Its quite impossible for me to describe whats happening over here. My days are spent in a supermarket bright exhibition centre/hall. Each half hour, I wind my way through a labyrinth of whiteness and posters and clambering signs to this moments meeting. Yesterday I sent my morning in the Nordic states: Sweden, Finland, Denmark, and my afternoon in Canada, Dashes of Poland, drizzles of Italy, pinch of Ireland, and traces of milk products and nuts. The nights take place in the old city. Dinner at number 16, either before it all or at midnight after were sozzled and tired. Then another labyrinth ... ricocheting between venues through winding stone streets. Finally found Chris Tofu who grabbed me out of the fray. The night that followed revolved in a hurdy gurdy like fashion around the collected dieties of the international festival scene. Meeting Pussy Riots manager was an unexpected delight. A few quite moment at our favourite hot chocolate and churros bar before the long-awaited midnight show from Maru Tarang. Watching these lovely men play it is hard to imagine the journey they have made from a village in India (very near the Pakistan border) to this strange place. An aural pleasure. A new road lies ahead...
Posted on: Sat, 25 Oct 2014 08:31:43 +0000
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