ/NmEul9Yyrqs/s1600-h/P1010882%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010882" style="display: inline" alt="P1010882" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TiQeNCaGcC0/UhhPxH2klcI/AAAAAAAAYbY/bNuvGUL9lV8/P1010882_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Quite a few people roaming the streets in mid‐day. Cafes, restaurants and shops abound—all laid out and inviting in a way that just screams “Italy”.</p> <p>I loved every piece of it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-27TCVSSBj5U/UhhPxhtNTYI/AAAAAAAAYbg/_eqdc-t_I-I/s1600-h/P1010883%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010883" style="display: inline" alt="P1010883" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-d6t1zUQ5IoE/UhhPyF94IyI/AAAAAAAAYbk/-z9y7-xfA_A/P1010883_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Y7A77b4GvSY/UhhPylxgNxI/AAAAAAAAYbs/FQ7WH9GPTwA/s1600-h/P1010884%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010884" style="display: inline" alt="P1010884" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-4LIT0pGh4Wc/UhhPzCeL4LI/AAAAAAAAYb4/-RMZLG4wnpk/P1010884_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Gelateria</em> (see photo above, to the right) is an ice‐cream parlour. “Gelato” means “ice cream” in Italian, but that’s not your typical cream‐based ice‐cream; it is actually based on milk—less fat and, typically, much finer taste.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uOoJT0Fd7bk/UhhPz9rf6gI/AAAAAAAAYb8/jGsb0nTRnGA/s1600-h/P1010885%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010885" style="display: inline" alt="P1010885" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-D-R3rPUJW90/UhhP0RrTouI/AAAAAAAAYcE/NVrPbVX8k9I/P1010885_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KRZKClT3Lyk/UhhP09ik3OI/AAAAAAAAYcM/d_6K2Q1H_jI/s1600-h/P1010886%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010886" style="display: inline" alt="P1010886" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HpbFA4f2UkY/UhhP1Vmvs6I/AAAAAAAAYcY/fxz5A11nWq0/P1010886_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-M7yKlQE3dp4/UhhP1z-jPiI/AAAAAAAAYcg/VkBhRXx_HFk/s1600-h/P1010887%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010887" style="display: inline" alt="P1010887" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yKiAc7cSuxE/UhhP2Njl_XI/AAAAAAAAYco/s3fjc6duA_Y/P1010887_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-x6GWHWi0EgY/UhhP25EAhpI/AAAAAAAAYcw/9g8lM4PKadE/s1600-h/P1010888%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010888" style="display: inline" alt="P1010888" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-m1WnVnXY7CE/UhhP3ZIHX_I/AAAAAAAAYc0/-E6NVQdd2os/P1010888_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Shopping for T‐shirts went as fast as only shopping for <em>MEN</em>’s T‐shirts can go. 15 minutes and we were out.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jvGRhgnxioQ/UhhP3_fe3YI/AAAAAAAAYc8/K8YRZJKhP3E/s1600-h/P1010890%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010890" style="display: inline" alt="P1010890" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-HlnhlxTWuNI/UhhP4Xxv3gI/AAAAAAAAYdI/cEGa_OJK7vA/P1010890_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-B53w2924fZo/UhhP4_3bfgI/AAAAAAAAYdQ/9nAE7Idq3Xo/s1600-h/P1010891%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010891" style="display: inline" alt="P1010891" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VRxqLWDi4rg/UhhP5TdQnlI/AAAAAAAAYdY/V38T65G3Ezo/P1010891_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Now look at this lovely fellow at the picture above to the right.</p> <p><em>YES, WE ARE IN ITALY</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-m3ydoe2KXT8/UhhP5-CFiyI/AAAAAAAAYdg/CttpCjo_ty8/s1600-h/P1010896%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010896" style="display: inline" alt="P1010896" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PYv-ElG4EIE/UhhP6YUdY4I/AAAAAAAAYdo/saRmdmiTmhc/P1010896_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LyJD0GJf2T0/UhhP62UwLsI/AAAAAAAAYdw/53M266Sa1P0/s1600-h/P1010899%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010899" style="display: inline" alt="P1010899" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pBp0RVf8UaQ/UhhP7cpm0WI/AAAAAAAAYd4/L7toqYrtzmk/P1010899_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Back home for a rest, and then we all decided that it’s about time to do something fun. These two sisters are by no means lazy—ski, snowboarding, paragliding, you name it—they already did it. They decided to take it easy on me this time—no extreme sports, just a short sight‐seeing trip.</p> <p>The ride itself was too pretty to neglect taking pictures of. Mountains all around you everywhere you go, and more wineries than people. Often, the road becomes a tunnel, crossing the mountain range. The duo mocked me for being enthusiastic about those seemingly‐boring views, but I couldn’t stop taking pictures.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3b1mEjmFO0Y/UhhP77aTnPI/AAAAAAAAYeA/nWsDoIr-EZ4/s1600-h/P1010916%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010916" style="display: inline" alt="P1010916" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bpn6bfyvgeQ/UhhP8M6JIXI/AAAAAAAAYeI/QyJYacTFPYo/P1010916_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ARmfQxk_sK4/UhhP8mOrtsI/AAAAAAAAYeQ/sqBQ0ghYknQ/s1600-h/P1010920%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010920" style="display: inline" alt="P1010920" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-myFCEP6jFYU/UhhP9A4cIPI/AAAAAAAAYeY/Wq9pc01UhRk/P1010920_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gpGYAKO-mXU/UhhP98jBO8I/AAAAAAAAYeg/nQsOuMR_WUI/s1600-h/P1010921%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010921" style="display: inline" alt="P1010921" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DwaO13T0V3g/UhhP-PLRkNI/AAAAAAAAYeo/6Z63kvdYHLw/P1010921_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IUfmOnBcgVs/UhhP-u-62hI/AAAAAAAAYew/76JJQC_f-PU/s1600-h/P1010923%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010923" style="display: inline" alt="P1010923" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nRTF-bIbJa4/UhhP_NwqQTI/AAAAAAAAYe4/gq26WmvMJlI/P1010923_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After just under an hour of driving, we arrived at our destination: a town named <em>Molveno</em>, a superb little town just at the foot of a mountain‐range called <em>Dolomiti di Brenta</em>. Temperature was a bit milder here as we already were in high altitude.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vvLtc6yULbU/UhhP_q8kfbI/AAAAAAAAYfA/yzATlqQCoZk/s1600-h/P1010926%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010926" style="display: inline" alt="P1010926" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BMd3rt5WHXo/UhhQAIvaiXI/AAAAAAAAYfE/cMkRIJSPZ8A/P1010926_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AJhIRQv4CAM/UhhQAvZjdJI/AAAAAAAAYfQ/VTBa4jmHqLk/s1600-h/P1010929%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010929" style="display: inline" alt="P1010929" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cV-GKJiOdmc/UhhQA_6J-VI/AAAAAAAAYfY/KWS3opRb1Kc/P1010929_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A cable‐car exists there, going all the way up to the summit.</p> <p>Now, myself having cable‐car experience only from the prestigious Canadian Rockies, I was thinking about a closed, extremely safe gondola to put my trust in. But no… things here are different. The ride up the mountain had two parts—the first one done in a metal box smaller than a typical shopping cart, and the other—on an open two‐seater.</p> <p>The views from the gondola were breathtaking (see pictures below, on our way down; on our way up, the gondolas’ cables were a bit too obstructive).</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dCWuo5qygyA/UhhQBal1U9I/AAAAAAAAYfg/cij5tf7XLmQ/s1600-h/P1010939%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010939" style="display: inline" alt="P1010939" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CFyI1OenMfE/UhhQB16BpAI/AAAAAAAAYfo/Suay-Zs2cOI/P1010939_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bHy-vant1sg/UhhQCWRHzwI/AAAAAAAAYfw/yiN82CLfdLA/s1600-h/P1010940%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010940" style="display: inline" alt="P1010940" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0NsrUfu_cUU/UhhQC-FgdwI/AAAAAAAAYf4/xhdlIb4pbTc/P1010940_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>See Valeria enjoying the view?</p> <p>After switching to the two‐seater—about 80% on the way up—we started hearing some bells ring. A look down and—hey! Lunch!!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mWwp9XTD8fs/UhhQDXpl4dI/AAAAAAAAYgA/2V4PiTX1dVo/s1600-h/P1010942%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010942" style="display: inline" alt="P1010942" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-95QWqBF14V0/UhhQDwsRnmI/AAAAAAAAYgI/WbCG13nxU6w/P1010942_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-maQTVVh-H8k/UhhQEUx9PjI/AAAAAAAAYgQ/GtTO7qulSLc/s1600-h/P1010945%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010945" style="display: inline" alt="P1010945" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6GNdys7uSqk/UhhQEwgktuI/AAAAAAAAYgY/vP-cPI5zqOw/P1010945_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few more minutes of gondola ride up, and temperature dropped by another degree or so. Perfect, absolutely perfect… especially considering these views as seen from the top.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hlTPebmlCT8/UhhQFZPCk1I/AAAAAAAAYgg/stjFvXgE_xA/s1600-h/P1010947%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010947" style="display: inline" alt="P1010947" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8xKU8V0R71o/UhhQFzx0O1I/AAAAAAAAYgk/7Krp6wlCbl0/P1010947_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OqqcY9eGaAg/UhhQGNC9oWI/AAAAAAAAYgw/-BQ1i4DmaR8/s1600-h/P1010949%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010949" style="display: inline" alt="P1010949" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sNtUnNUDqcM/UhhQGvGtshI/AAAAAAAAYg4/p3uqCvrsuuI/P1010949_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>At the summit, there’s a small restaurant / kiosk, as well as a playground for kids. We spent about an hour there, enjoying the magnificent views and the fresh air; we also took a few pictures to commemorate the experience.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bvSopx01YX4/UhhQHd-YKNI/AAAAAAAAYhA/_2YuoHjNdgQ/s1600-h/P1010950%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010950" style="display: inline" alt="P1010950" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-AWOYWAPatcI/UhhQH8vzjAI/AAAAAAAAYhI/CIa3Kk_ljJg/P1010950_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RmqrZlgecsU/UhhQIcbAG0I/AAAAAAAAYhQ/gk7TR-zC76A/s1600-h/P1010951%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010951" style="display: inline" alt="P1010951" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-BO6KbSRnJFs/UhhQI-afexI/AAAAAAAAYhU/84-zOe9KIzU/P1010951_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tQyj8Y3sIlg/UhhQJatMNyI/AAAAAAAAYhg/1l8vp5nBnmw/s1600-h/P1010954%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010954" style="display: inline" alt="P1010954" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-X_pEC2h20wc/UhhQJzKQL1I/AAAAAAAAYho/0EceFz_U0Qo/P1010954_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YHkBEHXa-iU/UhhQKokaK_I/AAAAAAAAYhw/VyIeEW31bJA/s1600-h/P1010959%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010959" style="display: inline" alt="P1010959" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DdnGSJqblHg/UhhQLPEBuzI/AAAAAAAAYh0/yLP2F5DoaG4/P1010959_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Now <em>you tell me</em> that I’m not the <em>Sultan of Swing</em>…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bZZKhzs39_k/UhhQLotBYfI/AAAAAAAAYiA/eI9IZ5sLSgk/s1600-h/P1010963%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010963" style="display: inline" alt="P1010963" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Oa49q3nzjRY/UhhQME3mleI/AAAAAAAAYiI/4eM1HdmdtN0/P1010963_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-atafpanJ4Bg/UhhQMx46t8I/AAAAAAAAYiQ/lsErM-8m1Lg/s1600-h/P1010966%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010966" style="display: inline" alt="P1010966" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-T4gjkVKZci8/UhhQNZ1QtdI/AAAAAAAAYiY/Ayl6M45TsUU/P1010966_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XjIqm5p30cI/UhhQN_g7zII/AAAAAAAAYig/OTLDeYw5mTI/s1600-h/P1010968%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010968" style="display: inline" alt="P1010968" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gk9F1L2eaXY/UhhQORiH_QI/AAAAAAAAYio/wcLNKzT25xA/P1010968_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>If it was up to me, I would build a house on the top of that mountain spend an awful lot of time there. A superbly refreshing experience… and we had to go down before 6:00pm otherwise we’d have to walk downhill.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NutVQxdc2UU/UhhQOvxO-AI/AAAAAAAAYiw/BUJu2THpNGs/s1600-h/P1010973%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010973" style="display: inline" alt="P1010973" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-t5NLct3r2JM/UhhQPGKI1RI/AAAAAAAAYi0/FVgyK4r_1e4/P1010973_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ed3_SZ8eyHs/UhhQPj5UolI/AAAAAAAAYi8/mkJvOFtvadE/s1600-h/P1010977%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010977" style="display: inline" alt="P1010977" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-La-y-D55I9o/UhhQQaiYqII/AAAAAAAAYjI/yJG_N0R1FNI/P1010977_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And as we were going down, the views started becoming even more amazing.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-FmK2z5Lc7Z4/UhhQQ0DjjGI/AAAAAAAAYjQ/7tRs4pjUBik/s1600-h/P1010980%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010980" style="display: inline" alt="P1010980" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-A5aiv5dI-54/UhhQRTXLCaI/AAAAAAAAYjY/O1GAgWduy78/P1010980_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZNNZHu4fcZk/UhhQR1M-qDI/AAAAAAAAYjg/ndCvJkmrTiM/s1600-h/P1010983%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010983" style="display: inline" alt="P1010983" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-iwFytJaVd_g/UhhQSSlZW5I/AAAAAAAAYjo/Sa2I1G3WepY/P1010983_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jODQZaFUv-Q/UhhQSygQgRI/AAAAAAAAYjw/4G5rvE_eLqY/s1600-h/P1010987%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010987" style="display: inline" alt="P1010987" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HZjcGDwEUiI/UhhQTc6s6NI/AAAAAAAAYj4/kyUPcHXp0Vo/P1010987_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-E6lgUgsp3RQ/UhhQT3QDjAI/AAAAAAAAYkA/gGAEwPvVVAc/s1600-h/P1010990%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010990" style="display: inline" alt="P1010990" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vzhcxFMTUZo/UhhQUiMz7HI/AAAAAAAAYkI/7T2T6brwnWM/P1010990_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Just click on the last image (bottom right), enlarge it; turn the lights off, shut the curtains; avoid any external interference and just focus. Now imagine that you’re there: on the gondola, between earth and sky; sweet breeze on your face, silence all around. So silent you can hear yourself thinking about how lucky you are to be alive.</p> <hr /> <p>Back to the car and we went for a ride around the lake, on our way to a restaurant that we had plans dining at. The views along the way? well, you tell me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HuxYMg_SUg4/UhhQVGsTy0I/AAAAAAAAYkQ/nFt-hJW59Vc/s1600-h/P1010993%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010993" style="display: inline" alt="P1010993" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LOPU50evRvY/UhhQVlCaS_I/AAAAAAAAYkU/ry7xmKp8lEY/P1010993_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pcLGOshBAFM/UhhQWNHxRdI/AAAAAAAAYkg/r5EvOlOLSoA/s1600-h/P1010995%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010995" style="display: inline" alt="P1010995" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2m3P7pqVN1I/UhhQWq8XPBI/AAAAAAAAYko/Aq-SKPa1T8U/P1010995_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-eBIrWOi3htY/UhhQXKXeSDI/AAAAAAAAYkw/sQ3RYKp2d6Y/s1600-h/P1010996%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010996" style="display: inline" alt="P1010996" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kn-zaowksCg/UhhQXiiC7pI/AAAAAAAAYk4/NghEF11o34E/P1010996_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-z6q3a04llog/UhhQYN8v0XI/AAAAAAAAYlE/gJIHjHf4uFk/s1600-h/P1020001%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020001" style="display: inline" alt="P1020001" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-U7OCyEGN8To/UhhQYqbNx2I/AAAAAAAAYlM/kYCbUu0XIT0/P1020001_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Such fantastic views that I just had to ruin them.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SP6a0FzD558/UhhQZEd18SI/AAAAAAAAYlU/xoylSuTnAFQ/s1600-h/P1020002%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020002" style="display: inline" alt="P1020002" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NPx0YkaMqiQ/UhhQZjU25vI/AAAAAAAAYlc/qHTvbFy1j8o/P1020002_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fU4I23n72ys/UhhQZ84OH7I/AAAAAAAAYlk/gXV0TlEwsa8/s1600-h/P1020005%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020005" style="display: inline" alt="P1020005" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-azy4SDy4G94/UhhQaSOx2MI/AAAAAAAAYls/-r8D0hL9FBM/P1020005_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KX52c6dF1fk/UhhQa-qmMLI/AAAAAAAAYl0/-otM_98sgQU/s1600-h/P1020008%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020008" style="display: inline" alt="P1020008" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LCuer9yKq4E/UhhQbTZUgDI/AAAAAAAAYl8/2VHovMDDVyo/P1020008_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>We parked somewhere by the lake and made our way through a winery to the restaurant.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JM7w4n2V1XM/UhhQboN2a8I/AAAAAAAAYmE/7Z2TTjhuq4o/s1600-h/P1020009%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020009" style="display: inline" alt="P1020009" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ohVKvfthYA0/UhhQcGJVY2I/AAAAAAAAYmM/LdLIMsZoNww/P1020009_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qVXoXff8y14/UhhQcZVjlKI/AAAAAAAAYmU/Go-P1Bp2fS0/s1600-h/P1020012%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020012" style="display: inline" alt="P1020012" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lsNnuB-WlL8/UhhQc6unbiI/AAAAAAAAYmc/uYWIiG7NbYQ/P1020012_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LxvnCxIoLCs/UhhQdVqXYzI/AAAAAAAAYmk/w0C3wr9WLB8/s1600-h/P1020013%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020013" style="display: inline" alt="P1020013" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KDiVsfkxeMI/UhhQd-ZxyFI/AAAAAAAAYms/0sbIoEzEEt4/P1020013_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>See the castle in the last picture? That’s some very old castle now turned into a restaurant. That’s where we walked to.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DBQ5nnhS2ME/UhhQeSBGYeI/AAAAAAAAYm0/05HCLzHEpiE/s1600-h/P1020016%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020016" style="display: inline" alt="P1020016" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8hKvDEfKQfU/UhhQepWmBpI/AAAAAAAAYm8/ahxxKOsDF60/P1020016_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QJwPFfDOR4U/UhhQfOtVRwI/AAAAAAAAYnE/bQ0aIdwUVxE/s1600-h/P1020017%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020017" style="display: inline" alt="P1020017" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-G7DTPREWhQM/UhhQfWba-xI/AAAAAAAAYnI/MmZ1VDAu4IE/P1020017_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Castel Toblino</em> was the name of the place. Beautiful old castle; we looked at the menu and Daria said that it looks too “pretentious”, so we decided to not eat there but instead take pictures of the surroundings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-fJQUnl3o4Aw/UhhQfzTcdOI/AAAAAAAAYnU/QogE-jKvzDA/s1600-h/P1020018%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020018" style="display: inline" alt="P1020018" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Z_-poytip1I/UhhQgeOg24I/AAAAAAAAYnY/VKNgC1koyrI/P1020018_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-clTJ5SAUSkw/UhhQg2Vy7UI/AAAAAAAAYnk/Q9VNkQb_wUk/s1600-h/P1020019%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020019" style="display: inline" alt="P1020019" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cf5SJnHyCek/UhhQharZYoI/AAAAAAAAYno/wKgZgZ62IUQ/P1020019_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-h4J27HVmNj8/UhhQhtRvTgI/AAAAAAAAYn0/Va-vDHNjnww/s1600-h/P1020023%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020023" style="display: inline" alt="P1020023" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5eNQffH9YJU/UhhQiPleA-I/AAAAAAAAYn8/i1njPqaggFE/P1020023_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9jdt7ZNlbFM/UhhQirRv2YI/AAAAAAAAYoE/7mhy4YDPiUU/s1600-h/P1020026%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020026" style="display: inline" alt="P1020026" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-eLRyQzGPAB8/UhhQjFb3dyI/AAAAAAAAYoM/Ex3QOVJOXVo/P1020026_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>See Daria’s work‐of‐art photography… the last picture (bottom right). This definitely is poster‐material.</p> <p>Returned to the car and went to a different restaurant—one that Daria has had previous experience with so we all knew that we were going to someplace well worth going.</p> <p>Just look at the interior.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CZ_hFtHzxSE/UhhQjtFU2rI/AAAAAAAAYoU/yAHHNIV9b0I/s1600-h/P1020027%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020027" style="display: inline" alt="P1020027" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lRz7GTZuHzs/UhhQkCApC0I/AAAAAAAAYoY/JrBdsCRy034/P1020027_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4hvlsAfg07I/UhhQkp90utI/AAAAAAAAYok/npMbaO8Hqa0/s1600-h/P1020028%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020028" style="display: inline" alt="P1020028" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ofUPi4yeS6c/UhhQk1VVx5I/AAAAAAAAYos/YCIGpB1E78M/P1020028_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Food shortly arrived. It looked fantastic, and by the very little taste & smell I could sense, that place obviously has something worthy to sell.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9X32ICCw3zI/UhhQlfocaYI/AAAAAAAAYo0/UcpxiGTPr5E/s1600-h/P1020029%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020029" style="display: inline" alt="P1020029" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-F4bbfHOtIF0/UhhQl1gyfyI/AAAAAAAAYo8/CMLhOkz9d34/P1020029_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MH89AaOxJzU/UhhQmdwgoSI/AAAAAAAAYpE/_y65yFRHWH0/s1600-h/P1020030%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020030" style="display: inline" alt="P1020030" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wV7HSsB9A6E/UhhQmwfzADI/AAAAAAAAYpM/FvjhupyX7gQ/P1020030_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>During dinner, I continued practicing my Italian. Daria & Valeria claim that I’m a good student—learning quickly and my Italian accent is <em>very good</em>. Italian, by the way, is a very sexy language: while every sentence in French sounds romantic, every sentence in Italian sounds like something well worth being said during love‐making. The accent, the flowing of the words, everything about this language is just very, <em>very</em> sexy.</p> <p>I made a few attempts to demonstrate some artificial sexy accent, to see whether any of the ladies would find it anywhere near close to “charming”.</p> <p>It wasn’t, and the best indication for that was that, while I was trying my best to impress Valeria with the sentence “your eyes dazzle my soul”, she wasn’t even looking at me but instead decided to completely and utterly devour her fish.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kAYIXgwL5U8/UhhQnL9tvLI/AAAAAAAAYpU/sUBm0bFA1L4/s1600-h/P1020037%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020037" style="display: inline" alt="P1020037" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--FcenDRAhz4/UhhQnh-N60I/AAAAAAAAYpc/VnkA7G-PDzs/P1020037_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I guess that was the point when I gave up.</p> <p>Desserts shortly followed…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WMbJQ5-JFzk/UhhQoDB8FUI/AAAAAAAAYpk/8jo94BWtwyk/s1600-h/P1020038%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020038" style="display: inline" alt="P1020038" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BJybwtHUkBA/UhhQoiYyirI/AAAAAAAAYps/Kfq4bp-XUGA/P1020038_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uF48eu0Kb9s/UhhQpG_mdnI/AAAAAAAAYp0/tMRExdbRZ6M/s1600-h/P1020039%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1020039" style="display: inline" alt="P1020039" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-J0LEpy65iX8/UhhQpSjKTkI/AAAAAAAAYp8/vO8ecqbbLQg/P1020039_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and we spent another half an hour there before heading back home.</p> <hr /> <p>Phewwwww, what a day! What a great way to end a stretch of four days off, now that I’m almost completely healthy.</p> <p>None of that would be anywhere near the realm of possibility had it not been for the sweetest hosts in Italy: the Daria & Valeria duo made all the difference. Right from the moment I was collected at the train station, the two went out of their way to help and take care of me. I really felt like home in Trento, thanks to my wonderful hosts. Here’s a big kiss to these two sisters: <em>MUAH</em>.</p> <p>Later, <br />Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6518215248277632942.post-75812331532635007172010-07-06T14:19:00.001-04:002013-12-11T00:08:16.617-05:00Concert Day: Papp Laszlo Budapest Sportarena, Budapest, Hungary & Leaving to Italy (July 4–6, 2010)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: on board the 6:50am RailJet train from Vienna to Budapest.</em></p> </div> <p>First of all, <em>happy independence day</em> to all of the Americans reading this. Oh, how I wish I had lived in Vancouver—celebrating Canada Day on July 1st and then driving 3 hours south to Seattle to celebrate July 4th.</p> <p>So, where was I.</p> <p>Oh, OK. Here.</p> <p>My hopes that as night sets in my hotel room’s temperature will become more and more manageable, shattered tragically as I opened the hotel room’s door and entered what I, had I been blindfolded, would mistake for an oven. Shower didn’t help; upon drying myself, I became sweaty again. Unbearable heat, and when it’s humid, it doesn’t matter how dark you leave your room when you step out—humid air takes forever to cool off.</p> <p>I really didn’t know what to do. I was so tired, and the inability to fall asleep made me miserable. I tried everything—even wetting a towel with cold water and using it as a blanket.</p> <p>I just couldn’t fall asleep.</p> <p>At 5:00am, I decided to simply stop trying. My hotel in Budapest was going to be the <em>Hilton West‐End Budapest</em>, a 5‐star hotel that I <em>Priceline</em>’d a while ago; I knew that I am very likely to have some decent sleep there so I decided to flee the oven and get to Budapest as early as possible, then beg at the Hilton for an early check‐in.</p> <p>The earliest fast train on Sundays between Vienna and Budapest is the 6:50am train by <em>RailJet</em>, making it to Budapest in 3 hours. I got up, wrapped my belongings and went downstairs.</p> <p>It’s funny that the hotel’s reception area is air‐conditioned. How stupid is that, a hotel in which one feels better staying at its reception than at the very room they paid good money (well… €55) for. Spent about an hour there blogging, then took the subway to <em>Wien Westbahnhof</em> (Vienna’s west train station).</p> <p>A short overpriced breakfast at a cafe in the train station, and I went to the platform. Significant improvement over Wroclaw’s miserable <em>Wroclaw Glowny</em> station; now here’s a train station that is properly marked and signed. Found my train with no problem and entered the first‐class cabin.</p> <p>You may remember me talking about the <em>InterCity‐Express (ICE)</em> trains in Germany, how nice the first‐class cabin is there and such. Well, regrettably, if this train that I’m on is of any indication for <em>RailJet</em>’s trains, apparently the <em>ICE</em> still has some way to go. This train’s first‐class cabins are super‐spacious, well‐lit, LCD screens all across, <em>very</em> clean—hell, it feels like you’re at the first‐class cabin of an airplane!</p> <p>Attempts to fall asleep while on board have failed and therefore I decided to give up and wait until I get to the hotel.</p> <hr /> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Writing: in Crazy Cafe, a funky restaurant about 5 minutes walk from my hotel.</em></p> </div> <p>Oh, the difference that even some short sleep can do!</p> <p>Arrived at <em>Budapest Keleti‐Pu</em>, which is Budapest’s main train station. Tired and weary, I walked along the platform to find the exit, sifting through the myriad of bums, crooks and other sub‐attractive life forms that appeared to have one and only one goal in mind: take my money. It came to a point that I actually had to <em>tell them</em> to go away.</p> <p>I’m used to central train stations being the hub not just for transportation but also to those who would go to great lengths to take more and more money from you, but I think Budapest’s <em>Keleti‐Pu</em> station has set a standard that will be very hard to break. The situation was so bad—and it was a Sunday early morning!—that I almost stepped on some people trying to make my way out and to the city.</p> <p>Hungary is a part of the European Union, and had its plans to join the EMU (European Monetary Union) as well but those plans have been postponed to some time between 2012–2014 (according to local politicians; that might as well mean 2120–2140). Another nuisance—get local currency. The local currency here is called <em>Hungarian Forint</em>; the exchange rate? at the moment it stands at around 286 HFN to €1. Somebody here had trouble keeping inflation at bay, I suppose.</p> <p>Failing to find a bank machine at the train station, I decided that I’m too tired to look any further and just pay a visit to the Western Union stand there to exchange some Euro’s. Even as I approached the stand, somebody tried to sell me local currency for a rate that was better than Western Union’s but worse than the inter‐bank rate. As I had no interest in taking a risk for dealing with counterfeit bills while following the band, I completely ignored him; he didn’t seem to like it, judging by the tone of his voice while emitting what I believe was a curse word in Hungarian.</p> <p>The short yet excessively‐unfriendly initial contact with the inhabitants of this place made me want to walk the 3.3km stretch to my hotel instead of taking a taxi. Started walking and immediately saw a few police officers questioning somebody; <em>fuck it</em>, I said, retraced, found a taxi cab with an half‐asleep driver in it and within 5 minutes we were at the hotel.</p> <p>Now apparently <em>somebody</em> ripped me off as I find it hard to believe that a 3.3km taxi ride—about 5 minutes—came to just about €15. But you know what? I’ll treat this as the cost of my ignorance. Not in the mood for a battle, I departed the taxi and entered the hotel.</p> <p>(In retrospect, I could have actually made it to my hotel via the metro, for the price of just about €1)</p> <p>The thing I dislike most about 5‐star hotels—and unfortunately I have yet to find any 5‐star hotel anywhere that would be an exception—is that such hotels think it is reasonable to charge ridiculous money for Internet connectivity. They take the liberty to think that whoever is rich enough to book a hotel room in their establishment, shouldn’t be too concerned with paying €20 (!) for in‐room Internet access.</p> <p>However, my argument against such hotels is not just about the stupid amount of money they charge for Internet access; Internet access, as far as I am concerned, is a utility that it’s just about <em>damn time</em> be provided <em>for free</em> (by, for example, factoring costs into local sales taxes). The Internet has become a facility so vital that I really can’t see any difference between it and, say, a highway that everybody can ride for free. Governments who don’t strive to provide Internet access to the masses (unfortunately, that amounts to pretty much all governments in existence; yes, including Canada) for free—essentially state that those who can afford it can become smarter and more productive, while those who can’t afford it—can’t.</p> <p>Doesn’t sound to me like the perfect path to raising intellect within the population; having said that, it is a well‐known fact that it’s much easier to control and govern uninformed, or sometimes stupid, people.</p> <p>Anyway, enough with the rants. I passed on the generous offer for in‐room Internet access for millions of dollars, which explains the delay in July 3rd’s post (please direct your complaints at the hotel); went to my room, enjoyed my newly‐found, <em>air‐conditioned</em> space and went for a shower.</p> <p>The room I got was a twin room—two single beds that are attachable into one double bed. It has a shower <em>as well as a bath</em>. Strange, isn’t it. As if the room was designed for couples going through some rough times. After spending about a minute deciding which side of the couple I wish to be, I chose the shower and had such a superb shower, washing away the bullshit of the last couple of days. Then went to sleep on a super‐comfortable bed. I felt glad for surviving the trip so far.</p> <hr /> <p>The hotel, <em>Hilton West‐End Hotel</em>, is named that way because it is attached to a big shopping mall called “West‐End”. It is located about 2km away from whatever it is that’s interesting for most tourists to see in Budapest. There is not much to see at the immediate area of the hotel, however there are far less “tourist traps” here than 2km south where tourist traffic is significant.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hKQCfOY-0Mc/UhhJo8qXPRI/AAAAAAAAYRI/ffDoOoVIBHM/s1600-h/P1010808%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010808" style="display: inline" alt="P1010808" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-K9is66rSZyA/UhhJpYyUjdI/AAAAAAAAYRQ/JuIqBwcJKco/P1010808_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--yGMPncqR4g/UhhJp4QeerI/AAAAAAAAYRY/FXlAQnGcMgw/s1600-h/P1010809%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010809" style="display: inline" alt="P1010809" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AQDiwlNUl0E/UhhJqXKiCbI/AAAAAAAAYRc/39ZKsf0Casc/P1010809_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Using <em>Google Maps for BlackBerry</em> (the single most important application you must install when you’re travelling. Without it I’d probably be missing quite a few concerts already. Forget RIM’s‐provided <em>BlackBerry Maps</em>; it’s pure crap) to look for places to eat, results came back with a few interesting opportunities. One of them was a medieval‐themed restaurant (“Sir Lancelot” something) that had fantastic reviews but was <em>way</em> too pricey; I ended up going to a nearby place called <em>Crazy Cafe</em>.</p> <p>Well, there are many things I heard about Budapest in the past—but what I only recently learned was that Budapest boasts some very interesting dining options—food here is apparently great (generally speaking of course). <em>Crazy Cafe</em>, perhaps a bit of a tourist trap, is divided into four sections, each with its own “theme”. Very cool design for it all—went downstairs to what appeared to be a dungeon, then navigated through what appeared to be a cave into the “Jungle” section. They have plants there, some artificial waterfalls… everything to make you feel as if you’re having a picnic in a jungle. Very cool.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JaZyu5NFv1A/UhhJqvJTvJI/AAAAAAAAYRk/8_miJrHSq3M/s1600-h/P1010810%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010810" style="display: inline" alt="P1010810" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ou92L88luF4/UhhJrTW6wXI/AAAAAAAAYRw/igQJ8acD5XU/P1010810_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8ALYwRHd4Tw/UhhJr5zF8II/AAAAAAAAYR4/6wCqvjNbbZY/s1600-h/P1010811%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010811" style="display: inline" alt="P1010811" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mdznptowG1I/UhhJsTmyq0I/AAAAAAAAYSA/f9POC8gHo-U/P1010811_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0f7Y0VsICDw/UhhJs4hQsaI/AAAAAAAAYSI/biWzIQTnXu8/s1600-h/P1010812%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010812" style="display: inline" alt="P1010812" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-uqqU6Ost_t4/UhhJtVI9uFI/AAAAAAAAYSQ/lDHgd3Vn-94/P1010812_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Now, I wouldn’t go too much into details about this place; after all, I was there to eat, not to experience a jungle atmosphere. Initially I made the assumption that I shouldn’t expect too much from the food here; if it looks like a tourist trap, it probably also tastes like one. However, reading the menu, I couldn’t avoid seeing some very interesting picks. After considering taking the <em>Kangaroo Steak</em>, I decided that I should leave <em>something</em> to look forward to while visiting Australia and opted, instead, for a delicious dish involving veal‐wrapped ham stripes, baked with mozzarella cheese and served with Gnocchi & parmesan cheese. Sounds good? I know. It tastes even better; as I am writing these lines at around 12:10pm in my hotel room (late checkout privilege… Woo‐Hoo) I’m seriously considering paying another visit there.</p> <p>So, make a note of it.</p> <p>A couple was sitting at a table next to me. Turned out they’re both Hungarian, but he has been living in Los Angeles for quite a while. Asking me the inevitable “so what are you doing in Budapest”, I had to give him the full story which he found a bit tricky to comprehend. He’s probably reading this blog entry right now—and, as almost always, I completely suck with names so I have no recollection of their names. Hey guys, nice chatting with you yesterday and have fun back in Los Angeles!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YXa2ppOQC_Y/UhhJt4dJLMI/AAAAAAAAYSY/F4NIsbScqqA/s1600-h/P1010813%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010813" style="display: inline" alt="P1010813" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Tx8A-Y-o7zs/UhhJuiZpV6I/AAAAAAAAYSg/K5UKRzAhLi4/P1010813_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I had a few hours to kill. Neglecting any plan to explore the area, I decided to keep things easy and parked my butt in a <em>Costa Coffee</em> (interesting. I thought it’s a UK‐only chain) very close to my hotel, offering free Wi‐Fi. Some travel planning, catching up with the world… easy.</p> <p>At 6:30pm, an hour and a half before the concert’s scheduled start time, I took the metro to the <em>Sportarena</em>. Budapest’s metro system is efficient, <em>very</em> simple to understand however looks a bit depressed if you ask me. Cars from the 13th century or so, and the ticketing scheme is quite primitive.</p> <p>About 15 minutes in the subway (over two subway lines) and I arrived at the <em>Sportarena</em>.</p> <hr /> <p>The <em>Papp László Budapest Sportarena</em> (Wikipedia: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Budapest_Sports_Arena">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Budapest_Sports_Arena</a>) used to be called “Budapest Sportarena” however on May 2004 was renamed after <em>László Papp</em>, a Hungarian boxer who died in 2003. Its maximum capacity is 12,500 and it’s the second largest hall in Hungary.</p> <p>From the outside, the venue looks like a huge spaceship completely unrelated to the general view of Budapest. There’s a metro stop right in front of the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-CzrBw-as9QE/UhhJu_h05uI/AAAAAAAAYSk/FE6jLINOIvA/s1600-h/P1010814%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010814" style="display: inline" alt="P1010814" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nd69H2htrOY/UhhJvaYDawI/AAAAAAAAYSs/fmNPJuywzr8/P1010814_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dR6EWLVB70s/UhhJwCeGIyI/AAAAAAAAYS4/vdwTuauLQ3Y/s1600-h/P1010819%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010819" style="display: inline" alt="P1010819" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-u4qyK-rBQiw/UhhJwld9X0I/AAAAAAAAYTA/91yUDqmjVcA/P1010819_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>The venue configuration for the concert was general admission at the front, and seats in the back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dvx94MHCoxY/UhhJxMdxl4I/AAAAAAAAYTI/G_XHarEkRAk/s1600-h/P1010815%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010815" style="display: inline" alt="P1010815" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4Ph7LrStGc8/UhhJxngwvLI/AAAAAAAAYTQ/D5Jn_PTbwDY/P1010815_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-S-QCg-ibAu0/UhhJyMtdCXI/AAAAAAAAYTY/sNlhWtkN9Q0/s1600-h/P1010816%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010816" style="display: inline" alt="P1010816" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SfbCIGNYj84/UhhJyo__wjI/AAAAAAAAYTg/rYkcAJupVa8/P1010816_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_qVZe4ghJTk/UhhJzVS_UVI/AAAAAAAAYTo/9DrcYSOPbkg/s1600-h/P1010817%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010817" style="display: inline" alt="P1010817" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mgSZryV3zX0/UhhJz9defaI/AAAAAAAAYTw/H43tdwLmyhs/P1010817_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>At the <em>markknopfler.com</em> presales for this concert, buyers had the option to choose whether to get a general admission ticket or a seated ticket. I chose to be seated as I knew that I’m not going to line‐up for hours in the venue—I have never been to Budapest before and figured I’d like to use the time to explore the city for a bit. My seat, then, was slightly off the centre, to the left, at the sixth row on the terrace. Quite far from the stage; the soundboard was right below me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-My4ilXHl-XA/UhhJ0f6hV8I/AAAAAAAAYT4/_FbFYSgQHkc/s1600-h/P1010822%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010822" style="display: inline" alt="P1010822" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qicV7hhVilo/UhhJ1b8Os2I/AAAAAAAAYT8/KjUyiTRtmSA/P1010822_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hL2QLO_-AD0/UhhJ1vew4FI/AAAAAAAAYUI/Tu2T64NgUU8/s1600-h/P1010823%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010823" style="display: inline" alt="P1010823" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FqBA4eZG4F4/UhhJ2McxVXI/AAAAAAAAYUQ/pL86UcF1G9w/P1010823_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZRlpTydznXA/UhhJ2gCHL2I/AAAAAAAAYUY/Fpka7vnhAk0/s1600-h/P1010824%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010824" style="display: inline" alt="P1010824" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PrURS2BKXWw/UhhJ2_ZVqNI/AAAAAAAAYUg/ERbYw6kWfrs/P1010824_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert started about 5 minutes after the scheduled time (8:00pm).</p> <hr /> <p>As I was very far from the stage, I took very few photos and even some of those went out crappy as the combination of high zoom and low lights is very hard to cope with. Also, right in front of my face, a cable stretched from the ceiling to the soundboard. Not such a thick cable, but you know, once you realize its presence, you simply can’t ignore it anymore. Lets see if you can spot it in the pictures below.</p> <p>The concert in Budapest featured a setlist one song shorter than the night before (<em>Get Lucky</em> wasn’t played). Wouldn’t say that this venue should be renowned for its fantastic sound—it shouldn’t—but fair enough.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xEblQp3IzEQ/UhhJ3Yt_PZI/AAAAAAAAYUo/2GLFQpFFigE/s1600-h/P1010825%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010825" style="display: inline" alt="P1010825" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-n6qHatSycns/UhhJ3_l2e3I/AAAAAAAAYUw/Zz6yLWsgnZ8/P1010825_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>People on the terrace taking pictures using their flash were immediately approached by ushers and instructed to turn the flash off; but at the general admission area… well, things were different there. As it was unlikely that ushers will sift their ways through thousands of people to locate a criminal, one thing that was very clear about that show was that it was video‐recorded by a <em>lot</em> of people. Take a look at the next picture, showing tiny lights at the general admission area…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Xsi-MPVrDx4/UhhJ4ct5psI/AAAAAAAAYU4/qTZYBoyNi0M/s1600-h/P1010832%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010832" style="display: inline" alt="P1010832" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_fULIG_7d9Q/UhhJ41wcVsI/AAAAAAAAYVA/-Xq0c3GoewQ/P1010832_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>During Mark’s explanation about the stool, as he was swivelling around waving his hand at the audience, he located one of those people who were filming the show.</p> <p>– “Not so nice to see you… Get a life, join the rest of us”</p> <p>He didn’t sound angry; he did sound, however, as if he really considers the filming individual to possess some pretty low IQ. Apparently Mark doesn’t think much of those who film him.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-n7O8jpxEQGk/UhhJ5WC-HwI/AAAAAAAAYVI/4wcRNpBdZ6o/s1600-h/P1010836%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010836" style="display: inline" alt="P1010836" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5OSF6wYgoUg/UhhJ52mWWcI/AAAAAAAAYVM/YwJ_LsXwQXQ/P1010836_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LydxCgHw0X4/UhhJ6PYt0QI/AAAAAAAAYVU/bDlqmV5DyGY/s1600-h/P1010837%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010837" style="display: inline" alt="P1010837" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-waXBOfWeUns/UhhJ6gC3mNI/AAAAAAAAYVg/C4EAiRKZRgI/P1010837_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Marbletown</em> scored the show’s spotlight (yes, again), a slightly shorter version than the now‐usual (the band has been playing an “extended” version recently, often with an extended outro).</p> <p>The loudest cheers in the concert came once the last chord of <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> was struck. The audience all over the venue—everybody—was cheering and clapping their hands at the extravaganza. Me?… I don’t know, <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> was never one of my favourites although I started liking it a bit more during this tour.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-10tJcljbTlU/UhhJ61bVAzI/AAAAAAAAYVk/UiWBH2APBJc/s1600-h/P1010840%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010840" style="display: inline" alt="P1010840" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0Fy-0Bk5uXE/UhhJ7Sg1AJI/AAAAAAAAYVs/XIj3_gLYN1w/P1010840_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-TuFLzqyr0GQ/UhhJ79cCByI/AAAAAAAAYV4/Yjyb-nS3pCw/s1600-h/P1010841%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010841" style="display: inline" alt="P1010841" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5VRLtErByo0/UhhJ8UUjE0I/AAAAAAAAYWA/jEvUVGvRpxQ/P1010841_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Before <em>Piper to the End</em> started playing, I made my way upstairs and watched the last song being played as I was standing next to the exit—I knew that the masses were going to flock the public transport links and I had no intention to wait. The reward: fantastic view over thousands of people clapping their hands, cheering, bidding the band farewell.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tg_1l2UcWZA/UhhJ8zHmsDI/AAAAAAAAYWI/5SIsrJuy7sk/s1600-h/P1010843%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010843" style="display: inline" alt="P1010843" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jrcuZG8Myec/UhhJ9cOvB6I/AAAAAAAAYWM/bwiHr5YnUHs/P1010843_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k4g0TZjoJ7I/UhhJ93dQ0yI/AAAAAAAAYWY/tMKeGrqw6YU/s1600-h/P1010844%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010844" style="display: inline" alt="P1010844" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CHkFt2IBoNA/UhhJ-fFpx5I/AAAAAAAAYWc/MzZWF3dPRvg/P1010844_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>After the concert, I took the subway to the city centre—that is, where everything that there is to see & do in Budapest takes place. Exiting the city centre’s metro station, I was faced with almost complete quietness; started walking the alleys and I felt as if I’m in some sort of a fantasy.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cTfvuwi0U74/UhhJ-pr6hTI/AAAAAAAAYWk/D7oMGsJCwR8/s1600-h/P1010848%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010848" style="display: inline" alt="P1010848" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jSfo1o85DKk/UhhJ_bmw14I/AAAAAAAAYWw/Fw4zPAMyG1s/P1010848_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-r4SeYUXuUlI/UhhJ_sqIREI/AAAAAAAAYW4/ViP7qF3ELOw/s1600-h/P1010849%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010849" style="display: inline" alt="P1010849" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aKXHMmDi6qQ/UhhKAcSv87I/AAAAAAAAYW8/50OpJj4Um5A/P1010849_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Maybe because it was Sunday night, but the walk along Budapest’s narrow, breath‐taking streets was a quiet, calm, romantic walk (well, as romantic as a solo‐walk can be. I admit to sometimes feel bad for not having someone to share these walks with; then again, it’s only <em>sometimes</em>).</p> <p>There was a magical, almost surreal atmosphere. Very much unlike, say, the bustling city‐centre of Vienna at night, in Budapest everything appeared to happen in slow motion. For couples, I would recommend walking around those superb streets at night: if the couple is in “good state”, they’d be falling in love all over again; if the couple is in a rough patch, they could leverage on the fact that the streets here are narrow and winding and simply disappear one on another when they’re fed up with the other side’s crap.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NEclv693T_U/UhhKA1S7HsI/AAAAAAAAYXE/aaA4j-2gqpo/s1600-h/P1010850%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010850" style="display: inline" alt="P1010850" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FI18hG4zRiE/UhhKBUyyUNI/AAAAAAAAYXQ/l1v4cjF5OoQ/P1010850_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XD_uzC2Ljcc/UhhKB-FO4nI/AAAAAAAAYXY/Ef-TH9HjSd0/s1600-h/P1010851%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010851" style="display: inline" alt="P1010851" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-G6eiOAJutMQ/UhhKCTqgbGI/AAAAAAAAYXg/-Wi7pEnrtJA/P1010851_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Decided to sit down to eat before returning to the hotel, so I sat down in a tourist trap amidst what appeared to be a popular square. Restaurant sold Italian food and desserts, and consisted of, well, a terrace <em>only</em> (the entire restaurant was located <em>in the square</em>). Just outside the terrace, a funny‐looking man made money off passer‐byers by playing backing tracks through some speaker and playing the melody using a suspiciously small saxophone. I usually dislike these kind of things; but, as I approached the restaurant, I heard a very familiar backing track playing, and the man did a great job playing the melody with the sax. It took me over a minute (!) to finally recall what song it was: it was Roxette’s “Crash, Boom, Bang” from some time in the mid‐90’s, maybe before. What he played sounded better than the original, sung version; I am seriously thinking about coming up with my own cover version.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-w1vd9zEw38Y/UhhKDKXrqjI/AAAAAAAAYXo/p_u4pL5OemI/s1600-h/P1010852%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010852" style="display: inline" alt="P1010852" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-T19BH1hidwc/UhhKDmmL4zI/AAAAAAAAYXw/GyK45mI-Ao8/P1010852_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-G-foM0SugDE/UhhKEDXIDjI/AAAAAAAAYX4/41c34SoGkOw/s1600-h/P1010853%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010853" style="display: inline" alt="P1010853" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Igi8fgib9aw/UhhKEpbtzJI/AAAAAAAAYYA/VLIwQ8178L0/P1010853_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The huge pizza I ordered was just WAY too much for me to handle. Some leftovers and I went back to the hotel. A short walk ahead, and I noticed a nice pool surrounded by grass hosting the asses of quite a few youngsters.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1PUr37zk5Zs/UhhKFFwMafI/AAAAAAAAYYI/nyWMxn5o2Cc/s1600-h/P1010854%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010854" style="display: inline" alt="P1010854" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7BC7-d31F5Q/UhhKFbEsCHI/AAAAAAAAYYQ/cDH57vCdr7M/P1010854_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I think that was the first time in <em>quite a while</em> since I’ve seen so many youngsters sitting together, often in circles, sometimes leaning upon each other, <em>without screaming and yelling their souls out</em>. The last time I encountered this was actually in <em>Brussels</em> last September, at the main square there at the city centre (whoever is familiar with Brussels may wish to comment and provide the square’s name; I believe there was a courthouse there?), and I remember being just as shocked.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5WWXNkuQzJs/UhhKF6cVriI/AAAAAAAAYYU/L7wTwc4bRGs/s1600-h/P1010856%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010856" style="display: inline" alt="P1010856" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QY2gpUpeEfA/UhhKGe1Ua4I/AAAAAAAAYYc/P3KrU9L7bZ0/P1010856_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Continued to walk towards the hotel. Sunday night time, and as you leave the tourists’ core area, people slowly disappear from the streets until you find yourself walking completely by yourself. Finally, arrived at the train station located next to my hotel; looked pretty so I took a picture.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fSJznO8jpyU/UhhKG03pxqI/AAAAAAAAYYo/YN5oLVQEJuA/s1600-h/P1010857%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1010857" style="display: inline" alt="P1010857" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ecxqTgdC8no/UhhKHlH4i1I/AAAAAAAAYYs/Ae0cLnGjq8M/P1010857_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Perfect night…</p> <hr /> <p>… Or so I thought. As I returned to the hotel room and took a shower, I was looking forward to a great night sleep on the hotel’s super‐comfy bed. However, shortly after laying down, I started feeling strange. The room’s temperature was perfect, but heat‐waves came and went every minute or so. Got up to wash my face, and noticed my eyes being blood red.</p> <p>Could barely sleep that night.</p> <p>Remember what I wrote yesterday about the trip starting to take its toll? Well, I guess I know myself better than I thought. I guess I caught some cold.</p> <p>The next day (July 5), the first in a four day offs sequence, I was scheduled to take a night train at 9:00pm from Budapest to Munich, then connecting to Trento, Italy where I will be spending about a week with my friend Daria and her sister. I was sick, having to wipe my nose every two or three minutes; I did nothing that day except for eating two big fabulous meals in “<em>Okay Italia</em>” (received great reviews in <em>Google</em> and <em>TripAdvisor</em>, plus it was recommended to me by the hotel’s staff; so I <em>had</em> to check it out), sit at <em>Costa Coffee</em> by my hotel and planning my Spain trip.</p> <p>By the time I had to start making my way to <em>Budapest Keleti‐Pu</em> station, I was dead tired and looking forward to just lay my head upon the bed and sleep. I paid some good money for the cabin I was at—having to share with at most one person and I was told it has en‐suite facilities.</p> <p>Bullshit. Well, I was alone in the cabin but the cabin itself was old, dusty, no facilities, the mattress was awful and the pillow was hard as a rock.</p> <p>End result? A 32 years old male, sick, not managing to get <em>any</em> sleep. Over 48 hours, I slept <em>maybe</em> 6.</p> <p>I am signing‐off this post on board the <em>EuroCity</em> train to Trento. A couple of hours left to go. Beautiful, superb views around as we cross the border from Germany to Austria. I am on the verge of starting to hallucinate; headache, runny nose and now my left ear appears to be in pain.</p> <p>I am officially sick. Lets all hope for better times.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com6